#no one is prepared for THIS kind of nature

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ──  our firsts (the one in which hyunjin can't wait to kiss you)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i've had this one stare at me for months until i finally got around to finishing it recently. i feel kinda rusty but i hope you'll still enjoy it <3

The thrill of a new relationship was exhilarating, full of euphoria and colorful, restless butterflies that seemed to have materialized out of thin air. Your relationship with Hyunjin was fresh, in more ways than one. You’ve never experienced such intense feelings before, a bond so genuine and invigorating.

You were taking it slow and steady, discovering more of each other with every interaction. How he smelled, how he smiled when he was truly happy, eyes turning into two crescent moons, how he hugged you in greeting, a little tighter each time.

Hyunjin was made of layers you had to contain yourself from peeling all at once, afraid your eagerness would scare him off for good. Kind, compassionate, and with a heart of gold, your new lover was everything you could ever ask for in a partner.

Every new side of him, you haven’t experienced before, was endearing. How his fingers held onto yours, leisurely, before intertwining them when he needed to feel you closer, palm to palm. How his touch lingered on your cheek, slowly trailing down your jaw and neck, almost like he was preparing to kiss you. Which hasn’t happened yet, unfortunately, almost a month into your relationship.

A part of you was disappointed, there was no denying it. But at the same time, you knew his affection was going to be worth the wait. After all, there was no rush, you had all the time in the world.

Tonight was another one of your firsts – the first movie night at your apartment. A comfortable date night spent by the TV, with some good food, a great show, and even better company. An amazing plan in both of your books, your introverted natures meshing together quite lovely.

“Hi, beautiful.” He greets the moment he’s let in, voice soft and tender, smiling brightly as he leans down to kiss the side of your head, spreading his warmth throughout your whole body.

You watch him remove his shoes, placing them neatly by the door before you pull him into a hug by his opened hoodie. Your arms go around his middle while your head rests on his chest. “Hi.”

Hyunjin relaxes in an instant, returning the embrace and squeezing you tighter, as expected. “I – “ You can hear the hesitation in his voice, mulling over his next words as if letting them out would somehow change everything. “I missed you.” He whispers, shy as his face finds solace in your hair.

Flowers bloom in your chest, heart pounding against its enclosure at an alarming pace he was sure to feel resonating through his body. But that was okay because his own was responding in kind. “I missed you too.”

“I’m glad.” Hyunjin says with a little more confidence, finally pulling away and allowing you to see his beautiful face.

You weren’t usually this straightforward, navigating this relationship with as much care as possible, so his boldness was a little surprising. But not unpleasant, if anything you couldn’t wait for him to open up more, to fully bloom into himself around you.

Taking his hand in yours, you then lead him into the living room that has been awaiting his arrival with bated breath, everything set up for your comfort.

You make small talk, asking about each other’s day and what the other has been up to since the last time you met, a week ago. It’s peaceful, the atmosphere light and comfortable as you drift toward one another without much thought, sides pressed together as you browse the selection of movies.

“What do you feel like watching?” You ask, facing him.

Hyunjin shrugs, leaning back into his seat, one of his arms thrown over the couch behind you. “Whatever your precious heart desires.”

Said heart flutters, thumping a little too loudly at being acknowledged in such a way. “The Notebook?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling into two crescents. “Do you want to see me cry? Is that why I was invited over?”

“We can cry together.” You offer, smiling. “I’ve been wanting to watch this one with you for a long time.”

“Why?” He tilts his head, eyes full of fondness as his ears gradually redden. You both knew what the movie was about and the passionate scenes that were sure to have you squirming in your seats, too shy for your own good.

“Because it’s the epitome of romance and true love!”

Hyunjin is beaming, chuckling lowly at the slight pout on your lips that has him give in instantly. “Alright then. Can’t wait to have my heart ripped out of my chest!”

You shake your head, passing him the remote before standing up to get the food you prepared in advance. “That won’t happen while I’m here.”

“Why? You’re going to put it back together?” He teases, neck craned to look after you like a man enthralled.

“Always.”

You don’t notice the surprise that takes over his features as he’s already sporting a smile when you return, handing him a plate before settling next to him, farther than before to ensure there’s enough space to make eating comfortable.

With the lights dimmed, your movie night starts uneventfully, with little to no talking since you’re both too focused on your food to multitask. But little by little, you’re scooting closer, wanting to feel each other’s warmth and hear the unspoken words of affection neither was brave enough to say out loud.

“I’ve drawn this scene before.” Hyunjin murmurs just as you move to snuggle into his chest, instantly accommodating you with one arm draped over your shoulders bringing you closer as if he’s been waiting for this moment. You settle into his embrace like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and not your actual first time cuddling with him like this. Another milestone in your new relationship leaving its mark, a welcomed guest whose sole purpose was to ensure neither strayed away from the path of true love.

“Really?” You tear your gaze from the television just as the characters begin playing around with their ice creams, laughing and being silly before it quiets down as their lips meet over and over again. “You’ve drawn them making out?”

Hyunjin is mesmerized by the faint sparkle in your eyes as he looks down at you, the light from the television caressing your side profile tenderly while not concealing any of your beauty. He’s silent for a few seconds more before his eyes drop to your glossy lips and he can’t help but lick his own, inhaling sharply. “No.” A laugh escapes him against his will, still distracted. “The scene right after.”

You quirk an eyebrow, bravely reaching out to trace his sharp jawline, just as distracted. “What’s so great about that scene? Wouldn’t you have rather captured the climax?”

He leans into your touch, eyelids suddenly heavy as they struggle to keep blinking and not give in to his desires. With great difficulty, Hyunjin feels around for the remote, subsequently pulling you closer as he fast-forwards the movie to the scene of interest, your chest brushing against his while both of your legs slip into the space between his.

Then, with the utmost gentleness, his fingers settle on your chin and move your head towards the screen, silver rings cold against your heated skin. Hyunjin paused the movie at the perfect time—the girl is smiling from ear to ear while her boyfriend nuzzles her cheek, smothering her with endless affection.

“I wanted to capture the genuine happiness on their faces. People are even more beautiful when they’re in love. Just look at them – they’re glowing.”

But by now, you’re back to looking at him, burning the image of his side profile with all of his beauty marks to memory for safekeeping. “So are you.”

Slowly, Hyunjin meets your eyes, releasing your chin. “What?”

“You also glow when you talk about something you’re passionate about. Something you love.”

He’s taken aback, you can tell by the way his eyes widen slightly, mouth parting as he searches for the right words to respond. You’re so close you can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he shallows, memorize the way his chest moves up and down with every breath that hits your face.

In this moment, the only ones who matter are you and him.

“You think so?”

“I know so. After all, I’m always watching you when we’re together.”

Hyunjin stills, and so do you as the meaning behind your confession hits you both at the same time.

“That’s impossible.” He eventually shakes his head, tucking some hair behind your ear as his voice drops. “I can never seem to be able to look away when you’re nearby. I would have noticed.”

“Like I notice everything about you.”

His touch is tender, so featherlight that if you weren’t hyper-aware of everything involving him, you wouldn’t have felt it. Hyunjin leans closer, brushing his nose against yours and smiling once your breath hitches. “The way your whole face lights up when someone tells a joke.” Nimble fingers caress your face, eyes staring past your exterior in search of the heart you’ve already presented to him on the shiniest silver platter.

“How you hold my hand a little tighter whenever you’re really happy.” He continues, said hand moving to cradle the back of your head.

“I only get that happy when I’m with you.” You breathe out, allowing your hands to rest on his chest, not looking away in fear of missing the feelings showcased all over his face, ones he still hasn’t found the courage to speak out loud.

Hyunjin looks like he wants to continue, but his eyes keep dropping to your lips, his own inching closer but not close enough to meet yet, silently waiting for your next move. For your approval, your comfort above anything else in the world for him.

When you do the same, your arms wrapping around his neck, he finally caves in.

It’s soft, his plump lips enveloping yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve ever tasted. The ever-patient man takes his time, melting against you as his other hand gently grasps your chin to keep you in place, bringing you close almost like he wants to merge souls.

The only thing you can hear in the quiet apartment is your heart pounding – or maybe it's his? Nobody knows where you end and he starts anymore, intertwined as you get lost in each other. You’ve wanted this for so long, daydreamed about it for hours on end and you’re happy to realize it’s so much better than anything your mind could ever come up with.

A little too soon after, Hyunjin pulls away, blinking as if he just woke up from a daze. His hand drops from your chin, finding solace on your waist as your eyes engage in a silent conversation your mouths couldn’t keep up.

Unfortunately for him, you’re impatient, so after making sure his lungs are filled with the needed air, you make your move, kissing him again. A quiet gasp escapes him as he falls backwards on the couch, cushioning your fall with his strong body, the corners of his mouth curling into an uncontrollable smile against your lips.

Kissing Hyunjin isn’t like anything you’ve experienced before. It’s electric and warm, something out of a movie, like fireworks going off on new years or witnessing flowers bloom for the first time in spring. An out of body experience that transports you to cloud nine the moment you touch him, the moment his hands make contact with any part of your body and leave behind sparks meant to keep everyone else that isn’t him away.

On top of him, you try to hold yourself up with your hands on his chest but he refuses, his arm around your middle keeping you flush against him as his lips teach yours a new dance. You have two left feet but somehow, Hyunjin makes it all seem easy, comfortable, and right like kissing him is an activity you’ve been doing for as long as you can remember.

When you pull away to breathe, he comes back to peck your puffy lips, one, two, and then three times before he’s grinning from ear to ear, the sight blinding your eyes that have gotten used to the darkness around for all of these years.

“Sorry.” He giggles sheepishly when it dawns on him his arm is still preventing you from moving. “I’ve just been waiting a lifetime to do this. I didn’t want it to end so soon.”

By now, your poor heart is nothing more than a puddle, leaking through your whole body and painting your insides in the color of the love that always seemed to overwhelm you, the feelings you could only thank him for. The love that had his name written in every nook and cranny of your existence, the one that marked and has changed you for the better in such a short amount of time.

You could spend a lifetime loving Hwang Hyunjin. And that’s exactly what you planned on doing.

[melanieph321]

Charles Leclerc x Reader - A Life With You

+18

Y/N is definitely me in this one 🤭

It can be you too. 🤷🏿‍♀️

Summary - F175 is your first public appearance as Charles Leclerc's girlfriend. A night you'll remember forever.

Enjoy! ❤️

"Are you nervous?"

"A little. Yes."

"Don't be."

For the split second that Charles left you in his car, your heart beat faster than ever before. It dawned on you in that moment, as your palms felt clammy against your silk dress, that what you had with Charles was something very real. Not a teenage dream, as some Italian tabloids have teased it to be. Or a flattering summer fling. Summer was long gone and yet here you were with Charles by your side, ready to introduce your relationship to the world.

The door on the passenger side opened, making you jump in your seat as a wave of flashing lights eliminated your vision. Through the blur, a hand was offered to you, Charles' hand, assisting you to step out of his luxurious Ferrari.

"Charles and Y/N, over here!"

It was an instant shock. People seemed to already know your name. They called you from left to right, demanding that you pose for a picture. Having been prepared for the mayhem that might occur at an event such as this one, you reminded yourself to relax your shoulders and take a deep breath. You then turned to the cameras, smiling faithfully, pleasing the many flashing lights.

Charles did the same beside you, posing for the cameras. He was a professional though, not as stiff as you. He smiled half heartedly, in a way that enhanced his natural charm. After some time posing, Charles' hand put pressure against your lower back. His way of telling you that it was time for you to move on inside.

Once inside you completely forgot that you belong. Or at least to act like you belong. The whole event was a spectacle in itself. A banquet in its own class. The tables where the drivers and other team members were seated overflowed with pre opened bottles of champagne. Nothing but the expensive kind. The tables were catered to by several service personnel, eager to assist you in any and every way. However, how could one think of eating when there was a chance that you'd miss the spectacle in itself.

The showcase of the 2025 season Formula 1 cars is what caught your eye for the majority of the night. That and the amazing composition of lights, music and the occasionally funny jokes made by the hosts of the evening. You were curiously peering at the stage, turning to Charles at times. Charles, who seemed to already have his eyes on you. You smiled, admiring the way your boyfriend's cheeks carved the most adorable dimples at your expense.

"Are you having fun?" He asked.

You nodded, like a child at an amusement park. "I can't believe that Aston Martin got Tems to perform. I love her."

"I know you do." Charles leaned forward, surprising you with a swift kiss on your cheek. He then whispered in your ear. "I've gotta go. I'll be back in a bit."

You anxiously shifted your head, dreading the fact that Charles was about to leave you on your own.

"Hey." He squeezed your hands and tilted your head to meet his eyes. His bright reassuring eyes. "Don't worry. I'll have someone escort you back to the hotel once the show is over, okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

Charles kissed you once more. This time on the lips, wiping off the excess lipstick on his mouth as he left your table and walked away.

Eyes of the neighboring tables were on you. People, perhaps peers of Charles, who seemed curious yet delighted with your presence. "He's up next." An older couple said, their attention shifting towards the stage. Just then, the lights were dimmed as a historical introduction of Ferrari began.

**************

The afterparty was hosted at the hotel where you stayed. But by the time you left the venue the time was way past midnight. You were tired and longed to be reunited with Charles, whom you hadn't seen since he left your table.

He had appeared on stage following a marvelous reception from the crowd. You couldn't help but to admire your boyfriend who seemed to be in his element even with thousands of eyes on him. He made the flirtatious notion to wink at you where you sat beaming at him. It was a moment that released a ray of butterflies in your stomach. A precious moment to be remembered forever.

"Y/N, are you here?"

"In here!"

At the end of the night Charles returned to your hotel room, only to find you in the depths of your bedroom.

"I couldn't find you downstairs, is everything alright?"

You turned away from the mirrored desk, a makeup stained towel in your hand. "No, I'm all good. I just didn't feel like partying without you."

"Oh, okay. Well, we can return downstairs together—"

"Charles." You giggled. By now you had hopped out of your dress, your face cleared of makeup. The night robe you wore was flattering, but Charles would be kidding himself if he thought that you'd return to the party dressed in only a night robe. It was shameful though, for Charles to hop out of his attire. He looked so handsome in his deep blue suit, and the ferrari red tie to go with it added a simple yet tasteful touch.

"What?" Charles said, smiling with uncertainty at the way you regarded him.

You stood from the desk, setting your nightly products aside. "Nothing. I just like looking at you, that's all."

"You do?"

"I do." You approached Charles where he stood leaning against the door frame, stopping to wrap your arms around his neck. He did the same, wrapping his hands around your waist. Your eyes met in a loving exchange, making it almost impossible for your boyfriend to resist to bend down and kiss your lips. His mouth lingered against yours, the moment slowing down your heartbeats. Charles' hand went up to your cheek, tilting your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. It was the most intimate you had been the whole night and the words that followed told you that Charles was eager to change that.

"I hope I didn't scare you away."

"Scare me away?" You altered the kiss, a skeptical look on your face.

Charles chuckled, swiping his thumb across your warm cheek. "I mean all of this. The show. The lights. The cameras. It's pretty much sums up my life. I hope it didn't scare you to spend it with me ."

"You want to spend your life…with me?"

Charles' eyes winded, realising his mistake. "I didn't mean it like that—" His cheeks blossomed, a slight clog of his throat. After a series of dry coughs, he collected himself. "Unless….you want to."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Yes Charles, I want to spend my life with you. This life."

He hesitated to kiss you, fearing what it might do to him to taste you again. Instead his hand went to the waist of your robe, tugging at the slender ribbon that held it together. He tugged it loose, groaning with satisfaction once he discovered that you were naked underneath.

"Now you." You said, retaining his distracted eyes away from your breasts. Charles' eyes traveled downwards as he watched you drop to the floor, your hands traceing down the length of his body, his lean stomach, until they settled on his belt.

"Can I?" Innocent eyes peered up at him. To this Charles could only nod. You helped him drop his pants, leaving them at his ankles. Charles legs trembled with your touch, his slack cock weighing heavily below his underpants. Once it sensed the heat of your mouth it twitched awake, throbbing painfully for you to stroke it.

"Fuck." Charles slumped back against the wall, stroking himself while you slid the robe off your naked shoulders, settling yourself on your kness before him.

Charles stopped stroking himself and let you take over, moaning at the warmth of your mouth, devouring his cock, licking his leaking tip.

"Yes, baby, just like that."

You hymned in satisfaction. happy to please him. At times, you found yourself shifting in your stance, enjoying the way the bottom of your feet created friction between your legs. It allowed you to feel pleasure alongside Charles, who came with the rapid thrust of your head. By the time he helped you back up on your feet, rushing you to the bed, you were wet and tender to have him, letting Charles settle himself between your legs as you lay down on the edge of the bed. There, you made love to the silent thud from the party below.

You made love knowing that there would be many more nights like these.

[sideysvault]

.𖥔˚ NEW SURROUNDINGS.𖥔˚

Cregan Stark x fem!targaryen!reader ₊ requested ₊

Tags. [sfw]; Arranged marriage, ‘cultural’ differences, misogyny, fluff, happy ending, dragon rider reader, weaponized fasting.

Wc. 0.8k

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Everyone had heard such stories. It was known that unsuspecting, kinder houses produced girls that despite aristocratic breeding, their innocence and ill preparation made them feel totally at sea in the deferential hierarchy of political marriage. 

The Targaryen Princess was nothing more than a child at the horizon of puberty, with something more akin to distaste rather than horror when she first bled. And while she’d been aware of what that meant for a woman, she desperately became aware of the danger this might put her in. There were many tears in those first months and many more to come after that. 

Weight simply dropped off, as well as her white hair. Plagued with the knowledge that outside the Targaryen's protective niche, she was determined to a less glorious fate than she had imagined when she had become a dragon rider.

And then came the preparations. In fact, it was her late cousin’s advice that helped her successfully avoid getting married in its entirety. At least for a few years. The technique was rather simple; If the Princess would get word that her husband to be was ill-mannered, brutish, stubborn or violent, the woman, in order to guarantee compliance, or to avoid the marriage, was to initiate a fast until a change of circumstances arrived. Not as a form of self mutilation, but as a means to stop the fertile blood from running between their legs, This, naturally, would only be successful as long as a male heir wasn’t yet produced, or if the princess isn't yet married.

She had even heard stories that certain houses even encouraged this behavior. All to guarantee that the husband was willing to listen to the whispers of his wife, assuring the will of her lineage.  

This technique, of course, had severe downsides, if taken too far, the body would stop tolerating food, making the wife immobile, dead, or worse; Infertile. 

However, some people denounced the practice entirely. Those who are keen to self-sacrifice for the political and economical greatness of their lineage, who saw conceiving themselves to a life of child bearing as a form of honorous martyrdom. Like her mother. 

But, when her family let her know that she was to be betrothed to Cregan Stark, she knew that all of her efforts were not in vain. His reputation preceded him. Handsome, honorable and just. 

She truly felt a sense of genuine relief. Neither the backwards ways of the Northerners nor their reluctance to respect people from the South could dissipate her enthusiasm. Despite her best efforts, The Reed Keep was never really a home to her.

The Princess, of course, had failed to foresee one important detail. The people of the North felt a genuine aversion towards her dragon, probably one of the few kind, loyal things to have been gifted to her by the Targaryen lineage, it had become somewhat of a family to her. While she was aware of the strong, devastating power Maegor possessed, all her soul saw whenever she interacted with it was all those magnificent flights, all of those years of training, and the rather small, innocent look her dragon had when it was young.

All they saw, nonetheless, was an extraordinary beast covered in scales and spines, the horns that framed the edges of Maegor’s face, running along the back of that skull that had never truly seemed to stop growing. It filled them with pagan horror. 

From common folk, who were rendered immobile by its appalling black profile dancing through the skies, children and adult alike screaming and gasping, to the highest members of the council, whose clenched jaws and tight fists were evident despite their best efforts to hide them. -Although, she supposed their terror had something to do with its rider, a foreign invader - 

Dear Gods, even her husband flinched around it. Of course, he had graciously tried to compartmentalize his fear as soon as he saw the way his wife's eye brighten when she hoped onto the riding chair and looked at the sky above them, how excited she seemed to the prospect of sharing that experience with him, how terribly tender she was with Maegor and the sweet offer she had made to the Maestres to help them map out the territory for their cartography efforts. 

It hadn't taken as much time as he had thought to become pleased with her presence. While Cregan was weary of her at first, he noticed how hard she was trying to accommodate to the region's costumes, how quick her wit was, how curious she was about the world.

Once he discovered how charmed he was with her personality, he was quick to notice how beautiful she was as well. Targaryen features had always seemed too alien to him. But on his wife? He adored the lavender haze in her eyes and the moonlit hair.

The Princess always laughed when she thought about it. She had found warmth and comfort in the coldest corner of the entirety of the Seven Realms.

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Notes. I've been pretty offline for some time but here is the request! Hope everyone likes it. As usual, take care, and tell me if you wanna be added to the Cregan fanfic taglist! -Sidey x

CreganTaglist. @damnedamsy @prose-before-hoes-blog

[takes1]

HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here. part four. request box

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

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[em1i2a3]

Hole in the Earth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Angst, Smut, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Loss and Death, Age Gap (not mentioned but there are assumptions of an age gap if you squint a bit, there’s no full acknowledgment ), Mentions of Blood/Bleeding. The warnings for smut specifically; p in v sex (unprotected, wrap it before you tap it though!), fingering, oral (fem receiving), Praise kink if you squint, light choking (nothing too serious though), Bucky talks you through it (wink wink nudge nudge)

Author's Note: I wanted to do an actual series for this original character, but I didn’t feel like committing to something so big with my job, so I thought I’d stick to a one-shot format for this one. I know some things may not be totally accurate (this is my first time actually putting something out there that is based off of the MCU, I changed things up a bit, but not extremely, at least I hope lol.) Hopefully y’all enjoy though :) .

Word Count: 13,347 (Talk about slow burn eh? Seeing this word count made my jaw drop when I checked it at the end. What an extravaganza lol)

Some people filled silence with noise—small talk, jokes, distractions, awkward anecdotes, laughter even.

But you and Bucky?

You never needed words.

Your partnership had formed without much thought, an unspoken decision, a quiet inevitability. No one ever sat down and said, "You two should work together," but after everything—after the turmoil from the snap, all the loss, all the grief, and the way neither of you truly fit into what remained of the team anymore—it just happened naturally.

You had both come back to a world that had existed without you for five years. It was like a blur to you. It felt like nothing had happened until you saw the people you loved had aged significantly since the last time you had seen them, or you had lost them by that point.

To deviate from you Bucky had spent decades as a ghost, lost in time, fighting to take back something that had been stripped from him, and the five-year disappearance from the world felt like an eternity. You had heard him mention in passing that it was as if he was in a room with nothing but white around him, and he was all alone. Not only that but when he returned it took him a long time to adjust to the new normal.

Steve was gone.

Natasha was gone.

Tony was gone.

And you?

You were still here, stuck in a limbo between mourning and moving forward, existing in a place that didn’t feel like home anymore. Sam tried to make things easier, tried to be a stand-in for Tony, but it was no use, you told him to stop early on in his attempts, and he respected the request.

Bucky somehow understood your loss better than most of the team, even though he had returned to the same ruins you did. He didn’t bother you with the questions everyone else had when you came back to the compound, he gave you a nod of acknowledgement and tiptoed around you like you were a bomb that was going to explode at any moment, which was something that you ended up preferring.

So when the missions started up again, when the world needed something resembling the Avengers to step forward, it was an unspoken agreement—you and him, always paired together. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anyone else other than him.

It worked though.

The both of you kept things mission-focused and ignored whatever was happening outside of that. He never brought up your past, and you never brought up his, and even when there was downtime during the mission you stayed quiet, waiting in silence until you needed to step in.

But now?

Now the most recent mission had gone to hell, and you were stuck alone with him in a safe house, forced into a kind of closeness you had never prepared for.

The mission was supposed to be simple.

A HYDRA facility hidden beneath an abandoned city block, data that needed to be extracted, an easy exfiltration plan. When Sam had explained it you felt like you were having Deja Vu because of how many missions had been like this.

The plan had been clear—

Infiltrate.

Extract the data.

Get out.

You never made it past step two.

The power core in the lower level ruptured, sending a shockwave through the entire structure.

The explosion came too fast, too strong, it wasn’t something you prepared for at all.

You had barely made it to cover before the heat ripped through the walls, short-circuiting everything electronic based in the area—including the Neural Stabilizer locked around your throat.

You had felt it immediately.

The pulse of static in your bones, the electricity surging through your limbs with nowhere to go, the sensation of drowning in yourself. You laid on the cold metal, breathing in through the pain that echoed through your entire body, attempting to calm your nervous system down before things got out of your control.

"You alright?" Bucky called from the level above you.

You had forced yourself to swallow the panic as you raised your head to look up to where he was, only seeing his shadow at that point.

"I’m fine." You replied.

A lie.

Because you could feel the stabilizer glitching, flickering between control and chaos, the red warning light at your throat blinking erratically. It didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky though, even though you wished it had.

“Are you sure?” He asked, watching you struggle to push yourself up from the metal, seeing a pulse of faint blue static running across the floor. You closed your eyes tightly.

”Yes. I’m positive. Just cover me so I can get to you, then we can get the hell out of here.”

You had to push forward.

Because you had no choice.

Because if you didn’t keep moving, neither of you were getting out alive. But if you had a choice you would’ve stayed right where you were.

By the time you had escaped the facility, hot-wired a car, and driven two hours through the backroads to the nearest safe house—your entire body was on fire with unstable currents flowing through your blood. You were in such agony holding everything in that you had almost collapsed onto the ground when you exited the car.

Bucky had watched you run towards the cabin, observed the way you almost broke the doorknob and locked him out all within seconds. By the time he had entered the cabin you were out of his sight, and barricaded inside the washroom.

When you slammed the door closed you immediately turned on the dim light of the enclosed space, stripping off your tactical gear with shaking hands, leaving you in just a pair of shorts and a white tank top. You threw your utility belt onto the counter beside the sink, trying your best to catch your breath, feeling a burning sensation building inside your chest, clawing at the bones. You braced yourself against the porcelain sink, bringing your eyes up to your reflection, looking at the red glow of the Neural Stabilizer flashing on your neck, each pulse more erratic than the last.

Tony had promised it would always work.

Now it was failing as you stood there.

You reached up to touch the fried titanium of the neck plate, feeling the warmth radiating off it, as the light above you glowed brighter for a brief moment before returning to its normal state. That was the only warning sign you needed to kick yourself into high gear. You opened up your gear pouch, fumbling through the various tools you had, until you found what you needed. The tiny utility screwdriver, the one Tony had told you to keep on you at all times. You thanked your past self that they actually listened to him for once.

“It’s just for backup, kid, but if you ever need it, don’t panic. You got this.” You could hear his voice in your head, you could picture the moment he gave it to you and you reluctantly threw it into the gear pouch, making sure he witnessed you do it.

You pushed the memory out of your head and forced yourself to focus, returning your gaze back to your reflection, stretching your neck out so there was enough lighting. Your eyes trailed over the grooves of the metal, finding the space where the first latch would be. You shifted again, turning your head to the side before bringing the screwdriver to the first screw that secured the panel—

———

"Hold still, Sparkplug," Tony muttered, adjusting the metal band around your neck so that it was fitting snugly against your skin, "You fidget more than Peter, and that’s saying something."

You sighed, tilting your chin up, watching him work in the reflection of the mirror.

"Feels like a shock collar." You commented, digging your nails into the palm of your hand.

"Yeah, well, better than the alternative." He replied, looking at you out of the corner of his eye, before returning his gaze to the stabilizer. "Unless you like turning every elevator ride into a death trap." He added.

You scowled.

"It’s not that bad."

"Tell that to the toasters and light bulbs you murdered last week. You know I think I stepped on some of the broken glass you forgot to sweep up." You felt your lips tilt slightly at the joking tone he took.

"That was an accident."

"Yeah, and I’m accidentally a millionaire genius." He tightened the clasp on the metal, sliding his stool back to examine his work. "Alright. Try not to electrocute me when you test it out."

You hesitated, looking at the stabilizer in the mirror, seeing the signature blue glow that Tony had in his chest piece now reflecting off of your very own Stark Industries creation.

"You’re sure this will work?"

Tony’s smirk faded slightly, his expression softening at the worry that laced your voice. You had come a long way since he had taken you under his wing, but he knew you still struggled with keeping the power under wraps, it was evident by the way everything would short circuit even when you were feeling happy, it trapped you. When he designed the stabilizer all he wanted was for you to feel normal, and this was the one thing that he was confident in providing.

"Yeah, kid." His hand rested lightly on your shoulder. "I’m sure.”

“And what if it malfunctions?” You questioned, your hand now tracing the ridges of the titanium.

”I’ll be there to fix it…I promise Y/N. I wouldn’t let it get to that point anyways. Routine maintenance will prevent that I’m sure.”

Back then, you had believed him.

Because Tony always kept his promises.

———

Your hands trembled as you worked on the stabilizer, the screwdriver slipping between your fingers while you twisted it into the second latch. The sharp edge of the tool had sliced against the sensitive skin on your neck three times at this point, and the droplets of blood began to stain your hands. The faint pain began to curl into itself, causing the lights to brighten once again, only this time it remained that way. The tips of your fingers began to veil themselves in the mesh-like glow that slowly stretched along your skin, another bad sign that you needed to get yourself under control.

Your breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, watching the red light blinking faster and faster with each mistake you made, almost as if it was in sync with your pulse.

You couldn’t do this, and there was no doubt that by the end of this, you would have a hazardous explosion waiting to happen. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d take out the whole town.

You were going to—

"Breathe, kid." Tony’s voice warned.

You couldn’t help but remember the video he had left in your inbox, dated the day before his death. You hadn’t looked at it for three weeks, you weren’t ready to see him at that point, you were grieving, but the day that you decided to click on it to listen, and to watch…You knew it was going to be seared into your memory.

———

Tony sat at his workbench, rubbing a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin almost in frustration. His hair was a little longer, a little messier, and the exhaustion on his face was worse than you’d ever seen it.

"Alright, kid. If you’re watching this, then congratulations. You survived. You came back. And I…Well…I didn’t, unless you are watching this for fun, which is absolutely weird, but whatever.”

A pause, he sighs, licking his dry lips, trying to search for what he was going to say.

"Not that I’d know, obviously, because I made this before all the very bad, end-of-the-world war type stuff went down, but I’d like to think I got to go out in a blaze of glory."

His lips tugged up, but there was no humor behind it.

"Which, by the way, is something I told you not to do a thousand times, so let’s not make this a trend, okay?"

You had let out a choked laugh, tears already stinging at your eyes. He took another pause, shaking his head.

"Five years." He exhaled hard, tapping his fingers against the desk. "You’ve been gone for five whole years, and I gotta tell you, kid, it’s sucked. Like, really sucked. We have this whole ‘Save the World’ initiative going on, and I keep looking around thinking, ‘Where the hell is my electric gremlin when I need her?’ But no. You were gone. Taken just like that."

He snapped his fingers, inhaling deeply through his nose, trying to control his voice.

"And that?" His tone dropped lower, something raw scraping at the edges. "That was a real bitch."

You pressed a hand against your mouth, trying not to break down, trying to keep yourself as composed as you could.

"You left, and everything was just… quieter. Too quiet. No more blowing out the lab’s power grid on purpose because you got pissed at me. No more stealing my coffee and blaming it on Rhodey. No more dumb science debates about whether or not your powers count as a renewable energy source. Just… nothing."

His fingers curled into a fist, hitting his knuckles lightly against the workbench.

"I miss you, kid. And I know I didn’t say it enough when I had the chance, so I’m saying it now."

A sharp inhale. There was a cut in the footage. Now his position had changed, and he was standing.

"You’re back though. And I need you to listen, alright?"

You sat up nodding, even though he couldn’t see you.

"This thing?" He said, tapping a Neural Stabilizer on his own throat.

"Yeah, I made one for myself. No, I don’t need it. But you’re a visual learner—or maybe you just don’t trust me unless I put myself in your shoes. Either way, I made one so I could show you how easy this is to fix."

He sighed.

"Anyways, let’s be real. If this thing is flickering red, that means something bad happened. Maybe you got hit by an EMP. Maybe you took too many hits in a fight, and someone broke it. Maybe the universe just hates us both equally, who knows. But if it’s failing, that means you’re going to short-circuit because your body won’t know what to do with all the excess energy. And when you short-circuit, so does everything else around you. That means streetlights, security systems, Wi-Fi—" he gestures around him with his hands "—you know, everything people actually need to function."

You sniffled, pressing your fingers against your lips.

"So. Let’s fix it before you blackout an entire city block, huh?"

His eyes softened, something warm but worn behind them.

"You got this, kid. You always have."

A pause.

"Alright. First step—pop the latch. Gently put the screwdriver into the large metal coil, it should be bright orange if the stabilizer is malfunctioning due to the overheating. Twist it counterclockwise. And whatever you do, do not—"

——-

You pressed too hard.

The screwdriver slipped, and another sharp sting burned across your neck, the blood now dripping down your neck and soaking into the tank top you wore.

"Shit." You muttered, your fingers flying to your throat, wiping off the blood as much as you could, your pulse hammering throughout your entire body, as the crimson liquid smeared across your skin.

Before you could even process the impending pain, the Neural Stabilizer’s light turned off completely.

Without missing a beat a violent pulse of static erupted outward, a crackling, jagged burst of energy tearing free from your body.

The lightbulbs overhead shattered, raining sparks and broken glass onto the tiles, lightly cutting up some of your exposed flesh. The mirror fractured down the middle, sharp cracks splintering outward, but not fully falling off the surface.

The entire safe house went dark, the fridge cut out, the security system fried, the cell towers blinked offline. In the kitchen, Bucky sat at the rickety dining table, thinking about whether or not it would be a good idea to try to come in and help. Even after the power surge, he was still on the fence about going and intruding on what was happening in there, not out of fear, but out of what he might have to do to get everything under control.

Inside the bathroom, the only light left was coming from you, and now the soapy smell that had once filled the room had been taken over by the crisp smell of ozone, as if a rain storm just occurred.

Your reflection in the mirror flickered, illuminated by the uneven, stuttering glow of electricity crawling over your skin. Tiny spiderweb cracks of raw current slithered up your arms, twisting beneath the surface, licking along your fingertips, wrapping around your body, almost like it was a reunion. The stabilizer narrowed the current down significantly when it was on, without it there was no regulation.

The charge had nowhere to go. It buzzed, and coiled, desperate for an escape, trying to find something to attach to. Your body felt too full, like a live wire wound too tight, ready to snap apart, and now the pain was truly starting to settle in, deep inside your bones, causing your blood to curl.

"No, no, no—"

You repeated, slamming your hand against the countertop. A sharp crack of static arced outward, splitting the porcelain, hairline fractures splintering in front of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, as every muscle in your body seized.Your heart pounded painfully against your chest, erratic, frantic—

Then the doorknob rattled.

"Hey."

It was Bucky.

"You okay?"

The words barely registered with you, it sounded muffled, drowned beneath the buzzing that rang through your ears. You could feel your pulse spike violently, as panic slammed through your ribs like a live wire.

You couldn’t answer the simple question.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t stop the charge from rising once again.

The electricity under your skin wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t stop expanding, the raw static skittered along your body, flaring out in thin veins of uncontrolled current.

"I—" you croaked, holding onto your chest, trying to stabilize your voice from shaking.

The door creaked open.

And before you could even react, the barricade was removed from between the both of you.

Bucky stood in the dim blue glow, still dressed in the majority of his tactical gear, minus the weapons. The glass crunched under his boots as he stepped into the washroom, his sharp and guarded expression softening when his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him.

His gaze flickered over the shattered bulbs, and the fractured mirror, and when he breathed in the smell of static tickled his nose, almost like someone had taken chlorine and mixed it with metal.

Then his eyes landed on you. Your trembling hands, your shaking shoulders, the way your body twitched with the electric currents still pulsing beneath your skin, his eyes watched the glowing cracks spread along your arms. He could see in the lighting that your neck was bleeding, and that your stabilizer was practically fried. At this point, he concluded that he in fact didn’t know where to start.

”Y/N…” His voice was dripping with concern, trying to piece together what he could do.

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to go away but all that came out was a gut-wrenching sob, the panic and fear sinking its claws deeper into your ribs.

"Hey, you need to breathe," Bucky instructed his voice low, calm, and even. But you couldn’t. Couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t pull yourself back from the static buzzing inside your skull, it was mind-numbing. The only thing that snapped you out of your haze was the crunching of glass beneath Bucky’s boots, as he stepped towards you.

"Don't—" You snapped, desperate to keep him away. "I can’t— I can’t shut it off…Just stay…Stay back Bucky." Your hands trembled, as your arms locked up, the muscles tightening, like a cord was wrapping around them. The crunching noise stopped, but the buzzing in your ears didn’t, as you leaned your body on the sink, moaning through the stinging pain that ran up your spine.

”Listen I can’t just leave you in here like this, what can I do to help?” You could feel your knees go numb while you were trying to contain whatever was building up to release next. You braced yourself against the counter, cushioning the drop to the ground as much as possible. Your bare knees felt the impact of the glass as the sharp edges dug into the thin flesh, a grunt escaping your throat, while you were attempting to shift slightly to the side before putting all your weight on the front portion of the counter.

”Just go away.” Was all you could muster to say through your short sobs of pain, “Please just go.” You begged, tears now streaming down your cheeks, as you put your forehead onto the edge of the porcelain sink, letting the cold temperature even out the heat that was radiating off your skin.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t heed your request to leave, instead he crouched down, and sat on the glass-covered floor, with his arms resting on his knees. He watched you closely, noting how your body would tremble every couple of seconds, or how the static that covered every exposed area of your skin buzzed lightly at any sign of movement.

”Please leave.” You choked out again, barely above a whisper. Bucky sighed, his jaw clenching at the rawness in your voice. The last-ditch effort to push him away before anything worse happened, before you hurt him.

”I’m not going anywhere Y/N…It would go against my better judgment.” He replied, clenching and unclenching his vibranium hand, contemplating. He knew what he needed to do, but had no clue how he would execute the plan without you possibly lashing out at him.

He glanced back up at you, watching as your grip tightened on the edge of the sink, another strangled whimper escaping into the room. You were already so far gone at this point that there was no way you were going to come back without additional help, at least that’s what Bucky was starting to conclude from what was transpiring in front of him.

Another burst of static snapped out from you, slashing against the mirror, fully breaking the reflective pieces, hearing the shattering as it fell into the sink, splintering, leaving small superficial wounds on the tips of your fingers, lines of red blooming across your knuckles. You didn’t even register the pain.

Bucky barely flinched, because at this point he wasn’t going to wait anymore, and now that you were distracted he took the opportunity. Quickly he brought himself forward and wrapped his vibranium arm around your waist, pulling you against him with more force than he intended. Your back collided against his chest, and immediately you could feel your body locking up in his grip as his other arm wrapped around your waist to try to stabilize you so you weren’t thrashing on the glass-covered ground. You could feel your lungs seize up.

”Let me go!” You twisted violently in his hold, as you dug your nails into his right arm, trying to loosen the restraint he formed around your body. You slammed your back into his chest, attempting to wind him, but it was no use, Bucky was a solid unmoving force at this point, and he remained locked around you. Another fresh stream of tears ran down your cheeks. He could feel your body heating up against his as he adjusted, trying to get you to stop thrashing.

”Bucky, please…” Your voice cracked, a sob tearing from your throat, feeling another burst of static snapping around you, at whatever was near, it was lashing out until it found Bucky’s arm, as the blue static slipped into the limb causing the vibranium to light up. A crackling wave of electricity ran up each plate, filling the thin gaps between each one. This realization only made you thrash against him even harder.

”Y/N I’m fine! Stop it, you’re not hurting me.” He insisted, tightening his arms around you once again as you began to shake against him. “Look,” He murmured. Through the haze of your panic, you forced yourself to focus, your gaze trailing down to the arm that was clenched around you. The shock and static wasn’t building, or lashing outward, it was being absorbed. Bucky could almost feel your body relax at the sight, even though you were still wheezing and breathing too fast.

”It’s not hurting me.” He repeated again, but all you could hear was the buzzing inside your skull, it was deafening. Your vision blurred as you made small attempts to push him away, even though it was of no use, he didn’t budge. He was steady, controlled, and unfazed, as his ears tuned into the way you were breathing, the panicked wheezing.

“Y/N, you have to breathe…Can you feel me breathing?” He asked, trying to hide the urgency behind his voice, adjusting again so now he was able to see the side of your face, and the way your pupils were blown out. His damp hair tickled the side of your face, as he leaned forward trying to make sure you were practically cocooned in him, almost mimicking an emergency blanket in a way. You could feel yourself trembling in his arms, as his right hand came up to intertwine with yours, guiding your palm to rest flat against your chest, right over your heart.

“Y/N, focus on me…If you can hear me, focus on my breathing.” He instructed, holding you closer to him so your back was directly pressed into his chest. You could feel his body rise and fall against you, even, measured…A slow inhale, a gentle exhale.

”Match me.” He whispered, his warm breath sticking to the exposed skin of your shoulder. You attempted to breathe in as deeply as he did, feeling a burning sensation creep up along the sides of your ribs. The exhale came out fast and uneven from you, but Bucky didn’t rush the process, as he took in another breath, his chest expanding against your back. You attempted to take in another breath, but this time it came a little easier, even though it still felt like every bone in your body had its own personal vice grip around it. Black dots began to pebble into your sight, feeling a numbness washing over you.

“Good…Now let it out.” Was the last thing you heard before your vision went dark.

------

The first thing you heard when you regained consciousness was music.

Soft and slow, floating through the air in a smooth jazz melody, rich with nostalgia. The mellow voice of the crooner was claiming he would never smile again, as the lyrics gently carried over the hum of the muted trumpets, the backup singers harmonized the man's sorrow while the serenade continued. It felt like a lullaby that was meant for another time.

Then everything else began to settle in; the bed beneath you, the rough comforter scratching against the backs of your legs. The blanket on top of you pulled up to your neck, enveloping you in its warmth. A dull ache lingered in every area of your body, your hands were sore, your face felt swollen from the crying that you had done, and it felt like if you attempted to move you would throw up. But at least your breathing was finally stable. No longer ragged or filled with panic. It was a relief in a way.

The music continued as your ears caught the sound of a soft tapping in rhythm with the song. A gentle exhale released into the room. Bucky. Slowly, you forced your heavy eyelids open, as the stucco ceiling came into your sight, the dimmed emergency lights providing a soft hue to the space. You tilted your head up so your chin was settled on your chest, noticing that you were still wearing the white tank top that was now stained with your blood. The way you were able to move your neck with such ease also made you realize that you didn’t have your stabilizer on, which brought on another concern, as you laid your eyes on the sight before you.

Bucky sat at the kitchen table, illuminated by his cell phone, which was leaning against one of the salt shakers, the light casting shadows along his jaw and cheeks. His hair looked damp and curled in on itself like he was fresh out of the shower, and you had noticed he wasn’t in his regular combat gear. Instead, he had on a black, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of matching cargo pants. He was so lost in what he was doing that his gaze was practically glued to the table, and you could tell he was fiddling with something that you couldn’t particularly see. You tried to lean up onto your elbows to try and catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to have your knees scream out in pain when you accidentally bent them. A hiss escaped your throat, automatically breaking Bucky’s concentration on what he was working on, as his head snapped in your direction, putting down whatever he was working on to pay attention to you.

“Take it easy. You still have glass in your knees.” He informed, hesitating to tell you that he hadn’t pulled out the shards when you were passed out. You groaned at the sentence, your body dropping back against the pillow, as you reached up to massage your head, trying to mend an impending migraine.

“I feel like I’ve been through a few rounds with a freight train.” You said, closing your eyes tightly at the sound of the rawness of your voice.

“Well…That’s kind of what happens when you go nuclear on yourself.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat, his gaze locking on you as you dragged your hands down your face. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, biting the inside of his lip, “You scared me y’know.” The words fell from his mouth before he could even stop himself, the admission causing you to let out a ragged sigh.

“It wasn’t my intention to do that.” He shook his head.

“Intentions don’t mean much when you’re screaming for me to go away and you’ve caused every light bulb in the place to explode.” You could hear the control he had on his voice, the way he took his breaths so that his words didn’t waver. He was bothered by what you had done, there was no doubting that, but you had never heard him speak like this before.

“Are you honestly going to pick a fight with me right now? Could this not wait until the glass gets taken out of my knees?” You snapped, as your body began to slowly heat up. He scoffed at your suggestion, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No. It can’t wait, because the second I come to help you’re going to avoid the conversation.” You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Bucky. I get it.”

“Do you?” He questioned. You clenched your jaw as you pushed yourself up so you were able to look at him, to hash this out before it killed your partnership. Your knees seared at the quick movement while you settled on the bed, but you shoved the pain aside, keeping the tensity in your eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say. Do you want me to say sorry I didn’t tell you about the stabilizer breaking as I was attempting to not fucking explode around you?!” You shot back, squeezing your hand into a fist, trying to hold in the static that began to line your skin again.

“I want you to say you trust me. Because right now it doesn’t feel like it, and if we’re going to continue working together, I need that reassurance.” You looked up from your hands, catching his hardened gaze, seeing the betrayal in his eyes.

“You know I trust you.” You stated, watching as he shook his head, and stood up from his seat.

“Do I? Because you don’t act like it. Do you remember what just happened an hour and a half ago? You had plenty of opportunity to tell me what the hell was going on and you refused. I had to come in and see you in absolute shambles, do you understand how that felt?” Your eyes followed him as he paced.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, you made a choi-.”

“I chose to take care of you!” He snapped, his voice raising in volume, the reaction making you flinch, not because you were scared, but because he had never yelled at you like that. “That’s what any teammate would do. But you make it impossible unless it’s forced on you, which is what I had to resort to. Do you think that made me feel good?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes shimmering in the light. The guilt hit you harder than any punch you had taken, truly realizing how much pain you had put him in. You could see the way his hands twitched at his sides, remembering the way he was holding you and restraining your movements, reliving the moment over and over again as you fought against him.

“I-I was afraid I was going to hurt you Bucky, that’s why I was fighting you. I didn’t want to hurt you, or even worse kill you…” The words were heavy when they left your lips, “You may think you’re invincible, but you could’ve died…And then what? I lose another person I care about?” You could immediately see his eyes soften at your words and the way that your voice was shaking and cracking as you attempted to keep it steady. He held your gaze, keeping his spot at the side of the table, but now he was holding the edge of it, leaning on it for support. You could see the frustration in his eyes draining away with every moment that passed as he connected the dots.

“So that’s what this is about?” He asked softly, the sharpness from earlier being replaced with something gentler, caring. He ran his hand through his hair,“...You do know I’m 106 years old and have gone through way worse than a little bit of electricity right?” You were surprised by the sudden change in his tone, detecting the trail of humour that laced his words.

“And that this new arm…” He lifted his vibranium hand into your line of sight, flexing his fingers, letting the dim light catch against the matte black material “Doesn’t allow you to hurt me correct? The material just absorbs it. You saw it when I showed you in the washroom, you even stopped fighting me when you saw it. It doesn’t have a voltage limit or anything so…I don’t think it would’ve been possible for you to kill me. Does that help cure your worries?” He asked, letting the question hang in the air, leaning against the table again. You let out a slow breath and nodded, but you didn’t reply, you just let the intensity of the argument die down. The jazz music faded in again now, filling the silence for a few beats until you absentmindedly replied to him.

“You’re 106?” His lips pressed into a firm line, thrown off by the abrupt shift in conversation.

“That’s all you got from that speech I just gave you? Really?” You shrugged.

“I mean…You carry yourself pretty well, you don’t look a day over 100.” You said, tilting your head to the side to feign consideration “Mmm, actually maybe I would even go as far as saying you could pass for 90.” He shook his head at you, but you could see he was fighting a smile from appearing on his lips, as he reached up to rub the stubble on his face.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” He wasn’t annoyed, nor frustrated, it sounded like he was relieved, because neither of you wanted to admit it, but you didn’t like where the conversation was going, the both of you didn’t want to fight over something like that, you were supposed to be partners. The weight of the argument was settled, and you both were thankful for that. You let some time pass, just to allow each other to come down from the adrenaline until you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry by the way.” You said quietly, earning a soft sigh from him, he opened his mouth to interrupt, but you held up your hand to stop him, “I didn’t mean to shut you out. You had every right to be angry with me, and I shouldn’t have fought you, I should’ve just allowed you to help me.” Bucky nodded, his blue eyes locking onto yours again.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to yell at you, I lost my temper…And I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t mad, I was just-.” He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply “I just didn’t like seeing you like that.” Your fingers tightened around the blanket at his admission, but you nodded as well to acknowledge you heard him. You let the moment breathe, still feeling the lingering guilt of how angry he had been just a few minutes prior, but what sat in your chest was how bothered he was by your pain because it wasn’t about the outburst itself, it was about what it meant. The way he snapped was his way of trying to convey that your well-being was important to him, and even the thought of that made something in you seize up. So much for keeping the partnership strictly mission-based I guess, you thought as you shifted on the mattress, only to be reminded of the searing pain coming from your legs.

“Now that we’re done arguing…Do you mind taking the glass out of my knees now?” You asked, cringing at the sharp burning sensation that radiated throughout your kneecaps with each slight movement you made to try and get yourself in a better position to attempt to ease the pain, to no avail.

“Oh Jesus, yeah of course. Sorry.” He replied sheepishly as if he had forgotten about what he had said at the beginning of the argument. Bucky worked with a quiet urgency, collecting the first aid kit, and a basin to put the shards of glass in, stopping for a moment at the table to pause the music on his phone before picking up your stabilizer from where he had been sitting. When he had turned back to you he could see the look of surprise on your face, as your eyes trailed over it, seeing the familiar blue glow that indicated it was fixed.

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to attempt to work on it while you were passed out,” He explained, looking down at the curved titanium while he made his way over to the bed, “Don’t really know if I actually fixed the thing, but it’s not glowing red or anything so I’m assuming I made a bit of progress.” He shrugged, as he sat down in front of you, settling the first aid kit down before handing the stabilizer over to you, feeling your fingers brush against his gently, watching you take it from him with a small smile on your face. You looked at it closely, your fingertips buzzing in anticipation, the cool weight of the titanium almost bringing you a wave of relief. You felt around for the familiar latch at the back of the stabilizer, clicking it open with a gentle hiss, your eyes glancing up to meet Bucky’s blue irises.

“It’s looking promising.” You joked, seeing his lips turn up slightly, before tilting your head back to expose your neck, brushing your hair aside. Carefully you aligned the stabilizer against your throat, settling it into place as the soft hum of the hydraulics pulled the device together, allowing it to lock around your neck. You rested your hands against the edges of it, waiting for a moment, allowing it to calibrate. Bucky watched you, trying to see if there was any sign that he had messed up somehow, thinking about the wires he cut and shifted when he began his attempt on fixing the thing, hoping to god it wasn’t something important. A beat of silence passed over the both of you quickly, being quenched with a soft exhale.

“Seems like you actually did it.” You informed, turning your head from side to side to ensure everything was properly secured.

“You sound surprised,” Bucky replied, feigning offence.

“Hmm. Tony made this thing idiot-proof, so I’m a bit taken aback by your…Skills.” His eyebrows raised at you, shaking his head as he flipped open the first aid kit.

“It’s not like I have an arm that’s state-of-the-art technology or something like that.” He shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word he spoke while he collected a few alcohol pads, tweezers, and gauze from the inside of the container. “Now…Ready to play Operation?” He asked jokingly.

“Just what I need, Bucky Barnes playing surgeon.” You replied, adjusting your position so that your knees were bent between the both of you, pulling the blanket off carefully just in case any of the glass had accidentally caught on any of the fibres. When the damage came into your line of sight you could practically feel your stomach twist and turn into knots. The blood was dry and streaked in the crevices of your knees. Tiny shards of glass embedded themselves like fractured stars in the thin flesh that lined the bone, glinting under the soft light. Some pieces were deep, surrounded by angry red welts where your body had begun trying to reject them. Others sat more superficially, barely hanging on but all of it looked raw, swollen, and painful. You could feel yourself get lightheaded just by looking at it.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You announced, throwing yourself down onto the mattress, the back of your head hitting the pillow, “I can’t look at it.”

“You’re telling me out of all the things you’ve seen, this is the thing that does you in?” He commented, “Now that’s disappointing.” You groaned, putting your arm over your face.

“It’s different when it’s my blood.” He let out a small laugh, the bed shifting under his weight as he adjusted, positioning his vibranium hand between the bend of your left knee to keep it still, the coolness causing you to tense up.

“Alright, I’ll go slow. Ready?” You nodded, keeping your face covered, attempting to hide the blush that began to rise on your cheeks, feeling him pull out one of the smaller pieces of glass, starting easy. He dropped it into the steel bowl, dabbing the blood off your skin with gauze, as he continued his feat, getting close enough that his breath fanned over the wound. You shut your eyes tightly, another sharp jolt of pain shooting up your leg, your other hand digging into the comforter beneath you.

“God damn it Bucky.” You hissed, your knee jerking involuntarily, his grip keeping you steady.

“Almost got it, just hold still.” His voice was soft, focused on grabbing onto the tip of the glass that he had been pulling out seconds before, the slow meticulous movements bringing you to the brink of screaming

“Okay. I need you to talk or something. Distract me before I start destroying the place please.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Bucky asked with hesitation, another piece of glass clanging against the steel bowl.

“Tell me something you liked…Before everything. Something you miss maybe.” He hummed, going for another shard of glass.

“Music…And dancing too I guess.” You took your arm away from your face, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him with your eyebrows raised.

“You? Dancing?” For a brief moment, he glanced up at you with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What? You don’t believe me?” You shrugged.

“I just can’t picture Bucky Barnes on the dance floor, were you like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever?” His brow furrowed for a moment, confused at what you were referring to.

“Saturday Night what?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve never seen that movie?” He gave you a flat look, returning his eyes to your knees, taking out another piece of glass and wiping the droplets of blood that slid down your skin.

“I’ve been frozen in ice, brainwashed, and playing assassin for half a century. You think I’ve had time to watch movies?” You leaned back a little, resting your weight on your elbows.

“Fair point, but it’s a classic Bucky. The disco music, the bell bottoms, the gyrating.” You reminisced, watching as his lips pressed tightly together.

“Pretty sure I was not gyrating on the dancefloor.” He commented back, another piece of glass joining the pile as he moved to your other knee, his hand leaving your skin briefly before mirroring the same position with the other leg.

“So what kind of dancing did you do then?” A smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes crinkling, showing off what little wrinkles he had.

“Ballroom, Swing if I was feeling fancy.” You grinned.

“Very nice.” You could see his cheeks dusting red slightly, as he dropped another piece of glass into the bowl, wiping your knee.

“What can I say…I had the moves.”

“Had?” He glanced up at you, his teeth showing slightly now, a genuine smile appearing on his face, something you had not seen before from him.

“Careful, it sounds like you want to find out.” The way his voice dropped made a satisfying shiver shoot up your spine, but you kept your expression neutral, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah? You offering to take me out dancing Bucky?” He shrugged, shifting in his spot to get a bit more comfortable, latching onto another piece of glass.

“Maybe.” Glancing up to see your reaction, noticing that you were blushing as well. You shook your head at him.

“Please, if we ever went out dancing you’d throw me around like a ragdoll and I’d end up concussed.” He laughed deeply, returning his eyes to your knees.

“Nah...You’d be good, I can tell.” You squinted at him.

”Oh yeah? And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Bucky smirked, his hand shifting to adjust your leg, the tweezers grabbing on to another glass shard.

”You move well. Quick on your feet, and you can keep up with me.” You scoffed at his comment, your body tensing as the pain from your knee was slowly building up again.

”You make it sound like fighting and dancing are the same thing.” He hummed, distracted from the conversation for a brief moment. You glanced at him, noticing that he was holding his breath as he pulled the large shard of glass out, bringing the cracked and bloodied piece up to your sight, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Well, they’re not all that different. Both are about timing. About knowing your partner.” Bucky replied, his voice low and smooth. Another clang echoed throughout the room while he grabbed a fresh gauze pad to press down onto the weeping wound. You swallowed, shifting against the mattress, trying to ignore the warmth that crept up your back.

”So what, you’re saying we’d make a good dancing pair?” You could feel the way his fingers flexed at the question, his cold vibranium thumb running over the bottom of your knee. He didn’t look up right away, still applying pressure on the wound that continued to slowly bleed.

”I think we already do.” He murmured, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You could see the way his eyes scanned over yours, the way that his jaw clenched just for a split second. An unwavering heat crept up the back of your neck, flushing your chest and the surrounding area of skin red.

“Yeah? What makes you so sure?” His eyes never left yours as he adjusted his grip again, letting his fingers freely brush against your skin, as if he didn’t realize what he was doing.

”I know how you move, and you never have problems following instructions when you’re given them.” Your fingers twitched against the sheets, the words sinking into you. He wasn’t wrong, not one bit, but it was the way he said it, and the way his breath hit your skin, the sensations were crowding you at that point that it was starting to become increasingly difficult to keep yourself cool.

”Sounds a bit cocky if you’d ask me.” He dropped the tweezers into the bowl, throwing the saturated gauze on top of it, as he wet his bottom lip with his tongue.

”Not cocky, just observant, that's all.” His voice was low, sultry, you didn’t know if he meant for it to come out so soft, but it still made you feel motion sickness. Before you could even stop to think about what you were going to do, you reached down, your fingers holding the back of his bicep, gripping onto the cool vibranium through the sleeve of his shirt as you pulled yourself up.

The second you entered his space, his eyes were locked onto yours, wide and searching, like he was surprised you decided to pull that little move. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him now, and you were hyper-aware of how his chest rose and fell now that you were closer to him, the shallowness of his breaths coming to your attention almost immediately.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking over at your hand sliding up, gliding over the curve of his shoulder. His hand remained behind your knee, as the other one gripped the mattress beside him, unsure if he should reach out to bring you closer. You tilted your head forward, your lips dangerously close to his, as the both of you exchanged breaths.

”Getting comfortable.” You whispered, watching his jaw tense at your words, his fingers twitching against your skin. He tilted his head back slightly, letting out a sigh.

”You don’t want this, Y/N.” Your brows furrowed at the hesitancy in his voice, but before you could protest he continued, “It’s been a long time…Since I’ve…” He paused, looking back at you, “I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You could hear the vulnerability in his voice mixing with embarrassment, as he avoided your eyes still. Slowly, you slid your hands down the front of his shirt, feeling his chest tense up beneath your touch as your fingers gripped the fabric gently.

“You won’t disappoint me Bucky,” His hands flexed at your words like he was battling with himself as he returned his eyes to yours, allowing the both of you to really look at each other. You had never noticed the way his eyes glistened in the light or the way his pupils ate away at the blueness of his irises.

You shifted onto your knees, being mindful of the ache, but ignoring it in favour of attempting to bring yourself closer to him, as you slid your fingers upward, tracing the outline of his collarbone. Carefully, you moved, sliding yourself into his lap, feeling his body stiffen beneath you, his hands coming up to hold your waist out of instinct. Your fingers curled around the chain of his dog tags, feeling the cool metal in your hands, as you leaned in, letting your lips ghost over the rough stubble along his jaw.

”It’s been a long time for me too.” You admitted softly, your breath warm against his skin, his fingers gripping you just a little tighter, feeling your lips press a gentle kiss on his neck. His breath left him slowly, his vibranium hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

”Yeah?” His voice filled with uncertainty, as you pulled back to look down at him, nodding, threading your fingers into his damp hair.

”I also don’t know what I’m doing half the time either,” You replied, tilting yourself forward, bringing your lips close to his, “But I know I want this…And I know I want you.” You admitted, closing the space between the both of you, your lips meeting his. Bucky let out a sound that was a cross between a sharp inhale and a groan, as his arm slid around your waist wrapping around you so your body was flush against his chest. His thumb traced along your cheek as he leaned up, trying to basically crawl into you.

The kiss was tentative at first, slow and meticulous, like he was memorizing the feeling of your lips against his, the way you pulled on his hair, and the small moans that escaped into the air as he kept you pressed against his chest. A soft hum vibrated from your throat when his lips parted just enough to deepen the kiss, your tongue meeting his in a battle for dominance.

Bucky was the first one to break the kiss, overwhelmed by all the sensations that were hitting him at the same time. He rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath, as his arm tightened around you, trying to steady himself. You opened your eyes, your hands coming up to hold his face, pulling back to look at him, seeing the softness in his stare, like he was in a daze.

”You sure it’s been a while since you’ve done this?” He let out a laugh, shaking his head.

”Yeah, I’m positive.” He replied, his eyes scanning over your swollen lips, “It’s muscle memory I guess.” You smirked at him, your thumbs dragging over the stubble on his face.

“I think you just know what you’re doing.” You whispered, your compliment causing him to blush.

”You flatter me…” Before you could respond, Bucky shifted, his arm tightening around your waist as he moved forward. In one fluid motion, he eased you down onto the mattress, his body following closely behind, blanketing you in his warmth, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin, your legs wrapping around his hips. He braced his weight against his vibranium hand, as his eyes traced over every detail of your face. Your fingers curled over the neckline of his shirt, pulling him closer to you so that he could capture your lips with his again, his body pressing against yours in a way that sent a pool of heat into your lower stomach. He savoured every moment, feeling the way your legs tightened around him, pulling him even closer to you, the heat of your body surrounding him like a shield of sorts. It was intoxicating to the point where it made his head spin. You arched into him instinctively, dragging your hands down to the hem of his shirt, slipping them beneath the covering so that your fingers could dance across the muscles of his stomach, feeling them twitch against your touch. He let out a stuttered breath as he broke the kiss, leaning back so that he could pull his shirt off for you, throwing it to the side in one smooth motion.

The dim lighting of the room casted shadows over the hard planes of his chest, accentuating every defined ridge of muscle he had. Your eyes drifted to where flesh met metal, to the seam where his vibranium arm connected to his shoulder. The skin around it was littered with thick scarred tissue, jagged and slightly raised. You couldn’t imagine how many procedures he had been put through to get him to this point, but all you could think about was the pain he must’ve gone through. You continued to look him over, his dog tags catching your eyes for a moment, your hand reaching up to grab it gently.

”You’re staring,” He commented, his hand wrapping around your wrist, feeling your pulse bounding against his fingertips.

”It’s the first time I’m seeing you like this…Give me a little grace.” You joked, running your thumb over his name on the dog tag. He allowed you to take your time with him, knowing that he would probably do something similar when the roles became reversed.

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” He murmured, his voice quieter than before, reserved for such an intimate moment.

”I’m just trying to memorize all of it.” You replied, letting your hand fan out over his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart pulsing against your palm. His lips parted for a moment, almost in disbelief that you liked what you were seeing, as he brought your hand up to his mouth, gently kissing the back of it, keeping his eyes on yours. His vibranium fingers raced absentminded circles along the skin of your exposed hip, his thumb brushing along the hem of your tank top, hesitating to make his next move. You sat up slightly, giving him the go-ahead to pull the shirt off of you, feeling the cool metal graze against the sensitive flesh of your ribs, as you raised your arms above your head allowing him to remove the top with ease, watching him throw it off the side of the bed. His gaze dropped to your body, roaming over every expanse of skin he could see, as you laid back down on the mattress, putting yourself under the spotlight this time.

Just like Bucky, you had your own set of war wounds, only they were caused by your own hands. The marks on your skin were not ordinary bruises, Bucky had never seen anything like them before, and the level of concern behind his eyes made you speak up.

“They’re Lichtenberg figures…People get them when they’re struck by lightning, and well…You can connect the dots as to why I have them of course.” They branched across your torso in breathtaking patterns, thin fractals of darkened reds stretching from the center of your chest and curling down your ribs, sprawling out like frozen lightning, captured in the canvas of your body. Some of the marks ran deeper, more defined, where the energy had burned through your skin with more force. Others faded into the natural warmth of your body, barely there but still visible under the dim light of the room. His eyes roamed over them, committing the patterns to memory, as he reached out with his right hand, hesitating for a moment.

“Do they hurt?” You looked up at him, shaking your head.

“No. There’s so much scarred tissue at this point that the area is pretty much numb.” You explained, feeling his calloused fingers trailing over the patterns on your torso while his vibranium hand remained on your hip, holding you still. He hummed, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss against your collarbone.

“They’re beautiful.” He whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, your heart immediately swelling at his words, feeling his lips pecking along your shoulder, as his hand continued to trace along the etched fractals, moving up towards your breasts. He pulled back for a moment, breathing against the little wet marks he had left on your skin, cooling them down before returning to his exploration, kissing over the swell of your breast, his lips parting against the sensitive flesh, sucking just enough to leave faint red marks behind. You tensed beneath his touch, arching your back towards him, his fingers digging into your hip, pushing you back down against the mattress, his lips turning up into a smile against your skin.

“Stay still.” His voice vibrated against you, feeling his fingers trailing down the side of your rib cage, his lips gently making their descent down your sternum, his teeth grazing down the pathway, sending a shiver up your spine, your fingers finding their way to his hair, carding them through the damp strands.

“You’re making this hard Bucky.” He glanced up at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust.

“That’s the whole point.” He replied, continuing to trail down your stomach, his stubble scraping down your skin, before kissing right above your navel, “I want to take my time with you.” He whispered, bringing his right hand down to hold onto your thigh against him, the rough callouses causing goosebumps to rise beneath his touch. You tugged on his hair, feeling him move even lower so his lips were right just above the waistband of your shorts, his head tilting up to look at you. You held his gaze, your chest rising and falling with each uneven breath you took. A smirk played on his lips, and without breaking eye contact, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just above the fabric, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that sent a delicious ache spreading through you.

“Can I take these off?” He asked gently, his fingers playing lightly with the waistband, teasing you when his thumb dipped below it for a fraction of a second before returning to its spot.

“Yes…Please.” Your voice sounded so desperate, choked up with tension, feeling him hook his fingers around the fabric before slowly pulling them down your hips, then down your thighs, only moving away from you to remove the shorts from your body completely, letting it join the increasing pile of clothes that began to form on the floor. His jaw clenched at the sight of you in front of him, your body laid out beneath his, completely bare except for your underwear. His hands moved slowly, as he grasped the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressing gently into your skin. You reached for him, your fingers tracing up his forearms, craving for him to return to where he had been just moments ago, the anticipation winding tight in your stomach. He leaned back down towards you, bringing your legs up over his broad shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he settled between your thighs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your knee, the warmth of his breath sending a shudder through you. His grip on your thighs was firm but careful, as his mouth moved up towards your underwear, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a whisper of friction that only added to the tension that coiled deep in the core of your stomach. Your fingers tangled into his hair again, pulling gently, wordlessly begging him to continue. You could feel him smile against the skin of your inner thighs, enjoying how desperate you were becoming.

“Bucky.” You whispered, your voice breaking with such need that it almost burned through your body. He looked up at you, his darkened eyes gazing into your soul, reading you like you were an open book. His lips parted slightly as his right hand left the top of your thigh, skimming his fingers over the damped fabric of your underwear.

“So impatient.” He murmured, trying to keep his voice from wavering, attempting to keep the dominance in his tone, even though it was becoming harder and harder with every shaky breath you took. His lips brushed over the fabric, breathing out against your arousal as your thighs tightened on his neck, a soft moan escaping your throat.

“Bucky, please…” You begged, your fingers pulling on his hair, the teasing pushing you over the edge. A smirk ghosted across his lips at your pleas, and then with an agonizing slowness he hooked his fingers into the fabric of your underwear, dragging it gently to the side, baring you to him completely. His eyes flicked up to yours, his pupils blown out enough to where you were almost unable to see the ring of blue that surrounded it, and in that moment, you could see that he was as desperate as you were. Then finally, he pressed his mouth against you.

The first touch was barely there, a soft kiss placed deliberately beside where you needed him the most, to tease you, before his lips parted and his tongue dragged up your slit, not wanting to hinder himself any longer. Your head fell back against the pillow, a choked gasp escaping your lips at the sensation and warmth of his mouth wrapping around your clit, humming at the way your thighs flexed against his face, rubbing against his stubble. His tongue continued to circle against the bundle of nerves, his eyes burning into your skin, watching as you arched your back, grinding yourself on his mouth, wordlessly begging that you wanted more. His right hand slid up to your core, coating his fingers in your arousal before slipping two of them in with ease, looking at the way your mouth dropped open as he curled them inside you, finding a pace that matched the way his tongue worked against your clit.

Your fingers continued to tangle deeper into his hair, but before you could pull, his vibranium hand wrapped around one of your wrists, pulling it away gently, feeling him pin your arm down against the mattress beside you, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours. The contrast of the heat that was pooling in your stomach and the cold of his hand sent a shiver through you, heightening every moment, every touch, and every movement he made against you, unraveling you piece by piece.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, the pressure in your lower stomach growing unbearable, his increasing pace pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel the way you clenched around his fingers, and how you trembled beneath him, rocking against his mouth.

”Bucky-“ His name left your lips in a strangled breath, your gaze returning to his, realizing that he had been watching you this entire time, enamoured by your body and the way it reacted to him. His grip on your hand tightened, grounding you to the moment, your legs clenching around his head again just as his tongue flattened against you and his fingers curled a little more inside you, picking up the pace. For a split second he took his mouth off you.

“Let go for me sweetheart.” He instructed, his voice laced with such need and devotion that you could feel your entire body tense up, feeling his mouth returning to your clit once again, his tongue working against you with such purpose that all the air in your lungs ceased to exist. Your thighs twitched against the sides of his head, his lips wrapping around your clit with a slow and deliberate pull, which caused the tension in your stomach to snap.

A sharp moan tore through you, as he pressed his face against you even more, allowing himself to feel the way you shuddered beneath him. The air crackled faintly, as static danced along your skin, noticing the way Bucky’s arm plates flickered a light blue for a brief moment. His grip on your hand tightened, and his movements didn’t falter, allowing himself to slow down just enough to guide you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, until your body finally relaxed against the mattress, utterly spent.

Gently he pulled away from your soaked core, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh, before removing his glistening fingers from you and sitting up slightly. His lips were slick with your arousal, and the expression on his face was something between pride and awe, as he crawled back on top of you, caging your body in his warmth.

“You were incredible.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the sweet reminance of you being tasted on his tongue, “You did so good.” He added, bringing his fingers to your mouth, watching as you sucked the rest of your arousal off of them, your tongue carefully flicking against them.

“Christ.” Was all he could manage to say, as he slowly pulled his fingers from your mouth, letting them drag down your swollen lower lip, watching the saliva glisten over the reddened skin where you had been biting. The hard outline of him pressed against your thigh as he shifted above you, bringing his mouth to yours again, wanting to savour every kiss you gave him. His dog tags grazed the middle of your chest, cooling your overheated skin which now had a faint film of sweat forming on it, as you let out a soft moan when he rolled his hips against your aching heat, pressing hard so you could feel him. Bucky pulled away from the kiss, almost with a disappointed look on his face, a moment of realization shining in his eyes.

”Shit…Y/N I don’t have condoms.” He whispered, putting his forehead onto your collarbone, breathing heavily, trying to steady himself. You smirked at his despair, as you laced your fingers into his hair and tugged it so he could look at you.

”I have an implant, Bucky.” You informed, watching the relief wash over his face, a long sigh escaping his lips.

”Thank god.” Was all he could say before sitting back onto his knees, moving quickly to rid you of your underwear and himself of his cargo pants and boxers. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he shifted his weight to take everything off all at once, and also just enough to knock the first aid kit and the metal bowl of glass right off the bed.

The sharp clang causes the both of you to freeze, as Bucky’s eyes flicker over to the mess before returning to you, waiting for your reaction, watching your hand come up to cover your mouth to stop a laugh from escaping it.

“Real smooth.” You teased, hearing him let out a breathless chuckle.

”Not my best moment.” He admitted with a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his neck, bringing his hand over to touch your thigh. You reached up to wrap your hand around his forearm, before pulling him towards you.

”I find it kind of endearing that you’re all nervous and flustered.” He let out a quiet laugh, as he settled between your legs once again.

“You make it hard to keep my composure.” Your fingers skimmed up his arm, feeling his bicep twitching beneath your touch, while he adjusted himself against you, bringing his vibranium hand up to your throat to hold it gently, tilting your head up to meet his eyes before his mouth captured yours again in a hunger filled kiss, feeling your hips raising to meet his, in a silent plea. A low groan escaped him as his length grinded against your wet heat, attempting to hold himself back for just a few moments before he got lost in you. He pulls away from your lips again, leaning back so he can line himself up with you. Your eyes trail down to his cock, seeing that it’s already glistening with precum, the tip a light red, practically begging to be seated inside you. He’s way above average, and the way he pumps himself in his hand almost makes you come right then and there. He could see the lust in your eyes, the way your mouth opened just a little at the sight in front of you.

“You sure you can take me sweetheart? You’re already shaking.” He pointed out, a teasing smile coming up on his wet lips.

“I need you Bucky…Please…” The words fell from you in a whimper, as his vibranium hand slid from your throat to cup the side of your face.

“Okay, okay, I won’t tease you anymore…Relax for me.” He whispered, as he aligned himself with your entrance, coating himself in your arousal. You could feel yourself clench around nothing in anticipation for him, feeling as he gently pushed into you, the delicious stretch was just enough to make you gasp, and tighten around him, your eyes closing to take all the sensations in at once. Bucky leaned onto you, his lips brushing against yours.

”Look at me,” He ordered softly, “I want to see those pretty eyes while I’m inside you.” You moaned at his comment, bringing your half-lidded, pleasure hazed gaze up to meet his, as your jaw went slack, feeling him pushing deeper, inch by inch.

“That’s it,” He praised, “You’re taking me in so well, and you’re so fucking tight…All for me.” He was breathless, continuing to move slowly, his pelvis finally meeting yours when he bottomed out. He gave you a gentle kiss, like he was rewarding you for listening to him, a soft moan escaping your throat. Your walls fluttered around him as he drew back a bit before thrusting forward, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

”Oh my god Bucky…” You whimpered, his hand coming up to hold just above your stabilizer, a smile coming up on his lips as he repeated the same motion, pulling the same reaction from you.

“There you go,” He coaxed, “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” You could only nod, your nails digging into his shoulders, dragging them down his back.

”Say it, sweetheart…Tell me how good it feels.” He whispers, his breath hitting your lips as he continues to move, pulling out just a little more, bringing his hips to yours again just a little harder, eliciting another gasp from throat.

”You feel s-so good.” Your words caught on the sheer pleasure of the way he filled you, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

”That’s my girl…You were made for this weren’t you?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear, savouring the way you writhed beneath him, reacting to his movements and words. He pressed another kiss to your lips, pulling his hand from your neck, and sliding it down between the both of you to press just above your pubic bone. The added pressure made every movement of his hips feel like explosions throughout your body.

“You feel that hmm? How deep I am inside of you?” Your walls clenched around him, as your eyes closed again, another strangled moan escaping into the room, your nails dragging across his skin again.

”Bucky, o-oh my god.” Was all you could manage to say, your legs locking around his waist, your abdomen tensing beneath his touch. He began to pick up the pace, the both of you exchanging breaths and gasps into each other's mouths, as he nipped at your bottom lip gently.

”You’re so fucking perfect.” He praised, feeling your fingers curl into his hair, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming heat of his body grinding into yours. His lips traveled along your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, sucking the sensitive skin, putting a mark on a spot that would be visible to everyone, snapping his hips against yours, earning another cry from your lips.

“I love fucking hearing you.” He whispered, devouring every reaction you gave him, your walls clenching around him, throwing off his rhythm for a moment as he brought his face back up to yours. “You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?” He asked, watching you nod frantically, unable to focus on the task at forming words. He removed the pressure he was placing above your pubic bone, only to bring his fingers to your swollen clit, pressing against it. Your body arched against his, as he began to draw tight, slow circles around the bundle of nerves.

”Come for me Y/N…Let me feel it.” His voice cracked, his breath ragged. Before your brain could even register his words the pleasure ripped through you, as your body shook beneath his, your nails now digging into his flesh, causing him to gasp at the sharp sting. Your vision was blurred, and you could’ve sworn you felt a few tears fall out of the corners of your eyes as you clenched down harder on his cock, another static pulse igniting from you, wrapping around Bucky’s arm and fading out quickly. He kissed you again, consuming you completely, bringing his hand back up to your neck just to hold it, feeling your pulse beneath his fingertips, picking up the speed of his thrusts, the pace becoming rougher and more desperate. You grabbed onto his vibranium hand, gasping for air.

”I’m gonna fill you up so much that I’m gonna be dripping out of you for days.” He growled, tightening his grip on your hand, as the burning tension in him finally snapped, the hand on your neck tightening for a brief moment, his body stiffening above you. He let out a long groan against your lips as he spilled into you, bucking his hips towards yours to push the warmth of him deeper inside, fulfilling his promise. The weight of him sank against you as his head dropped to the crook of your neck, kissing any portion of skin that he could reach.

A minute passed, maybe more, as the both of you laid there, catching your breath, while he softened inside you. He kept his hand at your neck, his thumb idly tracing over your pulse, while his vibranium fingers remained intertwined with yours, not wanting to pull away just yet. You tilted your head back against the pillow, as you let out a breathless laugh, breaking the silence that had settled between you. Bucky lifted his head slightly, eyebrows raised, his lips twitching at the corners.

”What’s funny?” He asked, as you turned your head to look at him, amusement dancing within your tired eyes.

”That tone you were using was so fucking hot.” You could see he was amused by your admission.

”Really?” He asked, his smirk growing wider and wider.

”Yeah…I mean I knew you could be confident, but that? Holy shit Bucky.” He laughed at the way you were rambling.

”I didn’t know you liked being talked through it like that, I was just kind of filling the silence.” He responded, watching as your eyebrows raised.

”THAT was filling the silence?!” He shrugged.

”Just got creative. It was really easy too, cause you looked so pretty under me.” He complimented, pressing a kiss against your lips, you hummed.

”Well consider me very appreciative of your sudden creativity.” You murmured.

”I guess I’ll have to add it to my sex repertoire for next time.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

”You want there to be a next time?” He laughed at your shock, as his hand tightened around yours.

”Oh Y/N, if you give me a few minutes to recover that next time will come really quickly.” He commented, earning a loud laugh from you.

[xylatox]

the truth untold pt.2!!!!!!!!!!😭 I've been waiting, I'm sosososo excited.

The entire gimbap scene has me giggling and screaming lmfao, I absolutely love it — “Oh, I’ll really sell it,” you continued, smirking. “You know I am good actress, baby.” You blinked up at him. — like one pet name is all it takes for Jake to give up, he's so downbad.

You stirred a little. When he looked down again, he found himself softening at the way your fingers had curled into the fabric of his hoodie. — she's so cute ahhhh😭 —He should also try to sleep, but all he could think about was how easy this felt. How natural the two of you fell into this rhythm of going on ‘platonic’ dates to get to know each other, how your friends thought you were a couple, how this didn’t feel fake for him. It somehow never did. And he was pretty sure you felt the same. — God, I love them so much :( Also the uncle already loving reader, tears in my eyes. —Jake barely resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.— im going to throw up Jake is so cute.

Loving the moment Jake has with his brother, it gives us more insight on their relationship, it's a shame that it's kind of strained because of the dad. Jake thinking about reader so much while at home, I'm gonna sob, this is so sweet:((

The only people who knew the truth about your so-called relationship with Jake were your parents. When you had first told your mom that Jake asked you to be his fake-date, she had simply laughed and told you to go with it. Why not? she had said.— we love the mom, she's so great lmao. I love how we went more in depth into reader's prior relationship with Marcus and even seeing some of her friends :((

“There you are,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to your temple before turning his attention to the three women in front of you. “Hey, ladies. Sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly, flashing them that signature grin, “but I had to steal my girlfriend back for a second.”— 😭 I died, Jake, the man you are. I LOVE how he defends reader too like:(((

The first interaction with the dad creeps me out lol, like Scar 2.0??? girl I'm so scared for what is about to happen. I do think Jake's mon is sweet though, she's a cutie, love that she talked back to the dad too.

And for some reason, the way he said it sent a different kind of warmth through you. One that had nothing to do with the summer air and scared you more than anything.— I am NOT prepared for the angst, absolutely frightened.

The moment they share after :(( the almost kiss, I'm screaming, crying and waiting for the angst to appear. The part where we get reader's thoughts and her fears and the way she knows how she feels for Jake :((

I will scream, Marcus' dad is pissing me off so much let the girl live what the hell and Jake standing up for her again :((( Uncle Jungjae is also a sweetheart :(

The dance scene rn omg (also the kitty plushie is so cute fr omg😭). —You both pulled back slightly, just enough to look at each other. Jake’s breathing was uneven, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. — what if I die, he's so in love with her.

Why does Sophia even approach her to speak to her alone????? like I'm so annoyed 😠😠....ah🧍the marriage being damage control makes me feel bad for Sophia a bit, but she still chested yknow.. thst is crazy though. Even with Marcus I'm so disgusted???? like how can you talk about reader like that??? it's so disrespectful, I too would be so mad like Jake cuz what the hell is that. Tobi we love you for preventing a fight, truly. — As they walk away, Marcus calls after them, his voice dripping with mockery. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Jake. She��s not the type you'd want to stick around to. Trust me, I know.”— oh I hate men, oh men are so infuriating.

The tension between them when they went to reader's house???? I'm dying, like Marcus is an ass we already established but the sex life convo made the tension so damn thick oh my god.

“No, you’re being dramatic,” you countered. “Dragging me to an ice rink when I can barely walk on solid ground."— me cuz my clumsy ass trips on air. The skating moment is so cute, even when reader ends up on the floor, the entire thing is endearing, even the scene with Jake and the kids is so cute.

Absolutely heartbroken that reader plans to immediately cut contact and I'm dreading seeing that happen. The fact that Jake asked about fried chicken and msged reader again at night oh my god I'm going to throw up, I feel so baddddd. Reader feeling guilty ans apologizing for not being there at the start of the game :( Patty you're gonna make me tear up

THE KISS???? AHHHHHH😭😭😭😭😭 the apology, I'm going to sob too.

I love the lecturer omg, the fact that he doesn't chastise her and knows she always does well???? in tears. The angst fully hitting noooooo😞😞😞

I'm going to cry, the moment between reader and Jay, between Jake and Joshua, like I'm not okay, I'm genuinely going 10 million stages of grief.

Drunk Jake and reader :(( I'm not okay, I love them so much.

Jake exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the top of your head. "You should’ve let me fight for you," he murmured again, voice wrecked. — I AM NOT OKAY😞😭😔

The war is over (I wasn't going to make it, absolutely almost died), Jake's mom is such a cutiepie frfr.

“I don’t know what Marcus told you.”, your eyes traveled from his lips to his eyes. “But I am not 16 and inexperienced anymore. I know how to stand up for myself. And Jake. I promise I’ll tell you whenever I feel uncomfortable or want you to stop.”— HELLO???? we love to see it omg.

God the end. It's over, my heart is I shambles, I loved every minute of it. Like, words cant describe how much I loved this. This was so amazing. Patty I'm so happy I finally got to read part 2😭

the truth untold pt. 2 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

READ PART ONE HERE --⟢ PART 1

⭑.ᐟ Fake Dating - Sim Jaeyun Falling for Jake was never part of the plan. The wedding was supposed to be the end, but somewhere between your getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-dates and the fake dating in front of your friends, this all stopped feeling like an act. But loving him means stepping into a world where you don’t belong, risking heartbreak at the hands of another rich boy . So you make the only choice you can. Even if it feels so wrong.

ᝰ genre. Hockeyplayer! Jake, college sports , a LOT of angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, fluff, suggestive, fake dating, miscommunication.ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of weed, alcohol and nicotine, suggestive language & actions( I tried writing smut and I was unsuccessful) , shitty exes, strained family relations, mention of death, desciption of murder (Y/N is a anthropology student and works with dead bodies, but it's nothing detailed) , they are also kinda dumb and should just speak to each other PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 35.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ GET ADDED MY TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT 🏒 ᝰ an. part two is in here and the story is done!! Thank you for all the feedbak on pt. 1! This is my baby and I hope you all love it just as much and give it just as much love! In theory I think you could even read this as a stand alone if you’re not up to read pt.1?! ₊ ⊹  

A few days later, you and Jake stood in Incheon Airport, weaving through the crowds toward your gate while sharing a roll of gimbap you bought from GS25 after security. Well, technically, he bought it. You were just stealing it.

Jake had known you would be hungry. You had spent the entire day in class, rushed straight to the subway to meet him at his dorm and barely had time to breathe before heading to the airport. He asked if you wanted anything before the flight, but you waved him off, saying you weren’t hungry. He didn’t believe you for a second. So he bought two rolls. Just in case. Now, as you strolled beside him, you had successfully stolen one piece, then another, then almost half of his first roll. He narrowed his eyes at you, holding the last piece protectively between his fingers.

“You said you weren’t hungry,” he accused, pulling the gimbap just out of your reach. “I’m not,” you replied, very much reaching for it. Jake scoffed. “Then what the hell have you been doing for the last five minutes?” You grinned, still making a grab for the food. “Making sure you don’t eat too much before the flight.” “Oh, how generous,” he said dryly, shoving the last piece into his mouth before you could steal it. He smirked when you let out an annoyed huff, chewing with satisfaction. “You’re lucky I bought two.” Your eyes lit up instantly, and you stretched your hand out expectantly.

Jake gave you a blank stare. “What?” “The other roll,” you said, wiggling your fingers. He snorted. “Oh, this one?” He pulled it from his bag, shaking it slightly in your direction before tucking it right back inside. “I thought you weren’t hungry?” “Jake,” you said, tone dropping into something serious. “Give me the gimbap.” “Or what?” he teased, holding the plastic container closer to his chest.

“Or I’ll make sure to tell Jay we did actually light the kitchen on fire.” Jake let out an actual laugh. “That’s the threat you’re going with? You think he’ll believe that?” “Oh, I’ll really sell it,” you continued, smirking. “You know I am good actress, baby.” You blinked up at him.  Jake felt heat creep up his neck and immediately shoved the second roll into your hands. “Take it.” You grinned in victory, opening the package and popping a piece into your mouth. “See? I knew you’d come around.” Jake shook his head but didn’t argue. You were impossible. And yet, somehow, he didn’t mind.

Jake had expected to dread stepping onto the plane more than he actually did. The night before, he had talked to his dad. An exhausting conversation where he’d reassured him, yet again, that he was coming home for the wedding. That yes, you were still coming too. His dad had barely reacted, just humming in acknowledgment before launching into a lecture about who Jake needed to speak with at the reception. It has been three months since he blurted your name to his dad, three months since he roped you into this fake relationship just because he didn’t want to face his father alone. He still wasn’t sure if it was the worst decision he had ever made or the smartest. At least there were some things to look forward to. He was going to see his uncle and aunt again, catch up with a few old friends, and most importantly, spend the week with his dog and you, if you let him. He glanced down at you, nestled against his shoulder, your face relaxed in sleep.

For someone who spent their days surrounded by death, handling bones and studying the remnants of people who would never breathe again, you looked peaceful. Jake hated that your job required you to witness the absolute worst parts of life. Hated the fact that just days ago, he had held you while you cried over a boy who would never grow up. Hated that you wanted to carry all of it alone. Hated that you disliked telling him, or anyone, what's worrying you. No matter how often he told you that he would worry more if you don’t.  He sighed, letting his head rest back against the seat, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket draped over both of you.

After this week, it would all be over. The fake dating, the stolen moments, the way you fit so easily into his life. Three months of inside jokes, of late-night texts, of you showing up at his games. Three months of watching Bones together, of him getting too invested in a show he only started because he wanted to understand why you loved it so much. He hated that thought as well. Maybe you would be okay with just being friends again after this whole thing ended.  He could live with that. He had to live with that. Losing you entirely wasn’t an option he wanted to consider. The idea of going back to the way things were before, before the jokes, before the late-night talks, before he knew what it felt like to have you pressed into his side felt impossible.

He could do friends. He was hoping you could too. But first, you had to survive this week. Jake knew his father wouldn’t make it easy. He already felt sorry for whatever was about to happen, for the things his dad would say. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even be going. He would have skipped this wedding, avoided the whole damn thing. You stirred a little. When he looked down again, he found himself softening at the way your fingers had curled into the fabric of his hoodie.  Jake carefully adjusted the blanket draped over you both. The cabin was cool, and the last thing he wanted was for you to wake up shivering.  Finally satisfied, he shifted slightly in his seat, resting his head gently against yours.

For a moment, he just stayed there, listening to the quiet hum of the plane, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He should also try to sleep, but all he could think about was how easy this felt. How natural the two of you fell into this rhythm of going on ‘platonic’ dates to get to know each other, how your friends thought you were a couple, how this didn’t feel fake for him. It somehow never did. And he was pretty sure you felt the same. When the flight attendant stopped by your seats, her voice was soft, polite, trying not to disturb the peaceful quiet of the first-class cabin. God bless his uncle for upgrading the two of you, claiming that he just wanted to spoil his favourite nephew and his girlfriend. Jake and you ran into your uncle a few other times on campus where you impressed his uncle so much he actually told Jake to be careful to not lose you, since he really liked you. Which didn’t make him feel particularly better about his own situation but pride swelled up in his chest when he heard his uncle say that.  "Would you like anything to drink?" Jake glanced down at you, still tucked against his side, warm and soft and barely awake. He nudged you lightly. "Hey, do you want anything?"

You made a small noise in response, barely lifting your head, eyes still heavy with sleep. "No," you mumbled, voice quiet and pouty, before burrowing yourself further into his chest. Jake froze for a second, his breath catching in his throat. His arms tightened around you instinctively. God, you were so cute when you were sleepy. He had only seen you like this maybe three times before but he wished he had seen it more. You were always so sharp, so quick-witted, always moving, always thinking. But here, now, with your face pressed against his chest, your breathing slow and even, you looked peaceful and relaxed  His heart ached in a way he didn’t know how to describe.

He swallowed, blinking at the flight attendant, who was watching with a little smile, before clearing his throat. "Uh, just water, please." She nodded and walked off. You stirred slightly, shifting closer to him, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his hoodie. Jake barely resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

Jake stifled a yawn as you stepped off the plane and into the arrivals hall at Brisbane Airport. The fluorescent lights were way too bright for six in the morning, and he was running on maybe two hours of sleep. You, on the other hand, looked like you had been hit by sleep deprivation. You were barely functioning, groggy as hell, moving through the terminal like a half-conscious zombie, even though you slept through almost all ten hours of your flight. He didn’t know you were like this after waking up, it was honestly a bit fun and adorable at the same time.  He had already taken charge of grabbing both your suitcases, slinging his duffle over his shoulder while maneuvering both of your roller bags through the crowd “C’mon, sleeping beauty,” he muttered, reaching for your hand. His fingers slipped between yours, warm and steady as he tugged you along. You made a noise in response, somewhere between a hum and a whine, but didn’t pull away.

Jake really should’ve just gotten a taxi. That was the first thought that crossed his mind when he spotted his brother standing near the exit, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, smiling at him. He didn’t expect Joshua to pick him up, he really didn’t want him to pick him up. His dad said he would arrange for someone to pick him up and Jake assumed it would be a chauffeur or something. Not Josh.  Before he could dwell on that, you nudged him lightly, pointing toward a man standing a few feet away. “That’s my dad,” you murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. Jake barely had time to process the information before you turned to him, stepping a little closer, tilting your chin to press a kiss to his cheek. Your lips were soft and warm.  And then, just as quickly, you pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips before you grabbed your suitcase and strode toward your father.

Jake stood there, his brain catching up about five seconds too late. Then, with a quiet sigh, he finally turned toward his brother. “Jake.” “Joshua.” “It’s good to see you,” Joshua said, smiling genuinely at him as he gestured toward the exit. “Figured I’d pick you up since we’re both staying at home for the next few days.” Jake just nodded, not quite able to match the same level of effort his brother was putting in. Joshua was trying. Jake knew that, he also knew that the resentment he felt for his big brother came from the wrong place. Joshua did nothing wrong for Jake to dislike him. It was their father who made it so obvious whom he deemed as the favourite child. 

But that was the thing. Joshua had always been the golden son, their dad’s favorite, the one who could do no wrong. It was easy for him to try, easy for him to act like things weren’t as bad as they actually were. Meanwhile, Jake had spent years resenting the way things had played out. The way Joshua had always been held to a different standard, a better one. He nodded at his brother, forcing a tired smile. “Thank you.” Joshua cleared his throat as they walked toward his fathers car. “So… was that Y/N?” Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah." Joshua hummed, nodding. “She is pretty. Dad mentioned she was coming with you.”

“She’s staying with her family,” Jake muttered, shifting his duffel bag onto his shoulder. “Right.” Joshua paused for a second before glancing over. “How long have you been together?” Jake hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Almost half a year now.” he answered, keeping his voice even. Joshua hummed again, like he was turning the answer over in his head, trying to figure something out. It made Jake’s skin itch. “So since before Christmas?”

Jake shot him a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?” Joshua shrugged, unlocking the car. “I don’t know, man. You never really brought anyone home after Sophia. But I am glad you found someone else that makes you happy. From what I’ve heard from Uncle Jungjaes stories she is a nice girl.” Jake didn’t have a response to that, mostly because it was true. You were a nice girl. He exhaled through his nose, throwing his bag into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. “She is a nice girl. She makes me happy.” Joshua didn’t say anything right away. The car rumbled to life, the early morning silence settling between them like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t tense, not really but it wasn’t comfortable either. And then, just as they pulled onto the road, Joshua spoke again, softer this time. “She seems good for you.” Jake hummed and stared out the window, watching the city blur past, his own thoughts a mess of contradictions.

Jake spent most of the day sleeping, the exhaustion from the flight finally catching up to him. When he woke up around midday, his stomach was grumbling. He dragged himself downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the dining area. The massive oak table was set for one, his usual seat already prepared. A small Post-it was stuck just above the plate, his mom’s familiar handwriting scribbled across the paper. I made galbitang for you, just reheat it. – Love, Mom. Just the thought of his mom’s cooking had his stomach twisting in hunger. He let out a small sigh, grabbing the bowl and moving to the kitchen.

As he was reheating the soup, the sound of nails clicking against the hardwood made him glance down. Layla trotted into the room, ears perked, tail wagging wildly. Jake barely had time to react before she shoved her head against his leg, whining softly. “Hey, Layla.” He bent down, scratching behind her ears. She licked at his hand, practically vibrating with excitement. The moment he stepped into the house this morning, she had nearly tackled him, her whole body wiggling with joy. She hadn’t left his side since, curling up against him on his bed, pressing herself into his chest as if afraid he’d disappear. “You’re so clingy,” he muttered, but his voice was soft and full of adoration.

Layla huffed in response, flopping onto the floor next to his feet as he stirred his soup. He ate in silence, save for the occasional sound of Layla shifting beside him. The house was empty, just like it always was.  His parents were out, probably busy with the company. That was fine with him. It was like it has always been. But the silence left too much room to think. His mind drifted as he ate, thoughts circling the same place they always seemed to end up these days.

You.

Jake groaned, dropping his spoon with a clatter. He was going crazy. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair and decided he had to go for a run. 

The moment Jake stepped outside with Layla, he exhaled, finally feeling like he could breathe again.  He took the long route to the park, his grip occasionally tightening around Layla’s leash when she got too excited. She was just as happy to be outside as he was.

He found his usual bench, the one tucked beneath the big jacaranda tree, and sat down with a sigh. Layla plopped down beside him, resting her head on his knee, tail still wagging lazily. Jake scratched behind her ears absentmindedly. He should be dreading the rest of the day, thinking about dinner, about his father, about this whole damn week.

But instead, he thought about you. 

Again.

About how much easier the flight had been because you were there. About how you had curled into him, barely even awake when you kissed him goodbye at the airport. About how much he wished you were sitting next to him right now.

He scoffed at himself, shaking his head. “I’m losing it, Layla.”

Layla huffed in response, like she agreed. Jake leaned back against the bench, staring up at the sky. It was funny. He spent so long dreading coming home, and now that he was here, the only thing he could think about was how soon he could see you again.

You were standing next to your father in front of the massive outdoor wedding location Sophia and Marcus had chosen for their obnoxiously expensive and over the top wedding, greeting and smiling at whoever greeted your parents while you waited for Jake to arrive. He texted you almost half an hour ago that his family was on their way, but there was still no sign of him.  “You know. Even if you keep staring at the parking lot it won’t make him arrive faster.”, your father nudged your shoulder, when he caught you frowning.  You huffed. “I know dad.” The only people who knew the truth about your so-called relationship with Jake were your parents. When you had first told your mom that Jake asked you to be his fake-date, she had simply laughed and told you to go with it. Why not? she had said. 

Your parents weren’t particularly fond of Jake’s parents, and they had been genuinely surprised when you told them you were actually attending the wedding. Your father had asked more than once if you were joking. But when they realized Jake would be in a similar position and would be dealing with his father the whole time, they took it upon themselves to look out for him, offering him some level of refuge from whatever unpleasantness awaited. The thought of meeting his parents made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You and Jake had the whole hopelessly in love and annoyingly sweet couple act down, but still, based on what Jake had told you about his father, this whole thing was bound to be even more unpleasant than you it already was, considering this was your ex best friend and ex boyfriend's wedding. You cringed at the thought.  In the ten minutes your parents and you had been waiting you had seen so many of Marcus’s friends you felt like kicking someone. You never truly liked any of them. They were spoiled, entitled, privileged assholes that believed they were untouchable thanks to daddys money.  But you had gone along with it back then, hadn’t you? The endless parties, the expensive clubs, the after-hours gatherings in someone’s penthouse. You had been so desperate to fit in, to be the kind of girlfriend Marcus wanted. Even when you hated the music, even when you hated the people. Even when you hated yourself for pretending to enjoy it.

You started smoking back then. Not because you really wanted to, but because everyone else did. Because Marcus would pull you onto his lap at some rich kid’s house party, press a cigarette between your fingers, and smirk when you took a drag. And somehow that stuck. You had spent nearly two years with Marcus, yet you never truly belonged in his world. His friends tolerated you because you were his girlfriend but treated you like shit. The more you thought about it, the less sense your relationship with Marcus made. You couldn't even remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place. A call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts and you noticed Jake's Uncle approaching you. He was walking hand in hand with a very elegant woman, grinning and waving at you.

You tilted your head in confusion for a second before offering him the same enthusiastic smile. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that you thought about it, it made sense. He and Jake’s father were business partners after all. "Y/N!" he greeted warmly, pulling you into a hug the moment he reached you. "It’s so nice to see you. You look gorgeous." You flushed at the compliment, momentarily caught off guard. "Thank you, sir. It’s nice to see you as well." Jungjae chuckled, stepping back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as he turned to your parents. "I am Sim Jungjae. Jakes uncle.", he said smoothly, shaking your father’s hand. “This is my wife Angelica. I had the chance to meet your gorgeous daughter on campus a few times."

Your parents exchanged polite smiles, your father nodding. "It’s nice to meet you Jungjae. I am Woojin and this is Nayeon." Jungjae’s grin widened as he shook your father’s hand, his charm effortlessly filling the space. "Woojin, Nayeon, it’s a pleasure. Your daughter is an absolute delight. Jake is lucky to have her." You forced a smile, suppressing the urge to squirm under his words. If only he knew. Angelica, his wife, gave you a kind smile. "It’s nice to finally meet you as well, Y/N. My husband wouldn’t stop talking about how lovely you were after he met you."

Your mother beamed, clearly pleased, while you felt your stomach twist. You had definitely not told your parents about your occasional run-ins with Jake’s uncle, mostly because you hadn’t expected it to be relevant.  Before you could say anything, your name was called again.  “Y/N? No way, is that really you?” You turned, momentarily startled, only to find Julia, beaming at you. She was flanked by Lillian and Clara, all three of them looking just as polished and effortlessly elegant as you remembered. You, Sophia and the three girls were kind of close back in highschool until Sophia did the unthinkable and your group fell apart. Clara and Julia being on your side and Lillian claiming you had to forgive Sophia. You hesitated for only a moment before turning to your mother. “I’ll be right back.”

She gave you a knowing look but nodded. You walked over, but before you could say anything else, Julia pulled you into a quick hug, her perfume still the same as you remembered. When she pulled back, she gave you a once-over, eyes twinkling. “You look amazing.” “You do too,” you said, glancing at Lillian and Melanie, who both nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think we’d see you here.”, Lililan mused, tilting her head.  You forced a polite smile. “Well, why wouldn’t I be?” Lillian let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I mean, considering everything…” She trailed off.

Clara gave her a pointed look and rolled her eyes, but smiled at you. “I am glad you are here. We haven’t seen each other in years! How is Korea? I love watching you instagram stories, everything looks so amazing!” Your chest warmed at that. Things had been complicated after the whole mess with Marcus and Sophia, but you hadn’t exactly fallen out with all of your old friends—life had just pulled you in different directions. Julia nodded eagerly. “Same! We should’ve kept in touch better, but you kind of disappeared on us.” You smiled, a little sheepish. “Yeah… moving cities and everything kind of made it hard. But Korea is amazing. I love it. How is Europe? You went to Portugal, right?”

Clara nodded enthusiastically. “Omg I love it. The men there? Girl ugh. Also the food? Really. You should come visit me, I have a great apartment with an ocean view and a lot of space!” Ah yes. You forgot. It wasn’t just Sophia that was ridiculously rich, but her friends as well. You were able to go to their expensive private schools, since your parents boss, Sophia's father, was sponsoring one of their best employees' kids to attend the school every year.  Before you could respond, an arm slid around your waist, a familiar warmth pressing against your back. Jake. His fingers brushed along your side, and when he leaned in, his voice was low. “There you are,” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to your temple before turning his attention to the three women in front of you. “Hey, ladies. Sorry to interrupt,” he said smoothly, flashing them that signature grin, “but I had to steal my girlfriend back for a second.” The three women blinked in unison. Clara was the first to react. “Wait… Jake Sim?” She looked between the two of you, eyes widening. “Holy shit, you two are together?”

Julia let out a delighted gasp. “Oh my God! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?!” Jake chuckled, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him. “Why does that sound so hard to believe?” She blinked rapidly, as if trying to process this new information. “It’s just... unexpected. I mean, you two never really ran in the same circles, right?” You shrugged, leaning slightly into Jake just to sell it further. “Things change.” A beat of silence passed before Lillian scoffed under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear. “Guess some things never do. Always finding a way to cling to people above your league.”

Oh how you just loved that girl. Before you could say something you would regret, Jake’s grip on you tightened slightly, his thumb pressing against your side in reassurance. He turned his head just enough to give Lillian a slow, unimpressed once-over. “Funny,” he mused, voice pleasant but dripping with something sharper underneath. “Last I checked, I’m the one clinging to her.” The comment landed exactly the way he intended: Melanie's lips parted slightly, clearly caught off guard, while Julia and Lillian exchanged quick glances and suppressed their amused smiles. Before Lillian could recover, Jake tugged you gently in the opposite direction. “Come on, baby, let’s go find our parents.” Clara shook her head with a laugh. “How did this even happen?” You chuckled, exchanging a look with Jake before answering. “It’s kind of a long story.” Julia nudged your arm playfully. “Well, I will demand details later.”

Jake’s fingers brushed against your waist. “You’ll have to get in line for that,” he teased. “My parents are waiting on us.” Clara sighed dramatically. “Ugh, fine, fine. But we are catching up later.” You smiled, nodding. “Of course.” Julia gave you a knowing look. “And you better spill everything.” With that, Jake gently guided you away, his fingers lacing through yours. You let him lead you away, his hand never leaving your waist, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. You glanced at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Nice save.” He smirked. “I aim to please.”

Jakes family was standing a few meters away from your parents. A truly uncomfortable feeling was spreading in your stomach, when you accidentally made eye contact with his father. His facial expression was neutral, almost bored before he realized who you were. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he started smiling. In a way you could only describe in a mean disney villain way. Thinking about it, Mufasa and Scar would fit pretty well. Jungjae was standing next to him beaming at you and opened his mouth but was interrupted by Scar 2.0. “Jake. I see you found Y/N.” Jake tensed up next to you. “Yeah. I did.” Mr. Sim’s smile didn’t waver as he took a slow step forward, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Jake. "Well," he said, voice smooth but edged with something unreadable, "you certainly took your time." Jake’s grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. "Didn’t realize I was on a schedule," he replied evenly.

He then cleared his throat. “Mom. Dad. Josh. This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” You didn’t know if you were supposed to bow or shake his fathers hands. Jake addressed him in Korean and so you opted to bow as low as your dress let you and continued in Korean as well. “Hello Mr. Sim, Mrs. Sim, Josh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And with that you held out your hand to shake it.  His father took your outstretched and gripped it so tightly you clenched your teeth to not stop smiling. "Y/N," his father said, his voice clipped, as if testing the air, "What a surprise to actually see you here.” His tone was so clipped that it felt like an accusation rather than a greeting. Jake's hand gripped your waist a bit tighter.  You did your best to mask your discomfort, smiling politely in return. "Oh, well...I sure wanted to congratulate the happy couple.”

Instead of replying directly, Mr. Sim simply nodded, his eyes still scanning you. You couldn’t help but feel like a specimen under the microscope. “Right,” he finally said, his lips curling ever so slightly as if amused by his own thoughts. He didn’t release your hand immediately, and when he did, it was almost as if he was dismissing you altogether. The look in his eyes sent a wave of unease through you, but you didn’t have the time to dwell on it before his attention shifted to Jake. “She’s polite,” he said at last, his tone neutral. “At least there’s that.” Jake didn’t seem phased by his dad’s cold reception, but you could tell by the tightness in his jaw that it bothered him more than he was letting on. His father had a way of controlling the room without even trying, and Jake had been on the receiving end of that for as long as he could think. 

Jake’s mother interrupted your tail of thoughts and before you could react, she took your hands gently in hers, her touch light but firm. "It’s nice to finally meet you," she said with a warm and welcoming voice. "Jake’s told us a lot about you." "Oh, has he?" you asked, raising a brow and glancing up at Jake, who only smiled slightly. “I did interrogate him a little bit, after he told his father about you.” Jake made an embarrassed sound next to you. “Mom, please!” She just laughed at his demise. “I’ll look forward to get to know you Y/N.”

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Mom, leave the poor girl alone.”, Jake’s brother laughed and slightly nudged his mother.  “Y/N. I am Josuha and this is my wife Mina. It’s nice to meet you.”, he held up his hand and you grasped it, shaking it slightly.  “Nice to meet you Joshua.”, you smiled at him and moved on to Mina, “Mina.”

Mina was a gorgeous woman. She and Joshua made a stunning couple, confidence radiating off them. It was a bit intimidating to be honest.  Mr. Sim hummed, clearly unimpressed by the whole situation. His gaze flickered over you again before he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "I suppose we’ll see if she can handle being part of this family," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long. You felt your stomach drop, heat creeping up your neck, not the warmth from Jake’s lingering touch, but the mortifying burn of being picked apart in front of his entire family. You shouldn't care about what his family thought of you, this was faker and you would probably never see them again, but still. This whole situation was stressing you out more than you thought it would. Jake stiffened beside you, his body language shifting from tense to outright rigid. His grip on your waist tightened, like he was physically restraining himself from snapping back. Before he could, however, his mom turned sharply toward her husband, eyes flashing with irritation. "Seungho," she said, her voice firm but calm. "Enough."

Mr. Sim’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing more, his expression unreadable as he looked away. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep a neutral expression even as the mortification clawed at your chest.  Hana, seeming to sense your discomfort, turned back to you with a softer smile, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "Don’t mind him, dear," she said smoothly. "He has a habit of speaking before thinking." Jake let out a humorless chuckle. "That’s one way to put it." Joshua cleared his throat, clearly eager to change the subject. "So, should we go inside?” The whole group slowly moved towards the entrance and you waved to your mother signaling her that you were going in. She shot you a questioning look, but you just smiled and nodded your head, signaling her that you were okay.  Jakes mother was walking next to you and smiled warmly at you. "Well," she said, "I, for one, think you’re lovely. And I am really looking to spend some time with you." You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "Thank you, Mrs. Sim," you said, your voice quieter than before. She turned to Jake, arching a delicate brow. "She’s much prettier than the last one, sweetheart." Jake coughed, his ears going red. "Mom—"

Joshua and Jungjae chuckled, and even Mina had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh. You, on the other hand, were fighting very hard to keep a straight face.

“I think she’s lovely,” Jake's uncle said firmly, offering you another warm smile before turning to Jake. “You chose well.” Jake exhaled slowly, his body relaxing beside you. He glanced down at you, his gaze softer than before. “I know.” And for some reason, the way he said it sent a different kind of warmth through you. One that had nothing to do with the summer air and scared you more than anything.

Inside the procession area Jake saw a few of his old hockey team mates so did the undoable and excused the two of you from his family. 

“Dude what the fuck.”, you hissed at Jake when you were out of earshot from his dad, still spotting a sweet smile. “How can someone as rude as your father have such a nice brother and create such a nice kid. I swear that man cannot be your creator.”

Jake chuckled next to you and planted his warm hand against the naked skin of your back, guiding you toward where his friends were waiting. “I swear I don't know either. But I am glad you think I am not such an ass as him.”

You huffed and shook your head, pulling Jake into a rather abrupt halt. “Jake.”, you said, your voice as stable as it could be with him being so close that you could smell his perfume, “You are nothing like your dad. You’re warm and nice and kind. You actually care for people and their feelings. You don’t see relationships as transactions.” Jake's eyes searched your face while you continued. “You’re intelligent and funny. You wanted to adopt a penguin because you thought it would have a cold ass, Jake. I don’t think an asshat like your dad would ever think about anyone else but himself. You’re so passionate about things you love and you love passionately. Even if that passion is ramyun and if I have to ever eat Shin Ramyun again I will vomit.”

You exhaled slowly, reaching forward to flatten over his collar. “I’m just saying that you’re nothing like him. You’re not cold and calculating. You actually give a shit about people. They matter to you. And that’s more than I can say about your dad.”

Jake stood still for a moment, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your back, his expression softening. His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a split second, you thought he might kiss you. 

A small part of you wanted him to kiss you again. 

You gave your heart this week. 

One week to be soft and vulnerable around Jake. 

One week to, like he said, feel all those feelings people feel when they are in love.

But instead of kissing you, he exhaled slowly, his eyes flickering back up to meet yours, and a small smile tugged at his lips. 

He cleared his throat softly, breaking the moment and pulling his hand from your back. "I..." he began, his voice quieter than usual, softer, almost uncertain. "Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much that means to me.I really don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m glad I have you here. I’m glad you’re here with me."

A warmth settled in your chest at his words.

You gave him a teasing nudge, "Well, someone has to save you from your dad."

Jake laughed, but the humor didn’t quite mask the edge of gratitude in his voice. “Just don’t leave me alone with my dad for too long, okay?"

You laughed, nodding. "I’ll make sure of that."

His fingers brushed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, and you felt it everywhere.

You knew it was for show. You knew that. You talked about how you had to step up your acting game while you were here, so you knew he was going to touch you more than usual.

But that knowledge didn’t stop the panic from curling in your chest.

Because this was exactly how it had started with Marcus.

The stolen glances, the gentle touches, the way he made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, the way he was the most important person in your world. It had been so easy to fall back then, to believe that it was real, that you were special. That he loved you.

And then it all came crashing down.

You had let yourself believe in a fantasy, and it had left you miserable.

You didn’t want to do that again. Ever. 

You exhaled shakily, pushing those thoughts away. Jake isn’t Marcus. He never was. He never will be.

But as Jake looked at you again, something unbearably soft in his expression, you couldn’t help but feel scared. 

Of what you were feeling.

Of what you were faking.

Of what would come in the end.

You continued your way over to Jake’s friends, who looked up in unison as you approached.  “Jake!” one of the boys stood up and pulled Jake into a bear hug. “Dude, what the fuck? It’s so good to see you! Damn, bro, you got buff as hell.” Jake really did look amazing in his suit. You have seen him in suits plenty of times after and before games but this one was different. The dark blue three-piece suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt emphasizing the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the color complimented your dress so effortlessly. He was effortlessly handsome, devastatingly put together, and somehow still had that easy, boyish charm that made you weak in the knees against your will.

Jake laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made you smile, and playfully boxed his friend’s shoulder. “Shut up, Tobi,” he said, though his grin betrayed how much he enjoyed the reunion. He turned to you, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you gently against his side. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is Tobi, my old captain. Tobi, Y/N.” Tobi’s eyes widened as he looked you up and down, then let out a low whistle. “Damn, Jake,” he said, his tone equal parts impressed and teasing. “You really pulled this gorgeous woman?” Before you could respond, Tobi took your hand in a dramatic gesture, bowing deeply and pressing an exaggerated kiss to the back of it. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up as Jake groaned beside you. “Y/N,” Tobi said, straightening up but still holding your hand, “did you know that in 10th grade, Jake–” “Tobi, don’t–” Jake tried to cut him off, lunging forward to clamp a hand over his friend’s mouth, but Tobi dodged, laughing as he continued.

“–Jake tried to do a backflip off the bleachers during gym class and completely ate it in front of the entire school? Like, full-on faceplant. It was legendary.” You burst into laughter, clutching Jake’s arm for support as Tobi mimed the fall, complete with sound effects. Jake groaned again, his ears turning pink, but he was smiling. “I hate you,” he muttered, though there was no real malice in it. The group erupted into laughter again, and Jake pulled you closer, his chest shaking with silent laughter. “Alright, alright,” he said, steering you toward the entrance of the row where Tobi and two other guys were sitting.  The buzz-cut friend sitting next to Tobi, whose name you learned was Ryan, suddenly snapped his fingers. “Wait, Y/N… you went to our school, right? You were in the year below us?” You nodded, and Ryan’s eyes widened. “No way. You’re Marcus’s Y/N? Like, the Y/N?”

It went silent for a moment, and you could feel Jake tense beside you. “Yeah,” you said, your tone light but firm. “That’s me.” “Damn. Didn’t they cheat on both of you?”, he asked and leaned back in his seat. Tobi’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You were together with that ass? And they invited both of you? That’s so fucked up.” “You tell me.”, you rolled your eyes. “I mean I am here to congratulate them on their downfall. I give them 3 years tops.” Ryan shook his head, grinning. “Man, I know Marcus is nasty, but nasty enough to invite both exes?” Before  you could answer, the sound of a microphone clicking on echoed through the venue, and the officiant’s voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats, the ceremony is about to begin.” The group quieted down, though Tobi was still shaking his head in disbelief. As the ceremony started, you leaned into Jake, your voice low so only he could hear. “You okay?” He glanced at you, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said, his hand finding yours. “I’m good. What about you. You squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m also good.”

The reception was in full swing, but you were bored out of your mind. Your parents were deep in conversation with some of your fathers colleagues. Technically the topics they were talking about were indeed interesting, after all you were also in the medical field but you really weren’t in the mood to participate in any kind of conversation. When the official part of the wedding finally ended and the crowd slowly moved onto the dancefloor or towards the bar your eyes immediately found Jake’s table. He was on the groom's side of the hall while you were on the bride's side, since your parents were more or less still close acquaintances and colleagues to Sophie's parents. 

Jake was talking to his uncle who was sitting next to him, looking as bored as you felt. As if he felt you staring, his head shot up and your eyes met. He perked up slightly and he gave you a smile. His uncle waved his hand, gesturing to you to come over. 

That was all the encouragement you needed. You excused yourself from your parents with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and made your way over to Jake’s table. 

But as you reached the table, your stomach dropped. Sitting directly across from Jake was Marcus’s dad, and next to him was Jake’s dad. Both men turned to look at you as you approached, their expressions unreadable but distinctly unwelcoming.

“Y/N,” Jake’s dad said, his voice cool and measured. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”

You forced a polite smile, sliding into the empty seat next to Jake, where his brother was sitting before. “I thought I’d keep Jake company,” you said, your tone light but firm.

Jake shot you a grateful look and grabbed your hand. 

Marcus’s dad leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “So, Y/N,” he began, his tone dripping with faux curiosity, “we haven’t seen each other in a while. How are your studies going? Still pursuing that… what was it again? Forensic anthropology?”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Yes, that’s right. I’m in my second year now.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting choice. Not exactly the most… lucrative field, is it? I always thought you had so much potential. Shame to see it wasted on something so… niche.”

You clenched your fist under the table but kept your voice steady. Marcus' father was never really a fan of you. Apparently you had a really appalling charm to rich old men. “It’s not about the money for me. I find the work meaningful.”

Jake’s dad chimed in, his tone equally condescending. “Meaningful, yes, but surely you’ve considered the practicalities. It’s a gruesome line of work, isn’t it? Handling… remains and such.”

You could feel Jake tense beside you, but you didn’t look at him. Instead, you met Jake’s dad’s gaze head-on. “It’s not for everyone,” you said evenly. “But I believe in giving a voice to those who can’t speak for themselves. It’s important work.”

Marcus’s dad smirked, clearly unimpressed. “Noble, I suppose. But tell me, do you really see yourself doing that long-term? It’s not exactly a career that lends itself to stability.”

Before you could respond, he added, almost as an afterthought, “Though I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not with Marcus anymore. He needs someone who can match his ambition. Someone who understands the value of a real career.”

The words hit like a slap, and you felt your cheeks burn. Jake’s hand tightened around yours under the table. You forced a tight smile and said, “Well, I’m glad Marcus found someone who meets your standards.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Marcus’s dad raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your response, while Jake’s dad gave you a look that could only be described as disapproving.

“Well,” Marcus’s dad said after a moment, “I suppose time will tell if this little… experiment of yours pays off.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake beat you to it. “Y/N’s one of the smartest people I know,” he said, his voice firm. “She’s going to be amazing at whatever she chooses to do. And for the record, Marcus is the one who missed out.”

The table fell silent again. Marcus’s dad looked momentarily taken aback, but he quickly recovered, his smirk returning. “We’ll see,” he said, his tone dismissive.

Jake’s dad cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. “Well,” he said, “I’m sure Y/N will… figure things out in due time.”

You forced another smile, though it took every ounce of self-control not to roll your eyes. “Thank you,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’m sure I will.”

Jake’s grip on your hand tightened even further, his thumb running soothing circles against your palm. His jaw was clenched, and you could practically feel the effort it took for him to keep from snapping back.

Marcus’s father hummed in amusement, sipping his wine before tilting his head towards Jake. “And you, Jake? Still chasing that little hockey dream of yours?” His voice was laced with mockery.

Jake’s smile was polite, but you could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “It’s going well, actually.”

Marcus’s father let out an unimpressed hum, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Hockey,” he mused, as if it were some fleeting hobby rather than something Jake had poured his heart and soul into. “It’s a shame, really. You have all the resources at your disposal, and you choose this?”

Jake’s father exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a faint clink. “I agree,” he said, eyes sharp as they settled on his son. “You can’t keep pretending this is a long-term career. At some point, you need to accept reality. The company isn’t going to wait forever, Jake.”

Jake barely reacted. At least, outwardly. But you felt it in the way his fingers twitched against your palm, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed.

Jake’s voice was quiet but firm. “I never said I was going to take over.”

His father’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air around him did. It was an almost imperceptible shift, a flicker of disapproval so cold it made your skin prickle. How, in which universe was Jake closely related to this man? 

Marcus’s father let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly, Minjae, I don’t know how you put up with this. He has everything right in front of him, yet he’s throwing it away for what? A sport that won’t last past his thirties?”

You had never wanted to punch an old man before, but there was a first time for everything. Actually that was a lie you wanted to punch this man 2 years ago when you were with Marcus as well. 

Jake exhaled slowly, his grip on you loosening slightly. His father barely looked at him, already sipping his whiskey again, as if the conversation had bored him.

Jungjae, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally cleared his throat. His voice was calm.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a practiced smile. “Let’s not turn this into a lecture.”

Jake’s father raised an eyebrow, but Jungjae continued before he could interrupt.

“I understand the concerns,” he said, his gaze sweeping across both men. “Jake’s future is important, of course. But I also think it’s worth acknowledging that success isn’t a singular path.” His eyes flickered to you briefly, then back to Jake. “And, more importantly, we should trust that Jake is capable of making the right decisions for himself.”

It was a diplomatic way of telling them to back off, and you wanted to hug him for it. You made a mental note to thank him later. 

Marcus’s father let out a soft scoff but didn’t argue, while Jake’s father merely exhaled sharply through his nose.

Jungjae turned to you and Jake, his expression softening. “Why don’t we step away for a bit?” he suggested. “I think we could all use a breather. And maybe a drink.”

Jake hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’d be great.”

Without another word, you stood, relieved to escape the suffocating presence of the two men behind you. As you walked away, Jake exhaled slowly beside you, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours properly, fingers lacing together.

He leaned in slightly, his voice just for you. “I think I need, like, five shots. Even without Katy.”

You let out a breathy laugh, squeezing his hand. “I’ll match you.”

The bar was quieter than the rest of the reception hall, tucked away near the edge of the venue where the music wasn’t as overpowering. The soft hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses filled the space as you slid onto one of the stools, Jake settling beside you while his uncle flagged down the bartender. Jungjae let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “I apologize for my brother,” he said, tone gentle but laced with frustration. “He can be… difficult.” Jake scoffed under his breath. “That’s one way to put it.” His uncle shot him a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, he turned toward the bartender and ordered a round of shots. “Three, please. Something strong.” You exhaled, your body finally relaxing now that you were away from the oppressive presence of Jake’s father and Marcus’s dad. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” you murmured, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against the smooth bar top. “But thank you.”

Jungjae offered you a small, appreciative smile. “I do, though,” he said. “He forgets that respect is earned, not demanded.” Jake let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “Try telling him that.” The bartender set down three shot glasses in front of you, each filled with clear liquid. Jungjae lifted his with a small grin. “To keeping our sanity intact.” You and Jake clinked your glasses against his before downing the shot in one go. The burn was immediate, spreading warmth through your chest, and you let out a small hiss, shaking your head. “Damn,” you muttered, blinking rapidly.

Jake chuckled beside you, setting his glass down. Jungjae downed his shot smoothly, barely flinching as he set the glass down with a quiet clink. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I swear,” he muttered in Korean, rubbing his temples, “your father drives me crazy sometimes, Jaeyun.”  You let out a breathy laugh, warmth still lingering from the alcohol. “Then why do you still put up with him?" Jungjae huffed a laugh. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t scare away every decent person around him.” He gave Jake a pointed look. “And someone has to look out for this one.” Jake rolled his eyes but smiled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do,” Jungjae replied smoothly, placing a firm hand on Jake’s shoulder before shifting his gaze to you. “Especially now that you’re in the picture.” Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist in an unfamiliar way.  Before you could respond, the DJ’s voice rang through the speakers. “All couples, please join us on the dance floor for a special slow dance.” You stiffened slightly, instinctively glancing toward Jake. He was already looking at you, his brows slightly raised in question.

Jungjae, however, grinned and clapped his hands. “Perfect timing.” Jake turned to his uncle. “What?” Jungjae jerked his chin toward the dance floor. “You two should go.” Jake scoffed. “We’re not leaving you to drink alone.” His uncle waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. I’m a grown man. I can handle myself.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned in slightly and added, “Besides, who am I to hinder you from dancing with your beautiful girlfriend.” Your breath caught. Jake blinked at his uncle before sighing, shaking his head with a small smile.  You bit your lip, eyes flickering to Jake’s. He sighed but smiled, holding out his hand. “Shall we?”

The opening notes of Lover filled the reception hall. Around you, couples swayed in each other’s arms, lost in their own little worlds, and for a brief second, you hesitated.

But then Jake’s hands found your waist, gentle and sure, pulling you in just enough that your bodies aligned. His warmth seeped into you instantly, and before you could even process it, your arms had wound around his shoulders, fingertips brushing against the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

A quiet sigh left him as he swayed you in time with the music, his grip steady, reassuring.

You swallowed hard and let yourself sink into the moment, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him. The golden lighting of the reception cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, the slope of his nose. His lips were parted just slightly, his breathing even, and then-

Then he rested his forehead against yours.

It was such a simple action. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, the way his breath fanned against your cheek.

Your stomach flipped.

You sucked in a breath, blinking away the sudden rush of warmth blooming in your chest.

God, if this was fake, then why did it feel so incredibly real?

Trying to distract yourself from the way your pulse was betraying you, you let out a soft chuckle and murmured, “Kotone wants this to be her first dance song at her wedding. ”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly, his eyes blinking open as he leaned back just enough to look at you. “Really?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You nodded and hummed.

His lips curled into a smile, something undeniably fond flickering across his face.

The warmth in his gaze did something dangerous to your heart.

A second passed. Then another.

You could feel his heartbeat where your chests were touching. Or maybe that was just yours going haywire on its own.

You were hoping he closed the small distance between you. Hoping that he would press his lips against yours. 

But he didn’t.

Instead he cleared his throat slightly and pulled away. His face was still close  enough to yours, that you could feel the heat radiating from it. “You look gorgeous today, Y/N. Marcus is surely biting his ass right now.” 

Jake’s fingers traced slow, featherlight circles against the bare skin of your lower back, the heat of his touch burning through you. Every movement was deliberate, teasing, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Which he probably did. Stupid idiot.

You tilted your head, lips curling into something playful.

“Oh, I know he is,” you teased, letting your fingers trail lazily over the back of Jake’s neck, knowing that he really liked it when you played with his hair. “Not that he’d ever admit it. But I saw the way he looked at me during dinner. He was so mad it was almost funny.”

His fingers pressed just a little firmer against your skin as he pulled you even closer, the warmth of his palm spreading across your back. “Yeah? What about Sophia?”

You smirked, ignoring how his touch was burning on your skin. “She looked like she swallowed a lemon.”

Jake laughed at that. “I almost fell bad,” he mused, then paused before grinning. “Actually, no, I don’t.”

You laughed softly. “Neither do I.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you. “I wasn’t lying, you know.”

You blinked up at him. “About what?”

His hand slid a fraction higher, his thumb grazing over your spine, sending a shiver down it. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a second before you regained control. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sim.” Your voice was teasing, but there was something sincere beneath it.

Jake scoffed, his grin widening. “Not so bad? I’m wearing a damn three-piece suit.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your fingers drag lightly over his shoulder. “And looking very expensive while doing so.”

Jake smirked. “Would you believe me if I said I picked it out myself?”

You raised a brow. “No.”

He let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” Then, his voice lowered just slightly, gaze locked onto yours. “I wanted to match you.”

Your heart did something stupid in your chest, skipping a beat before speeding up. You swallowed. “You did?”

Jake nodded, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist. “Of course. Can’t have my girlfriend looking better than me, can I?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, so that’s what this is? A competition?”

Jake leaned in just a little again, his breath warm against your lips. “If it is, you’re winning,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped, your fingers curling slightly against his shoulder. 

Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes. 

You needed to say something.

“Well,” you managed, clearing your throat, “we definitely made an impression tonight.”

Jake chuckled, his grip not loosening. “My mom is obsessed with you. She and uncle Jungjae were raving about how great they think you are.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “She hasn’t even had one proper conversation with me.”

“Oh but uncle Jungjae had plenty.” Jake groaned. “I think he’s already planning our wedding.”

You let out a loud laugh, burying your face briefly against his shoulder. “Oh my god. Really?”

Jake sighed dramatically. “I swear he looked at me like I’d personally blessed the family bloodline or something.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Well, I mean we would make pretty kids. You know, maybe Mr. Fluffington the third needs a sibling? I was thinking about the Kitty plushie we saw in butter last week?” (pls its so cute look at the link) 

Jake laughed and shook his head slightly. “You think we are ready for a second one? Isn’t Mr. Fluffington the Third enough for you? We haven't even told our parents yet.”

You just shrugged and kept on smiling. “If you are up to it. I want a girl though.”

Jake’s eyes flickered to something behind you. 

His smirk didn’t falter, but something in his eyes shifted. His fingers, still warm against the bare skin of your back, tightened ever so slightly.

“My dad’s watching.”, he murmured. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Without thinking, your hand smoothed over the fabric of his suit. “Oh?”

Jake hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah. Probably trying to decide if you’re worthy of the Sim family name.”

You scoffed, tilting your head. “Oh, please. He can go fuck himself and the Sim family name. You’re taking on mine.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle. “Your last name is Sim as well.”

You pretended to consider. “Right. Let’s ask Heeseung to marry both of us first so we can be Lees.”

He shook his head and laughed. “You are an idiot.”

“Lies. That's a totally valid and good idea.”, you patted his chest.

His fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of your dress. “I think this is a person that requires us to step our game up.”

“What do you mean?”, you tilted your head slightly. 

Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hesitant either. It was deliberate, slow, like he had all the time in the world to make sure you felt every second of it. He tasted like tequila. 

His hand trailed down your spine, fingers grazing over every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around the lapels of his suit jacket.

You should stop.

For your own sake. You should stop.

And yet, you weren’t pulling away.

But then, the song ended.

And reality came crashing back.

You both pulled back slightly, just enough to look at each other. Jake’s breathing was uneven, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You weren’t doing much better. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, your skin burning where he had touched you.

What now?

Before either of you could figure it out, a voice cut through the haze.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see Sophia weaving through the crowd, her expression unreadable but her gaze locked onto you with determination.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked, barely sparing Jake a glance. “Alone.”

You blinked at her and then at Jake, still breathless, still reeling from whatever the hell just happened. Jake's shoulder tenses under your hands and you could feel his disapproval.

His hand remained on your waist. “Do you want to go with her?” You hesitated and looked at him, at his lips and back to his eyes, that were full of worry and something you couldn’t fully decipher. You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.” With one last glance at him, at the way his jaw was clenched, at the way he still looked like he wasn’t sure if he should let you go, you turned to Sophia.

You followed Sophia out of the ballroom. Your heart was still beating way too fast. 

The air outside was cooler, the music fading into a dull hum as you both stepped into a quieter hallway.

Sophia wrung her hands together, her expression torn between guilt and nerves. You had no idea what she wanted to say and why it had to be outside, but you figured you might as well get it over with.

You cleared your throat. “So… congratulations, I guess?”

Sophia let out a short, breathy laugh, but it sounded more like a sigh. “Thanks,” she murmured before shaking her head. “God, this is so weird.”

You didn’t disagree. It was weird. A few years ago you thought you would be the one marrying Marcus and Sophia would have been your maid of honor. But now she was standing there in a white dress, finger adorned with a ring that was supposed to signal her undying love for someone you once loved. 

Before you could think of anything to say, she blurted, “I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Uh–”

“I didn’t want to invite you,” she rushed on, eyes wide, hands gesturing wildly. “I swear I didn’t. Our families said it was only proper because of how close our parents are, and we invited all the other kids of their colleagues and it just–it wasn’t up to me, Y/N.”

You nodded slowly, not sure what to do with that information.

Sophia exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t deserve to say this, but I really am sorry. For everything. For hurting you, for ruining our friendship. I hated what I did to you, and I hate myself for it.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You were my best friend.”

A lump formed in your throat. This situation was eerily similar to the one two years ago, when she tried to apologize for sleeping with your boyfriend. When she tried to tell you she didn’t mean to and she was drunk and out of her mind.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well… you made your choice.”

“I did,” she whispered, looking down. “And it was the worst one I ever made.”

For a moment, you just stared at her. You had spent so much time resenting her, being angry, feeling betrayed. She deserved your anger and resentment but you were over it. You had come to terms with their decision and you were not too hung up on it anymore. You closed that chapter. 

“I’m glad you’re with Jake,” she said after a beat, lifting her gaze again. “He’s a good guy. You look really happy together. Happier than you did when you were with us.”

You hesitated. Your instinct was to scoff, to remind her that she had no right to comment on your relationship. But for a split second, you felt bad for her.

“He makes me really happy.”, you say softly. 

You were still staring at her. Really looked at her for the first time in two years. 

Her fingers were twisted together and she was blinking rapidly. You realized she was blinking away tears. 

Sophia had always been a confident person. Sharp, bold, never second-guessing herself. But right now? Here at her wedding, where she should feel incredible, like the main character of the evening she looked small. She looked…sad?

“I really do hope you’re happy,” she murmured, glancing away. “I mean it. I hope you and Jake make it. Because, well…” She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, chewing on her lip. Then, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned in just slightly.

“You know how our families are,” she said quietly. “How things work. There was no way Marcus and I were going to get away with what we did without…consequences.”

A strange feeling stirred in your chest. “Consequences?”

Sophia gave you a tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A scandal like that? The golden boy caught cheating on his long-term girlfriend? Me being the other woman?” She shook her head. “Our parents were furious. It was bad for business. A nightmare for their image.”

Your blood ran cold.

“So, what?” you asked, voice quieter now. “This marriage… it’s not–”

“It makes things easier.” Sophia’s lips parted like she was about to say more, but then she pressed them together in a firm line. She exhaled sharply. “It’s just… easier this way.”

And suddenly, things made sense.

The rushed engagement. The extravagant wedding. 

You knew Marcus. You knew how egoistic and self centered he was. How he always had everything to go his way.

And you knew Sophia. You knew she never wanted to marry. If she did, she always wanted to marry in Italy, at some weird lake that you couldn’t remember the name of, with only her family and friends present. After she traveled the world. After she has lived her life. After she has experienced all the things you would daydream about together.

You also knew their parents. Parents that would’ve done anything to protect their image. To smooth over the scandal of their heirs being caught cheating, partying, taking drugs.

They weren’t marrying because they loved each other.

It was damage control.

That realization made your heart drop. Where just minutes before you felt butterflies and your heart was beating in overtime just thinking about Jake in his stupidly good looking suit right now the thought of him holding you, kissing you made you want to scream and punch someone.

Sophia and Marcus weren’t together because of love. They were together because it was the easiest way to clean up the mess they had made. Because their parents had decided it was the best way to protect their reputations.

It was how their world worked. How Jake's world worked. 

You liked to forget that Jake came from a family that is not just given scholarships because they work hard, he comes from a family that gives those scholarships. 

You weren’t stupid. 

You knew Jake was different from Marcus. 

But his father? His family?

Would they ever accept you?

Would they look at you the way Marcus’ parents had, like you weren’t good enough? Would they do everything in their power to make sure Jake ended up with someone more… fitting? His mother and his brother seemed nice enough, but how much say did they get in their lives?

The thought made your chest tighten.

You were already scared. 

Scared of how easy it was to fall for Jake. How it was just like when you started dating Marcus. How you fell in love with Marcus. 

He betrayed you. It was Marcus' decision to fuck your friend. 

But Jake? How much is he actually allowed to decide?

No matter how much you wanted him, no matter how much he wanted you, there were forces so much bigger than the two of you.

And you weren’t sure you could survive being broken by another rich boy.

Jake watched you go. He turned around to join his uncle at the bar again but before he even got off the dancefloor, a voice stopped him in his tracks. “Well, well,” Marcus drawled, stepping into his path. “Look who decided to show up. I was quite surprised when we received your RSVP back. And you came with little Y/Nie.” Jake clenched his jaw, already exhausted by the conversation that hadn’t even started. “What do you want, Marcus?” Just like that the butterflies and the nice tingles from your touch disappeared and he asked himself if the happy couple planned this. Destroying your and Jake's nice moment. 

Marcus laughed, low and mocking. “Still got that temper, huh? Guess some things never change.” He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes flicking toward you before settling back on Jake. “Speaking of things that never change. Y/N looks good, doesn't she? Almost made me forget how… boring she used to be. Almost. Guess it makes sense, though.” Jake exhaled sharply. “What do you mean?” Marcus only laughed, low and mocking. “She always had a thing for lost puppies. Guess she hadn’t outgrown that yet.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Tell me, does she still make that little noise when you kiss her neck? You know the one, like she is trying to hold back but can’t? Does she still refuse to take dick down her throat? She never liked to be face fucked. She wasn’t really into anything really. She was just, well, boring."

Jake's vision blurs with a sharp flash of white-hot rage for a second, fists clenching at his sides. His whole body goes rigid, his muscles tightening as a rush of anger courses through him. ‘Smoking, drinking, sex when I didn’t even want to‘, that is what you told him. Did Marcus do that? Make you go down on him even if you didn't want to? He takes a step forward without even realizing it, his fists rising ever so slightly, the urge to slam them into Marcus' face overwhelming. If this were a hockey rink, he'd have already thrown his gloves down, ready to go. Marcus grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “What?” he taunted. “Gonna hit me? At my own wedding? Do it, Sim." Jake’s jaw tightens, his breath coming in shallow, measured bursts. The heat of the moment almost drowns out everything else, but he manages to force his anger down. He takes a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, trying to regain control.

“You don’t know shit, Marcus,” Jake mutters, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that signals a warning. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.” Marcus scoffs, looking at Jake with mock innocence. “Oh, I know plenty, Sim. I basically shaped her into the person she is now. Tell me, does she still smoke?” Jake's face did something out of his control and Marcus smiled triumphantly. “Seems like she does. Looks like I could get the little weirdo to do stuff she despised. Made her addicted.  I bet she thinks of me every time she lights a cig.” Jake’s jaw tightens, his knuckles white as he fights the urge to slam Marcus into the nearest wall.

But before he can move, an arm slings around his shoulders. “Jake, bro!” Tobi’s voice is light, casual, but his grip on Jake’s shoulder is firm. “Come on, man, you owe me a drink.” Jake keeps his gaze locked on Marcus for a beat longer, watching the way his jaw tics. Then, he exhales sharply, forcing himself to turn away. “Right,” he mutters, letting Tobi steer him toward the bar. As they walk away, Marcus calls after them, his voice dripping with mockery. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Jake. She’s not the type you'd want to stick around to. Trust me, I know.” Jake doesn’t look back, but his shoulders tense under Tobi’s arm. “Ignore him,” Tobi mutters, guiding Jake to the bar. “He’s just trying to get under your skin.” Jake nods, but the tension in his body doesn’t ease. He grabs the drink the bartender slides toward him and takes a long sip, his mind racing.

At one point you made your way back to Jake, sliding your hand into his and resting your head on his shoulder, while he was chatting with a few of his former teammates. He knew that as soon as you got clingy you were either drunk or tired and judging by how you were talking without slurring your words he conducted you were just really tired. 

“Hey Y/N.”, he softly petted your hair. 

“Mhm?”, you hummed, tilting your head to look at him. Your lipstick was slightly smudged and your cheeks had a reddish hue thanks to the warmth in the building and the few shots he knew you had. You were beautiful.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You lifted yourself from his chest. “You think we stayed long enough by now? I kinda wanna be rude but also not, you know. Your dad would be up your arse if we left too early.”

“You’re tired Y/N. I don’t care about my dad.”, he shrugged and pulled you back against his chest. 

“Where should we go? I mean it would be weird if we left to go separate ways right now, right?”, you said, settling back into the position you were in before. 

“Can we sleep over at your place? I kinda don’t want to spend a lot of time at home.”, Jake took your hands and started to play around with the rings on them. 

“Sure. Do you wanna stop at your place first? To get toiletries and stuff?”, you asked, slightly wiggling your fingers.

“Sure. Are your parents going to stay here longer?”, Jake craned his neck and searched for your parents. They were still sitting on their original table laughing at something.

“Probably. My parents are social butterflies. Wouldn’t surprise me if they came home at like 6 am. Where are yours?”

“Dunno. But probably still here.”, he shrugged, not really caring.

“Okay then let’s go. I want to sleep.”, you said and stood up. The two of you bid farewell to his and your friends and called a cab to drive you to his house. 

Jake was laying on your bed, mindlessly watching Tik Tok while you were showering first. Jake had heard the sound of the water running, the occasional hum of your voice. By the time he stepped into the shower you were probably already half asleep, your eyes were already heavy when you two were in the cab to your parents house.

Jake let the hot water pour over him, leaning his forehead against the cool tile. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steam fill his lungs. The heat felt good, but it didn't help to get the tension out of his body. His thoughts drifted back to Marcus’ words. The things he had said about you. How did he dare to ask Jake that? How did he dare to talk like this about you?

He clenched his fists for a second, exhaling sharply as the water ran over his face.

When he finally turned off the water, he towel-dried his hair and stepped out of the shower, still lost in thought. The bathroom mirror fogged up, and he wiped it clear with his hand, catching his reflection for a moment before he walked into the bedroom, where you were waiting, curled up on the bed in one of his oversized shirts, you stole from his suitcase.

You looked so peaceful, your hair a little messy, your face soft, without make up and relaxed. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room. He slid under the covers, his body brushing against yours as he settled in beside you. You shifted, resting your head on his chest.

Jake swallowed hard.

He should leave it alone.

He really really should.

Your sex life was none of his business. You weren't a real couple. Jake didn't have to well more or less compete with your ex. He was a close friend of yours that just happened to be your fake boyfriend. 

That you were cuddling with right now. 

After slow dancing at a wedding. 

And kissing at said wedding.

Okay. Maybe he could ask. 

Jake shifted slightly, his arm resting loosely around your waist. He stared up at the ceiling for a second, debating how to even ask that. He knew he was going to regret it the second the words left his mouth. 

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed sleepily against his chest. “You just did.”

Jake huffed out a quiet laugh. He hesitated for a second longer, then finally asked, “What was it like with Marcus?”

You stilled. 

Your body tensed for just a fraction of a second before you shifted against him. His fingers twitched against your back.

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, blinking blearily like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. “What?”

Jake cleared his throat. “I mean, like… you and him. Sexually.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh. Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

He wasn’t even sure he knew.

Jake exhaled sharply, staring up at the ceiling again. “I don’t know. It’s just. Marcus said some shit earlier, and I guess I started wondering.” He glanced back down at you. “I know it’s none of my business, but I just–” He sighed, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just watched him, your expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, you let out a quiet sigh and rested your chin on his chest.

“It was awful,” you admitted.

Jake blinked. “What?”

“Sex with Marcus,” you clarified. “It was awful.”

Jake frowned. 

“I mean, I thought it was normal at first,” you continued, voice softer now. “I thought maybe I just wasn’t really into it. Or maybe that was just how it was supposed to be. But looking back…” You shook your head, lips pressing into a thin line. “I faked it. A lot. Most of the time, actually.”

Jake just stared at you, trying to process that. “Wait. You mean you never came with him?” 

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Maybe once or twice? I don’t really know. I kind of refused to sleep with him for the first like six months. And well after that? Let’s just say Marcus isn’t really familiar with female autonomy and well, quite egoistic. So he came and I just didn't?”

Jake fell from all the clouds at once.

“What the fuck?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He pulled back slightly, staring at you. 

Jake’s brain short-circuited.

Fuck. 

What the fuck. 

He has kissed you like four, five times by now and knew that you were very sensitive. He knew how easy it was to get you to shiver slightly, how you enjoyed it when someone trailed his fingers down your neck. And he didn't even made out with you. Okay, borderline. But how in the hell did that stupid asshole not get you to cum? 

He sat up a little, resting on his elbow as he looked down at you. “You’re telling me that in years of dating, he didn’t —”

“Nope.”

Jake ran a hand down his face, trying to wrap his head around that. “And you just faked it?”

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling like you were remembering something far away. “Yeah. I just wanted it to be over most of the time. It was easier that way.”

Jake felt something hot and annoyed settle in his chest. He should just have killed Marcus at the wedding. Not just hit him. How did he dare to treat you this bad in your relationship and then talk shit to your boyfriend, well fake boyfriend but not from Marcus point of view, after he made you feel like you wanted sex to be over?

“I mean, it’s not like I had anything to compare it to,” you added, voice lighter. You were trying to brush it off. “I just assumed that’s how it was supposed to be.”

Jake scoffed. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

You turned your head toward him, amusement flickering in your eyes now. “Oh I know that now. But back at 16 I thought it was kinda weird, especially since I had a boyfriend to touch myself.”

Your smirk deepened. Oh you were enjoying this. 

“I mean,” you continued, “at first I thought maybe something was wrong with me, y’know? Like, maybe I was doing something wrong? Sophia always told me how good you made her feel and how good her orgasms were. But I never really understood what she meant.” 

Jake stilled. He forgot that you and Sophia were close friends before she cheated, so of course you probably knew about his and Sophia’s sex life. 

“But then I started thinking…” You tilted your head, voice going mock-thoughtful. “Maybe it wasn’t me that was the problem.” Your eyes found his and you batted your eyes.  “Maybe Marcus was just that bad.”

Jake exhaled harshly. “He was that bad.”

Your grin turned downright wicked. “Mhm. He was. I figured that out as well. But now i got it all covered, don’t worry Jakey. I can do his job way better and I do find my own clit, compared to him.”

Jake swallowed harshly. “I- I am glad you do.” 

He wanted to slam his head against the nearest wall. Or maybe your head, just to knock some sense into you.

His grip on your waist twitched, but he didn’t let go. Maybe because if he did, he had no idea where your hands would wander next, and he really didn’t trust himself to handle that like a sane person.

You let out a soft hum, watching his throat work as he swallowed. “You seem awfully invested in my lack of orgasms, Sim.”

Jake wanted to argue. He really, really did. He clenched his jaw. “I’m not.”

Your brows lifted, teasing. “No?”

“No.”

You hummed, unconvinced, shifting onto your side again, way too close. “I don’t know… you seemed pretty worked up about it just a second ago.”

“I was worked up about Marcus being a shit boyfriend,” he corrected, voice tight.

“Oh, so my orgasms or lack thereof does concern you.”

Jake swore under his breath, running a hand down his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I am,” you agreed easily. “And very flexible, too.”

Jake nearly choked. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted by his suffering. “What?”

He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling like it could save him. “Nothing.”

You poked at his side. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Oh, you so are,” you teased. “Are you flustered by my sexlife, Jakey?”

You hummed, clearly not convinced. Then, before he could stop you, you reached out and tapped a finger against the center of his chest. “You’re acting weird, Sim.”

“I’m not acting weird.” He was definitely acting weird. Fuck his brain was acting weird.

You grinned, dragging your fingertip slowly down the fabric of his shirt. “Ohhh, I think you are.”

Jake caught your wrist, stopping you before you could do something stupid, something worse. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, as if you were the innocent one in this situation. His grip tightened just slightly. “Are you done?”

“Dunno.” You leaned in. “Are you?”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re insufferable.”

You smirked, completely unbothered. “And yet, you still keep playing along.”

“Go to sleep,” he ground out, glaring down at you.

You grinned smugly. “Why? Am I making you uncomfortable, Jakey?”

Jake hated you. He hated you so much. (He did not, in fact, hate you.)

You weren’t sure why you agreed to this. Or more how Jake got you to agree to this. Two days after the wedding Jake stood in front of your parents doorstep and told your dad he was here to steal you away for the day. You were still in your Pyjama, your hair a mess and barely awake, when your dad and Jake came into the kitchen laughing about something.  “Jake?”, you asked, swallowing the bite of toast you just stuffed into your mouth. “What are you doing here?” “It’s Tuesday. We are going ice skating today.”, he said while plopping down next to you. “Huh. What do you mean?”, you asked. 

“I am taking you to my old rink today. They have public skating hours every Tuesday so I thought it was fun to bring you along.”, he shrugged and stole one of the bananas on your plate.  “Oh I don’t know how to ice skate?”, you said and took another bite from your toast. “Good thing I know how to skate.”, he grinned at you. An hour later you were inside a freezing cold ice rink, staring at a pair of rental skates. Jake was sitting next to you, lacing up his own skates with practiced ease. He found some of his old skates at his parents house and got them sharpened, while you got fitted for your skates. Stupid hockey player.

You exhaled and shot him a look. “You realize I could die, right?” Jake smirked, not even looking up as he tied his laces. “You’re being dramatic.” “No, you’re being dramatic,” you countered. “Dragging me to an ice rink when I can barely walk on solid ground." Jake grinned. “Ice is solid as well Y/N.”

You groaned and went back to fumbling with your skates. They felt stiff, awkward, and way too tight, and you were half convinced that this was all part of some elaborate scheme to make you fall on your ass. And maybe break some bones in the progress.  After a few moments of struggle, you let out a defeated sigh. “Okay. I can’t do this.” Jake snorted. “C’mon, princess.” He moved, crouching down in front of you before you could protest. “Let me help.” You stiffened, watching as he easily took over, fingers brushing against your ankle as he tightened the laces. “There,” he said, sitting back with a satisfied grin. “Now, are you ready to go humiliate yourself in front of a bunch of kids?” You glared. “I hate you.” Jake just winked. “Not you don’t.” Standing on the rubber mats was fine. Walking to the rink entrance was less fine. Stepping onto the ice?

Absolutely not. Jake tugged on your hand, but you dug your heels in, refusing to budge. “I can’t.” “You can,” he said, voice infuriatingly patient. “Just take it slow.” “Jake.” You looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I will fall.” “I won’t let you fall.” You hesitated.  Jake sighed, stepping onto the ice first and turning to face you. “Here,” he said, holding out both hands. “Just hold onto me.” You squinted at him. “If let my hands go, I swear—” “I’m not letting your hands go. I won‘t let you go.” With a deep breath, you cautiously put one foot forward. The second your skate touched the ice, you panicked, immediately grabbing onto Jake’s arms.

Jake laughed, barely budging from the impact. “Okay, okay,” he soothed, steadying you easily. “I got you. See? You’re fine.” Your heart was racing. “I hate this. I hate you. Fuck yourself Jaeyun Sim.” Jake grinned. “You’re doing amazing.” You groaned, fingers tightening in his hoodie. “I swear to god, if you let me go, I will personally make sure you never skate again.” Jake grinned wider. “Noted.”

You were going to kill him. If you ever got off this ice alive. You clung to Jake like your life depended on it as he slowly guided you forward. Your movements were stiff, jerky, and entirely uncoordinated, but at least you weren’t on your ass yet. “Relax,” Jake murmured, tightening his grip on your hands. “You’re way too tense.” “That’s because I’m trying not to die.” Jake laughed, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings of the rink. “You’re not gonna die.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” you shot back. “I literally can.” He smirked. “Besides, you’re already better than the last time you tried.” You frowned. “I’ve never tried.” “Exactly.” You groaned, but somehow, your feet started moving. Jake kept you steady, skating backward with ease, like this was second nature to him. It probably was. You loved seeing him on the ice. He looked so happy there, albeit during games he didn’t look all too happy, but a bit constipated at times. He was a competitive idiot. But you really didn’t love seeing yourself on the ice. 

He must’ve noticed you staring, because his smirk softened. “I used to skate here all the time when I was a kid,” he said. “Like, all the time. My mom would drop me off and I’d stay for hours. Just doing laps, messing around with the puck until my actual training started. Tobi and I always fought who spend more time on the ice.” You blinked. Yup, competitive idiot. 

“Sounds nice,” you murmured. Jake shrugged. “Yeah. It was.”

Before you could say anything else, a blur of movement zipped past, and you barely had time to register a kid skating perfectly before you let out a scandalized noise “Oh, come on.” Jake lost it, throwing his head back in laughter. “What?” You gestured wildly. “That kid is showing off.” Jake grinned. “He is not. Y/N he literally just skates at a normal speed. You’re just slow.” “Well, this shit is hard. The floor is slippery and I am standing on two blades. How am I supposed to be faster than this?” Jake laughed. “Well by doing the same thing that kid is doing.”, he shook his head, still chuckling. “Alright, c’mon, let’s do a full lap. You’re not doing too bad.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I will hold this over your head forever if I fall.” “I won’t let you fall.”

You eyed him suspiciously but nodded, gripping his hands tighter as he led you forward.  And, miraculously, you weren’t completely terrible. You still needed Jake’s help, but eventually, you started loosening your grip, even skating without his help. By the time you made it back to where you started, your legs were shaking, but you were upright. A miracle. Jake gave you a crooked grin. “Told you.” And just as he uttered that, a kid barreled into you, and suddenly, you were on your ass, the cold ice seeping through your jeans as you glared up at Jake.

His expression morphed from shock to amusement in a matter of seconds. “Oh my God.” “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. Jake pressed his lips together like he was trying to hold back his laughter, but his shaking shoulders betrayed him. He crouched down in front of you, eyes way too bright. “Are you okay?” “No,” you huffed. Jake grinned. “You actually did great, right up until you got taken out by a four-year-old.” Your eyes narrowed. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.”

Yes Jake. That was the problem. You forced a scoff, shoving away the warmth creeping into your chest. “Just help me up, Sim.” Jake smirked but obliged, easily pulling you to your feet like you weighed nothing. His hands stayed at your waist steadying you and making sure you had your balance before letting go. Jake arched a brow. “But really are you good?” You straightened, forcing an easy smirk. “Yeah. Just debating if I should throw you onto the ice.” He chuckled. “I’d like to see you try.” “Oh, you will.” Jake laughed, shaking his head as he started leading you forward again.

Jake was good with kids.

You weren’t sure why that surprised you, but it did.

At some point, after he had successfully gotten you to skate on your own for at least five seconds without clutching onto him for dear life, a group of kids had asked him to race them. And, of course, Jake being Jake, he hadn’t been able to resist.

So now you stood at the edge of the rink, watching as he lined up with a few kids, all of them grinning and buzzing with excitement.

“Alright,” Jake called out, pointing at the far end of the rink. “First one to the boards wins!”

The kids nodded eagerly and got into position.

You bit your lip as you watched him, your chest tightening. The way he fixed a kid’s helmet before skating backward into position, the way he still looked like the same boy who had probably spent hours at this rink, just because he loved it, everything about this made your heart clench.

He was so stupidly cute when he was excited.

And God, that made everything so much worse.

Because this, this, was what you were going to miss.

Him.

Jake.

His dumb competitive streak. His stupid grins. The way he looked at you sometimes. All the little acts of kindness. 

A whistle blew, breaking you out of your thoughts. The kids shot forward, skating with all the energy in the world.

Jake let them win.

He didn’t make it too obvious. He still skated fast enough to keep them on their toes, but you could tell. He slowed down just enough to make sure one of them reached the boards first, throwing his hands up in mock defeat as they cheered.

You were going to miss him.

More than you were ready for.

Jake’s house is quiet when you step inside. 

“I wanna show you something,” Jake says, tugging you toward the hallway.

You let yourself be pulled along, through the house and into his childhood bedroom. Hockey trophies line the shelves, medals hanging from hooks and different lego builds were scattered around the shelves.

Jake gestures toward them with a small, almost sheepish grin. “Told you I used to be good.”

You roll your eyes but step closer, trailing your fingers along the glossy wood of a championship trophy. “Used to be?” you echo, raising a brow. “Please. You still are.”

Jake chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. My dad doesn’t think so.”

Something in his voice makes you pause. But before you can press further, he flops onto his bed, stretching his arms above his head. “Ugh, I need a nap. Skating was a workout.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen you sprint for sixty straight minutes. That wasn’t even close to a workout for you.”

Jake just grins, patting the empty space beside him. “C’mon. I know you’re tired too.”

You hesitate, but not because you aren’t tired.

Because you are. Because you know that lying down next to him, in this room, in this house that holds pieces of his childhood, pieces he’s willingly showing you, will only make everything worse.

You do it anyway.

You slip off your jacket and crawl into the space beside him. The bed dips as Jake shifts, his body instinctively curling around yours. His arms loop around your waist, his chest warm against your back, and the moment he exhales, fully relaxing into you, you feel your stomach twist again. Because this isn’t real, even if it felt real. It should’t be.  In two days, this will be over. And you’ve already decided you have to let him go. 

To protect your heart of what was going to come in the end. 

Your throat tightens as you stare at the ceiling. Keeping him in your life after this would only be self-inflicted torture.  Pretending to love him had been easy. At one point it probably wasn’t pretend. So pretending you didn’t would be impossible. And that was why you had to let him go. You have to go no contact. For your own sake.

And as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, you already feel sorry for it. Already grieving a friendship you haven’t even lost yet. You feel the weight of Jake’s arm around you, his steady breaths against the nape of your neck a lullaby you shouldn’t let yourself sink into. 

But you do.

For just a moment.

You blink up at the ceiling, the familiar scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets, wrapping around you. Your fingers twitch against the fabric of his hoodie. You should have given it back. You should. But it smells like him. It feels like him. And soon, you won’t have any of him left. You press your lips together, ignoring the sting in your throat.

Jake doesn’t know yet. That, when you get off that plane, you’re cutting ties. You’ll ignore his texts. His calls. You’ll block his number if you have to.  He doesn’t know that you’ll do the same to Jay. To Heeseung. To all of them.

Jay will know. Jay will see right through you. He’ll hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your texts grow shorter and shorter, until they eventually stop coming at all. He’ll know. And he won’t let you go without a fight.

But this is what’s best. For you, so you don’t destroy yourself in the process of loving Jake like you did with Marcus. For Jake, so he doesn’t have to be put in the awkward position of letting you down gently. So that he doesn’t have to be scrutinized by his father. So that he doesn’t have to break your heart. 

Jake shifts behind you, his arm tightening, his nose brushing against your shoulder. Your chest ached as you swallowed down the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the warmth of Jake’s arm around you, on his hand resting against your stomach. ──────────────────────────Jake woke up slowly, blinking into darkness. His room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional soft sigh escaping your lips. He felt the warmth of your body pressed against his, your head tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled with his beneath the blankets.

His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close.

A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was nearly 11 p.m. He probably should wake you up, take you home. Jake exhaled softly, gaze flicking down to you, taking in the way your lashes fanned over your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly with each slow, steady breath. You looked so soft like this, so unguarded. And fuck, he loved seeing you like this.

Because as much as he adored your quick wit and your stubborn streak, there was something about these rare, quiet moments that made his chest feel too full.

He’d always liked making you laugh, riling you up just to see you roll your eyes at him. But seeing you like this? Safe, peaceful, trusting him enough to just be, it did something to him.

Jake swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against your back, resisting the urge to smooth his hand over your hair.

He liked this.

He liked you.

He might even love you.

He has known that for weeks now.

He wasn’t sure when exactly things had shifted, when pretending had started feeling so much like something real, but he knew he wasn’t ready for it to end. Even after this week was over, even when you both got back home, he wanted this. Wanted you in his life just like this.

Because how could he go back to before? 

He’d been thinking about it a lot, how things would go back to ‘normal’ once you got home. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he didn’t want normal. He didn’t want to go back to before.

He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want this to change.

Carefully, he shifted, reluctantly pulling his arm from beneath you. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low and soft as he nudged your shoulder. “Y/N, wake up.”

You stirred slightly, your brows scrunching in mild annoyance before your eyes fluttered open. A sleepy frown pulled at your lips. “What?”

“It’s late,” he said gently. “Do you want me to take you home?”

You blinked, still half-asleep, before shifting against him, rubbing at your eyes. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, already nestling back into him. “Then I’ll just stay.”

And just like that, you were asleep again, your breath evening out, completely unbothered.

Jake let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. His chest felt warm, something almost giddy curling in his stomach at how easily you had decided to stay.

Because that meant something, right? You wanted to stay.

Jake had never been a fan of long flights. Too much time to think. And right now, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. Especially when you were sitting right next to him, head bent over your notebook, highlighter in hand as you studied whatever notes you had stuffed into your carry-on. Jake didn’t even pretend to be interested in anything else. He just…watched you.

The way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you chewed on your bottom lip when you were focused, the way you absently twirled your pen between your fingers before underlining something on the page. God, you were so fucking cute. He had the urge to reach out and tuck that one loose strand of hair behind your ear. You must have felt his gaze because you suddenly nudged him with your elbow, not even looking up from your notes. “Stop staring.” Jake smirked. “Not staring.”

You huffed, eyes flicking toward him, unimpressed. “Go to sleep or something.” Jake stretched his legs out, completely unbothered. “Not tired.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue further, going back to your notes. And Jake went back to watching you. He didn’t know how much time passed, maybe an hour, maybe two, when you spoke to him again.

“What are we going to tell our friends?” Jake blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, noting the way you were still looking down at your notes, your fingers lightly tapping against the page. “About what?” You still didn’t look at him. Just kept tapping your pen. "About our breakup. The wedding is over, right? No need for us to be fake dating anymore."

His stomach dropped. The song playing in his ears–one of your favorites–turned into nothing but static. For a second, he thought maybe he misheard you. Maybe he had dozed off, lost in the lull of the plane, and imagined it. But then you finally looked at him. Waiting. Expecting an answer. Jake forced his face to stay neutral. "What?"

You exhaled, glancing down at your notes like this was just some minor inconvenience to get through. “I mean, we should probably have a story, right? You didn’t want to tell them we were faking all of this. So like, maybe we had a mutual breakup? Or—” His head spun. Because what the fuck? Jake should have known this was coming. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the plan had always been to end things after the wedding.

But hearing you say it fucking sucked.

For a brief second, he considered arguing. Because if this was how you saw it, the whole situation still being you and him fake dating, then he didn't have much say in this. If you weren't feeling the same way he did for you, which you obviously didn't, then there was nothing to argue about. He didn't have to fight for a fake relationship, even if it broke his heart.

Jake felt his fingers tighten around your phone. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Sure.”

And he hated how hollow that one word felt in his chest.

You hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. Then you nodded slightly.

Jake swallowed, staring out at the dark sky stretching endlessly outside the window.

Then, carefully, he asked, “We’ll still see each other, though, right?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then you nodded again. “Yeah. Of course.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Good.”

Silence settled between you again.

Then you spoke, softer this time. “Should we say it was mutual?”

Jake turned to look at you, something unreadable flashing across your face.

You met his gaze, biting your lip. “Like… should we say we had a reason?”

Jake had to bite back a humorless laugh. There was no reason for this to happen. At all. Not even two days ago, you had woken up in his arms. Stayed for breakfast. Laughed at the way he threw himself into the pool. Stayed until your mom called you to come home.

You looked happy.

He just shrugged, like his heart wasn’t actively splintering inside his chest. “I guess mutual sounds good.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Jake turned back toward the window, shoving his headphones deeper into his ears, but he wasn’t listening to the music anymore. Why? He just didn't understand why. 

You had to be a really good actor. That was the only explanation. Maybe he had been an idiot from the very start. But he knew. He knew the second he kissed you in that bar. The way you had responded to him, the way your fingers had twisted into the fabric of his shirt, the way your breath had hitched just before he pulled away. That hadn't been fake. And neither had the way you looked at him at the wedding, standing so close, your eyes flickering down to his lips. He had felt it, that moment stretching between you, the way your body leaned into his just a fraction before he kissed you.

Jake kept his eyes locked on the window, the reflection of you flickering in the glass. You had gone back to your notes, highlighter in hand, looking like this conversation had already left your mind. He wanted to laugh. Because that was it. All of it. Over, just like that. He should've seen it coming. He'd let himself believe, for just a second, that this wouldn't end. That maybe, when you got home, you'd still be his somehow.

It has been six days since Jake and you arrived at home. Six days since you last saw each other. Six days since you asked him to fake break up. Six days spent trying to dodge Jake at all costs. Which was harder than you anticipated.

You stared at the screen of your Ipad, you were at least ten pages behind your professor in the script. At the beginning of the class you still were paying attention, knowing that this professor likes to ask random students questions during the class to check if you were paying attention but at some point our mind wandered away from nerve damage and to the damage you have done. 

Your phone is heavy in your hand, when you pick it up to check the time. Your heart stops for a second when you read over Jake's most recent message from last night.

Jakeyboy 11:08 am: Hey Y/N! Do you wanna go for fried chicken today? We should celebrate that we survived last week!  Jakeyboy 09:29 pm: So…no fried chicken then?

No. No fried chicken. And definitely not in that small restaurant you had your first date-not-date in almost 4 months ago now. That felt like a lifetime now.

You read it immediately. Almost replied. Almost said, Yeah, okay, let’s go. But instead, you locked your phone, flipped it over, and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest. 

It’s been only six days but you miss him. God, you miss him. You didn’t realize how much time you and Jake spent together and spent texting until you stopped. Or at least tried to. 

Your name being called cut through your thoughts. Your head snapped up. Your professor was staring at you expectantly.

“I am sorry, Professor Kim. I didn’t catch that, could you repeat that question?”

Your professor sighed but repeated his question. You answered the question and he moved on.

You let out a breath when he went back to the slides and closed your eyes. This can’t continue like this. You had to get a grip. That thing between you and Jake was fake and you shouldn’t be as weird about this as you were. 

Your phone vibrated again.

Jakeyboy Are you coming on Friday? 

Jake had the Providence Regional this weekend. If they won, they’ll be headed to the Frozen Four. This was important to him. If you don’t go, he wouldn’t spend the whole game wondering why you weren’t sitting in the stands cheering on him, wondering what he did wrong. You refused to be the reason he’s distracted.

Before you can overthink it, your hand moves toward your phone.

You unlock it. Open your chat with Jake.

You type quickly.

Y/N I am sorry I was swarmed with work yesterday :( Prof Hwang wanted me to hand in my essay until yesterday instead of Friday so i had to focus and i banned my phone to the kitchen  I’ll be at your game tomorrow! I promise!!!

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you locked your phone, flipped it over again, and tried to pretend you didn’t feel relief washing over you. ──────────────────────────Jake leaned against the wall outside the locker room, one foot tapping against the floor, hands gripping his phone way too tight. The screen was blank. No notifications. No texts from you.

He checked the time. Five minutes until he had to start getting ready.

You weren’t coming.

He knew it, but he still kept glancing up every time someone walked by, heart jumping for half a second before sinking again. Maybe you got held up. Maybe you forgot. Maybe–

Beomguy came running in, just barely making it around the curve to almost crash into Jake.

"Dude. What are you still doing out here?"

Jake shoved his phone into his pocket. "Nothing."

Beomgyu gave him a once-over. "Right. So you’re just lurking outside the locker room like a lost puppy for no reason?"

Jake rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall. "Shut up."

Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed. "Where is Y/N?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Beomgyu whistled low. "Damn. She’s always here." He shifted, lowering his voice. "Did you guys fight or something?"

"No," Jake muttered, jaw tightening. "She’s just busy."

Beomgyu studied him for a second, like he didn’t quite believe it, but he let it go. "We gotta get changed before Coach loses his shit."

Jake nodded, but even as he followed Beomgyu inside, he couldn’t shake the disappointment curling in his chest. The question lingered, gnawing at the edge of Jake’s thoughts even as he stood and grabbed his helmet.

Had you fought?

No.

But it sure as hell felt like he was losing you anyway.

You’d promised to come.

You knew how important that game was.

And that, more than anything, fucking hurt.

Jake tried to shake off the gnawing disappointment clawing at his chest. The game was happening around him, sticks clashing, skates cutting across the ice, the sharp echo of the puck ricocheting off the boards, but his mind wasn’t in it.

You weren’t there.

Not outside the locker room before warm-ups. Not by the tunnel where you always wished him luck. Not even a last-minute text. Just silence.

He told himself it was fine. You had school, you were busy—but damn, it stung. More than he wanted to admit.

Then he spotted you sitting down next to Sunghoon.

Jake barely processed the wave of relief that crashed over him. His chest felt lighter, and before he could stop himself, a stupid, lopsided grin tugged at his lips.

The second the puck dropped again, he forced himself to focus, taking long strides, chasing it down along the boards. He caught a pass cleanly, shifted his weight to turn–

And then he got crushed.

Pain exploded through his side as he slammed into the boards, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. His helmet rattled. Someone shouted. He barely heard it over the ringing in his ears.

Jake hit the ice but pushed himself up immediately, shaking it off. His ribs screamed in protest, but whatever. Pain was part of the game. He took a deep breath, forced his focus back, and skated after the play.

As he lined up for the next face-off, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at you.

And for some reason, the ache in his chest hurt worse than the hit.

Jake exhaled, flexed his grip on his stick, and forced himself to look forward. He’d deal with everything else, you, after the game. ──────────────────────────The cool night air wrapped around Jake as he stepped out of the rink, scanning the small crowd until his eyes landed on you. You stood near Sunghoon and one of the guys’ girlfriends, leaning against the railing. Your shoulders were slumped, and there were faint bags under your eyes, like you hadn’t been sleeping much, and your hair, normally styled with some effort, was lazily pulled back, like you just hadn’t cared today. When you spotted him, you smiled. “Congrats,” you murmured, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him.

Jake barely hesitated before hugging you back, pulling you in closer. He inhaled the familiar scent of you and suddenly, the ache in his ribs wasn’t the thing making it hard to breathe. You held onto him a second longer than usual, and when you spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?” Jake exhaled against your hair, feeling his chest tighten. He knew you weren’t just asking about the hit.

“Yeah,” he muttered, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his like you didn’t believe him. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face as well and he whispered back, “Are you?” For a second, he thought you wouldn’t answer. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Then, finally, you nodded. Jake didn’t believe that either. But he let you lie. Just like you let him. ────────────────────────── You were standing next to Jay and Yeonjun at the bar, sipping on your second sex on the beach when the DJ played his third Katy Perry song of the evening. Usually the hockey team celebrated with fried chicken or at the small bar near the rink but today they decided to go to the club. A decision you weren’t too enthusiastic about but went along nonetheless. It was nice to see the others.

It was however not nice to see Jake dancing with another girl. She was way too close for it to be friendly dancing. You swallowed and took another sip, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

Beomgyu wrapped his arms around your and Yeonjuns shoulder shouting “Katy shots everyone! Yeonjun hyung is paying!”

Everyone meant you, him, Jay and Yeonjun since you were pretty sure none of the other players heard what he just said. 

Yeonjun just rolled his eyes, but motioned to the bartender ordering four shots. He was already slurring his words and you knew he should probably stop soon. But you didn’t really care. Maybe another shot would help you forget what you just saw. 

You drowned your already half empty sex on the beach and took the shot, laughing at Beomgyu who was trying to get you to dance with him. 

He turned the two of you and you were happy to not see Jake anymore.

But that also meant Beomgyu did. 

“Damn Y/N. You let Jake get flirted with by other girls? I know you are chill, but this chill?”, his hands grasped your shoulders and he turned you back towards the bar, to Jay and Yeonjuns gazes were following where Beomgyu was now pointing. 

“Oh yeah. Why not?”, you asked, ignoring the hot disgusting feeling in your veins when you watched her grasp Jake's biceps. 

“Because he is your boyfriend?”, Beomgyu asked bewildered.

Fuck.

“Didn’t he tell you?” You tilted your head, feigning mild surprise. “We broke up.”

The second the words left your mouth, the entire table went silent. Oh, it seems like there were more of his team at the bar than you thought. 

“You… what?” Sunghoon blinked at you, beer bottle paused halfway to his lips. Where did he come from? You swore he wasn’t at the bar two seconds ago. Or maybe you were just really drunk already. Probably.  

“We broke up,” you repeated, keeping your voice light. You even forced a small, casual shrug, ignoring the tight knot forming in your stomach. “Just realized we were better off as friends.”

More silence. Or well as silent as a full club could be with the music and conversations bouncing from the walls.

“Since when?” Jay demanded, looking between you and Jake like he was waiting for one of you to jump up and yell ‘gotcha!’

You felt the heat of Jake’s stare from across the room. You knew he was watching you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when that girl was practically draping herself over him.

She was giggling at something he said, pressing a manicured hand to his bicep.

Your jaw clenched.

“A couple days after the wedding,” you answered smoothly, taking a slow sip of your drink. “We just didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Bullshit.” Heeseung scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “There’s no way you two just broke up and didn’t say anything. He would have told us.”

You rolled your eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “What do you want me to say? It just didn’t work out. We’re still friends.”

Lies.

You wanted it to work out. 

You wanted him. Wanted him to love you. To not be talking to a random girl in a club.

But you were scared. 

Jay crossed his arms, studying you carefully. “You’re telling me you guys just… mutually decided to go back to being friends?”

“Yep.”

An arm suddenly draped over your shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” one of Nicolas slurred, his grin sloppy from too many drinks. “So that means you’re single now?”

Your stomach twisted.

“I mean, technically, yeah,” you said, and smiled at him.

The guy let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn.” He glanced toward Jake, then back at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess that means EJ has a chance now, if you let him.”

You forced a laugh.

“Yeah,” you said, ignoring the sudden, unbearable heat crawling up your neck. “Guess so.”

──────────────────────────

The walk back to your apartment felt both too long and not long enough. The world was spinning slightly.

Jake walked beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his head tilted slightly downward. He insisted on walking you home. After he finally got rid of that girl and came back to the bar to drink a Katy shot he realized how drunk you were getting and forbade you to drink your Katy shot. That was fine with you. The alcohol didn’t help you forget. It made everything worse. So stopping was definitely the more clever thing to do. 

Now you were here. Alone.

You should have said something. Cracked a joke. Made fun of him for how he had let some girl hang all over him at the party.

But you didn’t.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he murmured, breaking the silence.

You exhaled, your breath curling in the cold night air. That wasn’t what you expected him to say. Your heart clenched. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” you whispered into the dark. “I should have been there to wish you good luck before you went on the ice.”

Jake slowed down slightly, tilting his head toward you. “It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t.

You had spent almost an hour trying to talk yourself into going at all. Sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, watching the minutes disappear. You had almost bailed. But you had gone anyway. You had forced yourself to get dressed, to push through the nausea curling in your stomach.

“You don’t have to say that,” you mumbled, eyes trained on the sidewalk.

Jake huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “I mean it. It was just a game.”

Just a game.

You bit your lip, arms wrapping around yourself. You should have been there. From the start.

“I still should have been there. I promised after all.” you said, your voice quieter now.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression shifting into something softer.

“Hey,” he said after a beat, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You still showed up.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to.

He slowed down slightly, looking at you with an earnest expression. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed, fighting to keep your mind clear. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, but the lie felt bitter as it left your mouth. It tasted awful. Felt even worse.

Jake didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, his face softened in that way he did when he was being gentle with you, like he could tell something was off but didn’t know how to ask. He always did that when he realized you had a hard day in the lab. He knew he had to wait for you to open up. Which you did. Always.

But today you continued to walk to your apartment in silence.

When you reached your building, you turned to hug him goodbye. When you wrapped your arms around his torso he stiffened. It was small, almost imperceptible, but you felt it in the way his muscles tensed beneath your arms, the way his breath caught just slightly.

You pulled back, blinking up at him. “Jake?”

He forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered.

Your chest ached. A deep, gnawing, ugly ache. Because of course he was hurt. YOu saw him get hurt. 

You crossed your arms, ignoring the slight sway in your vision. “Let me check.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t think–”

“Please Jake.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you hated how raw your voice sounded. 

Jake hesitated. He watched you carefully, like he was trying to read something on your face. But then, finally, he sighed, giving in with a tired nod.

You led him inside, neither of you speaking. The silence was thick, pressing down on you, and you wondered if he could feel it too.

Your bathroom was dimly lit, a single overhead bulb casting long shadows against the tiled walls. The space was small. When Jake leaned back against the sink, you had no choice but to step between his legs, your knees brushing against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed. Then, slowly, he pulled his tshirt over his head, the fabric ruffling his already-messy hair.

Your breath caught.

Jake was warm. His skin golden under the dim light, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The bruises were already starting to bloom across his ribs, dark and violent against his skin.

You reached out, your fingertips grazing the swollen area. Jake hissed, his body jerking back, before relaxing under your touch. “Jesus, your hands are cold.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your fingers trace lightly over the bruises, moving carefully, feeling the way his stomach tensed beneath your touch. The dim light illuminated the way his chest rose and fell, making him look almost vulnerable in that moment. You gently probed his side, checking for any fractures. You didn’t realize you were swaying slightly until his hands found your hips, steadying you. The warmth of his palms burned through the fabric of your top, making your head spin more. Your heart pounded, your pulse a steady, traitorous rhythm in your throat. As your hands ran over the bruise, you felt his body stiffen and his eyes tighten, but you continued, feeling for anything that seemed off. You pulled your hand back slightly, a slight frown pulling at your lips as you looked at him. He was fine, no broken ribs, just bruising. 

He was watching you. You could feel it. The weight of his gaze pressing into you, heavy and unreadable. Like he was waiting for something. For you to say something. To do something.

You couldn’t.

And then, his fingers moved-just slightly, just enough to brush under the hem of your top, to touch the bare skin of your waist. His touch was light, but it sent a sharp shiver up your spine.

Something inside you snapped.

Before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his.

Jake froze. Just for a second. But then he was kissing you back.

And fuck, it was good.

Too good. Too much.

His hand slid from your waist, up, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, over your side, up to the base of your neck. And when his fingers pressed against your skin, when his thumb dragged over the column of your throat, you shuddered. A small, broken sound escaped you.

Jake made a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a sigh, and it made your stomach twist painfully. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Jake pulled back, his brows furrowing.

His hands gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “Why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to answer. You didn’t want to talk.

So you kissed him again.

This time, he was gentler. Softer.

And it only made you cry harder.

Because it felt like grief.

Because you were mourning something you never really had. Something you couldn’t have.

The moment your lips left his, Jake didn’t pull you back. Instead, his hands found your face again, holding it with just enough space between you that he could see your face.

Tears clung to your lashes, slipping down your cheeks silently. 

“Hey,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t answer. 

Jake’s thumb stroked over your wet cheek “Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, but still careful.

Instead of answering you hiccuped, shook your head and pressed your face against his bare chest.

And then, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat against your ear, you choked out, "I’m so sorry."

Jake stiffened, but it only lasted a second. Then, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in without a second thought. No hesitation. No questions. Just warmth.

His hands ran soothingly up and down your back, gentle, steady. “Hey,” he said again, quieter this time. “Why are you –”

"I’m sorry," you interrupted, voice barely working through the lump in your throat. "I’m so sorry."

Jake’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie, his grip tightening. “Why are you saying that?”

But you just shook your head again, screwing your eyes shut, pressing your forehead harder against his collarbone.

Because you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in his arms.

You should have gone no contact. You had gone no contact.

And now you had ruined it.

“I am sorry Jake.”

Jake exhaled slowly, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head. His chest rose and fell against you, his heartbeat strong, steady, the only sound in the dimly lit bathroom.

“You don’t have to –” he started, then stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure what to say. He tried again. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

That made your chest ache.

You sucked in a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. It just made the tears come harder, your fingers gripping onto him.

Jake didn’t move. Didn’t push for answers. Didn’t ask you to stop crying.

He just held you, warm and quiet and safe.

And you hated yourself for wanting to stay.

──────────────────────────Jake stared at the black screen of his phone. He tapped it. Nothing. No messages, no missed calls. Just the same empty notifications that had been there five minutes ago.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before letting the screen fade back to black.

The day after the game, after the party, after you kissed him and broke down he thought you were just tired and wanted to be left alone. Maybe something had happened in the lab. He didn’t know. You apologized over and over again and didn’t stop hiccuping until you felt asleep. You never told him what you were apologizing for and he didn’t know what you could be apologizing for. What he did know was that it broke his heart. 

By the second day, he was uneasy.

By the fourth, when his messages were still left on read, when every TikTok he sent remained unopened, when you hadn’t even sent him a half-assed meme in return, something inside him twisted tightly.

You never cried. He had never seen you cry, not once. And now, not only had he seen it, but you were pushing him away.

And worst of all, he had no idea why

It didn’t make sense. Nothing had happened, right? At least, nothing bad.

He scrolled through your chat again. 

Jake Hey, how’s your day? Jake Y/N? Jake Are you okay?

No reply.

The worst part? It wasn’t just him. 

He hoped you might be studying with your friends in the empty classroom you preferred to use, but your friends told him you didn’t answer their texts. Chaewon was looking as worried as Jake felt, when he told them that you weren’t answering his either.

Sunghoon had told him you skipped out on lunch with him.

If this was just about the kiss, why were you avoiding everyone?

It made him feel sick.

And now, Jay was standing in front of him in the rink’s locker room, arms crossed, staring at him like he was a fucking criminal.

“What did you do?”

Jake looked up, brows furrowing. “What?”

Jay huffed, shifting his weight like he was trying to stay patient. “Y/N. She’s avoiding all of us. So, what did you do?”

Jake exhaled sharply, leaning against the bench behind him. “I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse, tired. Defeated. “She just… stopped answering me. I don’t get it.”

Jay narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to decide whether Jake was lying or just stupid. “You don’t get it? You two were practically glued together at the hip a week ago. Now she won’t even look at you? I know you broke up, but she said you were still friends? That you ended it mutually?”

Jake dragged a hand down his face. “Yeah I thought so, too.”

Jay’s expression softened, just slightly. “Did something happen at the wedding? Or after?”

Jake hesitated. He thought about telling Jay the truth. About the kiss. About the way you had melted against him one second, only to shut him out completely the next. 

“I–” Jake’s throat tightened. “I really don’t know.”

Jay studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, whatever it is, you need to fix it.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh, hollow and bitter. “Yeah? How am I supposed to do that when she won’t even talk to me?”

Jay sighed. “Figure it out.”

Jake swallowed hard, staring at the unread messages on his screen.

He just wished he knew what he did wrong.

────────────────────────── Your hands were shaking.

You made a mistake.

You don’t make mistakes.

Mistakes mean carelessness. A lack of control.

Yet here you were, standing over a decomposed body in the forensic taphonomy lab, staring at the mistake you just made.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to correct your mistake, but it was too late. A single misstep in this field could mean an entire case being thrown out in the real world. You couldn’t make mistakes. The stakes were too high for mistakes. You knew better. And yet, today, you made a mistake.

Your professor’s voice cut through the haze. “Y/N.”

You flinched.

Professor Kim, looked at you with something close to concern. He rarely stepped in during labs unless absolutely necessary, but now, he gently pulled off his gloves and nodded toward the door.

“Step outside with me.”

Shame crept up your spine as you followed him into the dimly lit hallway, away from the smell of decay and chemicals. The second the door shut behind you, he sighed.

“What’s going on? You’ve been off the whole week.”

You stared at the floor, hands balled into fists. You didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with him, not with anyone.

But Professor Kim knew you too well. He had seen you excel, seen you obsess over every little detail until it was perfect. And now he saw you fail.

“I don’t make mistakes,” you murmured, voice tight.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “No, you don’t. Which is why I’m asking what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard. The lump in your throat was unbearable.

You wanted to tell him everything. That you kissed Jake. That you regret it. That you regret giving him hope. That you can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt on your skin, the way his voice broke when he asked what was going on.

That you can’t even focus on yourself anymore.

But you can’t say any of that.

You should lie. Say you’re fine. Say you’re just stressed, that it won’t happen again.

But your throat feels tight, and before you can stop yourself, the truth slips out.

“I don’t know.”

Professor Kim nods, like he expected that answer. “Take the rest of the day off.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“You’re not helping anyone in this state. Not yourself, not your peers, and certainly not whoever’s lying on that table.” His voice is firm, but there’s something gentle underneath it. “I won’t mark you for today. But, Y/N… get your head together.”

His words cut deeper than they should. You nod stiffly, barely managing a choked-out “Thank you” before walking away.

Because the truth is, you don’t know how to fix this.

How to fix yourself. ──────────────────────────You didn’t go to class the next day. Or the day after. It didn’t even feel like a decision. You just couldn’t. The exhaustion seeped into your bones, weighing you down like an anchor, making everything feel distant and dull. You woke up, stared at your ceiling, and the idea of getting dressed, walking outside, pretending you were fine—it was unbearable. So you didn’t. You called your doctor, told him you were feeling like shit—physically, mentally, you didn’t even clarify, and he didn’t ask. He just signed off on an excuse for the rest of the week. No questions. No judgment. You should have felt relieved. You felt nothing. The days blurred. You ignored texts, ignored missed calls, ignored the quiet ache in your chest every time you saw Jake’s name light up your screen. You thought about answering, about saying sorry, I just need time, but even that felt like too much effort.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there. The sky had been soft and golden when you first stepped outside, the sun dipping lazily toward the horizon. You watched it set, watched the world shift from warm orange to dusky purple, then fade into black. Now, only the distant glow of the city lights kept you company.

It wasn’t particularly cold, but it wasn’t warm either. The kind of in-between temperature that should have been comfortable but somehow wasn’t.

Your fingers fumbled with the cigarette between them.

You didn’t usually hesitate. But now, you just stared at it. The lighter sat beside you, untouched. It was stupid—after everything, this was what made you pause? You had been craving the nicotine all day, the mindless comfort of smoke filling your lungs, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to light it.

Maybe because you knew Jake would hate it. Maybe because, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t want to disappoint him any more than you already had. Or maybe, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t actually make you feel any better. You squeezed your eyes shut, tilting your head back against the wall, exhaling shakily.

You just needed one second to breathe.

Just one.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the cigarette pinched between your fingers.

Then, before you could think about it any longer, you flicked the lighter. The flame danced in the dark, small and fleeting. You brought it to the end of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the ember caught, glowing softly in the night.

The first drag burned.

It was sharp in your throat, settling heavy in your lungs. You held it in for a second, like it would make a difference, like it would calm the storm in your chest.

It didn’t.

You let the smoke slip past your lips, watching it curl into the air, disappearing into nothing. The taste lingered—bitter, stale, wrong. You waited for it to do something, to ease the tension in your body, to make you feel anything other than this crushing weight of regret.

Your phone sat beside you, screen dark. You hadn’t checked it in hours. You didn’t need to. You already knew.

Jake played the Frozen Four today.

And you weren’t there.

You never went to away games—traveling was too much, and he understood that. But you always texted him. Always. Even when you were too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed with school, you always managed to send him something. A dumb joke. A simple You got this. A reminder that he wasn’t alone. Because he deserved support. Because his family wouldn’t give it to him. And you swore you would. Even if you weren’t currently in the midst of fake dating. You were—you are—friends. And friends support each other.

But you didn’t.

You let the entire day slip through your fingers, drowning in your own mess, spiraling so deep into yourself that you forgot about him. A sharp inhale stung your throat as you brought the cigarette to your lips again.

You took another drag.

The weight in your chest didn’t lift. The guilt didn’t ease. You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the air before vanishing into the night.

Jake’s voice echoed in your head, uninvited.

"You know that shit’s bad for you, right?"

He never scolded, never judged. He just looked at you with that quiet concern, the kind that made you feel seen in a way that was almost unbearable. "Seriously, Y/N."

Your stomach twisted painfully. You should have wished him good luck. The least you could have done was let him know you were thinking of him. That you still cared, even if you were trying so damn hard to stop.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pressed the cigarette into the brick ledge, snuffing it out before you even finished.

It didn’t fix anything.

And now, you regretted another thing. ────────────────────────── Winning should feel better than this.

The crowd was roaring. His teammates were celebrating, their cheers echoing off the locker room walls, but Jake just sat there, hunched forward on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at his phone. The screen stayes dark. No messages. No missed calls. At least not from you. Instead, his dad called.

"Congratulations, son. I heard you won."

Jake didn’t answer right away. Just gripped his phone so tight he thought it might crack.

Because he knew his dad hadn’t watched the game. He never watched.

"I’ve been thinking," his dad continued, voice calm, detached, businesslike–just like always. "I’ll be transferring to the satellite office in Seoul. I want to be closer to my family. Closer to you."

Jake’s blood turned to ice. His dad didn’t do things like that. He didn’t just decide to be around. He didn’t care about being close to Jake.

"We should have dinner tomorrow. Just the two of us. Catch up."

Jake felt sick. His dad never just did things for him. There was always a catch. A reason. A way it benefited him more than Jake. This was exactly why it all started, wasn’t it? The fake dating. The whole fucking mess.

Because of him.

Because Jake had wanted, for once, to have some kind of control. To be able to tell his dad: Look, see? I have something good. I don’t need you to approve of me, because I’m happy without it. And you had gone along with it. Had agreed just to piss off Marcus. And now? Now you weren’t even speaking to him.

Maybe he could call you. Maybe he could try to explain how much this sucked, how it was making his skin crawl, how the last thing he wanted was to sit down and have dinner with the one man who had never once supported him. But he knew you wouldn’t pick up. You barely even answered his texts. When you did, it was short, vague, nothing like the way you used to talk to him before. Before you kissed him in you dimly lit bathroom. Before you cried against his chest. Before everything changed.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt. You had promised to be there. Not just for this game–for him. You had promised to be supportive, because his family wasn’t. But you hadn’t even wished him good luck. And fuck, it hurt.

Jake swallowed back the instinct to refuse his dads invitation. Because he couldn’t refuse. Not without making it worse. So he said yes. And now he was sitting here, in the locker room, watching his teammates lose their minds in celebration while he felt like absolute shit.

He played like absolute shit.

The first period had been a disaster. He was still skating around like a ghost, head stuck somewhere else. Then he spotted an opening, a clean pass heading his way, and suddenly he was laying on the ice, unable to breath. The hit came from his blind spot, full force, slamming him into the boards.

Pain exploded through his ribs. His vision blurred at the edges, and he collapsed onto the ice. He managed to push himself up, wincing hard, gripping his stick like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His entire side throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His ribs, still sore from last week, felt like they had been lit on fire. He skated off during intermission, barely making it to the locker room before leaning against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

"CC, I can’t," he admitted, voice tight, breath shallow. "It hurts too much to breathe." The Coach barely questioned it. Just eyed him, saw the ice pack he pressed to his ribs, and nodded. Jake was benched. And the worst part? He was relieved.

He couldn’t keep playing like this. Not when he was this distracted, this fucking miserable.

He overheard Chaewon and Yujin talk yesterday. You weren't coming to class. Or to study meetings. Or anywhere. Jake had only half-heard it at the time. But now, the words echo in his head, over and over. You weren't just avoiding him. You were avoiding everyone.

And he had no idea why.

His fingers tighten around his phone. His stomach twists. He misses you. So much it’s physically painful now. ────────────────────────── Jake sat stiffly in his chair, barely touching the wine glass in front of him. He should’ve expected this. The pristine, dimly lit private dining room. The carefully curated silence. His father sitting across from him, impeccable as always, as if he hadn’t just summoned Jake here to systematically dismantle him. He should’ve expected it, but it still made his stomach churn.

“You’re quiet.” His father’s voice was as sharp as ever, but there was an air of disinterest to it, like he wasn’t particularly concerned about the answer. Jake forced a shrug, fingers tracing the stem of his glass. “Just tired.” His father hummed as if that was an acceptable excuse, but they both knew it wasn’t. They made small talk, if you could even call it that. His father updated him on the company’s numbers, on his brother’s continued excellence, on things that were supposed to matter to him but never had. Jake responded when necessary, nodding at all the right times, murmuring an occasional “hmm” or “sounds great” even though none of it registered. He felt disconnected. Like he was watching himself from the outside, just waiting for the inevitable shift in conversation.

“Y/N,” his father said, casually cutting into his steak. “Marcus’ father had plenty to say about her. And after seeing her at the wedding myself, I can’t say I disagree.” Jake’s jaw locked, but he said nothing. “She’s… bleak,” his father continued. “Certainly not the kind of woman I expected you to be involved with.” He set his knife down with a soft clink. “You could do better. You already have done better.”

Jake stared blankly at the table. There was something almost funny about it, really. His father didn’t even say it cruelly. Just plainly. Like it was a fact. Like he wasn’t talking about the person his son is in love with, at least in a fake way for his father.

“She’s not a good fit for you,” his father continued, taking a sip of wine. “Especially not considering your future.”

Jake exhaled slowly, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of his mind. He was so tired of this conversation. So tired of being told what he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to want.

“And I am not talking about hockey. Hockey isn’t a future, Jaeyun.” His father finally met his gaze. “It’s a distraction. A temporary indulgence. You always knew that.”

Jake swallowed, his throat dry.

“I let you have this because your mother insisted. But you’re not a child anymore. It’s time to stop pretending this is something you can build a life around.”

His father spoke like it was obvious, like Jake should be grateful for being allowed to chase a dream that was never meant to be permanent. Jake felt… hollow. He should be angry. He should feel something. But all he could think about was how small he felt sitting here.

“You will take over the Seoul branch,” his father continued smoothly. “That’s non-negotiable. You’re a Sim. It’s your responsibility.” Jake forced himself to breathe. “And if I don’t?” His voice came out quieter than he intended. His father’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Then I will cut you off.” There it was. So simple. So matter-of-fact. Jake just… nodded. Not because he agreed. Not because he was backing down. But because he suddenly felt too drained to keep going in circles. His father sighed, picking up his knife again, as if this entire conversation had been a minor inconvenience. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you’ll understand in time. You have too much potential to waste on something so fleeting.”

Jake didn’t respond.

Because what was the point? His father had already decided who he was, what his life should be. There was no convincing him otherwise. Jake pushed his chair back, standing on legs that felt unsteady beneath him.

His father barely glanced up. “Where are you going?” Jake’s voice was quiet, almost empty. “Home.” He turned and walked out.

The restaurant doors shut behind him, but the world outside didn’t feel any lighter. The streets buzzed with life, but it all blurred together. He felt like he was moving through static, like nothing was real. He exhaled shakily, pressing his fingers to his temples. His hands felt cold.

And all he could think about was how much he wanted to see you. Because somehow, you were the only thing that had ever made all of this feel bearable. And whatever Jakes dad wanted, it was never Jake’s happiness. It was control. Molding Jake into the perfect heir, and in his father’s eyes, you didn’t fit into that equation. His mind felt foggy, his body running on autopilot as he walked without thinking. Step after step, streetlight after streetlight, but it didn’t make him feel any less numb.

He knew Jay and Heeseung would be at the dorm when he got back. Knew they were probably waiting, wanting to ask how dinner had gone, if his dad had finally backed off, if the conversation had been tolerable for once. It wasn’t. It never was. But he didn’t have the energy to talk about it.

So when he finally reached their building, when he stepped through the door and saw them sitting on the couch, their heads turning toward him immediately—he ignored them.

“Jake–” Jay started, already pushing off the couch, but Jake didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge Heeseung’s furrowed brows, the concern etched into his face. Didn’t say a word. He just kept walking. Straight past them, down the hall, into his room. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

And finally, finally, he let himself breathe.

He didn’t turn the light on. Just stood there in the dark, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket before he slowly peeled it off. His movements were sluggish, detached, like his body wasn’t fully connected to his mind. His dad’s words echoed in his head, looping endlessly.

Hockey isn’t a future, Jaeyun. You’re not a child anymore. You have no choice.

Jake swallowed against the lump in his throat and let himself collapse onto the bed. He barely managed to toe off his shoes before pressing his face into the pillow, shutting his eyes like it would make everything disappear. But it didn’t. He felt like a fucking failure. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough. His brother would always be the golden child. Jake would always be the disappointment–the one wasting his time, the one throwing his potential away.

He had spent his whole life trying not to care about that.

But he did. God, he did.

He knew his father’s words had shaped him more than he wanted to admit. The way he second-guessed himself. The way he always pushed himself harder, trying to prove something, even when there was no one left to convince.

His father had made him feel like he wasn’t enough so often. Every single time he tried to be the son his father wanted. Every single time he failed.

That’s why he dated Sophia. He wasn’t sure he had ever actually even liked her. Not really. Not in the way he liked you.

With you, it was different.

He never had to force himself to be excited to see you, it just happened. You could be talking about the most gruesome, disgusting cases, and he would still be hooked, watching the way your eyes lit up when you explained something you loved. You never made him feel like he had something to prove. Like he was something to parade around in school or in front of your friends, a trophy boyfriend per say, like Sophia did. She definitely didn't date him because she liked him either, judging by how ugly all of it ended. You supported him without hesitation, without making him feel like he had to earn it first. You believed in him, even when his own family didn’t. You made him feel like he was enough.

And god, the butterflies. The stupid, stupid butterflies. He hadn’t felt that way in years. Giddy, like a little schoolboy. 

But apparently, none of it mattered.

Because you didn’t feel the same. ────────────────────────── A few days after Jake played the Frozen Four, you forced yourself to pull it together and go back to class. Your professors had assigned you essays on the topics you’d missed, and for once, you were actually grateful for the workload. It gave you something to focus on.  You texted Jake two days after the game, apologizing for not wishing him luck and congratulating him on the win. But he didn’t answer. You told yourself you understood. If he was mad, if he didn’t feel like talking to you, that was fair. You had pulled away first. But you decided that the two of you had to talk.  This couldn’t go on like this. You had to tell him how you felt. And you had to explain why you needed to step back. You didn’t hear Jay come in. You barely noticed him at first, too focused on the essay you were working on. He sighed and slid into the chair across from you, setting his arms on the desk, catching your attention. You swallowed, shutting your laptop. “Hey, Jay.” “Hey, Y/N.” His voice was quiet, careful. You glanced at him. He was watching you, brows furrowed in concern. "You scared me." Your throat tightened. "Jay—" "I mean it," he cut in, shaking his head. “You disappeared. You stopped going to class, you didn’t go to the game, you barely answer texts. And I wanted to give you space but it's been two weeks and I am worried." Guilt curled in your stomach. You looked away. You had been avoiding him. Not because you wanted to – but because you didn't know how to explain what had been running through your head these past few weeks. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you to talk to me, because I don’t think you’re okay.”, Jay exhaled. "You don’t just get to disappear," he said, his voice quieter now. "You don’t just get to lock yourself away and expect people not to care. I care. Jake definitely cares." He let out a slow breath, watching you carefully. "I just – I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours."

You hesitated and focused on your laptop again.  You wanted to tell him. Jay had grown to be one of your closest friends, until you started pulling away from everyone. "Did Jake do something?" That made you look up. "No, Jay." The words came out harsh and immediate, your voice cracking under the weight of them. "That’s the problem."  And just like that the dam broke: “Jake and I were faking it all. We were never together. Or like kinda? I have no idea. He asked me because his dad is such a stupid arrogant asshole who makes him feel like shit even though Jake is such an amazing person. And I just went along and then you thought we were like you know dating without saying anything and we just thought oh why not. If you would believe us his dad definitely would do too. But-”  You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the desk. "Then- then this stupid fake dating thing didn’t stay fake for me and I actually fell for that stupid idiot. And now I am living through a cliche rom com crisis."

Jay stilled. For a second, he just stared at you. Then he let out a slow, almost pained breath, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. Are you actually telling me that you and Jake spent months pretending to be together, being disgustingly obsessed with each other, making literal heart eyes across the room, and you thought–what? That you were faking it?", he let out a breath, shaking his head. You nodded. You were surprised he wasn’t more surprised at the whole dating thing.  “Why did you end it then, Y/N? If you knew you liked him. That it wasn’t fake for you.”, he asked. “Because I don’t belong in his world Jay. I saw that at the wedding. I don’t belong in his world of rich people who marry their kids off because it looks better for their company's reputation.”, you swallowed and looked away. Jay just shook his head. "So you pulled away because you were scared." It wasn’t a question. You nodded again. Jay let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Y/N. You really thought walking away was the best thing to do?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. "I thought if I ended it first, it would be easier." His lips pressed together. Then, softer he asked, "And? Was it?" You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

He shook his head. "You know, I don’t think you even realize what you did to yourself. You isolated yourself. You disappeared from everything. And I get it, okay? I do. When you care about someone that much, it’s scary. But shutting down? Pretending it doesn’t hurt? That’s not protecting yourself. That’s just making sure you have no one to catch you when you finally break." His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You clenched your jaw, blinking hard. "I didn’t want him to feel bad," you said, your voice small. "I didn’t want him to have to let me down gently when his dad finally thought I wasn’t enough. I didn’t want him to deal with me."

Jay let out a soft, exasperated laugh, shaking his head. "And who told you that he would? In which world would Jake allow his dad to destroy his friendships, his relationship for fucks sake." You looked away. He was right. Jay was silent for a moment. "You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N. You shouldn’t do this alone." He shook his head, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips.

"You pulled away from me, too," he said, quieter now. "You don’t get to do this alone, okay? You don’t have to." Your heart broke hearing him say that. "I miss him," you whispered. Jay sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah. And he misses you." You let out a slow breath, staring at the desk. “Y/N, you love him. And he loves you.”

You flinched. “Jay—” “He does. It's probably too early for him to say it himself, but it's so obvious.” His voice was firm, like he needed you to believe it. “He’s miserable, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. His dad took him out to dinner.” Jay exhaled sharply. “And you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere.” Guilt curled in your chest like a vice. Jay sighed. “I’m not saying this to make you feel worse. You didn’t ruin this, Y/N. But you will if you don’t fix it.” You let out a slow breath, staring at the desk. Jay nudged you one last time. "So. What are you gonna do about it?" You stared at your hands, feeling your pulse in your throat. “I don’t even know where to start,” you said, voice small, defeated. Jay’s face softened. “You start with him.” His voice was steady, the kind of gentle guidance you hadn’t realized you needed. "But you start now. You don’t have to have the perfect words. You don’t have to have some big, dramatic confession. You just have to talk to him.” You met his eyes, feeling that old ache return, but this time, you knew you could do something about it. “I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “I know.” Jay nodded, his eyes softening with empathy. “But you won’t know until you try.”

You exhaled shakily, staring down at your desk.

Jay was right. ──────────────────────────

The glow of Jake’s phone was the only source of light in the dark room. He was laying on his back, staring blankly at the screen, watching as the minutes ticked by.

4:12 PM.

He hadn’t moved in hours. Hadn’t gone to class. Hadn’t gone to practice. Tomorrow was the NCAA National Championship, and he should be panicking about the fact that he was getting benched. But he wasn’t. Because even if Coach wasn’t benching him for missing practice, he physically couldn’t play. Not with his ribs still fucked from the last two games. He had known something was wrong when every breath felt like a knife to his side, but he hadn’t cared enough to get it checked out until Jay practically dragged him to the team doctor. Fractured ribs. A solid six weeks of recovery. No hockey. He should care. But he didn’t. Not about the game. Not about the championship. Not about anything.

The only thing rattling around in his brain was you. And his dad. And the overwhelming, crushing feeling of failure. His phone buzzed suddenly, cutting through the silence. Jake squinted at the screen.

Joshua [Incoming Call] For a second, he debated letting it ring. But then he picked up. Josh never called, so it had to be something important. 

“…Hey.”

“Hey, Jake,” Joshua’s voice came through, steady but softer than he remembered. “You got a minute?”

Jake let out a short, humorless laugh. “I got a lot of minutes.”

Joshua sighed. “Yeah, I figured.” There was a pause before he said, “Dad told me what happened at dinner.”

Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Of course, he did. What did he say? That I was throwing my future away? That I was making a fool of myself?”

“What did he tell you?”

Jake exhaled, pressing a hand against his aching ribs. “Not much to say. He laid out his usual bullshit about how hockey isn’t a future, how I have no choice but to take over the Seoul branch. Then threw in some shit about my relationship being a bad look for the family—because apparently, Marcus’s dad had some opinions.”

There was a beat of silence before Joshua asked, “What did you say?”

Jake closed his eyes. “Told him I wasn’t gonna be his chess piece.”

Joshua huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Bet he loved that.”

“Oh yeah. Real father-son bonding moment.”

Another pause. Then Joshua’s voice came through, quieter.

“Jake… I’m sorry.”

Jake frowned. “For what?”

“For all of it.” Joshua hesitated. “For how Dad treated you. For how I just—let it happen. I didn’t know how bad it was, but that’s not an excuse. I should’ve done something. I should’ve been there for you.”

Jake swallowed. He wasn’t used to hearing this from his brother. Joshua had always been untouchable—the one their dad never criticized, the one who seemed to just belong in that world.

But now, for the first time, he sounded… human.

“It’s not your fault,” Jake muttered.

Joshua sighed. “Maybe not. But I still should’ve told you sooner that you don’t have to listen to him.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Joshua was silent for a long moment before saying, “Jake, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to let him control your life.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice,” Jake muttered. “He made it clear. No Seoul branch, no financial support.”

“You do have a choice,” Joshua countered. “Go no contact. Cut him off before he can do it to you. I know you’re worried about money,” Joshua continued, “but listen. Whatever you need, I’ve got you. You don’t have to keep trying to please him just to survive.”

Jake swallowed hard. 

“Why?” Jake asked. “Why are you even calling?”

Joshua sighed. “Because I should have done it sooner. Because I hate how Dad treats you, how he’s always compared us, like you were some failure when all you’ve done is chase what makes you happy. I never wanted to be the golden child, Jake. I just- I loved playing music, and I was good at business, but I didn’t want it to be at your expense.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “You don’t know how fucking hard it’s been,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trying so goddamn hard just to be enough for him. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

“I know,” Joshua said. “And I’m sorry.”

Jake swallowed past the lump in his throat. He was too tired to be angry, too drained to hold onto the resentment he had clung to for so long. He exhaled. “I think I’m done, Josh. I think I’m done trying.”

“Good,” Joshua said. “Because you don’t need to prove anything to him.”

Jake closed his eyes, the weight on his chest shifting—not gone, but lighter. “Thanks, Josh.”

“For what?”

“For calling.”

There was a pause, then Joshua chuckled softly. “Anytime, little brother.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I’m officially the family disappointment, huh?”

Joshua let out a breath of amusement. “Nah. You’re the one who actually had the guts to walk away.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that.

Then Joshua added, “For what it’s worth? I’m proud of you.”

Jake blinked.

He didn’t think he’d ever heard those words from a family member before.

It shouldn’t have made his throat feel tight.

But it did.

He forced out a chuckle, trying to cover up the sudden swell of emotion. “Damn, hyung. That almost sounded sincere.”

Joshua laughed. “Don’t get used to it.”

Jake let out a deep breath, leaning back against the pillow as he tried to keep his mind from wandering. He didn’t want to think about the game. He didn’t want to think about anything. But Joshua kept going, his voice cutting through the fog in Jake’s head.

“So, what about tomorrow?” Joshua asked, casually. “The championship, right? Are you nervous?”

Jake blinked, surprised. “Wait, you know about the game?”

Joshua snorted. “Sure. I might not watch all the games, but I try to keep up. I mean, how could I not know about the biggest one of the season? It's your biggest game yet. Maybe you'll get the opportunity to get into a professional team if a agent is watching?”

Jake rubbed his temples, trying to focus on his brother's words. His chest felt tight just thinking about it.

“Yeah, well…” Jake hesitated, his voice faltering. “I’m not playing.”

Joshua went quiet. Then, after a long moment of silence, he said, “What? Why not?”

Jake took a shallow breath, avoiding the words for as long as he could. “I, uh… I have a rib fracture.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Jake felt a knot tighten in his stomach, because as soon as they left his mouth, the memory of the last time someone checked on him, the way you had kissed him after your conversation two weeks ago, flashed in his mind.

“What? Jake, a rib fracture? What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything sooner? You can’t just—”

"It's okay. I had worse.", Jake shrugged, cutting him off. He swallowed hard, still trying to suppress the memory of your touch.

“Jake,” Joshua said urgently, his voice low with concern. “You need to get that checked out. That’s serious. Why aren’t you-”

Jake interrupted him again. "I'm fine. Y/N checked on me and said it's probably fine but then during the game on Saturday I was distracted and someone pushed me into the board. Jay made me see a doctor and everything is fine. I just have to be careful for the next few weeks. Don't worry. But uhm maybe don't tell mom. I don't want her to freak out."

Joshua let out a huff. "Jake, you are insane. I hope Y/N is taking good care of you, if Mina knew I had a broken rib she wouldn't let me out of bed."

Jake let out a dry chuckle, but it lacked any real humor. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating for a moment before finally saying, “Yeah, well… Y/N’s not taking care of me.” His voice was quieter now, more strained. “I haven’t seen her in almost two weeks.”

Joshua was silent for a second. Then, incredulously, “Wait. What do you mean you haven’t seen her?”

Jake exhaled sharply, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean exactly that. She’s avoiding me.” The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, pressing down on his chest in a way that had nothing to do with his ribs.

Joshua scoffed, completely baffled. “Why the hell would she avoid you? I thought she is your girlfriend.”

Jake let out another humorless laugh. "Yeah she kinda never was.”

 “Jake… what do you mean?”

Jake shut his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temple as if that would somehow make everything disappear. “We were never real.”

“What?”

Jake exhaled, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. “It was fake. The whole thing.”

Joshua still didn’t say anything, so Jake kept going before he lost the nerve. “I asked her to be my fake girlfriend for the wedding. That’s how it started.” The words felt heavy in his mouth, like he was confessing to a crime. “We… we went on these, like, ‘not-dates’ to get to know each other. But then our friends assumed we were actually together, and we just went with it. I don’t even know when it started feeling… different.”

Joshua let out a breath. “Different?”

Jake groaned, flopping onto his back. “I don’t know, man. At first, it was just fun. But then we kissed. And I thought—God, I don’t even know what I thought. Then we kissed again at that stupid party, and we kissed at the wedding and she kissed me again after telling everyone we broke up and then—” He stopped himself, voice catching.

Joshua’s voice was quiet but firm. “And then what?”

Jake swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And then she broke down during the kiss. And apologized. Over and over. And I still don't know what she was feeling so sorry for. Probably for ghosting me. She probably knew she was going to do this.”

Joshua didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Jake let out a bitter laugh. “And now she won’t answer my texts. Or anyone’s. She’s not going to class. It’s like she just… disappeared. And I don’t know what to do.”

Joshua was quiet for a moment before saying, “And you miss her.”

Jake let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. A fuck ton.”

Joshua hummed in understanding. “So, let me get this straight. You asked her to be your fake girlfriend, but now you actually want to be with her?”

Jake let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

“And she kissed you and then cried, and now she’s avoiding you?”

Jake winced. “Basically.”

Joshua exhaled. “Jake.”

Jake closed his eyes, shaking his head. “She made it pretty clear how she felt.” His voice was quiet now, defeated. “I was stupid for thinking it could be something real.”

Joshua made a frustrated noise. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Jake. Are you serious?”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“She likes you.”

Jake let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Clearly not.”

Joshua groaned. “Jake, I was at that wedding. I saw you two together. I saw the way you looked at her. I saw the way she looked at you. That was not fake."

Jake’s stomach twisted. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not.” Joshua’s voice was firm. “She looked at you like you hung the damn moon, Jake.”

Jake pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to fight the wave of emotion building in his chest. “Then why is she gone?”

Joshua sighed. “That’s what you need to figure out.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know if she wants to see me.”

Joshua’s voice softened. “Then find out. Kissing you and then crying about knowing she will ghost you doesn't sound like someone that doesn't feel something for you, you know. Maybe it started as fake. But it seems like it isn't anymore. For neither of you.”

Jake huffed. “Yeah, well, if she does have feelings, she’s doing a great job of pretending otherwise.”

Joshua sighed. “Jake, this girl spent weeks pretending to date you. You really think she’s incapable of pretending something else?”

Jake clenched his jaw, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I don’t know what to do, Josh.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, like he was carefully choosing his next words. “You talk to her.”

Jake huffed. “She’s avoiding me.”

“Then make her listen.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Joshua shot back. “But what’s the alternative? Just giving up? Accepting that the best thing that’s ever happened to you just walked away?”

Jake sucked in a sharp breath. He hated how easily his brother could see through him.

“I know you,” Joshua continued. “You don’t just let things go when they matter. And don’t even try to tell me she didn’t matter.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Joshua sighed again, but this time, it was softer. “Just… think about it, alright?”

Jake ran a hand down his face, feeling utterly drained. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

He had been thinking about nothing but you for the past two weeks. ──────────────────────────They lost.  They fucking lost.  Jake was sitting next to Sunghoon and Chaeryoung behind the players bench in the stadium not believing his eyes. The opposing team managed to get the puck into their net two times within 10 seconds in the second period. The goals were brilliant and there was a reason why Seok Matthew got drafted by the eagles, but fuck. This couldn’t be happening. The buzzer ran to signal the end of the third period and Jake basically jumped down to his team, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. This couldn’t be happening.  Jay ripped his helmet off and looked up towards the ceiling, Heeseung skated to the bench and slowly undid his gloves and helmet, looking absolutely devastated. Beomgy looked like he was about to cry and Soobin and Yeonjun immediately hugged him and presumably told him it was not his fault.  Jake just stood there.  They lost.  Their coach gathered them in the locker room, his voice softer than usual, a hand resting firmly on Soobin’s shoulder as he addressed the team. “You boys played a hell of a season. Hold your heads high. You gave it everything.”

Jake had wanted to send him and Yeonjun off with a win, a championship, a night of celebration that would go down in history. Instead, all they had was silence. The bus ride home was heavy. No music, no usual post-game excitement. Just quiet. After a while, their coach stood up and grabbed the mic at the front of the bus.  “Guys,” he started, glancing back at them. “You played fantastic. This whole season was incredible. I rarely have a team with this much connection, this much passion. It was an honor coaching you. So many of you have a bright future in hockey. And this? This isn’t the end. It’s just fuel for next year.” He gave them a small smile. “Next season, the cup will be ours.” A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the team, some nods, some tired smiles. Later that night, they all found themselves crammed into their regular bar. The air was filled with the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter that felt a little forced at first, but eventually, the drinks started kicking in and they took over the music cranking it up high. “Alright, alright,” Beomgyu announced, standing on one of the bar stools and clinking his beer bottle against his ring. “We may have lost, but we’re still the hottest hockey team in the league, and that counts for something, right?” A weak cheer went up, and Beomgyu scowled. “No, no, no. That was pathetic. Let’s try again – we are still the hottest hockey team in the league, and that counts for something, right?” This time, the response was louder, mixed with laughter and a few playful boos. Jake, slouched against the booth with a whiskey in hand, cheered along, with less enthusiasm as some of the others. He wasn’t feeling particularly celebratory. But the others had enough to drink already to feel enthusiastic again. Beomgyu climbed down from his chair and steered right at Jake. “Okay Jake. Stop pouting. We lost, so what. Smile dude. I just called you hot.”

That actually made Jake chuckle a bit. “I am not feeling very hot right now to be honest.” “Oh wait wait! I know what will make you feel hot within a few seconds again!”, Beomguy turned around and made his way to the DJ and then to the bar. He returned a few minutes later holding up shot glasses filled with red liquids. “Prairie fires!” And then, as if on cue, the opening beats of Hot N Cold blasted through the speakers. “Oh, fuck off,” Jake groaned, while Beomgyu cackled and slammed a shot glass down in front of him. “Katy Perry rules, baby,” Beomgyu smirked. “Take the shot.”

Jake sighed but tipped the tequila back without complaint. The rule was dumb as hell, but it was his rule, and he had to respect it. The alcohol and the hot sauce bruned in his throat when he swallowed the shot.  Then the next song started. Last Friday Night. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” “Rules are rules,” Beomgyu grinned, already handing him another one. Jake exhaled heavily before knocking back another shot.

Then, California Gurls. Jake groaned but took another. Then Teenage Dream. Then Dark Horse. And before he could even process how many shots he had downed in the span of 45 minutes, he was already way past the point of being buzzed.

“I hate all of you,” Jake slurred, swaying slightly as he grabbed onto Nicolas’s shoulder for support, which turned out to be a horrible idea, since he was swaying just as much as Jake. “Correction: you love us,” Beomgyu grinned, drowned another shot alone and turned around. “Soobin hyung! I come to give you my love!” Across the bar, Soobin barely had time to react before Beomgyu launched himself at him. “No!” Soobin’s voice rang out in pure, genuine panic, which send Nicolas and Jake into a laughing fit so hard, that Jake was scared he was going to pee his pants.

Jake was still catching his breath when another Katy Perry song blasted through the speakers, and suddenly, an arm slung around his shoulders. “Jake! It’s Katy! Where are our shots?” “Kotone!” he laughed, spinning around and wrapping her in a bear hug. Without thinking, he lifted her off the ground, making her shriek. “My favorite shots partner!” “Fuck, let me down,” she gasped between laughs. “Imma vomit if you spin me!”

Jake just squeezed her tighter. “You’d still be my favorite!” She smacked his shoulder, still laughing as he finally set her down. “Jay should get us shots,” she declared, nodding seriously. “I want those weird apple shots we had last time. Where’s Y/N? She also has to have one!” His heart stumbled. “She’s… at home,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Kotone frowned. “Aw, no. Why? She needs some Katy shots.” She spotted Jay and almost threw herself into his arms. “Baby. Can you buy us apple shots? Its Katy.”

Jay looked at her with such a love sick facial expression Jake felt like kicking him in the nuts. Jay absolutely deserved to be happy and Kotone made him so happy, he was such a simp for that girl it made Jake sick. He just wanted to kick him for being happy in front of him. And then someone skipped Teenage Dream and he heard the first notes of Finesse by Bruno mars. His heart stopped. In fact everything felt like it stopped. He had to blink aggressively to stop his tears from falling. His breath hitched, his pulse quickened, and the bar faded around him. This song. This fucking song. His eyes darted around, and suddenly, it was like watching a slow-motion montage of all his friends pulling their boyfriends, their girlfriends, their person in for a kiss. Jay and Kotone. Yeonjun and Chaeryoung. Even Beomgyu, drunk out of his mind, was spinning some girl in a circle before kissing her forehead sloppily. It was tradition.

And the last time he heard that song he took part in it. Pulling you close. Kissing you. And you kissed back. It was soft and dizzying, the taste of cigarettes and tequila on your tongue, your hands tangling in his hair. Fuck. He could still feel it.

Still taste you. And he wanted to kiss you again so badly it made his head spin worse than the alcohol ever could. Before he could think, he turned on his heel and started toward the door. He needed to go. He didn’t know where exactly—your place? His? Somewhere else? But he had to go.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t answered his texts. Didn’t matter that you had been avoiding everyone. Didn’t matter that he had no idea if you even wanted to see him. He needed to find you.

And so, without another word, he turned and stumbled toward the door. ────────────────────────── You were on the cusp of sleep when the sound of your doorbell ringing woke you up again. You groaned and glanced at your alarm clock.  2:14 am. Who would ring your doorbell at two am in the morning. Who would need anything from you at two in the morning? Your doorbell rang again, this time longer. And again. And again. You signed and peeled your blanket off your body. Shuffling toward the front door, you pressed the button to the intercom. “Hello?” “Y/N?” Jake. What was Jake doing here at 2 am.  You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Jake? What are you doing here?” “Y/N please please let me in.” His voice was slurring, and you could tell he was drunk. Without thinking, you grabbed your keys and slipped on a pair of flip-flops before rushing down the stairs to the entrance door of the building. When you opened it you froze for a second. Jake was slumped against the wall next to the door, looking absolutely wrecked. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks and neck flushed. He smelled like alcohol. When he saw you, his head shot up, and before you could even process what was happening, he staggered forward, wrapping his arms around you. His body trembled slightly as he pressed his face into your shoulder. He was crying. You felt his hot tears soaking through the thin material of your Pyjama shirt. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What did I do?” You had to close your eyes for a second swallowing hard. “Jake…” You gently pushed him away just enough to look into his face. He looked beautiful, even while he was drunk and crying he looked devastatingly beautiful.

You couldn't stop yourself from wiping his cheeks with your thumb. “Jake you’re drunk.” His glassy eyes locked onto yours, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “No,” he mumbled, shaking his head sluggishly. “Not Jake.” His bottom lip trembled. “I’m not Jake. I’m Jakey. Or Jakeyboy.” His brows knitted together, voice turning small, wounded. “Why are you calling me Jake?” And just like that, your heart shattered. It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Your throat tightened painfully. You blinked hard, forcing back the sting in your eyes. "Why, Y/N? Why aren’t you speaking to me? Why aren't you speaking to anyone?” His voice cracked as he buried his face into your hands, seeking comfort, yet his words only made everything worse. “I miss you.” You couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like a bad dream. You were the reason why he looked like this, why he was feeling miserable, as Jay put it, and it broke your heart. “Let’s go inside, Jake,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Let’s get you some water.” Jake nodded against your hands, his eyes fluttering shut as if the simple gesture had exhausted him.

You carefully took his hands and helped him stumble inside, leading him to your small apartment. It was more of a one-room studio than anything, but you guided him to sit on the bed and knelt before him. His eyes never left you but he calmed down slightly, not crying anymore.  When you got him to remove his jacket and shirt, you handed him one of his shirts he left at your place after training once. You washed it and it had been lying in your closet ever since.  He looked like a kicked puppy, his face full of hurt. You stood in front of him, standing between his legs, gently cupping his face in your hands again. His skin was warm and flushed from alcohol. “Jake, I’m so sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve—” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Before you could say anything more, he suddenly pulled you toward him, burying his face in your stomach. His arms wrapped tightly around you, fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid you’d slip away again. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his shoulders shook, and the wetness of his tears seeping through the thin cotton. “Why did you disappear, Y/N?” His voice was so small. Your hands trembled as they found their way into his hair, your fingers threading through the strands. “I don’t know, Jake,” you whispered, your own voice breaking. “I don’t know—but I am so, so sorry.” A sob caught in your throat, and the dam broke. You tried to hide your face in your hands.

Jake pulled back slightly, his hands reaching up to wrap around your wrists, gently tugging them away from your tear-streaked face. You just shook your head and another sob made its way from your throat. “Jake, I’m sorry. I was scared. I–I didn’t know what to do,” you choked out. His grip on your wrists tightened and he carefully pulled you onto his lap. “You just disappeared, Y/N,” he whispered against your temple and you could smell the faint taste of tequila.  Why did it always have to be tequila?  

“You were gone. You promised.” He exhaled shakily, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. Then another. And another. “I was so worried,” he murmured against your skin. Another kiss. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a breath. “What happened? Please, I need you to talk to me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. Not now. You had promised Jay and yourself that you’d talk to Jake, that you’d tell him everything. But not while he was like this. Not when he was clearly drunk. “Tomorrow, Jake,” you whispered, sniffling as you leaned further into him. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, when you’re sober. I promise. And this time, I’ll keep it.”

His hands lingered on your wrists for a beat longer before finally loosening, though he still didn’t let go. You pulled away just enough to grab a box of tissues from your bedside table, dabbing at your cheeks before handing him one. He took it, wiping his face, but his fingers never left your skin, still curled loosely around your wrist, as if he was terrified you’d vanish the second he let go. You swallowed the lump in your throat and mustered a small smile, tugging on his hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jake let out a quiet sigh but nodded, letting you guide him toward the bathroom. As soon as you flicked on the light, the déjà vu hit you like a tidal wave. Him, slumped against your sink. A spare toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth. The way his gaze lingered on you in the mirror, unfocused but so unbearably soft. He washed his face, dried it off, and the second his hands were free, they found your wrist again. You led Jake back to your bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlamp outside. You could see how exhausted he was, he was moving slowly and sluggishly.  You pulled back the blanket and nudged him toward the mattress. He didn’t argue, just sank onto it with a quiet sigh, rolling onto his side. You hesitated for a moment before lying down beside him, careful, unsure. But Jake didn’t hesitate. The second you were within reach, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck.

He exhaled softly, his breath warm against your skin, and you felt the way his body slowly relaxed against yours. His grip on you remained firm, but the tension in his shoulders faded, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. Your eyes flickered to the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You shifted slightly, your hand brushing against something soft, and when you turned your head, your fingers curled around a familiar plushie. Mr. Fluffinton the Third. Your chest ached. You should’ve talked to Jake. You should’ve stayed. Instead, you ran. And now, lying here in the quiet, feeling his steady breathing against your neck, all you could think about was how much you had missed him. How much you still missed him. And how afraid you were that you had ruined everything. ────────────────────────── The city was still quiet when you stepped onto the rooftop. A cold breeze kissed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you crossed your arms over your chest.  Just standing up here made you itch to light up a cigarette. Letting the nicotine calm your nerves when your mind was too loud to sleep. You haven’t bought a new packet since you threw your last one into the trash two weeks ago.  The day you missed his game. You took a deep breath, staring out at the streets that were still dark. You hadn’t slept – not really. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Jake. The way he had looked at you when you let him in. The way he had held you, his grip tight like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers again. The way he had whispered, Why did you leave me? Why are you calling me Jake? You swallowed hard, rubbing your arms before turning back toward the stairwell. You weren’t sure how long you had been up there, but the sky was starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn creeping over the horizon. You sighed, shaking off the lingering chill as you made your way back down to your apartment. The sound of you opening your apartment door woke Jake up, his face soft with sleep, hair a mess against your pillow. His brows furrowed as he blinked, his eyes searching the room until they landed on you. “Where’d you go?” His voice was thick with sleep, raspy and quiet. Your heart clenched.  You crossed the room without thinking, dropping to your knees in front of him. Your hands found his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he leaned into your touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Just the roof,” you murmured. “I couldn’t sleep.” Jake blinked up at you, and for a moment, he just studied you. Your fingers moved from his cheeks to his hair, gently carding through the strands, trying to lull him into sleep again. Then your hand brushed against something soft, and you glanced down to see Mr. Fluffington the Third, clutched loosely in Jake’s grip.

Your throat tightened, and you stroked his cheek with your thumb, voice barely above a whisper. “Go back to sleep, Jake.” His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “I’ll be here.” Jake didn’t say anything else. He just nodded sleepily, his grip on Mr. Fluffington tightening slightly as he let his eyes slip shut again.

You stayed there, kneeling beside the bed, watching as his breathing evened out. His lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks, lips parted just slightly, his face still carrying that gentle confusion, like even in sleep, he wasn’t sure if you’d really be there when he woke up again. You exhaled shakily, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead before you finally stood. Slipping back into bed beside him felt strange. It felt like too much and not enough all at once. But the moment your body settled against the mattress, Jake’s arms moved instinctively, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. You turned onto your side, facing him, and let yourself study him in the dim light. How had you ever thought you could just leave? Your fingers hovered near his face, tracing over the air between you before you finally gave in, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. He sighed softly in his sleep, leaning into your touch even unconsciously. You bit your lip, eyes stinging.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would talk. Tomorrow you would tell him everything. ────────────────────────── You stirred awake to the feeling of soft fingers running through your hair. The warmth of Jake’s body beneath you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the gentle touch against your scalp. The slight scratch almost made you fall asleep again but Jake's voice interrupted your almost slumber. “You’re awake.” His voice was quiet, still thick with sleep. You hummed in response, not ready to move, not ready to look him in the eye. His fingers didn’t stop moving in your hair. “You didn’t sleep much, did you?” You swallowed hard. “Not really.” Jake let out a small sigh, his thumb brushing lightly against the nape of your neck. "Y/N..."

You tensed. You knew what was coming. You had promised him answers. "Tell me what happened," he murmured. "Tell me why you left." Your fingers curled into his shirt, your heart pounding. "Jake..." "I'm right here," he whispered. "Just talk to me." You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to speak before fear could make you run again. "I—" Your voice broke. "I'm scared Jake."

His breath caught, but he didn’t say anything, just kept running his fingers through your hair, waiting. You took a deep breath, but it felt like your lungs couldn’t expand properly. Like the weight of everything you had been holding in was pressing down on your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Jake waited. Patient, steady, warm. His fingers still moved through your hair. "I know I don’t belong in your world, Jake." The words tumbled out before you could stop them, before you could talk yourself into silence again. Your voice was hoarse, raw with the truth you had tried to bury. "I’ve always known." Jake’s body stiffened beneath you. “Y/N…” "Sophia told me," you went on, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter, needing something to hold onto. "At the wedding. She told me that her marriage with Marcus was just a business deal. That none of it was real." You felt Jake inhale sharply.

"And it just—God, it hit me all at once," you whispered. "Everything your father said to me that night. The way he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t good enough." Jake swore under his breath, his hand stilling against the nape of your neck. "He would never approve of me, Jake," you said, voice breaking. "And I couldn’t—I couldn’t put myself through that again. I can't be the girl who gets tossed aside when something better comes along. I’ve already been that girl." Jake exhaled sharply. "You think I would do that to you?" "I don’t know." The confession felt like ripping open an old wound. "I just—I am scared. Scared of getting my heart broken again by another rich boy who’s out of my league." His hold on you tightened. "I thought—" you swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut. "I thought if I ended it first, it would hurt less. For me. For you." Jake was silent for a long moment. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him—“You really think it hurt less?” Your throat tightened. Because looking at him now, feeling the way his body trembled underneath yours, the way his breath came unsteadily, the way he had shown up at your door last night looking absolutely wrecked.

No. It hadn’t hurt less at all. Jake let out a shaky breath, his hand still resting against the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel the tension in his body, in the way his chest rose and fell unevenly beneath you. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

"I can’t believe you think I would’ve done that to you." You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt clawing at your ribs. "Jake–" "No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I need you to hear this." His fingers slid into your hair again, not to comfort, but to tilt your face up, forcing you to look at him. The hurt in his gaze made your stomach twist painfully. You felt your eyes water. "I would never do that to you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I would never let my dad, or anyone else, decide who I should be with. You think I give a damn about his approval?"

Your breath hitched. "You really thought I would’ve just–what? Tossed you aside when it got hard? When he didn’t approve?" His jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "You think so little of me?" Your stomach churned. "It’s not that," you murmured. "I was trying to protect myself. And you." Jake let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Yeah? Well, you didn’t. You just hurt us both." He was right. You did. "Jake…" "Do you know how fucking miserable I’ve been, Y/N?" His voice cracked slightly, and it broke something in you. "I kept telling myself there had to be a reason. That there was something I did wrong, something I could’ve fixed if you had just talked to me." You shook your head, throat burning. "There wasn’t."

His eyes softened, but there was still something so profoundly wounded in his expression. "Then why didn’t you let me fight for you? Why did you let me love you." Your throat tightened as his words settled deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You had thought you were doing the right thing. That cutting things off before they got too real would save you both the pain of an inevitable ending. But looking at him now, at the hurt in his eyes, at the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly where they held you, you realized you had only rewritten the ending in the worst way possible. Your vision blurred. “Jake, I—” Your voice cracked, and you sucked in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I was scared." His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything, just waited. "I thought—" You swallowed, your hands tightening into fists against his chest. "I thought if I let myself have this, have you, it would hurt even more when I lost it." Jake’s breath hitched. "You never even gave me the chance to prove you wouldn’t lose me." A tear slipped down your cheek, and his eyes immediately flickered to it, his thumb moving instinctively to wipe it away. His touch was so soft, so heartbreakingly gentle that it only made your chest ache more. "Your dad hates me, Jake," you whispered. "And he’s right. I don’t belong in your world. I was never supposed to."

Jake inhaled sharply, and for the first time, anger flickered through his pain. "Fuck that." His voice was still quiet, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now. "You think I give a shit what my dad thinks? You think I would’ve let him ruin this for us?" A sob escaped you before you could stop it, and then his arms were wrapping around you completely, pulling you into his chest like he was afraid you’d slip away again. Your hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him just as tightly. "I’m so sorry," you whispered, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat. "I’m so, so sorry." Jake exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the top of your head. "You should’ve let me fight for you," he murmured again, voice wrecked. "I know," you choked out, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face like you were something fragile. "I can't lose you again," he whispered. "You won’t," you promised, voice trembling. And then, he kissed you.

His lips were soft against yours but he kissed you with a sense of urgency you weren’t used to from him. One of his hands buried itself in your hair and the other one slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You melted into him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, just to reassure yourself that he was real, that this was real. Jake groaned softly against your mouth. The hand in your hair found its way to your neck. It slid down your spine, slow and deliberate, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over your skin. You gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage of it, tilting his head and deepening it, his tongue tentatively brushing against yours. You slightly pulled on his hair and he gasped into your mouth, pulling away slightly to breath before connecting your lips again.  You caught his bottom lip between your teeth and bit down gently. 

He whined. He fucking whined, a soft, needy sound. His grip on you tightened. His breath hitched, his body pressing even closer to yours. Jake pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours, his lips parted, his breaths coming just as uneven as yours. "Are you still scared?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You swallowed hard, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over his collarbone. "Terrified." A small, breathless laugh escaped him. "Me too."

You giggled and put your head onto his chest again, interviewing your fingers and relishing in the warmth of Jake's body. Neither of you spoke for a long time. You were just there. In each others arms, breathing slowly.  Then, after a while, Jake sighed. His chest rose and fell beneath you, and you felt his fingers tighten slightly against your back. “I, uh… I cut contact with my dad.” You blinked, shifting slightly so you could look up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tight, like he wasn’t sure how to say the words out loud.

“Jake…” “He invited me for dinner.” he said, voice quieter now. “I just…couldn’t do it. I walked out.” He exhaled sharply. “I think I always knew it would end up like this. I just didn’t want to admit it.” You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly over his collarbone. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” He swallowed. “It’s better this way.”

You didn’t say anything, just traced slow circles against his skin, letting him know you were here, that you were listening. He let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “Josh called me.”, he paused. “ To apologize. It’s weird, you know? I spent so long thinking he was just another part of the problem. That he only cared about himself. But he actually… He actually cares.” Your chest tightened. “Of course he does, Jake.” Jake nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. I think I finally get that.” His fingers brushed over your shoulder, absentminded, like he was still trying to process it all himself. “I don’t know if we’ll ever be close. But at least we’re not fighting anymore.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief second. “I’m glad,” you whispered. Jake looked at you then, really looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.” Jake didn’t say anything for a while. He just held you, his fingers running gently through your hair, his breathing steady against the top of your head.  You let your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. You felt your body growing heavier. “You should sleep,” Jake said softly, like he could feel how close you were to slipping under. You tried to fight it, but your eyelids were so heavy, your body sinking deeper into the warmth of his body. “You’ll still be here?” you mumbled, barely awake now. Jake’s arms tightened around you. “I’m not going anywhere.” That was the last thing you heard before sleep finally pulled you under. ──────────────────────────Jakes mom called him while he was still laying in your bed, eating nachos while watching Bones with you. Well he was watching Bones and you were dozing on his chest. He reached for his phone lying on the bedside table next to him, but before he could pick up his phone his mom already ended the call. She had texted him half an hour earlier. 

Mom Hello Jake I am going to be in Seoul from tomorrow until Sunday 🤗 Would you and Y/N like to eat dinner with me? In the small DakGalbi restaurant near your grandmas house?

Jake felt you raising your herald peeking onto his phone screen. “Say yes.”, you said, your voice a bit rough from disuse.  “Mhm?”, he raised an eyebrow and watched you sit up in the bed gathering your hair in a messy ponytail. His eyes got stuck on the soft skin on your neck. His hands haven't left that spot alone since he woke up this morning. Something about it was just so alluring to him.  “Tell your mom we will be there. Tomorrow evening. She was nice compared and seemed to genuinely like me. Even when we only played pretend.”, you shrugged. 

Jakes had to really make himself to look away from your neck. The tshirt you were wearing didn't make it better. The oversized and stretched material exposing your collarbones. His fingers twitched with the urge to trace along the delicate curve. God, you were so unfair. "You want me to say yes?"  You hummed and climbed over his body out of the bed. Now that he was officially your not fake boyfriend anymore he was allowed to stare at you without feeling weird or like a creep. You made your way to the bathroom and his eyes didn’t leave your body for a second.  Jake sighed and texted his mom back. 

Instead of coming back to your bed you stayed in of the area you called kitchen and pulled a carton of eggs from your fridge and frozen berries from your fridge. You tossed the berries at Jake, who was almost hit square in the face.  “For your ribs.”, you nodded, while you gathered everything you needed for whatever you were planning to cook right now.  Jake caught the frozen berries at the last second, hissing at the cold against his fingers. "You're really out here trying to kill me when I am already injured, huh?" You smirked as you cracked an egg into a bowl. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t miss." Jake let out a dramatic sigh, tossing the berries onto the counter before sliding off the bed. "My own girlfriend is a menace."

"Oh? So now I’m your girlfriend?" He froze mid-step, narrowing his eyes at you. "What else would you be?" You only hummed in response, the corner of your lips quirking up as you turned back to the stove.  He walked right up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You let out an exasperated sigh, though you didn’t push him away. "Jake."

"Mmm." His grip tightened slightly, and his lips brushed against your skin.  "You’re like a lost puppy." Jake smiled against your neck. "And you love it." You scoffed. "I tolerate it." "Liar."

You were about to fire back some witty retort, but then Jake’s lips parted, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw. Your breath caught. His hands slid lower, fingers skimming the hem of your shirt, thumbs pressing softly against your stomach. He kissed you again—slightly higher this time. "Jake," you warned, but it came out weaker than intended. "Hmm?" His voice was innocent, but his actions were anything but.

He kissed along the line of your neck, trailing down until he reached your shoulder. You could feel the smirk on his lips when you inhaled sharply, your hands gripping the counter for support. You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "You are a weak man, Jaeyun Sim.” Jake scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Weak? Me?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, lazily dragging a finger down his bare arm that was wrapped around your front. "You’re all over me, Sim. Can’t even let me cook without trying to get me distracted." He narrowed his eyes playfully, grasping your shoulder to turn you around, caging you in between his body and the inner edge of your counter.   He leaned forward slightly and he slotted his thigh between your legs just to watch the way your breath caught. "You’re talking an awful lot of shit for someone who’s letting me touch them right now," he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

You tilted your head, eyes dark with amusement. "Who said I was letting you?" Jake groaned. "I hate you." You grinned. "No, you don’t." "No, I don’t," he sighed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you even closer and you rolled your eyes before pressing your lips against his burying your hands in his hair. He let out a satisfied hum blindly but before the kiss could go further he pulled back a bit. You opened your eyes and pouted at him. “Hey! Now I let you and you pull away?” He giggled at that and pressed his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to kill the mood but I am getting really fucking horny at whatever you do and I really want to be sure that you are okay with whatever we are about to do. I don’t want to give you the impression you have to do anything with me.”  He watched you swallow and your eyes searched his. “What gives you the impression I think you make me do anything Jakeyboy.”  Now it was his turn to swallow. He watched how your hand traveled from his scalp over his upper body until you reached the loose pair of shorts he was hearing. You grabbed him by the strings dangling there and pulled him closer. He was pretty sure you could feel his growing problem very prominently against your thigh.

“I don’t know what Marcus told you.”, your eyes traveled from his lips to his eyes. “But I am not 16 and inexperienced anymore. I know how to stand up for myself. And Jake. I promise I’ll tell you whenever I feel uncomfortable or want you to stop.” Jake groaned and closed the small gap in between your bodies. He pressed himself against your warm body and almost lost his mind when you whined into his mouth.  You carefully traced his lower lip with your tongue and he parted his lips slightly, inviting you in. You rolled your hips into his. It was a miniscule movement but his hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in just when he gasped. You took full advantage of it. You swallowed the sound, your tongue sliding against his, hot and demanding, making his entire body shudder. But then Jake’s hand slid down your spine, slow and deliberate, the tips of his fingers barely ghosting over your skin. Just to feel and hear your reaction again, to make you shudder. Marcus can go fuck himself. He will never get the chance to experience this. And that thought filled Jake with so much satisfaction he traced your spine back up again, stopping at your neck. You arched into his touch, and he could feel the hitch in your breath against his lips, the soft shiver that followed. He loved how you melted under the simplest touch.

He couldn't help but smile, pulling away from your lips to attack your neck with small kisses. His lips curled against your neck as he spoke. “God, I love how sensitive you are.” You tilted your neck to the side to give him more access and bit your neck. As his fingers dragged lower, tracing along the curve of your back, savoring the way you reacted to every little movement you let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a moan. 

You swallowed hard, and your hands slid into his hair, fingers tightening. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his lips as he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. Your skin was burning under his touch, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to drag his nails lightly down your spine, after he sneaked his hands under your shirt. The quiet moan you let out nearly drove him wild, and he groaned at the sound, pressing his forehead against yours. “You have no idea what that does to me,” he confessed, his voice strained, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your hands slid down to his shoulders and pushed him away from your body slightly. “Jake fuck”, your pupils were blown wide, when you looked at him. “We should eat something first. And shower. I am hungry and I feel like I stink and you should eat so you can heal properly. Also we need condoms. I don't have any here.”, you said breathlessly against his lips.  Jake hummed. “I think I have some in my wallet.”   “You carry around emergency condoms?”, you asked, raising one eyebrow. He shrugged casually. “I sure do. You never know when you stumble into your fake girlfriend’s arms, fully drunk, only to turn her into your very hot and,” he pressed his lips against yours, “attractive and,” another kiss, “clever and,” yet another kiss, “emotionally stupid girlfriend who thinks running away is an option when her gorgeous boyfriend is a hockey player who can run way faster than she can.” You rolled your eyes, slapping the back of his head with enough force to make him laugh. “Go fuck yourself, Sim. I am a fast runner. Have you seen me run anywhere? No." Jake grinned, clearly unbothered by your slap. “Baby, I’ve seen you on the ice. You were taken out by a four-year-old,” he teased, his voice full of laughter. You just slapped his head again.  Jake chuckled, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to it before you could land another playful hit. His fingers wrapped around it gently, his thumb tracing over your pulse point. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he said, still grinning.  You narrowed your eyes at him but didn’t pull away. “You really think I’m emotionally stupid?” you muttered, arching an eyebrow at him. Jake’s smirk softened. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead before meeting your gaze. “I think you’re scared,” he said simply. “And I think you run when things start feeling too real.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated that he knew you well enough to say it out loud. But instead of pressing further, Jake just kissed the tip of your nose and pulled back. “Come on,” he said. “You said you were hungry, and if I remember correctly, I have to eat so I can heal ‘properly.’” He shot you a wink. “Your words, not mine.” You rolled your eyes but continued on cooking while he sat down on a chair in the kitchen area. “You’re staring,” you muttered, not looking up. “I like looking at you,” he admitted easily, no hesitation, no teasing. Your hands faltered for half a second before you shoved a fork in his direction. “Shut up and cool your ribs, Sim.”

He laughed but took the fork, nudging your hip with his before getting the now not so frozen berries from your bed.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty

all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

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[writingdevil]

hello!! I hope this message finds you well,the idea of a smitten/broken/oppy polycule has been on my mind these past few days and i think itd be interesting to see you explore the dynamic of three people pleasers for vastly different reasons (one who does it for survival, one who does it for safety under a higher power, and one who wants to make everyone happy) and i think that them helping each other with their issues could be really sweet!! i personally kinda picture their dynamic to be something along the lines of um uh!!!

Oppurtunist: ah fuck we getting vulnerable

Broken: ah fuck we getting cared and loved for

Smitten: i love my bfs with issues <3 (claws pointed at his chest, preparing to rip his heart out again)

you dont have to do this if you dont want to!! i just i uh i um uh well uh *explodes*

(Wait, don't explode! I've been insane about this polycule ever since I got this request because I think it would be such an overwhelming amount of feelings, does that make sense? Smitten and Broken are happy to give their lives for love, or what they see as love, but Oppy would rather jump off a cliff than admit a single genuine emotion of his, but I think the other two would help bring that out in him. Anyways, enjoy!)

Let it be known that this entire situation came about because of dinner.

Now, Opportunist liked to consider himself a perceptive fellow, someone who could see all the weaknesses and blind spots that others didn't, which just gave him an opening to strike.

He will say, he hasn't necessarily found a reason to strike yet, but one could never be too prepared when it comes to other people and their unpredictable ways. So Opportunist liked to observe and take mental notes on his fellow flockmates, just to make sure that they could never surprise him or get the upper hand.

But there were two certain little birdies that had been taking up most of his attention.

Smitten and Broken.

Opportunist assumed that they would either be impossible to stand, or incredibly easy to befriend and use. In some strange way, it felt like both options had occurred.

In the time that they've learned to take control of their own lives and freedom, Opportunist had watched as they slowly realised that they had no princess to give their hearts to or be the purpose of their existence, and were consumed with grief.

Opportunist did his best to either steer clear of them, or offer them something in the hopes of placating them. Neither of them were particularly dangerous or useful in that state, so he just tried to be polite and respectful, because emotions like that were not his strong suit.

Thankfully though, they got better, and Opportunist hadn't realised how much he had missed the sound of Smitten's genuine, boisterous voice, or just the quiet presence of Broken that made the flock feel complete. Everything started to go back to normal.

But then Opportunist realised that Smitten and Broken hadn't just gotten closer. They had gotten together.

They would constantly be draped over one another, or giving each other loving gazes from across the room, and were even sharing a room, to Opportunist knowledge.

The actual idea of the two of them becoming a couple wasn't the thing that perplexed Opportunist. He's seen Paranoid sneak into Cold's room more times than he could count. That wasn't what Opportunist was hung up on.

It just-it kind of looked like two natural disasters coming together to fucking destroy the world, did it not?

Surely this relationship could only end in flames, but when he asked Hero if it was okay to let this slide, he just gave him a big, dumb smile and said that they were happy, and that was all that matters.

Whatever. Opportunist just tried to ignore the whole thing, even when it was hard to get the image of them kissing so softly out of his head-and he just wondered how much of their love was real.

One day, Opportunist went around the house, calling people for dinner. That was his job-he wasn't allowed to touch the food, but he can sure as hell be entrusted to get people to listen to him with the promise of food.

He hadn't exactly been thinking when he casually opened the door to Smitten's room.

"Smitten! Din-" Opportunist froze, one hand clutching the doorknob as he looked up, finding Smitten sitting at the edge of his bed, with a flushed Broken on his lap, with their arms around each other.

Oh, he had absolutely walked in on something.

"Sorry!" he squeaked out, but neither of them seemed to mind. Smitten waved one hand in the air while he used the other one to pull Broken closer, and Opportunist tried not to look at the movement too intensely.

"Nonsense, friend! You are quite alright," Smitten assured, and Opportunist chuckled nervously, taking a confident step into the room, noting how Broken was giving him a curious look.

"Well, I just came to say that dinner's ready, so you two lovebirds should probably come down soon." He saw the way they both glowed at the use of 'lovebirds' but didn't say anything.

Smitten planted a kiss on Broken's cheek, and Opportunist couldn't help but just stare at the action, until he realized that Broken was giving him a curious look.

He quickly looked away, spinning around as he said, "Well I'd better get to the others-"

"Is something wrong, Oppy?"

Opportunist froze, before frantically turning to face the couple again, with Smitten furrowing his brows in confusion at him, along with Broken still staring at him.

He waved a hand through the air and tried to act casual. "What? No, of course not! Everything's-" but then he paused, and his eyes lingered on the romantic hold they had in each other, and he couldn't fight the urge to ask, just this once.

He gripped the doorknob for support. "Actually, I do have a question-about you two."

Smitten smiled brightly, standing up while still holding Broken safely. "Of course, my kind friend, ask away! What part of our precious love story would you like to know?" Opportunist kept a pleasant smile on his face, even as Broken patted Smitten's shoulder and requested to be put down, which Smitten did without any hesitation.

"It's just-I suppose I wasn't expecting-this," Opportunist admitted, motioning to the two of them, "the two of you falling in love with each other."

"Oh, would you like me to tell you how it began? How our love first blossomed?"

"No," Opportunist was quick to stop Smitten there, taking a few steps into the room, attempting to remain interested but not too intrigued by their relationship. He shrugged, putting his arms behind his back as he said, "I guess it's just a little strange to me-being able to fall in love when it could hurt you so terribly." He took a tiny bit of sick enjoyment in watching Broken flinch at his words, but then Smitten was quick to grab his hand and whispered some reassurances in his ear.

Once he was sure his partner was okay, Smitten took a bold step before him, and Opportunist's breath hitched at the pure passion and determination in his eyes. His voice was firm yet not harsh as he said, "Love is a powerful force my friend, and I promise you that if you treat it with respect, it gives you that back tenfold." There was a heaviness in Smitten's words, one that even Opportunist could tell was coming from a sore place in Smitten's heart.

But he didn't want to delve deeper into that, for reasons he couldn't explain, so instead he just made a show of grimacing at the two of them, and casually threw out, "I just don't see the point of it, really." Opportunist tried to leave again, to escape this conversation that was continuing to make him feel nervous for some reason, until Smitten's voice cut through the tension.

"Let's make a deal, then."

Opportunist froze, then sent a look of confused interest over his shoulder. "What?"

Smitten glanced at Broken, who nodded his head in permission with a small smile on his face, and Smitten looked back at Opportunist, a dark intensity in his eyes that Opportunist's knees buckled at.

"Let's make a deal. You spend one week with us, as part of our relationship, and we'll prove to you that love is a beautiful, worthwhile thing." It wasn't exactly the love itself that Opportunist had a problem with, but who was falling in love, but he couldn't say that. So he spun back around confidently and asked, "You think a week is enough time to convince me?"

Smitten arched a brow as he looked him up and down. "With you, my fellow? More than enough."

Opportunist was so blinded by mortification that he didn't even think before shaking on it.

Day One

Opportunist was determined to get through this week by acting as aloof towards their affections as possible. He was going to come out of this deal the victor, to prove that some loves weren't meant to be. He wasn't sure why he needed to prove it so badly, but he just did.

Thankfully, on the first day, Smitten and Broken just took him on a peaceful walk. They did insist on holding both of his hands, but Opportunist managed to push the warmth of their touches away long enough to hold a conversation with them.

He was definitely going to win this.

Day Two

They didn't do anything particularly exciting, except for lounge about and talk all day, taking turns preening each other. The act of pretending to not care about this whole thing grew harder when they wouldn't leave his side, but the feel of Smitten so delicately preening his precious feathers, did help loosen him up-even to the point of falling asleep around them.

That didn't mean anything. Everyone grew a little sleepy during preening, that didn't mean anything about Smitten or Broken, or that Opportunist actually felt safe around them. No way.

He still had everything under control.

Day Three

This was when things started to go downhill for him.

Opportunist had been sharing a bed with the couple, because when they expressed concern over not wanting him to be uncomfortable, Opportunist just dug his heels in further and said that he was completely fine with it-a lie, which was his first mistake.

Opportunist doesn't remember much about his nightmare-but there was just heat surrounding him on all sides, and there were cuts in his palms, and when he looked up he saw her. He wanted her to go away but she was stuck and she was stuck because of him. He did this. He caused this.

He was evil he was evil he was evil-

"Oppy?"

Opportunist gasped as he woke up, body wracked with shaking as he laid between Smitten and Broken, frantically blinking to peer into the darkness of the bedroom.

"Oppy, are you okay?" That was Broken, whispering softly to him. He was staring up at him with concern all over his face, his hand itching to reach out, but it never touched Opportunist.

Opportunist couldn't do anything but stare at Broken for a few tense minutes, his brain trying to come to terms that he wasn't in danger, and that his dreams couldn't hurt him right now.

Every one of them got nightmares, but Opportunist made sure to never let that show in front of the others, that his mind and his choices tortured him just like everyone else. He handled his nightmares in his own company, by panting and quietly crying into his pillow, so that nobody could hear him breaking down.

He hadn't had a nightmare in ages, so he hadn't been concerned about that-but life just loved to screw him over.

He gripped the sheets underneath him as Broken continued to look at him with that pity, that tenderness that meant he saw Opportunist as weak and pathetic, so he had to ignore how badly his body shook right now, and he attempted to smile at Broken.

The smile was wobbly and it hurt his face to stretch his skin like that when he was physically holding back a breakdown at the same time, but he pushed through, and tried to keep his tone light and friendly as he said, "I'm fine, Broken," hoping his voice didn't break halfway through. "I'm a-absolutely okay right n-now." Oh god, was he stuttering?

He could feel tears pooling in his eyes, but he frantically blinked them away before Broken could see. "N-Nothing's wro-"

But then he felt soft hands cupping his face, and Broken was pressing up against him, and Opportunist could feel his heart beating against his own rapid one.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Broken as he whispered to him, "You don't have to keep all the hurt inside you, y'know?" Broken ran his thumbs over Opportunist's cheeks, and he suddenly felt like everything within him was bursting to be let out, all the good and rotten parts that he tried to ignore most of the time, an impenetrable wall that he was convinced would hold.

But a stupid nightmare and a sympathetic little birdie were quickly changing that.

Broken glanced down at his chest, right where his heart was pounding furiously, and he said, "It's okay to let yourself feel bad, Oppy," but he said with such a heaviness, like Broken understood having his life being one performance-and he guessed worshipping counted as a performance. But it was the fact that he knew and he was telling Opportunist that he understood him, that it was okay to let those feelings that you hate out-that made his face crumble as sobs consumed his whole body.

Hot tears cascaded down his face as he sobbed as quietly as he could, and Broken hugged him close, and he found himself practically clutching Broken against him, too scared to be alone anymore.

Broken whispered reassurances to him and rubbed his back, and from behind Opportunist, he heard Smitten-who had been fast asleep up until now-twist around with a soft noise of concern in the back of his throat. He turned around and threw an arm around Opportunist, sliding up against his back and pressing his face against his neck, and Opportunist might have cried harder from how nice it all felt, to not have to perform in this moment.

He wasn't sure how long he cried for, but he does remember having a much easier time sleeping with Broken and Smitten cuddling him.

Day Four

After the chaos that was last night, Opportunist wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his own room and fade away from reality under the comfort and safety of his own blankets.

He told himself that he didn't want to see Broken and Smitten, because he knew they'd want to talk about it, and Opportunist would much rather die than do that.

But to his surprise, when the lovebirds eventually found him, they didn't ask about his nightmare at all. In fact, they were sat around the kitchen table with a deck of cards, asking if he wanted to play with them.

He-doesn't get asked to play games a lot.

It was actually quite fun, even if Smitten wasn't very good at it. But Broken was unexpectedly very good at cards, and Opportunist even found that he lost a round to him once.

The embarrassment and heaviness from last night was slowly leaving his body, and was being replaced with a warmth in his chest-but that surely meant nothing, right?

Day Five

Opportunist had actually found the time to be alone-or more accurately, Broken had finally decided that he could be trusted to not break down in tears.

Opportunist knew that them playing cards with him was just a way to make him feel better after his nightmare, and while he appreciated it, he felt like he needed to repay them somehow.

Usually, his first reasoning for this would be so that they couldn't use their acts of kindness against him in some way, but today, he just felt like showing his thanks to them. Which was weird for him, but he didn't look too deep into it.

So he spent the whole morning thinking of how to show his appreciation, and what he came up with wasn't exactly original or jaw dropping, but Opportunist wasn't exactly a romantic guy.

Once he had his gift, he then spent the rest of the day worrying if they'll like it, if it was even good enough for them, and if he should just forget it-

"Opportunist, my dear!"

Opportunist yelped as he spun around, keeping his arms securely behind his back.

He had just been leisurely walking around their garden, when Smitten suddenly surprised him. He watched as Smitten arched a brow in curiosity, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at his hidden arms, and for good measure, Opportunist wrapped his wings around his arms as well.

"Smitten! Hi! How are you? What is it?" God, he's never sounded so nervous before. Why? It was just Smitten.

But the way Smitten beamed at him made his breath hitch, and when he took a step forward, Opportunist found it difficult to not take a step back, that he felt like keeping his distance would keep his head clear right now.

"Well, I haven't seen you all day, and I was starting to get worried." Opportunist's face fell in surprise. "Wait, really?"

Smitten nodded firmly. "Of course, Broken was beginning to get lonely without you."

Confusion and warmth started to mix in Opportunist's head, and he wasn't sure if he could think straight like this. "But-But he has you, shouldn't that be enough?"

Smitten then smiled at him in a way as if he knew something that Opportunist didn't, and instead asked, "What's behind your back?"

Opportunist felt his feathers betray him by fluffing up in that moment, and he looked down at the ground in embarrassment as he muttered, "Just-something for you."

Smitten gasped. "For me? Darling, you shouldn't have!" Opportunist had to try extremely hard not to think about how nice it had felt to be called darling, and the amount of heat and butterflies rising within him was beginning to be too much to bear, so Opportunist just squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his arms out in front of him. "Here!"

There was silence, until Opportunist felt Smitten take the gift out of his hands, and then he opened his eyes.

Smitten was staring down at the bouquet of red roses in awe and wonder, and Opportunist was quick to explain, "I-I remember roses being your favourite, but I wasn't sure about Broken. I just wanted to give you both something to say thank you-for helping that night."

He tried to look at anywhere that wasn't Smitten's face, but his eyes were always drawn back to how sweet he was looking at the flowers. Then that sweetness was directed at him as Smitten said, "Thank you so much, my dear." But then he stepped closer to him, leaning his head to the side in order to give him a peck on the cheek, and Opportunist panicked, quickly stumbling back a step as he blurted out, "I need to ask you a question!"

Smitten paused, and Opportunist wasn't sure why he had said that, only that they were getting into dangerous territory that they needed to back away from, but he might as well ask at this point.

"But the question might-hurt you," Opportunist nervously added, but Smitten just nodded in permission, a more calm and serious look on his face.

Opportunist couldn't find it within him to ask this question with confidence, so his voice came out soft and uncertain as he asked, "How do you know that what you have with Broken is-real?" He took a deep breath, and continued, "How do you know that the two of you aren't just using each other to fill the hole that she left? How can you be so sure that this time, you won't hurt each other?"

Opportunist found enough courage to look Smitten in the eye, and was surprised to not find him brimming with rage at the thought of his love being anything less than pure. He was staring down at the flowers with a bittersweet expression, and then he shrugged, an action that seemed weird on Smitten.

"I suppose," he began, "that I may have-struggled to adapt without the princess, and that my love for her wasn't always-good." It seemed like Smitten was having trouble articulating himself, as if a part of him was still ashamed at what he had done.

"But Broken understood how I felt, to a degree, and there was a comfort in that, that we both understood how the other was feeling, that we weren't alone. It wasn't just Broken, you know. The others tried to help fill the hole in our hearts, until I realised that the hole wasn't from me missing the princess."

"Really?" Smitten chuckled, and finally looked up at him, taking another confident step forward, and this time Opportunist couldn't find the strength to back away. Smitten smiled lovingly at him, and whispered, "It was from not expressing my love to everything I adored." Then he pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, and Opportunist's knees trembled.

He's not so sure what to think anymore.

Day Six

They were in bed again, and Opportunist was lying down with Broken laying on top of him, and Smitten sitting up to his right, reading a story to them.

Broken hadn't been feeling the best, so they decided to stay in and keep him company, and Opportunist busied himself with rubbing a hand up and down his back for comfort.

Everything was quiet and peaceful, but Opportunist's brain felt like it had melted into nothing, like he had no thoughts other than love.

He thought that Smitten and Broken's relationship would be doomed to fail, but their capacity for love only seemed to make them stronger. They weren't going to fall back into that darkness, not when they had someone pulling them back from it.

Broken squirmed above him, and Opportunist looked down, watching as Broken sighed as he rested against his chest.

Broken wasn't as depressing as Opportunist initially thought. He was actually incredibly perceptive of how others were feeling when his head was clear, and Opportunist found a comfort in knowing that he wouldn't be turned away for breaking down in front of Broken.

Broken felt his staring, and lifted his head to stare back at him, and Opportunist could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and so could Broken probably.

Broken's voice was an almost silent whisper as he asked, "Do you want to kiss me?" Opportunist's mind went blank as he nodded, and Broken smiled, and then they were both leaning in to kiss each other.

It felt good. It felt soft, and it felt safe.

"Finally." Then there was Smitten, and the sound of the book being tossed, before Opportunist felt hands cupping his face, and he was brought into the hungry mouth of Smitten.

Smitten was passion, and he set every inch of Opportunist aflame, so strong that he mind was struggling to keep up with him. But it felt real. It felt like love, from the both of them.

Opportunist wasn't even mad that he really didn't last the week.

[luvsizedfrellie]

Bruh pink ribbon, and some stupid feelings

You really thought you were being funny. The whole plan was flawless. Ellie's head was heavy in your lap, auburn hair framed messily around her face, strands curling in odd directions where sleep had taken control. Her breathing was even, steady, her lips parted just slightly as if she might mutter something in her sleep at any moment, completely unaware of the evil brewing above her. A pink ribbon—faded, fraying at the edges, but perfect had made its way into your possession earlier that day. It was just lying around, abandoned like fate wanted you to have it. And you wasn't one to ignore fate, especially when it handed you the perfect tool for mischief.

So, carefully, gently, you gathered Ellie's messy auburn hair, smoothing it out, fingers threading through the strands with an ease that had become second nature, surprising even yourself with how neat the knot turned out. It sat perched perfectly ridiculously atop Ellie's head. You tilted your head, inspecting your handiwork like an artist appraising a masterpiece, the contrast was sending you into silent, shaky fits of laughter. You had to bite your knuckle to stop yourself from waking Ellie up right then and ruining it all. "Oh my god. You look so.."

But as the seconds dragged, your amusement started to soften. At first, you figured it was just because the pink bow started looking more absurd the longer you stared. But it wasn't that.

Ellie was genuinely, cute as fuck.

You frowned, your full lips pressing together in a small, involuntary expression of displeasure.

You were supposed to be bullying Ellie, not melting into a pile of goo over how goddamn adorable she looked. This was not the plan, you scolded yourself in your mind, trying to push the warmth from your chest. You weren't supposed to find Ellie cute like this. Ellie was supposed to look like an awkward fucking mess with a stupid bow on her head, and you were supposed to laugh your ass off. But instead, you were staring down at Ellie like you had found the most precious thing in the world.

Your fingers, which had been twirling a loose auburn strand, stilled against Ellie's forehead. Without thinking, you smoothed it back, letting your touch linger for just a second longer than necessary. Ellie murmured something in her sleep, brows knitting briefly before settling again.

Your heart clenched, swallowing hard, forcing your eyes back up to the pink bow.

You pouted without even realizing it, your perfect plan turning on you. "What the hell. You're s'pposed to look silly, not cute, sugar." you muttered under your breath, keeping your words quiet so they wouldn't disturb your best friend. "Fucking… adorable. Stupid ribbon. Stupid… perfect… face."

Your hand hovering above the little pink bow, nudging it lightly with your fingertips but not undoing it. You should rip it off. Should yank the bow free and let Ellie wake up none the wiser. Pretend you weren't sitting here, blushing over your best friend. Pretend this wasn't making you feel all kinds of ways you weren't prepared to deal with.

But you didn't.

Instead, you let out a soft, defeated sigh and lightly brushed the side of Ellie's face where her freckles were the darkest, you cursed yourself silently, indulging in wasn't the right thing to do at the moment but it wasn't entirely your fault—it wasn't your fault if Ellie looked like this, helplessly sweet and like she belonged right here on your lap.

Ellie's nose scrunched slightly, her face twitching as though trying to bat away a fly in her sleep. You froze as Ellie gave a quiet, sleepy murmur before nuzzling back into your lap, completely unaware of your emotional crisis battling up above her. You swallowed thickly, shifting without disturbing her.

"God. You’re so fucking cute it hurts, Ellie." you grumbled under your breath.

[dippindaz]

Could I request a comfort Eddie X reader where it’s thundering and he knows reader doesn’t like thunderstorms so he invited reader over for a stormy night sleepover?

Of course you can!! This prompt is cute 🥺 Eddie's comfort and fluff ahead :)

The sky had been threatening to open up all day, dark clouds rolling in like an ominous warning. You had watched the weather more than you cared to admit, each update confirming the inevitable: thunderstorms, lasting well into the night.

Eddie must have caught on at some point—he always did. You hadn’t told him about your dislike for thunderstorms directly, but he’d noticed the way you tensed up when thunder rumbled in the distance, the way you clutched your sleeves when the sky turned gray. So when your phone rang that evening, you weren’t surprised to hear his voice on the other end.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, his voice light but with a knowing edge.

“Um… hiding under a blanket and pretending the storm doesn’t exist?”

Eddie chuckled. “That’s a solid plan, but I’ve got a better one. Sleepover at mine. We can watch dumb movies, eat junk food, and I promise to keep the scary noises at bay.”

You hesitated for only a second before agreeing. Staying alone during a thunderstorm sounded awful. Staying with Eddie, though? That sounded kind of perfect.

By the time you got to the trailer, the first drops of rain had begun to fall, cool and light against your skin. Eddie greeted you at the door, his usual grin in place as he pulled you inside. "Welcome to your storm shelter," he announced, sweeping an arm toward his living room, which he had clearly prepared just for you.

A blanket fort covered most of the space, pillows stacked underneath like a plush nest. His collection of movies was spread out on the floor, along with an assortment of snacks that definitely weren’t part of a balanced diet. The lights were dim, and his guitar rested nearby, as if he’d been planning on playing for you.

“Eddie…” You turned to him, touched by the effort.

He shrugged like it was nothing. "I just figured, if you’re gonna be freaked out by the storm, you might as well be comfy while doing it."

Before you could say anything else, a loud clap of thunder shook the trailer. Instinctively, you flinched, and Eddie was there in an instant, draping an arm around you and steering you toward the blanket fort.

"Okay, movie time!" he declared, plopping down and pulling you with him. "You get to pick—horror or something ridiculously stupid?"

You shot him a look. "Why would I want to watch a horror movie during a thunderstorm?"

Eddie laughed. "Good point. Dumb comedy it is." He grabbed a tape and shoved it into the VCR before settling beside you, close enough that your arms brushed.

As the movie started, you sank deeper into the nest of blankets, grateful for the warmth—both from them and from Eddie’s presence beside you. The storm outside raged on, raindrops drumming against the trailer’s roof in a steady rhythm. Every so often, a flash of lightning illuminated the small space, followed closely by a rumble of thunder.

Eddie, in true Eddie fashion, was completely unfazed.

“You know,” he mused, reaching for a handful of popcorn, “if you think about it, thunderstorms are basically nature’s way of putting on a metal concert. Big, dramatic drum solos, crazy lighting effects—Mother Nature’s got style.”

You scoffed, nudging him with your knee. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, shoving popcorn into his mouth, “if you replace the thunder with an electric guitar, it’d be kind of badass.”

You rolled your eyes, but you had to admit, the way he talked about it made the storm seem a little less terrifying. A particularly loud crack of thunder boomed, and before you could react, Eddie’s arm was around your shoulders, tugging you against him.

“There,” he said, squeezing you lightly. “See? No storm can get you if I’m here.”

Your heart fluttered. It was such an Eddie thing to say—bold, dramatic, but somehow incredibly reassuring. You let yourself lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You think you could take on a storm?" you questioned with a chuckle.

Eddie scoffed, puffing out his chest dramatically. “Please. If this storm had any sense, it’d be scared of me.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, nodding confidently. “I’d just walk outside, point at the sky, and be like, ‘Listen here, pal—I run this town.’ And boom, thunderstorm over.” He clapped his hands together for effect.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how the weather works.”

“That’s because you’ve never seen me in action,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m telling you, I could totally fight a storm. I’d dodge lightning like a badass, throw hands with a tornado if I had to.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “And what about the rain?”

Eddie smirked. “Oh, the rain respects me. It wouldn’t dare mess up my hair.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “So basically, you’re saying you’re a weather god?”

“Exactly.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Eddie Munson: Master of Storms.”

Another loud boom of thunder rattled the trailer, and despite the ridiculous conversation, you still jumped. Eddie’s expression softened in an instant. He pulled you in tighter, his hand rubbing small, absentminded circles against your arm.

“This movie sucks,” you murmured after a few minutes, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

Eddie gasped, scandalized. “Excuse you, this is a classic.”

“It’s literally just people falling over and making dumb faces.”

“Exactly! Peak cinema.” He gestured at the screen, where the main character had just slipped on a banana peel for the third time. “Tell me that’s not comedy gold.”

You shook your head, but you were smiling.

Another flash of lightning brightened the room, followed immediately by a thunderclap so loud it rattled the trailer. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Eddie’s shirt, clutching the fabric as your eyes squeezed shut. You barely had time to be embarrassed before he shifted, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you closer.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I got you.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your face. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, and it was such a simple, comforting gesture that you felt yourself relax despite the storm outside.

“Y’know, if it helps, I can start dramatically reciting poetry to distract you,” Eddie offered.

You snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “You know poetry?”

“Of course! I’m a man of many talents.” He cleared his throat, then dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate—’”

You burst out laughing, the tension in your chest loosening. “You sound like you’re auditioning for Romeo and Juliet.”

“Please, I’d make a killer Romeo.” He turned to you with an exaggerated smolder. “O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”

“Oh my God, stop,” you groaned, covering your face.

Eddie cackled, pleased with himself. “Admit it, you’d pay good money to see me in tights.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “I’d pay good money to not see that.”

He gasped, feigning betrayal. “How dare you.”

Another loud crash of thunder shook the trailer, and Eddie immediately dropped the theatrics. Without hesitation, he pulled you even closer, until you were practically curled against his chest.

His voice was quieter now, gentle. “You doing okay?”

You nodded, feeling oddly safe here, wrapped in his arms, his warmth anchoring you against the chaos outside.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I think I am.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The storm outside carried on, but it didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not with Eddie beside you, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Good,” he whispered, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head. “You’re safe here.”

[in1-nutshell]

I need that unrelenting angst that would come from IDW Ophelia and Fearless dealing with Megatron.  When Fearless starts to bond and hangout with Megs, is Ophelia counted in that?  Does this leave Ophelia in a really awkward situation because the father that abandoned her is suddenly acting like a father without even knowing it's his kid.  Does that hurt even more because what was so terrible about her younger self that made him want to never look at her again.  Is it only fearless he bonds with?  Fuck that has to hurt watching your freind have the relationship with your father that you wish you had.

Megatron's kids: Never having it easy since day 1.

Hope you enjoy!

MTMTE Fearless and Ophelia in the same universe

SWF, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Cybertronian reader, Human reader

MTMTE

Ophelia was one of the first bots Fearless met on the ship.

She was called up by Rodimus and Ultra Magnus.

Being one of the few bots that worked close with humans before, they figured that having Ophelia around for first greetings would be good.

Fearless was surprised by the different sizes these bots could come in and their names.

They understood names like ‘Ironfist’ and ‘Skywarp’.

But Ophelia?

That was an Earth name, right?

Fearless found themselves gravitating to Ophelia more in the beginning.

The bot happily gave them company while showing them all around the ship.

It would be a few weeks later that Fearless’s true nature would show up.

Ophelia runs into the med bay. Fearless is on the med slab with a number or bandages on them. Ophelia: “I came in as soon as I could! What happened?” Ratchet looks at Fearless with a disapproving look. Ratchet: “According to Fearless, they were trying to follow Skids through the vents and ended up falling on Whirl’s glass.” Fearless: “And I’d do it again.” Ratchet glares at Fearless who is sporting a smile, though from pride or the meds kicking in, its not certain. Ophelia looks concerned at the human. Ophelia: “Why were you in the vents in the first place?” Fearless: “Because its cool! You wouldn’t know because your too big to fit your metal fender in them.” Whirl is cackling on the slab nearby.

Fearless would soon understand this joke later.

A couple of rouge cons had managed to sneak into the ship and were heading straight for Fearless.

Ophelia managed to be the first one to get to them.

Though in the process a lucky Con managed to slice her helm off.

Fearless screamed as the helm went flying and the frame fell on its side.

They were once again at the Con’s mercy, but they had their mini blasters ready.

Fearless was fully prepared to go down fighting to avenge Ophelia.

That was until the frame’s chassis opened and a minibot jumped on the Con’s like from one of those aliens from a movie they saw years ago.

They had to give it to the mini, the con’s were down in seconds, fists were drenched in energon and was venting heavily.

The minibot turned around made a nervous chuckle before asking if they were okay.

Fearless recognized the voice.

It was Ophelia’s.

Ophelia: “Fearless? I didn’t scare you, did I?” Fearless drops their blaster and runs straight to Ophelia and does their best to hug her. Ophelia is surprised and taken a bit back. She can feel and hear the sniffling, shaking her servo from the energon she pats their back. Fearless: “I thought you were dead you, big pile of bolts!” Ophelia: “Yet I persist.” Fearless looks up at them with red and puffy eyes. Fearless: “Now is not the time for jokes! First, I find out your some kind of Russian nesting doll next what!? That you’re a child!?” Ophelia nervously chuckles. Ophelia: “Well…” Fearless: “…Say sike.” Ophelia: “I mean by all technicality; I am one of the youngest—” Fearless: “Say sike right now!”

It took a bit for Fearless to get used to Ophelia just being around without her armor.

They also adopt the role of being her older sibling.

Something that Ophelia just goes along with.

Sure, she’s thousands if not millions of years older than them, but this was nice.

Ophelia gives her congratulations to Fearless and Whirl on hearing about them being officially Amica’s.

What she didn’t know was that by Whirl being Fearless’s Amica, it automatically made her an honorary Amica in his book.

Then in comes in Megatron.

By this time Ophelia had already told Fearless about her relation with him, from start to present.

To say that Fearless was furious was an understatement.

Sure, they had parent issues too, but at least they didn’t have one that tried causing genocide (Side eyes the Dadnegto AU)

They already vow to get some justice for her, despite the mini saying it wasn’t necessary.

Pranks galore!

Ophelia doesn’t know how to feel about these.

But that’s the least of her worries.

She starts getting suspicious when the pranks almost stop overnight.

Her optic is on the human whenever Megatron is close by.

But they were both getting along?

It confused Ophelia greatly and it sort of hurt as well.

Here Megatron was, getting friendly with a stranger than his actual daughter.

Ophelia had to remind herself that he couldn’t possibly know about her identity, therefore, couldn’t possibly be doing this on purpose.

Then comes that one fateful day…

The day Fearless openly called Megatron ‘Dad’.

Random bot: “Wow Fleshy, you must be pretty messed up in the processor to call Megatron ‘Dad’.” Fearless is red in the face. Fearless: “Hey, just drop it.” Ophelia is still in her seat, trying to comprehend what just happened. Most of the dialogue goes right over her helm. The random bot looks like he is moving closer to the human. She is ready to go over when Megatron moves to their side. Megatron: “My child, is there something wrong?” Ophelia had taken punches to the tank less painful than this. Fearless looks at him surprised, but a smile comes to their face. Fearless, with a bit of a voice crack: “N-nope, just peachy.” Ophelia feels like her world is tilting on an axis. As more bots are coming over to congratulate them, the one percenter slips out of the room. Fearless catches Ophelia leaving the room and pale realizing what happened from Ophelia’s perspective. Fearless: “Wait! Ophelia!” It was too late; she had already left the bar.

Fearless felt horrible.

They were too entrapped in the thought of having a father figure, they had completely forgotten about their friend.

Her friend’s father who had just claimed them to be one of his… in front of her.

Fearless tries to explain to Ophelia the situation, which they have to give credit to, she listens to.

But that doesn’t mean she was over with her feelings.

Everything was still too fresh to properly start anew.

Ophelia started taking up some extra look out shifts to get more time to herself.

She didn’t want to say anything to hurt Fearless just because she was hurting.

Fearless respects her and leaves her alone.

Megatron is just confused.

One minute he feels that sparkling sized hole filling a bit with Fearless now being his child.

The next they were slightly moping around.

He also took notice that Ophelia was not around as often as she was.

Megatron had grown used to seeing her around and occasionally chatting about the news on the ship.

To see her less and given Fearless was quite close with, he figured that they simply missed their friend.

Maybe he could negotiate with Magnus about giving some extra time for Ophelia to see Fearless.

Fearless looking up at Ophelia asking for a hug.

[enderalwitches]

Will the Cycle End? How will it end and why?

To avoid prolonging the suspense, we’ll answer the burning question right away: the Cycle will end. Will humanity — or whoever inhabits Vyn at that time — survive? That depends on many factors.

Now we’ll explain the conclusions we’ve reached. But just to emphasize: this article is based on lore assumptions. This is important to understand. Even though we’ve used a lot of obscure facts here.

Also, let us warn you that it’s quite a maze ahead. We’ll have to deal with the Sea of Eventualities, Black Stones, Red Madness, the High Ones, and connect information from all the games to attempt an analysis.

So let’s begin.

First, let’s mention the fact that the life cycle of any world in the universe is quite clearly defined and evident, judging by the lore of Nehrim. This is stated by Arkt and Sarantha, characters who have witnessed the end of at least one world — and perhaps even more, though we won’t speculate on the exact number.

Almost everything repeats itself, except that the Cleansing doesn’t happen. Any world simply dies. Its remnants end up in the dimension known as the "Shadow World" — a timeless place where no rebirths occur.

Thus died Irdor, the world from which Asatoron brought the Aeterna to Vyn. By the way, Asatoron had seen many different worlds. And only in Vyn did he sense something was wrong. He was the first, one could say, to understand the Cycle. Perhaps, however, before his madness, he didn’t have time to realize it to take any action. Or maybe it was such predestination that drove him insane? We do not know, and for this article, there is no need for us to make assumptions, at least on this topic.

Now, let's list all the necessary steps in the Cycle, so we have them in front of our eyes, and we will have to refer to this list more than once:

New inhabitants come to the empty world / life arises right on the spot.

Their civilization flourishes.

A cataclysm of undefined nature erases progress almost to zero.

After the "dark" years, a new order arises — Gods appear.

The Gods are killed by Someone.

The world is preparing to die. And dies.

Here ends the list for any world, but Vyn is not just any; it has the Cleansing. So here are a couple more steps:

The High Ones cast the Red Madness, and Emissaries appear.

The Beacon is built.

The "improper" launch triggers the Cleansing.

The quotation marks, of course, are not without reason. And also, not included in the list, but somewhere before the 5th step, an indefinite number of Black Stones is created. This is also a very important detail for the conclusions of this article.

Let’s talk about them. As is customary, the canons of the games don't quite match up. We studied everything to come to a version that combines the lore of all the games on this matter.

About the stones, we know that they appear at some stage of the Cycle, contain unhealthy magical energy, and feed it to the Beacon. According to the canon of Arktwend, the stones were created by Arkt, and according to the canon of Enderal — the Pyreans knew about this technology as well.

Let’s quote Lexil:

"In the old tablets you found in Old Dothulgrad, there is talk of "Black Embers", which are supposed to be some kind of energy supply for the Beacon. The Pyreans were talking about the Black Pearls. Old jewels, sometimes also known as "Black Stones". They appeared for the first time in the Golden Era and every self-important noble literally fought to get one in his possession. Apparently, they originated from Stormwend, the Old City in the heart of Arktwend."

That is, the developers did try to attach a hint of Arkt, whom they decided to avoid in Enderal. We do not criticize such a decision, knowing his history and powers. Such a character could very well have shattered the entire plot of the game. But at least he received an indirect mention, yay.

However, Arkt created far more stones than just three. The Pyreans’ “Black Embers” could have been more as well. From here, it’s a matter of speculation — did he use Pyrean technology or did he create everything himself? Does it really matter? No. But, judging by Lexil’s words about the homeland of the artifacts, we are indeed dealing with Arkt’s stones. So, the technology matches.

What’s important is what kind of energy is contained in them.

Let’s note that, according to the canons of Arktwend and Nehrim, at the time of the creation of the Black Stones, Arkt was far from being a positive character. And the stones drove (and continue to drive) their new owners mad. It’s hardly that the energy contained in the stones can be called light and pure. It’s either negative or chaos, which cannot be defined. And it doesn’t really matter to us which of these two is ultimately true. We only need a fragment, a sample of magical entropy, to create a “vaccine.”

Do we think we’ve managed to spark your interest? Before we explain, however, let’s reflect on some observations.

The reason for our interest and subsequent “investigation” was, strangely enough, the fauna of Nehrim. Players know, and for those who haven’t played, we’ll inform you that the local animals are afflicted by a certain disease: the beasts fall into a frenzy and attack everyone around. There is no quest to solve this issue, the lore is silent. That didn’t satisfy us, so we found the answer on our own.

Judging by the symptoms, the disease is very similar to the Red Madness. Except for the green flickering, but we’ll assume that’s a feature of Nehrim. However, with the Red Madness, there’s a “but” — according to the list above, it occurs only after the death of the Gods. This is where we started digging and drawing conclusions on completely different topics, and the answer to the current question came much, much later. And the answer was quite obvious — the Nehrim’s Lightborn perished much earlier than the rest. Thanks to Narathzul. Clearly, one Erodan was enough to destabilize the magical background of at least the lands that belonged to him. However, this destabilization wasn’t enough to affect the minds of the people.

But from this arose the next question: if both beasts and humans fall victim to the Red Madness, how do they get infected? How does it reach them?

We surely know only one thing — the Red Madness is cast by the High Ones, and that’s their only direct influence on the Cycle, affecting the world of real things in some way. They cannot do anything else, except perhaps verbally humiliate the Prophet during rare rendezvous.

But they have access to something, some common “database,” where they selectively choose victims for the disease.

What is this “something”?

Here we make an assumption, a major and fundamental one for this article. We turn to the theory of magic in Vyn, reread the books, recall Tealor’s speeches. And we come to the following conclusion: the term “Sea of Eventualities” needs to be expanded.

Not much is known about the Sea, really. People with developed magical talent can look into neighbouring eventualities, i.e., parallel universes. And they can pull the necessary things from there into our world. It is also believed that Vyn itself once emerged from the Sea. However, the book theory of magic says nothing about the origin of magical talent. What determines it? Where does it come from? How is it developed?

We know that magical predisposition is inherited. Also, some magical seed can be planted in a rural fisherman, who, in a moment of stress, suddenly finds himself able to float above the ground or summon fire from the sky. And in his late years, he will also become a mage in this way. There is no consistency to it.

We also know that after the death of the Gods, many magically gifted people began to have the same dreams. And — Tealor tells us about some common subconscious, to which all living beings are “connected.”

This is where we expand the term "Sea of Eventualities" — we assume that it is responsible for all the paranormal phenomena in the world. We stop perceiving it exclusively as a window to parallel universes and think more complexly. After all, if it allows the manifestation of magic, then let it be responsible for the process from start to finish. There is nowhere else for magical talent to come from, right? We also define the common subconscious here. If mages are more open to its manifestations, then again, this is the domain of the Sea's influence.

Thus, we will continue to consider that living beings are, to one extent or another, “connected” to the Sea of Eventualities.

Strangely enough, the fact of the Cleansing supports this theory. Its destructive power affects people but not the surrounding world. It turns out that victims need to be somehow singled out to avoid burning forests and fields along the way. This is exactly where access to some common “database” of all living beings comes in handy. And its description can be found above in this paragraph.

And then comes the fun part: we will analyse in detail why the Sea could be responsible for the death of the world or the Cleansing.

Spoiler: it's still the humans' fault, but not directly because of their corruption that the Cycle ends. As if in the era of Asatoron or the age of the Lightborns, the situation with the sinfulness of the population was somehow different? That sounds ridiculous. There have always been antagonists doing evil, there have always been prideful ones, liars, and humanity’s essence didn't make any particularly impressive sinful leap that would provoke the Cleansing when it actually happens.

Yes, the game really wants to tell us that humans are to blame, "for not outrunning their shadow," as the Father puts it. We won’t argue, but rather explain this within the framework of this theory. Because it all turns out to be not quite what we tend to think.

It’s a popular belief on the web that, had the Prophet and the others done nothing, the Cleansing wouldn’t have happened. And that’s not true. The outcome would have been the same, or different — the death of the world. Because humanity’s corruption had ALREADY accumulated to a sufficient extent, the gods were ALREADY dead, and the world was ALREADY dying. The process is irreversible. Perhaps someone else would build the Beacon and trigger the Cleansing, or perhaps they wouldn’t have time. The end is ahead, and it’s clear.

But let’s focus on the "corruption" that is supposedly responsible for the Cleansing, as it is commonly believed. As we mentioned earlier, characters wishing to do anything but good didn’t suddenly start appearing right now, triggering the mechanism. You can start with Asatoron, for example. In his madness, he did terrible things, not only in Vyn. Let’s not delve into the pleasures of local star wars. However, we’ll mention Voran — the Starlings’ “star” — kicked to Vyn by them to stop Asatoron and his army — a necessary evil that worked as intended but also caused immense harm to the world and its magical balance. Later, after the dark age and the rise of the Lightborn, Vyn is tormented by demon invasions, continents turn into icy wastelands, they get magically infected again (and this is very important), they drown, collapse, and change order. All this is due to intelligent beings who wield magic and their corruption — the thirst for power, belief in their own exceptionalism, pride, and everything else. Humans and Aeterna cause immense harm to the world for millennia on end. Not only in the physical realm.

By the time of the events in Nehrim (the game), we are presented with the canonical fact that magical stability in Vyn must be artificially maintained. Otherwise, anomalies will spread across regions without human intervention.

The conclusion here is simple: if we have already decided to categorize all magical matters within the sphere of influence of the Sea of Eventualities, then — it "wears out." So much so that it allows the High Ones to reach the "connection point" with living beings, that very shared subconscious, and cause the Red Madness. This is a step in the Cycle, right after the death of the Lightborns.

The Gods, as well as the magical sanctuaries that are explained to us in Nehrim, can be classified as stabilizers of the Sea. Upon the death of one Erodan, the Red Madness reaches the weakest minds — animals. After the death of all the Gods, access to humans is also opened.

Here, we’d like to make a small remark and recall the Pyrean remedy for the Red Madness. As we were able to understand from the notes of the apothecary who was searching for the recipe — yes, the Pyreans were able to find a solution. But it didn’t just cure the disease, it literally wiped everything out from the patient’s head. The memories of a Pyrean child, which appeared to the apothecary as visions, made it absolutely clear: the poor soul had fallen into a very painful madness. We make the assumption that this potion severed his connection to the Sea. Which, it turns out, is necessary for humans to live and maintain their sanity. In other words, this kind of solution is definitely not the way out.

But what’s the way out?

Right, to launch the Beacon. It’s time to gather the puzzle pieces.

Earlier, we mentioned that the Beacon works as a kind of vaccine. It’s twice as complicated — a double vaccination.

In the case of being fed by the Black Stones, it will understand, absorbing their chaotic energy, that it needs to remove the same chaos from the Sea of Eventualities. This is necessary to return the Sea to a stable state and start a new Cycle. With or without humans — it’s all the same. Otherwise — the death of the world. The Cleansing is necessary and must happen.

So, how can we avoid the destruction of humanity? Yes, the solution must be the Numinos. The essence and selfhood of one of the High Ones, in order to destroy the rest.

But the High Ones aren’t directly responsible for the Cleansing, you might say? However, the goal is precisely to destroy them. They have access to the “database” of the living, and they could easily open the door to the “server room” for the Cleansing. In terms of immaterial things, there is no data about their powers and possibilities, so we came to this logic.

But if you make the "vaccine" double and mix in the essence of the High One, it will burn them along with the magical filth of the Sea of Eventualities, which is responsible for the death of worlds.

Is it that simple...?

Let’s assume it is, and we’ve decided on it. We can exhale.

But the main questions of the article are completely different. For now, we’ve only figured out the mechanism.

Let’s assume the Cleansing happens with the Numinos, as planned. Let’s assume that Tealor’s mission is a success. The High Ones are defeated, and the Sea of Eventualities is stabilized. Magical anomalies leave the long-forgotten islands and hefty chunks of continents. The Cycle is interrupted.

What do we have left, and where have we ended up?

Essentially, we are at the start of the Cycle. Only civilization is already formed, even though wars are ravaging the countries. The world is fine, it’s not planning to die again.

But there’s a “but.” The world remains stable only as long as civilization doesn’t pollute the Sea with magic again. Life in worlds without the Cycle is one-time and predictable. The death of the world is the final point for each of them.

Is there a solution...?

This is the area for even bolder guesses, but we’re not left entirely without logic. Let’s suppose that, without the High Ones looming above our heads, ready to “correct and expand” the direction of the Cleansing, humans could launch the Beacon without Numinos, in order to cleanse the Sea of chaotic magic. They would have to find the Black Stones or create new ones, but this is a small price to pay.

In that case — yes, both the Cycle and the death of the world are simply cancelled. The Cleansing would become a mandatory ritual, and the fate of immortal Vyn could serve as an example for other worlds. Perhaps it would be possible to share technologies. A beautiful and distant future couldn’t look better, agree? And with that, we think we can conclude this “branch.” Because there are others.

Let’s assume, for a moment, that the Cleansing is launched according to the “correct” plan, with Numinos, but humanity still perishes, just like every Cycle. What happens next? If we decide that Numinos will still help destroy the High Ones, the next Cycle won’t fear any Cleansing. It will simply be the last for Vyn, unless the new inhabitants figure out how to cleanse the Sea of their magic pollution and thus avoid the death of the world.

But what if we do nothing?

Yes, this is a very valid question to ask. By “nothing,” we mean leaving the ideas about the “successful” Cleansing. Let the Cycle repeat an endless number of times without change. What should we expect? We believe the Cycle will be interrupted even in that case. How? Let’s return to the question of the Sea of Eventualities.

We have material for observations, though it is very limited. We can compare at most two and a half — maximum — Cycles. The most obvious comparison would be between Pyra and “us.” So, the Pyreans achieved much more in the realm of magic. A simple example: they could transfer human souls into temples, massive structures. Our civilization has only reached… paintings. And simulacra. One might mention Kurmai with his Apotheosis, but the Starlings — the inhabitants of another world — have nothing to do with Vyn. The “half,” mentioned earlier, is the Black Guardian. The contraption he made for himself could also be considered an advanced technology compared to the achievements of our Cycle.

What conclusion can we draw?

The Sea of Eventualities is getting “shallower.” People have less magical talent, they achieve less, and progress in the realm of magic from Cycle to Cycle becomes increasingly scarce.

Why is this happening?

Because the Sea was originally designed to be one-time only. But it isn’t allowed to die naturally — it’s patched up and repaired with the Cleansing and made to work again. As we mentioned above, it wears out over time. And after X Cycles, we could very well find ourselves somewhere where magical progress won’t reach the formation of new Lightborn or their death. A civilization incapable of magic simply won’t be able to bring what remains of the Sea to its limit. The Cycle will freeze. And if the Lightborn are killed, but for some reason the incompetent civilization in terms of magic fails to set up and launch the Beacon, the world will die as it was originally designed. It turns out that, in this branch, Vyn’s fate is determined by a specific moment of weakness in its population.

We think it’s time to wrap this up. We’ve considered all the perspectives, excluding interference from the outside. If we were to also speculate about them, the logic of predictability would be thrown out the window.

For now — let’s remind you once again that all of the above is based on lore assumptions. But what kind of analysis would be possible without them in our fandom?

We thank you for your attention!

[thymejot]

I do appreciate how much Jason Gideon haunts this season of Criminal Minds

[mariocki]

Play for Today: Under the Hammer (BBC, 1984)

"So. Tell me what happened."

"Well. It was me. I kicked it."

"Any particular reason?"

"I lost my temper."

"Who with?"

"I was having a... discussion about the painting and things to do with the painting with McClaren, sir, and, uh... it got out of hand."

"And you kicked the painting?"

"Yes, sir."

"Instead of kicking McClaren?"

"Yes, sir."

"I wish you'd kicked McClaren."

"So do I, sir."

[b1t-the-glitch]

oki oki so!

this became a long post… Fontaine spoilers ahead! hopefully this makes sense

about 500 years before the player gets to Fontaine the hydro archon(archon being used mostly interchangeably with “god”) Egeria had been deemed granting a major sin to her people by making them humans with the world’s primordial seawater, since they were all originally oceanids (creatures of pure water), so they kill off Egeria after making her choose her successor(I think) but after that choice all the remaining oceanids dispersed, unwilling to listen to Focalors rule.

before Focalors was chosen, a prophecy was created by the Heavenly Principles, the main point being “The people will all be dissolved into water, and only the Hydro Archon will remain, weeping on her throne. Only then will the sins of the people of Fontaine be washed away.”, after Focalors had ascended to the hydro archon, she began to think of a way to avoid the prophecy and save what was now her people, eventually coming to realize that she needed to deceive the heavenly principles.

So, she decides to split her divinity and her humanity/soul, naming her humanity “Furina” and instructing her to play the role of a god without being one herself for as long as it took, while Furina played her part, Focalors wouldn’t give her much help as that would ruin the plan, she had also created a device known as the Oratrice Mechanique de Analyse Cardinale, which would begin gathering energy in preparation for the grand trial that would free Furina of her curse that never allowed her to age, but never allowed her to find joy as long as Focalors lived.

Focalors also made sure to bring the Hydro Dragon to fontaine, as it would be very important for her plan.

At first at Furina’s accession ceremony, she had acted natural, being kind, gentle and soft spoken, but that generated distrust among the Fontainians, so in quick thinking, she pretended to be confident and began to be dramatic, which made the people believe that she was their archon, so she kept at it, at first finding it to be not too bad, just a little exhausting, but as the years passed, it began to wear down on her internally, to the point that about 499 years into the role, she hadn’t noticed that she began to cry while meeting with a Fontainian, though brushing it off in front of them as an overflow of hydro, stating it to be kind of inevitable as a being presiding over water.

then, the traveler arrives, and this is the part we play through within the game that eventually became making a way to bring Furina herself to trial, as it happens, the player manages to expose Furina as being just a human, causing her to break down and for us to realize we had continued the prophecy along by putting her to trial, as the prophecy did state before the flood that her people would bring her to trial, Furina begins to break down silently, falling onto her seat as the verdict for her crimes was given “the hydro archon will be punished via execution”, shocking everyone.

within the panic, both the traveler and Neuvillette(the hydro dragon) get taken to different places, the traveler goes to Furina’s inner world where they learn her history as the supposed archon, and Neuvillette goes within the Oratrice Mechanique de Analyse cardinale, meeting Focalors for the first and last time as she explains her plan, needing Neuvillette to become familiar and endeared to the fontainians so that once he obtained his full dragonhood, he can absolve Fontaine for its sin, which after her execution with the energy she had stored, Neuvillette does just that.

as the traveler and Neuvillette return at the same time, they go to settle the matter with a narwhal that came from the abyss, one of the main causes to the flood, and by the time they finish, almost all of Fontaine is saved, and Furina leaves the opera house just as the flood had ended, drawn to the sound of people celebrating the fact the prophecy was wrong.

Though, upon gaining her newfound freedom, Furina fell into depression as she didn’t have anything else to do and believed that the others had gained resentment to her for deceiving them, though eventually(pretty quickly as it seems) she gets invited to an event where she realizes that with the freedom she has no need to be in solitude now, “returning” to her former, cheerful/dramatic self, though knowing properly when to pull back into being gentle.

bonus points if they got a jester/clown or royalty motif to them

[oceanmoss]

if i hear one more person talking about laser hair removal i'm seriously gonna start punching people shut the fuck uppppppppp i don't get the obsession i don't get going through all that bullshit because you're too scared to have hairy legs or a hairy vagina or whatever legit if you're soooo scared someone's gonna be repulsed by that then they're not even worth fucking lollll what is wrong with you . also what the hell are strawberry legs????? are we just inventing insecurities left and right now

[waugh-bao]

I was curious and able to find the full watch story. “Unknown to him, Charlie Watts taught me a very valuable lesson in life I will never forget. When I worked for@somlo_london as a young man learning my way in the 90's, I clearly recall an elderly skinny man would occasionally stop in to look around. Usually wearing a long black overcoat, large gothic silver rings and being hard of hearing in one ear, I didn't pay him much attention. Then one day I decided to make an effort and see what he was looking for. He wanted to see a rare slim deco platinum @cartier pocket watch in the window, I explained all about the importance and rarity of the watch and shocked when he said "I'll take it". Believing he couldn't be serious and thinking it's never a sale until paid for, I accepted his AMX credit card for payment, the name on the card was Mr Charles Watts. In those days nothing was electronic and for that value I had to call the authorisation centre. The AMX employee asked me if I recognised the person, which had never happened before, verifying his identify, Charlie handed me back the phone and AMX casually said, "yep, that's Charlie Watts, drummer for the Rolling Stones". In shock at my obvious poor judgement, I think my next remarks were to call him Sir, a lot. Realising my earlier error we chatted more and it turned out Mr Watts collected pocket watches and had cabinets made to display them. I introduced Charlie to Mr Somlo and we arranged to have special stands made for him. Never again did I judge someone by their appearance, as you simply never know.

Thank you for such a valuable lesson and RIP Charlie Watts, you were a gentleman.”

I wonder how they verified his identity. Secret question? If so I bet the answer was Charlie Parker.

Thank you so much for finding the actual post, that was such an interesting (and funny) read. And I can totally see Charlie Parker (or maybe Dave Tough) being his password. Or something Shirley related.

It’s really funny to me how this person just insists on calling Charlie elderly, because, depending upon what part of the ‘90s this was, he was somewhere between 49 and 58 years old and totally did not appear dramatically older than his age.

This is Charlie at three points (1990 - 1996 - 2000) across that decade and he always looks great for his 50s. I think people make weird snap judgments based on the gray/white hair and his personal style, which was very ‘40s.