#only for the action to catch up w/ them after the fact or if you get flustered

[starlit-eudemonia]

I loved this.

Hand kisses with Touchstarved LIs

Let's hope you're not the actual Touchstarved Mc, because that would fuck shit up. This may be a little bit OOC, but I just felt like writing. Also I do not ever EVER write, so why did i do this????

The inside of your wrist

He's a wrist guy, he loves kissing the inside of your wrist. He keeps giving them all the time whether you're in a public setting or sharing an intimate moment. In public, usually, it's just a sweet peck on the inside of your wrist while gently intertwining your fingers. But when the two of you are alone he takes it a step further, sometimes even playfully nibbling on your sensitive skin. You always feel him smiling against your wrist while doing so.

The back of your hand

Though it may appear quite formal to others, it's his way of showing his admiration for you. He's very polite and follows a well-practiced routine for these hand kisses. It begins with a bow, his hand reaching for yours and lifting it to his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, silently asking for permission. Only then does he grant a tender kiss upon your hand. No matter how many times this ritual has been repeated, he's committed to doing it again and again.

Your knuckles

Knuckle kisser here, you can't change my mind. Even though he heals quickly after fights and his knuckles have no bruises, he still sees them kind of intimidating. So he just likes yours, because it's the same body part but still so gentle compared to his. He plants loving kisses on your knuckles and enjoys tracing his fingers along them, just feeling the texture of your soft skin. When you're alone this after-session can take several minutes.

Your palm

Beware of the dog. The dog will bite! Do not ever trust this man. Especially at night, he likes the sensation of your palms and fingers caressing his lovely face, occasionally leaning into your touch. You might believe your gestures are lulling him to sleep, but again do not trust him! Just as you lower your guard, he surprises you by biting on your palm. (His favorite spot is the Venus mount!) I'd like to say it's just a gentle bite, but it probably hurts like hell, so I hope you're into it!

The back of your fingers

I think they're someone who doesn't typically interlock their fingers with yours when you hold hands. Instead, they prefer to hold the tips of your fingers or just sweetly intertwine your pinkies. This works just fine, as they have the perfect angle to raise your fingers gently to their lips, planting a brief kiss upon them whenever you're on the move. Their touch is confident, but he is NOT. Don't expect this in front of others.

[bambisnc]

𝖷𝖮 ♡ use me, i'll be your genie

                  ❪ ➴ ❫───엔하이픈; asking them to teach you how to kiss

ft. bsf!OT7 % hcs + 1.5k (180+ per member) && w. kiss talk ˖ ✧

♡ [ 1-800-XO HOTLINE ] : new layout #bless ++ no one talk to me ab this for 3 business days. but i do personally LOVE how this turned out icl

                  🔗. 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝘍i𝖫𝖤 ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂𝖦𝘈𝖳𝖤 ✮

이희승 — ❪ LEE HEESEUNG ❫  

౨ৎ as soon as he hears you casually bring up the question—a simple “so will you do it?”—heeseung responds with a flat out refusal. nope. no way. nuh-uh. 

it’s not like he particularly hates the idea of kissing you, hell, he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few (or slightly more than that) times. 

but … past experiences have made it plenty clear that the thin line between friendship and something more is delicate. one wrong move, one wrong act, and the entire dynamic could crumble.

when you huffily tell him to forget about it, wanting to keep some face, he immediately protests. 

“no wait! just... don’t ask anyone else to do it. if—if it has to be someone, i’d rather it be me.”

before the sentence is even finished, he’s closing the gap between you; hands cautious, touch careful.

heeseung’s lips brush against your jaw first, dipping slightly to the plane of your neck before tracing their way back up. if he has to do this he’ll do it right.

your breath catches and he pulls back, just barely, before looking at you to ask if you really want this. you can only hope the way your hands rest on his shoulder are enough to convey your yes.

zero palpable hesitation, his kiss drips with confidence. like he has a point to prove. like he’s decided that if you are crossing this line, it might just have been waiting for you both all along.

          ⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

박종성 — ❪ JAY PARK ❫  

౨ৎ with one too many jabs about your "inability to pull bitches" and your "lack of rizz" from him, you will definitely be regretting your question within 10 minutes, tops. 

because of course jay’s first reaction would be to make fun of the fact that you actually have to stoop to the level of asking him for help. 

you try to huffily leave the rooftop at least thrice but he just laughs and tugs you right back to him by your sleeve.

before you know it, almost as if he hadn’t spent the last half an hour now teasing you unrelentingly, he casually leans in. 

shifting closer so imperceptibly that you don’t even notice at first, eyes skimming over your features, unreadable smirk ever present as he angles your chin towards him—mumbling a quick “no time like the present, yeah?”—and then he kisses you. 

no warning. no build up. just his mouth on yours, his touch patient but deliberate, with him simply choosing to allow his gentle actions to ease you into it. 

somehow, the silence letting you get lost in the moment is worse.

심재윤 — ❪ JAKE SIM ❫  

౨ৎ when what jake had originally imagined to be an ordinary study session at the library, ends up with you having him pressed up against one of the shelves, he really can’t be blamed for his flustered reaction. 

okay, so sure, maybe blushing and bursting into laughter right in your face at you asking him to teach you how to kiss wasn’t the most appropriate response. so, sue him.

and fine, maybe you didn’t mean to let it escalate this much. he’s now visibly bothered, ears pink, and hands twitching awkwardly by his sides. “y-you’re serious about this? really? i just thought—”

you weren’t serious. you swear it. you really only meant to tease him. but then his wide eyes fluttered down to your lips once, twice, and... really how could you be expected to stop after that?

“d'you still find this funny?” you can’t help but murmur, voice barely more than a whisper.

he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, like he has something to say. you see the exact moment he decides to lean in—tentative, a movement laced with anticipation. 

and that’s exactly when you pull back.

“guess you’ll have to take this more seriously next time.” 

and then you’re walking off, leaving him standing there—flushed, stunned, and definitely no longer laughing.

박성훈 — ❪ PARK SUNGHOON ❫  

౨ৎ winner of the most nonchalant award !! you need help practicing how to kiss? sure. what else are best friends for?

he promises he’ll only be slightly cocky about it. “if you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask.”

“i don’t,” you’d shoot back, but the way he has to hide how the corner of his mouth quirks up, shows that he clearly doesn’t believe a word.

you ramble on a little about how this is just to familiarize yourself with the entire process, how it’s overrated and not even that deep—like why does a “first” kiss even matter? it’s literally just a kiss.

all sunghoon responds with is an easy “sure.” like you asked him the time. “c’mere.”

no teasing, no embarrassment. his hands are comforting at your waist and the kiss is slower than you expect. more cautious. when he pulls back, his voice is low, even. too even.

“there you go. you’re not half bad.”

he seems nonchalant, sure, yet... the faint red on his features tells a completely different story.

김선우 — ❪ KIM SUNWOO ❫  

౨ৎ “you’re joking, right? Right?.”

sunoo stands up—he did always have a thing for dramatics—like he needs to have free range of motion to be able to process what you just said. 

“you,” his fingers points accusingly like you’ve committed a grave sin, “want me,” finger pointing back at his own now pacing figure, “to teach you how to kiss?!”

his conviction is so strong that you almost believe in the sacrilege yourself.

you eventually interrupt him with an airy mention of just "dropping it" because you can always ask someone else.

“do you even know,” he gasps at that, “how easily people could literally take advantage of you if you walk up to them and say that??” 

you snort, brushing him off. you’re confident, positive that you can handle yourself. 

but when he moves next you hardly expect him to crowd into your space, pinning you against the bed you’d been lazily lounging against.

his lips ghost over yours, not touching but close enough that you can feel the words he says next before you hear them. “confident huh? i guess we’ll see how well you handle this, then.”

safe to say … lesson learnt. (maybe.)

양정원 — ❪ YANG JUNGWON ❫  

౨ৎ finding yourself alone on classroom cleaning duty is usually plenty boring. it’s only natural you’d have … some interesting thoughts to distract you from the mundanity of the chore.

but thankfully, your best friend happens to be suffering on duty with you too! what better way to pass time than a quick chat with him?

so when you half jokingly bring up the idea you don’t really expect anything to come out of it. 

and the surprisingly positive response you get is, if nothing else, a tad bit unexpected. jungwon almost seems to be a little too thrilled at the prospect. “so,” his face is carefully neutral, but years of knowing him have made you rather familiar to that knowing sparkle in his gaze, “this would purely be for educational purposes?”

you nod, still half thinking this is just hypothetical. he nods back in response. 

he moves slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like this is something he doesn’t even have to think twice about.

you find your face cupped in both his hands and all your follow up questions silenced as he presses kiss after kiss to your lips, unorganized desks remaining forgotten.

"i'd hate to get in the way of proper learning, after all." is his only explanation as he lets you up for air (much) later.

西村 力 — ❪ NISHIMURA RIKI ❫  

౨ৎ it’s actually him who jokingly brings it up.

some offhand comment about first kisses tasting like lemons. when you admit you wouldn’t know, considering you haven’t had yours, he pauses. almost as if considering the logistics of what he’s about to say. 

to fill the silence, you add a “you could teach me, you know.” not meaning anything by it at all.

but you can only blink when in a tone that is way too assured he says, “i could.”

“…huh?”

ni-ki has the gall to shrug at that, eyes glued to whatever 2000’s cheesy romcom you’d picked out earlier that evening. he insists you should get some ‘real experience’ and that it’d be a disservice to society (i.e., all the boys you could potentially date in the future) not to help you out.

one would think he's doing you a public service by how much he talks it up.

you roll your eyes, deciding to play along. if he wants to take the joke this far, you might as well get some fun out of it.

naturally, his only way to deal with your unserious attitude is to prove his point. 

one short kiss melts into two, three, four—you end up losing count. and frankly, you couldn’t be bothered one bit about it.

his thumb brushes against your slightly swollen lips, stopping you when you chase after his own again, and you almost hate how he seems so composed.

“don’t overthink it.” he says, sealing the words with one last kiss to your forehead, a complete contrast to the earlier rushed ones, “i’ve got you.”

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 @amatabelle @i-am-not-dal @liyahhhh620 @elleetlalune @eunwonji @s0shroe @wensurr ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[shidoglazer]

🔞 nagireo x reader oneshot mdni threesome

boyfriend!nagi who just happens to have an eye candy bestfriend..

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

nagi seishiro has been your boyfriend for a little over a year, and having known him for that long means you’ll also recognise reo mikage, his best friend that just happened to be the heartthrob of the trio. you weren’t an exception to this, you found reo mikage hot, charming and passionate about love. its not that you didn’t love nagi, its just an obvious fact that reo’s hot.. that’s what you’re thinking to justify your own actions, at least.

at first, it started out as subtle actions that caught your attention. whenever nagi wasn’t there with you, he’ll be hinting at the fact nagi wasn’t the brightest person and how he could treat someone like you so much better. then, it started getting physical. he’d grab onto your waist while navigating through a big crowd, when you’d point it out, he’d just say “it’s just to keep you safe, do you know how many people get injured in crowds?” you didn’t think much of it, reo was a sweetheart after all.

nagi wasn’t stupid, he’d catch on quickly that reo wanted you too. he’d grumble under his breath whenever you two got a little more touchy then usual, and once you’re back home with him he’ll fuck his frustration and jealousy into you. it’s not like he can say anything about reo wanting to share you, he’s his best friend, best friends share things. and you’re just so pretty. how could anyone resist you?

one day, things got a little too physical. while you and reo were waiting for nagi to come back home from the game shop, you two were talking and laughing side by side, subconsciously his hand would trail to your thigh to grip it whenever he was teasing you, or he’d fiddle on your hair when praising you. and as you did it back to him, there was no way he could hide his boner now. it was basically tenting under his sweatpants. one thing led to another, and now you were sat on reos lap, grinding against his shaft. what you didn’t know is that reo got a little too cheeky…

[@reomikage: Treasure :)) Better come back home quick if you want to join us.]

[@nag1sei: ? join what]

[@reomikage: {attachment} ]

[@nag1sei: u always do this 🫠 dont play w her too much please im omw :x]

as your moans got louder while you grinded faster against reos clothed cock with nothing on but your slicked-filled panties, the door to the bedroom opened gently. your eyes widened in panic, trying to get off of reo while he just held you there by your waist, making you stay put. nagi closed the door and set down the bag of stuff he just bought, walking over to you two.

“couldn’t even wait for me to start the fun. y’re so mean, reo.”

“wha?— huh-” “welcome back treasure.”

confused was an understatement. you were bewildered. what was going on?? did they plan this?- before you could even think straight, nagi climbed onto the bed and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his knees in between reos spread out thighs. you whimpered at the sudden touch while your grinding has completely stopped. nagi placed a kiss on your neck before lifting his head up, looking up at reo who started to speak.

“which part of her do you want? it’s only fair if i let you choose, right?”

nagi groaned uncomfortably at the fact he had to share you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pondered on it.

“i dunno. ‘want your hole and hers too. like how we did last time.” “anything for you.”

..last time?? they fucked before? and nagi didn’t even think of telling you?? you were beyond confusion, and even when you tried to speak, the words just got stuck in your throat.

. ★ .

you were laid onto the edge of the bed with your cheek pushed against the mattress, back arched and cunt already prepped. reo was standing behind you alongside with nagi behind reo. it seemed so normal for them, but your heart was pounding in your chest. nagi wrapped his arms around reo and pushed him down lightly, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

“d’nt make too much noise reo.” reo scoffed at that, lining up his cock with your hole as he pushed in slowly, letting out a low groan as his hands sat on your hips. your legs kicked up gently from how deep he was, letting out small whimpers. as reo fully entered into you, he stopped to let you adjust. “good girl. so well behaved, mhm? gonna make us feel good?” you nodded stupidly in response, not having even processed what reo said.

nagi sighed at you both, making reo lay his body weight onto you as he lined up his cock with reos rear. “‘s such a hassle to do this, reo. y’re always too tight no matter how much i try to loosen you up.” and before reo could even respond, nagi shoved the whole thing in in one motion, earning a gasp from reo as he clutched the sheets on either side of him. nagi grunted softly as he pulled out a little, allowing space for reo to start moving.

“s-shit nagi! nngh, fuck..” reo was basically shaking like a leaf, breaths laboured as he tried to adjust to both sensations at once. he started slowly moving, thrusting into you while nagis cock slipped in and out of him. he was basically a moaning mess by now. you weren’t an exception either, if you knew earlier that reo’s cock could reach so deep into places that made you whine and squirm under him while he was making such pretty noises, you would’ve had proposed this earlier. each time he moved, the room was filled with you two’s moans and the sound of skin slapping.

nagi let out low groans, his hands placed on reos ass as he gave it light pats. “y’two are being so noisy. people are gonna hear how good my cock is making you feel, reo.” reo whimpered in response, letting out a staggered groan. “ssshush.. she’s squeezing me too tight and you’re too, fucking big!” nagi hummed softly, hands trailing to reos waist and stopping his movements, earning a whine from you and a breath of relief from reo. “jus relax. i can hear you crying already. lemme do it.”

his hands trailed back to reos hips, starting to thrust into him, causing reos hips to move along. you weren’t sure how, but this felt so much better. it felt like it was sending shockwaves down your spine. you clutched onto the sheets while nagis pace was fast. you and reo both were squirming beneath him while nagi was still moving like he was completely unbothered. you’re not sure how, but nagi made sure all three of you came at the same time.

he inhaled sharply when he came into reos hole while reo was a whining mess, having such sensations in both of his parts made it feel like euphoria, but you were the one who was the most fucked out, you weren’t even sure whose name to call when you came, instead letting out some weird incomprehensible words while you moaned.

nagi made you two lay onto the bed, seeing how exhausted you both were. he grabbed some warm towels and started cleaning you both up, letting out small hums in agreement whenever you two were spurting gibberish.

“same time next week?” “i’ll think about it.”

thanks 4 reading through ^^ !! sorry if there are any mistakes or ooc things

★ check out my masterlist!

[amourane]

kick in the right direction

pairing: football player!seungcheol x mascot!reader

genre: fluff, university au

w/c: 0.9k

summary: seungcheol is the star football player in your university but he becomes a bumbling mess in front of you.

warnings: none, you do get hit by a ball though

a/n: i have decided to start writing fics for seventeen too because i just love them way way too much <3 also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He usually has an explanation for his actions. There doesn’t seem to be anything coming to his mind when he sees you on the ground. The problem with being the star player on the football team was the amount of trust his coach put on him. As well as the thought that they needed to win every game, that wasn’t a problem though because Choi Seungcheol was a beast when he was in game mode. His aim was the best on the whole team, he’d never missed a goal. 

Obviously today was an off day.

“You’re staring, Cheol.” Jeonghan gives him a hearty slap on the back. “You really like our school mascot don’t you?” All Seungcheol can do is nod, watching as Seungkwan helps you up.

He really wants to go over and say sorry for nearly knocking you out with his kick but he can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he simply can’t. It’s stupid really. Choi Seungcheol, star player of the football team, can’t say two words when he’s faced with you. He’s tried speaking to you. Once after a game, not the best choice because he’d become so nervous he spilt his water bottle all over you. Even after you told him it was fine he was still stuttering his words. Another time he’d managed to catch you walking down the hallway. The moment you smiled and said ‘hi’ his mind blanked. No words could come out of his mouth and he stood there gaping like a goldfish.

Talking to girls was easy for Seungcheol. He could give them a smile and they’d be fawning all over him. You were different. There isn’t one time he’s had a full conversation with you with nothing embarrassing happening. He’d stumble over his words or nothing would come out of his mouth. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the fact you would grin every time he came up to you and he didn’t like giving up.

“Of course I like her!” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “I just don't know what to do?”

“You could ask her out.”

“I can’t!” 

His friend arches an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean you can't ask her out? Like you're scared, or you don't know how to, because those two are completely different things." Jeonghan's tone is gentle but probing, urging Seungcheol to confront the root of his hesitation.

“That’s not it. I’ve got everything planned out. I know what to say and I know where I want to bring her to. There’s a whole plan in my notebook, it’s coloured in and everything!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Whenever I go up to her to ask her out my throat closes and I can’t find the right words. Or when I try to even write my confession, my hand freezes and no letters can be written. It’s even worse because I manage to make a fool of myself whenever I���m in front of her!” He kicks the football away.

Jeonghan sighs, staring at Seungcheol as he aimed a perfect kick to the goal. The boy was completely enamoured by you. Practically the whole school knew about his crush on you. Everyone was just waiting for the day the both of you would come in hand in hand. 

//

“Y/n, oh my god! Are you okay?” Seungkwan was shaking you by your shoulders. You rub your head. That football was really hard. Who knew air could hurt you? “How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves three fingers around and your eyes struggle to adjust to his trembling hand.

“Calm down. I just got hit in the head, I don’t have a concussion or anything.” You just know there’s going to be a huge bump on your forehead tomorrow. “It’s partly Stuart’s fault.” You pat the dragon costume you had on. The fuzzy green body was heavy and the long swishy tail at the back was quite annoying to lug around.

"Why are you blaming our mascot? Stuart did nothing wrong," Seungkwan interjects, shooting a pointed glare at Seungcheol. "Star player my ass." He mutters under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“Hey, don’t blame him. I’m sure it was an accident.” You give Seungcheol a little smile and an ‘okay’ sign to tell him everything was fine. 

“I can’t believe you like that dumbass, he can’t string two sentences together when he’s in front of you.” Seungkwan helps you up, handing you Stuart’s head. You dust off the dirt on your costume. 

What was there not to like about Choi Seungcheol? He was popular, athletic, smart and talented in everything. Not to mention he was the literal definition of eye candy. There hadn’t been many occasions where you two had met. He’d always stutter helplessly or his cheeks would resemble a fire truck, which was very endearing. It was quite funny seeing him stumble over his words whenever he tried to ask you out.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? You already know he likes you, not that he makes it the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“But isn't it just the cutest thing when he tries to ask me out but he’s a stuttering blushing mess?” You giggle when you catch sight of the pout Seungcheol has on his face. “I hope he asks me out soon though, I can’t wait to finally go on a date with him.” 

The smile you shoot at Seungcheol has him tripping over his feet, face planting into the ground. Suppressing your laughter behind your hand, you watch as he hurriedly picks himself up, only to see his teammates rolling on the floor with amusement.

“How long are you even willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

[chogiwow]

the law of unintended consequences. | jake sim (part three)

→ posits that actions often have unforeseen and unanticipated effects, which may be positive, negative, or neutral, that are not part of the actor's original intent. MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

pairing: astrophysicist jake x assistant reader

genre: co-workers to lovers

wc: part 1 – 20k | part 2 – 17.3k | part 3 - 21.2k

warnings: even more slowburn than before lol, topics of abandonment issues, jake has his first kiss, makeouts, some touching (that's as far as it goes), cheesy ass astronomy rizz :'D

a/n: part 3 is hereee ! and apparently ! there's gonna be one more part :'D bc i can't write for shit w/o making my characters go through emotional hell

seventeen.

life goes on, as is bound to.

you still wake up at six every morning, rushing to get ready because you prefer to dawdle in bed for half an hour before realisation strikes that you’re going to be late again. you still alternate between cereals and toast, a simple breakfast, before you catch the bus to your work.

it's a routine you’ve followed for months now, and you’re finally settling into it.

work still kicks your ass, but you get through it. 

somehow, though, something has changed. the night at the observatory had been the catalyst to this.

it’s subtle at first. the way jake acknowledges you more, the way his gaze lingers for just a second longer when you pass by his office. the way his notes keep coming – little comments, little jokes, little facts about the universe that make you pause and smile before you tuck them away in your drawer.

like the slow drift of galaxies, expanding ever so slightly over time – so gradual that no one on earth would ever feel it. the kind of change that isn’t obvious until you stop and measure it, until you realize the stars aren’t where they used to be. that’s what this feels like. that’s what you and jake are becoming.

it’s in the way he lingers by your desk a little longer than necessary after handing you a report.. it’s in the way your name sounds when he says it – less clipped, more like a thought spoken aloud, like he was already in the middle of thinking about you before he even called you.

the universe is always changing, he told you once. expansion isn’t a choice, just a consequence of existence. even if you tried to hold everything still, the shift would happen anyway, quietly, inevitably.

maybe that’s why you don’t fight it. why you let these moments unfold, pretending not to notice the way his shoulder nearly brushes yours when you stand too close at the coffee station. or how his gaze lingers just a second longer when he thinks you’re not looking.

but it’s not just at work.

somewhere along the way, he’s started integrating himself into your routine in ways that don’t feel intentional, yet keep happening anyway.

like how you keep running into him at the coffee machine in the morning, a barely-awake jake muttering something about how caffeine is the only thing keeping him alive, while you groggily nod in agreement. or how, somehow, without ever planning it, you both always seem to leave work around the same time, walking to the bus stop together in companionable silence, the city lights stretching out ahead of you.

and then, there are the lunches.

you don’t know when those became a thing. it started with that one lunch invitation – one that you thought was an exception, a random occurrence. but then it happened again. and again. and now, it’s just… part of the day.

"are we getting lunch?" he asks you casually one afternoon, not even looking up from his screen.

you pause, caught off guard. "uh, i guess?"

he hums, nodding, like that settles it.

and just like that, it’s a thing.

there are conversations, too – ones that go beyond deadlines and reports. ones where you learn that jake likes books about astronomy, not so big on fiction. that he’s been working on a research paper in his free time, though he never lets you see it. that he still thinks about his mother’s cooking when he’s stressed, though he rarely has the time to make anything himself.

and in turn, you tell him things, too. about your family. about how you used to excel in your art classes, how this job had been a way to repay student loans but you were starting to enjoy it. about the little bakery you stop by every friday after work because their pastries remind you of home.

he listens. really listens.

you don’t know when it happens, but one day, you wake up, go about your morning routine, and realize – jake sim is a part of your life now.

and it feels… weirdly normal.

so it's easy to pick up on cues now. it's easy for you to discern the frown on his face when he’s thinking about a complicated calculation or what to eat for lunch.

it started small.

at first, you didn’t even notice the way jake had started paying attention. you were too used to being the one who did the noticing, who made sure he was okay, who subtly adjusted things in his life so that he could function without running himself into the ground.

but then, there was the first time.

it had been one of those days where you just wake up feeling tired, like some age old fatigue settling in your bones. you had been running on four hours of sleep, your brain foggy and sluggish, a dull headache pressing at your temples as you tried to focus on the report in front of you. it was late, and most of the office had emptied out. the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound accompanying the rapid clicks of your keyboard.

and then, out of nowhere – a cup of tea materialises on your desk.

you blinked at it, then up at jake, who was standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“i heard peppermint tea is good for headaches,” he said simply. “figured you could use something.”

you stared at him, trying to process the gesture. jake wasn’t the type to do things like this – at least, not before. he accepted help, sure. he let you fuss over him when he got too caught up in work, too lost in his thoughts to remember to eat or drink water. but this? this was different. besides, how had he even figured out you were coming down with a dull pounding in your head?

still, you took the tea, murmuring a quiet, “thanks,” as you wrapped your hands around the warmth of the cup.

the next time, it was an umbrella.

you had forgotten yours at home on the one day it decided to rain, and just as you were mentally preparing yourself to brave the storm, jake appeared beside you at the entrance, wordlessly opening his umbrella and tilting it over you.

you looked at him, startled.

“what—”

“i’m heading out anyway,” he said, as if that explained everything. “might as well walk you to the station.”

you didn’t argue. you weren’t sure you could, with the way your chest tightened at the thought that he had noticed – had thought about you, even in passing.

then, there were the snacks. the ones you mentioned liking once in a conversation weeks ago, the ones you’d find in the break room with a note in his messy handwriting that read, for when you forget to eat.

the way he started subtly shifting schedules around so that you wouldn’t have to stay too late. the way he made sure your favorite tea was stocked in the kitchen, even though you never asked.

and then, there was today.

you were having one of those days. the ones where everything felt like too much – too loud, too fast, too overwhelming. the emails were piling up, your head was throbbing, and every little thing was grating on your nerves. you just wanted to finish your work and go home.

jake seemed to sense it before you even said anything.

you barely had time to react before he was pulling you away from your desk, leading you toward the quiet sanctuary of the rooftop, devoid of emails, and computer screens and irritating fluorescent lights.

you let yourself be guided, confusion simmering beneath your exhaustion.

“what—”

“you need a break,” he said simply. how the tables had turned.

he wasn’t wrong, but still – you hesitated.

“i have work—”

“it’ll still be there when you get back.”

the words were firm, leaving no room for argument. and maybe that was what finally made you relent, allowing him to tug you into the dimly lit space where the city lights couldn’t reach, where the stars were endless and infinite above you.

for a moment, there was silence.

then—

“you’re always looking after me,” jake said, voice quieter now. “but who looks after you?”

your breath hitched.

the words caught you off guard, unraveling something deep inside you, something you hadn’t even realized you had been holding onto. you never really thought about it – not in those terms. you were fine, you always told yourself. you managed.

but jake… he had noticed.

and when you didn’t answer right away, he exhaled softly.

“i do,” he said, so matter-of-factly it made your chest ache. “i will.”

you turned to look at him then, only to find that he was already watching you. there was something there, something in the way he was looking at you that made it hard to breathe.

and suddenly, you realize it all happening. the dull thudding against your chest, the beginnings of a tremor in your hands, the way your eyes trembled slightly, unsure of what to do, where to look.

the world hadn’t stopped spinning, the weight on your shoulders hadn’t disappeared, but standing here – beneath an endless sky, with jake’s steady gaze holding yours – you felt something shift.

like the earth’s axis tilting ever so slightly, a small, imperceptible change that altered everything in ways no one would notice at first. but given time, given gravity – eventually, everything would feel different.

eighteen.

jake doesn’t consider himself the petty type. he really doesn’t.

but when you stroll into the office that morning, casually greeting jay with an easy, “morning, jay,” followed by a teasing, “you look like you had a long night,” jake feels something inexplicable twist in his chest. it’s not jealousy. no, that would be ridiculous. it’s just… unfair. unjust, even.

because when you turn to him, all he gets is a polite nod and a warm, “morning, dr. sim.”

dr. sim.

why does that sound so… wrong?

he tries to brush it off, truly. it’s just a name, a title, nothing personal. but all throughout the day, it needles at him, distracting him in the worst ways. he hears it every time you approach him, every time you hand him a file, every time you leave a post-it on his desk with a reminder about a report.

dr. sim, dr. sim, dr. sim.

is that really all he is to you?

jay gets to be ‘jay,’ but he’s stuck being ‘dr. sim?’

he doesn't bring it up right away. that would be ridiculous. childish, even. but by the time the workday is winding down and you’re standing at his desk, waiting for him to sign off on something, he can’t hold it in any longer.

jake clicks his pen a little too aggressively as he signs off on the last document, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. he shouldn’t care this much. he really shouldn’t. but after hours of hearing “dr. sim” fall so effortlessly from your lips while jay gets the privilege of a casual “jay,” he’s had enough.

“you call jay by his first name,” he says, his voice carefully measured as he hands the file back to you.

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden statement. “uh… yeah?”

“and me?”

you hesitate, brow furrowing slightly. “you’re dr. sim?”

something about his expression makes you pause, studying him a little closer. he’s looking at you with that unreadable intensity again, the one that makes you feel like he’s solving some impossible equation in his head. you tilt your head, suddenly amused.

jake sighs, setting his pen down. “right, of course. but it wasn’t always ‘dr. sim.’”

you tilt your head, clearly not following. “what do you mean?”

he leans back in his chair, studying you. “you used to call me jake.” well, you had just called him that one time.

at that, your brows furrow. “no, i didn’t.”

jake levels you with a look. “yes, you did. once.”

you still look unconvinced, so he elaborates, voice softening ever so slightly. “it was when my mother was in the hospital.”

something flickers across your face, and oh – there it is. recognition.

jake watches as you straighten, lips parting slightly before you quickly school your expression. “i—” you clear your throat, shifting on your feet. “i didn’t mean to. it just slipped.”

jake quirks a brow. “so it was an accident?”

you look distinctly uncomfortable now, gaze darting to the side as you mutter, “i wasn’t really thinking, that’s all.”

because how the hell are you supposed to respond to this anyway? is he confronting you about calling him by his first name that one time or is he trying to…? no, that would be hoping for too much.

jake exhales through his nose, fighting back a smirk. “well,” he says, reaching for his pen again. “think about it.”

you frown. “think about what?”

he signs off on the document with a final flourish before pushing it toward you, meeting your gaze with something unreadable. “calling me jake again.”

your brain short-circuits. completely malfunctions. “what?”

its like you’ve forgotten how to string together sentences, you talk in mono syllables now.

jake shrugs, oh-so casual. “you already did it once.”

“that was—” you huff, flustered beyond belief. “that was different.”

he tilts his head. “how?”

you glare at him. “it just was.”

jake is grinning now, and it’s so unfair how smug he looks. like he’s won something. “alright, if you say so.”

you don’t press him, nor this abrupt demand for calling him by his first name, simply snatch the report off his desk and exit as quickly as you can, willing the flush in your cheeks to calm down. but the thought lingers in your mind the entire day, stretching into the moments that follow.

the thing is, jake isn’t used to wanting things. he’s always been good at compartmentalizing, at focusing on what matters and dismissing everything else as unnecessary distraction. but this – you – are slipping past his carefully drawn boundaries, making space in places he hadn’t thought to guard.

and it’s not just the way you call him dr. sim.

it’s the way your laughter carries through the office, light and infectious, somehow making the fluorescent lights feel less harsh. it’s the way you scribble little doodles on post-its when you leave notes for him, sometimes of constellations, sometimes of a tiny spaceship floating aimlessly in the margins. it’s the way you frown at your computer screen when you’re concentrating too hard, the way you murmur “please cooperate” to the printer like it has any choice in the matter.

he starts noticing things he shouldn’t.

like how your shoulders tense when you’re stressed, and how you always roll them out absentmindedly when you think no one’s watching. how you tap your fingers against your mug while waiting for your coffee to cool. how you always seem to instinctively seek out the quietest corners of a room, as if subconsciously drawn to spaces where you can just breathe.

jake isn’t sure when his awareness of you started tipping into something more. he only knows that once it did, there was no undoing it.

maybe that’s why, when the workday finally winds down and you’re getting ready to leave, he finds himself blurting out, “i’ll give you a ride home.”

you pause, hand frozen over the strap of your bag. “what?”

he clears his throat, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. “you take the bus, right? i can drop you off.”

before you can respond, jay snorts from his desk. “damn. guess my offer to drive you home just got revoked.”

jake shoots him a glare, but jay only grins, visibly enjoying the moment far too much. meanwhile, you shift your attention back to jake, expression unreadable.

“you don’t have to do that,” you say slowly.

“i know.”

you hesitate for another moment before nodding. “alright, dr. sim. if you insist.”

jake stiffens.

you’re teasing him – he can hear it in your tone, see it in the amused glint in your eyes. but still. after everything, ‘dr. sim’ still feels like a wall between you. he opens his mouth, ready to say something, but then you’re already brushing past him, walking toward the exit with an easy, “i’ll meet you outside.”

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face before following you out.

the drive is quiet at first, but not uncomfortably so. the city lights blur past in a steady rhythm, the hum of the engine filling the space between you.

then you shift slightly in your seat, glancing at him. “you really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

jake keeps his eyes on the road. “i know.”

you watch him for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “you’re hard to read sometimes.”

that gets his attention. he flicks a glance at you, eyebrow raised. “am i?”

“mhm.” you tilt your head against the window, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “sometimes i think i’ve got you figured out. and then you do something unexpected.”

jake hums, considering. “like offering you a ride?”

“exactly.” you grin. “it’s very… un-dr. sim-like.”

he exhales sharply through his nose. “right. because i’m just dr. sim to you.”

your grin falters slightly, the teasing air shifting into something quieter. you don’t answer right away, and he doesn’t push. the silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. it just lingers, like something unspoken settling between you.

jake for his part can’t comprehend why he said that. his fingers curl around the steering wheel, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you try not to blatantly stare at his lean fingers. just the thought makes you want to bang your head against a wall because what the actual fuck?

this was not normal.

then again, nothing about this situation is normal. if someone told you a month ago that you’d be sitting in the jake sim’s car while he drove you home… you would have laughed and commended them on their imagination. but now?

jake tightens his grip on the wheel, jaw clenching slightly. he hates that he’s thinking about this. about you. about the way your voice softened just then, like maybe you were considering something you hadn’t before. and he hates even more that he’s noticing things he shouldn’t – like the way you shift in your seat when you’re deep in thought, or the way your fingers play idly with the zipper of your bag.

it’s distracting.

you, in general, are distracting.

he exhales slowly, forcing his thoughts back to the road. he’s good at controlling his emotions – has spent years perfecting the art of keeping things measured, composed, professional. but there’s something about you that makes it difficult. like you’re slowly dismantling his careful walls without even realizing it.

you shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space between you feels. the air is charged now, thick with something neither of you are acknowledging outright.

jake swallows. he doesn’t know why he brought it up. maybe because he wants to hear you say his name again. and not just by accident. maybe because he wants to know if it meant anything to you at all. maybe because he’s realizing, with a slow, sinking certainty, that the sound of his own name in your voice did something to him that he can’t quite explain.

you study his profile, the sharp angles of his face softened by the dim glow of the dashboard. there’s something different about him in this moment. something rawer, more unguarded. and for a second, just a second, you wonder what would happen if you said it again. just to see how he would react.

but then you hesitate.

because you know, instinctively, that if you do – if you let yourself cross that line – there will be no going back.

a few minutes later, you break the silence. “wait—”

jake barely has time to register your alarm before you turn to him, laughing in disbelief. “we don’t even live in the same direction, do we?”

jake tightens his grip on the wheel, resisting the urge to groan. because, no, you don’t. and he knew that. he just… he just didn’t think that far ahead.

you laugh again, shaking your head. “you really offered me a ride without knowing where i live?”

“i—” he exhales sharply, gripping the wheel tighter. “i wasn’t thinking.”

“that’s new.” you shoot him a grin, eyes twinkling. “dr. sim, not thinking things through?”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. there’s no point. he walked himself straight into this one.

eventually, he sighs, fighting the urge to bite his lips because he can feel your stare and it's making him nervous.

“thank you,” you say, “it’s kinda nice to actually sit on my way home.” it's just a joke to you, but this piece of information is new to jake and he’s already filing it away in a cabinet in his mind that he’s subconsciously come to dedicate to you.

jake glances at you, but you’re looking out the window again, city lights reflected in your eyes. and for some reason, his heart does something weird in his chest.

you continue, voice softer this time. “also it’s been a while since i had a quiet drive like this.”

jake doesn’t know what to say to that. so he just focuses on the road, letting the moment settle.

the rest of the drive is quieter, but it’s different this time. less awkward, more… something else. something almost comfortable. like neither of you feel the need to fill the silence.

when he finally pulls up in front of your place, you don’t get out immediately. instead, you linger for a second, fingers tapping against your bag. and you take a shot at whatever this was. at whatever this was about to become. good or bad.

jake doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush you, just waits. his hands are still on the steering wheel, but his grip is loose now, relaxed.

you take a slow breath. you don’t know why this moment feels important – like stepping over an invisible line you won’t be able to cross back over. but you recognize the weight of it all the same.

you shift slightly in your seat, turn toward him, and say quietly, “thanks for the ride, jake.”

it’s subtle, the way he reacts, but you see it all the same.

his fingers twitch where they rest. his posture stiffens, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. and then there’s his eyes – warm and dark in the dim lighting, holding yours for just a fraction longer than necessary.

it’s a simple thing, calling someone by their name. but with him, it feels like something more. like offering a piece of yourself you didn’t realize you had been keeping at arm’s length. like letting him step just a little closer, even though you don’t know if you’re ready for it.

jake.

the name lingers on your tongue, settles into the space between you. it feels different from dr. sim, feels different from the careful distance you’ve been trying to maintain. more familiar, more intimate. more dangerous.

you should get out of the car. you should say goodnight and go inside before this shifts into something you can’t take back.

but instead, you linger.

jake doesn’t look away. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t break the moment, just lets it settle the way he does with most things – quietly, carefully, like he’s turning it over in his mind before deciding what to do with it.

and you? you sit there, pulse thrumming in your throat, because for the first time in a long time, you realize you want something you shouldn’t.

the problem is, you don’t know if you’re brave enough to take it.

nineteen.

you don’t call him ‘jake’ all that often.

truthfully, he had half expected you to go back to last name basis with him and you had in fact, but jake quickly learned that it was only when you had to be formal. notifying him about kang’s incoming rounds? he’s dr. sim again. the words are professional, as if drawing a clear boundary between the workday and whatever exists outside of it. but then there are moments where the distinction blurs.

the end of a long shift when you linger in the doorway of his office, hesitation evident in the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other. a thoughtful pause before you ask if he’s heading out soon, if maybe you could walk together. and in those moments, he’s jake.

knocking on his door quietly just five minutes before lunch, your head peeking in and your fingers gripping the doorframe, asking him shyly whether you would have lunch together again? he’s jake then. and the way you say it – soft, almost careful – does something to him. it’s the kind of thing he shouldn’t be thinking too hard about, but he does anyway.

because it’s different. there’s a familiarity in it that wasn’t there before. a warmth that seeps in through the cracks of whatever this dynamic is. he tells himself he won’t read into it. he tells himself it’s just a name. and yet, when you brighten slightly at his nod, he wonders if maybe you don’t dislike calling him jake as much as you pretend to.

jake doesn’t think much of it at first.

doesn’t tease you about the way you seem visibly flustered while doing this. doesn’t push you to pick one, rather lets you do what you’re comfortable with. but it lingers in the back of his mind, a quiet thought he doesn’t quite know what to do with. the realization settles in during the most mundane of moments – when he’s typing out a report, when he’s sipping his coffee, when he’s scrolling through his phone. it clicks, all at once, that you only ever call him by his first name in the quieter, more personal moments. not when you’re in a room full of people. not when there’s an audience. just when it’s the two of you, when the words carry a different kind of weight.

he tries hard not to smile like a lunatic at his screen at the realization. he fails miserably.

jake can feel it – a quiet sort of courage, inching its way into his chest. it’s fragile, tentative, and it crumbles a little every time he watches you move through the world so effortlessly. the way you strike up conversation with department assistants, ask the janitor about his daughter, or pass the cleaning lady a cup of coffee like it’s second nature.

you’re effortlessly kind. not in a loud, performative way, but in a way that’s woven into the fabric of who you are. it’s in the way you remember details most people would forget, how you know which of the interns take their coffee black and which ones are too shy to admit they don’t know how to request time off. it’s in the way you say people’s names like they matter, like they’re more than just faces passing through the halls.

and maybe that’s what unnerves him the most.

because up until now, he’s seen you as his assistant. his colleague, even. the one who hands him charts and keeps his schedule in check, who teases him just enough to throw him off balance but never enough to cross a line. it was easy to keep you in that box, to pretend that was all there was to you.

but now – now he sees you as a person. as someone with a world outside of this building, with people who care for you, who look forward to your presence. he sees the way you brighten around others, how effortlessly you slot yourself into people’s lives, and it stirs something deep in his chest.

jake doesn’t know what to do with that.

he should look away, should focus on the notes in front of him, but his gaze lingers a second too long. because when you laugh at something the receptionist says, when your shoulders shake just a little from the force of it, it hits him – really hits him – that he wants to be someone you laugh like that with.

and maybe that scares him more than anything else.

he feels himself wilting at the simple brush of fingers when you hand him a report, an unintentional graze of arms when you lean over to point something out on his screen. but each time, it lingers. not physically – just long enough to be noticeable – but in his mind, it stays.

he tells himself it’s nothing. but then it happens again.

like when you pass him a coffee one morning, your fingertips skimming against his palm. it’s not supposed to mean anything, but his fingers twitch against the warmth of the cup, and when his eyes flicker up to you, you’re already turning away like nothing happened. like your skin hadn’t just burned into his.

or the time he catches you mid-stumble in the hallway, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you, fingers wrapping lightly around your wrist. it’s brief, over in a second, but he swears he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips long after he lets go.

and then there are the moments that are quieter, heavier.

the ones where you’re physically not there but he’s thinking about you. he’s thinking about you too much.

when he’s in his bed, his body sinking into his comforter, that’s when you strike. when the absence of conversation makes the memory of your voice louder. he replays moments he shouldn’t, imagines responses he never gave, finds himself staring at the ceiling as if the answer to all of it might be there.

and he doesn’t know what to do, what to feel because he’s never done this before. never let himself sit in the weight of emotions like this, never allowed himself to even consider what it would mean if he did. but it’s getting harder to pretend it’s nothing when you’ve made a home in the corners of his mind, settling into places he hadn’t realized were empty.

he’s unsure of what to feel and how much of it he should feel in the first place. because if he lets himself feel all of it, if he acknowledges that this pull toward you is real, then what happens next? what happens if he admits, even just to himself, that he doesn’t mind being in your orbit at all?

because you’re in his orbit now, and somehow, he’s in yours.

and jake – who has never been good at these things, who doesn’t know how to define whatever this is – finds himself wanting to stay there.

so when you willingly reach out to him to stay a while longer, he doesn’t hesitate.

you don't plan it. really, you don’t.

it’s one of those things that just happens – a fleeting thought that slips past your usual mental filter before you can stop it. and by the time you realize what you’ve done, there’s no taking it back.

jake is beside you in the breakroom counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. he moves with his usual precision, measured and methodical, the way he does most things. you watch as he tilts the carafe, the dark liquid swirling into his mug, steam curling into the space between you.

you’re not even supposed to be here. you had just come in to grab something quickly, but then jake was there, and then you were making conversation, and then—

“hey, are you doing anything this weekend?”

jake glances at you, his hand still wrapped around the coffee pot. he blinks, as if the question caught him off guard. “uh.” a beat passes. “not really. why?”

you clear your throat, shifting your weight. “there’s a space exhibition at the museum this week. it’s only in town for a little while, and i thought… i don’t know. it might be interesting?”

jake stills.

it’s subtle, but you catch it. the way his grip tightens just slightly around the handle of his mug, the way his eyes search yours as if trying to read into the intent behind your words.

you hold his gaze, waiting for an answer, but the longer the silence stretches, the more you start to regret opening your mouth in the first place. maybe this was stupid. maybe you’re overstepping. maybe he doesn’t actually—

“i’d like that.”

your breath catches. “you would?”

jake nods, setting his coffee down. “yeah.” his voice is quieter now, more certain. “it sounds… nice.”

there’s something about the way he says it that makes your stomach flip. you’re suddenly very aware of how close you are, how the warmth of his presence seems to linger in the space between you.

you offer him a small smile. “cool.”

jake hesitates, then, like he’s considering something. “you really think i wouldn’t be interested in a space exhibition?”

you blink. “i—what?”

“the way you phrased it,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “like you weren’t sure.”

“well, i mean…” you exhale, suddenly flustered. “of course, i figured you’d be interested. it’s just—”

“just what?”

you hesitate. “i wasn’t sure if you’d want to go with me.”

the words hang in the air between you, weighty and unspoken. for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. if you’ve crossed a line you didn’t realize was there.

but then he smiles.

it’s small, barely there, but you catch it. a soft curve at the corner of his lips, something warmer in his eyes. and for some reason, that look alone makes you feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

“saturday?” he asks.

you nod. “saturday.”

he picks up his coffee again, taking a slow sip, and when he lowers it, he’s still looking at you. “what time?”

“um.” you scramble to think. “maybe around six? we could grab something to eat after.”

jake hums, considering. “sounds good.”

and just like that, it’s set.

the realization settles in slowly as you go about your day, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. you asked jake to go somewhere with you. outside of work. on a weekend. and he said yes.

it shouldn’t feel like a big deal, but somehow, it does, because when saturday arrives faster than you expect, you’re all but a bundle of nerves.

neither of you had called it a date per se, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you had been yearning to call it that.

you tell yourself not to overthink it. you tell yourself it’s just two colleagues going to an exhibition together. nothing more, nothing less.

but then jake shows up looking… well. like that. and you weren’t prepared for this.

he’s waiting for you outside the museum when you arrive, dressed in a dark sweater and jeans. it’s a simple look, but somehow, it makes him seem even more put together than usual. he has his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze sweeping over the entrance before landing on you. he’s changed out of his horn rimmed glasses for a thick black framed one and honestly? it does a number on you.

you’ve always considered him to be attractive, like its a fact at this point, there’s no denying it. but right now, seeing him dressed so casually – a side of him you never could have even imagined – it makes you curl your fingers into a fist, pushing down at whatever churning feeling rises up in your throat straight from the depths of your chest.

jake, for his part, is having a similar moment.

he’s used to seeing you in a professional setting – sharp, polished, always composed. but tonight, under the dim glow of the museum lights, you look different. not in a way that’s unfamiliar, but in a way that makes something in his chest shift uncomfortably.

casual. at ease. like the version of you that exists beyond his orbit. and for some reason, he finds himself wanting to know more about that version.

his gaze lingers a beat longer than it should before he catches himself.

“you made it,” he says, clearing his throat.

you raise an eyebrow. “was there ever any doubt?”

jake huffs a quiet laugh. “no. just making conversation.”

something about that makes you smile. “shall we?”

he nods, and the two of you make your way inside.

the exhibition is stunning.

massive planetary models hang from the ceiling, their surfaces illuminated with soft light. constellation maps line the walls, showcasing the stars in intricate detail. there’s even an interactive section where visitors can simulate what it would be like to walk on different celestial bodies.

jake takes it all in with an expression you rarely see on him – genuine, unguarded wonder.

you watch as he moves from display to display, his gaze lingering on certain exhibits longer than others. every now and then, he murmurs something under his breath, a fact or observation about a particular planet or star system.

there’s a small part of you – an unfamiliar, irrational part – that wants to see him like this more often.

then, at one point, he pauses in front of a model of betelgeuse.

the exhibit is quieter here. the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty, just hushed, like stepping into the stillness of space itself.

this part of the museum is quieter, darker. the only illumination comes from the digital projection of the massive star suspended above them, pulsing in slow, rhythmic intervals. every few seconds, a deep red glow spills across the room, washing over their faces, their skin – before retreating into darkness again. it feels like stepping into the void of space itself.

he stops walking without realizing it.

you almost pass him before noticing he’s no longer beside you. when you turn, he’s standing still, hands in his coat pockets, gazing up at the red giant with a look you can’t quite place.

it’s unlike him.

there’s something distant about the way he looks at it, like he’s seeing something beyond the projection itself. the soft flickering light makes the sharp angles of his face seem softer, more open, and for a second, you feel like you’re seeing him – just jake, without the polished professionalism, without the careful restraint.

you hesitate for only a moment before stepping closer.

“you like this one?” your voice is quiet, like speaking any louder would disturb the stillness between you.

jake hums. “betelgeuse is interesting.” his gaze doesn’t leave the star. “it’s one of the largest stars we can see with the naked eye, but it won’t last forever.”

the words linger in the space between you. heavy. measured.

you tilt your head slightly, glancing at him. “what do you mean?”

“it’s nearing the end of its life cycle.”

this time, he does look at you. and for some reason, the moment feels different.

maybe it’s the way the red light reflects in his eyes, making them seem warmer than usual. maybe it’s the way his voice is quieter here, steadier, like he’s sharing something that matters. or maybe it’s just the closeness – how, in this darkened corner of the exhibit, with no one else around, it feels like you and jake exist in your own little pocket of the universe.

“eventually, it’ll go supernova,” he continues. his gaze flickers over your face for a beat too long before shifting back to the dying star above you.

then, softer—“but for now, it’s still shining.”

the words settle over you, quiet and lingering. neither of you move nor speak.

you just stand there, shoulder to shoulder, close enough that the warmth of him is noticeable in the cool air of the museum. close enough that if either of you shifted even slightly, you’d touch.

the projection pulses again, casting your faces in a deep red glow.

jake is half-lit, half-shadowed, the flickering light drawing out the details of his expression – the faint crease in his brow, the careful set of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly like there’s something else he wants to say but doesn’t.

there’s a stillness in the air. a moment where it almost feels like something should be said, but neither of you say anything. like the silence itself is waiting.

the betelgeuse model pulses one last time before dimming again, but even after the light fades, you still feel it.

twenty.

jake doesn’t think much of it at first.

the exhibition had been… nice. more than nice. he had enjoyed it more than he expected – not just because of the displays, but because of you. because of the way your eyes lit up when he talked about the stars, because of how you listened, genuinely listened, not out of politeness but curiosity. because for the first time in a long time, he had allowed himself to just be.

neither of you had called it a date. you’d simply invited him, and he had simply said yes.

that was all. at least, that’s what he thought.

until jay brought it up.

“damn, didn’t think you had it in you, sim.”

jake looks up from his coffee, blinking. “what?”

jay leans back in his chair, grinning. “the whole date thing. i mean, i know you’re not the best at this stuff, but you did good. a museum date? classy.”

jake’s stomach twists in a way he doesn’t fully understand.

he doesn’t answer right away when jay asks how the "date" went. he just takes a sip of his drink, lets the word settle in his mind, like if he doesn’t react to it, it won’t hold any meaning. but it does.

date.

jay had said it so offhandedly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

jake huffs. “it wasn’t a date.”

jay tilts his head, unimpressed. “then what was it?”

jake thinks about it for a second too long, and jay’s lips twitch like he’s already won. but jake refuses to entertain this. instead, he says, “just an exhibition. we were both interested in it, so we went. that’s it.”

jay hums, swirling his beer lazily. “sure.”

jake ignores him. or at least, he tries to. but the thought lingers.

he’s still thinking about it that night, staring at the ceiling, the room dim except for the soft glow of his bedside clock. 2:28 am.

jake sighs. turns over. closes his eyes.

it doesn’t help.

jay’s voice is still in his head. so… how’d the date go?

it hadn’t been a date. that much, he was sure of. but then, what had it been?

he tries to be rational about it. you had been the one to invite him. but it hadn’t been anything extravagant – just an exhibition you thought he’d enjoy. that’s what friends do. that’s what coworkers do.

and yet, jake finds himself ruminating about the evening again. the way you had smiled when you saw him waiting outside the museum, the way your eyes had lingered just a second too long. the way you had listened, really listened, when he talked about the stars, about betelgeuse. the way you had looked at him then, in the dim red glow of the exhibit, like you saw something in him that even he couldn’t quite understand.

his stomach twists. groaning, he presses a hand to his face. this was stupid. he was overthinking it. it’s ridiculous. he’s ridiculous.

because the thing is, he can’t remember the last time he spent time with someone like that – just the two of them, sharing quiet conversations, moving through the space together like it was the most natural thing in the world. and maybe that’s what unsettles him the most. how natural it had felt.

it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

the thought gnaws at him, the edge of something unfamiliar settling deep in his chest.

jake has never been good at this kind of thing – relationships, feelings, whatever this was. he keeps his world structured, predictable. work is work. anything outside of that is just white noise, distant and unimportant. that’s how he’s always operated.

but you? you’re not white noise. you never have been.

jake knows this. knows it in the way his pulse had stuttered – just for a second – when you brushed against him, fingers barely grazing his sleeve. knows it in the way he had caught himself glancing at you, noticing details he shouldn’t. the way your hair caught the faint light of the exhibit. the way your lips had parted slightly when he explained something, as if committing his words to memory.

he groans into his pillow. this was dangerous. he couldn’t – shouldn’t –be thinking like this. shouldn’t be thinking of you well into the depths of the night.

it wasn’t a date. it wasn’t.

jake tells himself that again, but the logic of it is starting to feel shaky, unsteady beneath his feet. because if it wasn’t a date, then why did it feel so different? why did he keep circling back to the way you had lingered at the end of the night, standing just a little too close, hesitating like there was something left unsaid?

and maybe the worst part – the part he’s trying the hardest to ignore – is that some part of him had wanted it to be a date.

the thought startles him. his stomach clenches, his fingers curling into his sheets.

he doesn’t know what to do with that realization. doesn’t even want to acknowledge it fully. because if he does, then what? then everything changes. then he has to start questioning things he’s not ready to question.

so instead, he focuses on the facts.

you had invited him. you had called it an exhibition. you had never said it was a date.

and when jay had said the word, you hadn’t been there to confirm or deny it. so he should leave it at that. let it go. move on.

but he knows himself. he knows this isn’t something that will leave him easily.

and sure as hell, the next morning, it’s still there, lodged in his brain like a splinter. he catches himself watching you more than usual – studying the way you move, the way you talk to others, the way you act around him.

do you see him differently now? have you always?

it takes him another day to gather the nerve to ask.

you’re in the break room when he finally does, stirring sugar into your coffee. he leans against the counter beside you, pretending to be casual.

“so…” he starts, clearing his throat. “the exhibition.”

you glance up. “yeah?”

jake hesitates. “did you… was that—” he stops, exhales through his nose, tries again. “would you have considered that a date?”

something flickers across your face. it’s so quick, so fleeting, he almost misses it. then you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“why? would it have mattered?” you say, teasing.

but jake hears it – the way your voice tightens, just a little. the way your grip on your cup tenses before you force yourself to relax.

he swallows. he doesn’t know what he had wanted you to say, but now, with this, he isn’t sure what to do with it.

you don’t give him a chance to figure it out. “don’t overthink it,” you say lightly, nudging his arm as you pass by. “it was just an exhibition, right?”

and well, you try not to overthink it either. in fact you try not to think about it at all. but you still wonder, would it have been that bad had it been a date?

you know you’re expecting too much of course, neither you nor jake had been close enough before this. sure, the month that had led up to this had been eventful, to say the least. but jake had never shown any romantic interest in you. or anyone, for that matter.

from what you knew, jake wasn’t the type to get caught up in things like this. he was meticulous, methodical, everything in his life followed a formula, a pattern. work, research, the occasional gathering he was dragged into. he had routines, predictable rhythms, and you? you weren’t supposed to be part of any of it.

and yet, here you were.

you try to shove the thought away, but it lingers. because despite everything, despite your better judgment, you still wonder.

you replay the moment in your head – the hesitance in jake’s voice, the way he had carefully chosen his words. he had been thinking about it, too. maybe not in the way you wanted, but enough for him to ask. and that alone was dangerous, wasn’t it? the fact that he had considered it at all.

you take a deep breath, willing yourself to stop spiraling. it was just an exhibition. it wasn’t a date. jake had never given you a reason to think otherwise.

but the thing is – you don’t think you would have minded if he had.

the thought sits heavy in your chest as you go about your evening, but you ignore it. you go home. you change into more comfortable clothes. you eat dinner. and then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you text jay.

which is how you end up here – sitting across from him at a bar, nursing a beer, and feeling considerably less fine about everything.

jay watches you, unimpressed. “so let me get this straight – you wanted it to be a date, but when jake asked if it was a date, you said no?”

you groan, knocking back another sip. “it sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

“it is dumb.”

you glare at him. “it’s not that simple, okay? he looked—” you struggle for the right word. “weird. like he was waiting for me to say the wrong thing.”

jay raises an eyebrow. “and you thought the wrong thing was saying yes?”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “i don’t know. i just… i didn’t want to make it worse.”

jay studies you for a moment, then shakes his head. “you two are ridiculous.”

you shoot him a glare, but there’s no real bite to it. “it’s not that simple.”

jay scoffs. “no, it actually is. you had the chance to be honest, and you chickened out.”

you open your mouth, then close it. because as much as you hate to admit it – he’s right.

you had wanted it to be a date. and when jake, hesitant and uncertain, had asked if it was one, you had shut him down before he could even decide what he wanted to hear. because the truth? the truth was terrifying.

because if it had been a date, if jake had agreed, if jake had thought of it that way too – then what? what would you have done with that knowledge?

jay raises an eyebrow. “are you afraid jake would treat you different if you had told him it was a date?”

you stare down at your beer. “…i don’t know.”

you feel a bit ridiculous right now. like you were back in college, worrying over your crush noticing you and talking to your girlfriends about it.

jay sighs, shaking his head. “you know, for someone who started this whole thing trying to get jake to notice you, you sure are bad at dealing with him actually noticing you.”

you let out a dry laugh. “yeah, well. i didn’t expect to fall for him in the process.”

jay stills. you blink, realizing what you just said.

and then you exhale, pressing your fingers to your temple. “god.”

“you like him,” he repeats plainly, voice cutting through the noise of the bar.

there’s no teasing lilt, no smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he’s not mocking you. he’s just stating it like it’s a fact, like it’s something as obvious as the beer bottle in your hand or the way your fingers are tightening around it.

and maybe you should lie. maybe you should deflect, laugh it off, pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about.

but you don’t. because you’re exhausted. because there’s no point in pretending anymore.

“yeah,” you murmur, setting your bottle down. “i do.”

jay doesn’t react right away. he just leans back, tilts his head like he’s trying to piece something together. “and?”

you exhale sharply through your nose, shaking your head. “and what?”

jay gives you a look. “and what are you going to do about it?”

you laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “nothing. what the hell am i supposed to do about it?”

“you spent all that time trying to get him to notice you,” jay says, propping his elbow up on the table. “and now that he has—”

“it’s not like that,” you interrupt, voice tight. “that was just—”

“a way to get under his skin?” jay lifts an eyebrow. “sure. but now?”

you don’t say anything. because now? now it is different.

now, you’re here, drowning in the weight of it, feeling like an idiot because you had let yourself hope. because you had wanted to call it a date. because when you had looked at jake in the dim glow of the exhibit, something had settled in your chest, something real and terrifying, something that had whispered, this is it.

you don’t shy away from it. you don’t deny it. but you also feel like a dumb teen with a crush, stomach twisting with something close to regret. because now that you’ve admitted it to yourself, you can’t take it back. you can’t pretend it was never there.

you look down at your hands, fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. “i don’t know what to do with this.”

jay exhales, leaning back. “you don’t have to do anything right now. but you should stop lying to yourself.”

silence stretches between you. heavy. unspoken. but something has shifted, set in stone.

and it’s not just the realization that you like jake. it’s the fear that it won’t matter.

jay watches you for a moment, then exhales through his nose. “you ever think that maybe… you’ve always liked him?”

your head snaps up. “what?”

he shrugs. “maybe it’s not that jake’s suddenly reciprocating, but that you’ve always had feelings for him, and now that he’s acting different, you’re finally noticing.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “bullshit. jake didn’t even want to call it a date.” you tip your bottle toward him, your mouth twisting bitterly. “reciprocate my ass.”

jay leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “just because he couldn’t call it a date doesn’t mean he didn’t want it to be one.”

you shake your head. “don’t do that. don’t sit here and try to make excuses for him. if he wanted it to be a date, he would have said so. it’s that simple.”

jay is quiet for a long moment. then, softer, “is it?”

you hate the way your throat tightens. the way your chest aches. because you don’t know the answer to that. because part of you knows that jake is different. that maybe it’s not as simple as him just not wanting it.

but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t say it. that he hesitated. that he left you to sit with that disappointment, with the weight of knowing you had wanted something more than he did.

so you don’t answer. you just grab your beer and take another drink, staring down at the table like it might give you the clarity you so desperately need.

jay doesn’t push any further. he just sits back, watching you, like he’s waiting for you to come to your own conclusion.

and you do.

the realization settles in your chest, heavy and unyielding.

you have feelings for jake. you have had feelings for jake. and maybe you’ve been trying to ignore them, to mask them as something else, but they’ve been there all along.

and now? now, you don’t know what to do with them.

twenty-one.

what do you do when you have feelings for someone you’ve just realised you’ve had feelings for a long time? what happens when you realise that the crush had secretly migrated into full blow ‘i like this person’ zone?

you do what any rational person would do when faced with undeniable, terrifying feelings for someone you weren’t supposed to fall for.

you avoid him.

it’s not obvious at first – or at least, you hope it isn’t. you still do your job, still interact with him when you have to. but you stop lingering after work. stop waiting by his office door with some offhand excuse just to talk to him. stop initiating conversations that aren’t strictly necessary.

jake notices the shift before he even fully understands it. the way you talk to him, the way you look at him – it’s different. not in a way that anyone else would catch, but jake isn’t anyone else. he’s spent too much time watching, listening, knowing exactly how you move through the world. and right now? you’re moving away from him.

not completely. not obviously. but in the way that matters.

you don’t linger after work anymore. you don’t stop by his office just to make some offhand comment about something completely unrelated to work. you still talk to him, still answer when he calls, but it’s all business now. and it’s throwing him off more than he cares to admit.

he tries not to overthink it. maybe he’s imagining things. maybe this is just how things are supposed to be. but then, he finds himself hesitating before he knocks on your office door one afternoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“hey, uh,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “lunch?”

you glance up from your desk, looking at him for a beat too long. and for a second, something flickers across your face – something that makes his stomach twist in a way he doesn’t understand. but then, just as quickly, you smile.

“oh,” you say, then offer him an apologetic smile. “i can’t today. we’re going out for ms. heo’s birthday.”

jake blinks. “ms. heo?”

“from the assistant team,” you explain. “we’re all grabbing lunch together. it’s kind of a thing we do when someone’s got a birthday coming up.”

he doesn’t know why that surprises him. of course you’d have your own circle in the office, people who weren’t just him and jay. but the realization still sits uncomfortably in his chest, like something he should’ve known but never really considered until now.

“oh, right,” he says after a beat. “that makes sense.”

you hesitate for a second, almost like you’re about to say something else, but then you just give him a small wave before turning back to your work.

jake doesn’t go back to his office right away. instead, he watches as you leave with the others, watches the way you laugh at something someone says, watches the way you move so effortlessly in a space that suddenly feels completely separate from him.

and it hits him.

maybe you and him exist in two different worlds. maybe he’s only just now realizing it.

and that should be the end of it. but then, purely by coincidence – because of course, that’s all it is – he ends up at the same restaurant later that afternoon. it has nothing to do with the fact that he had asked you where you would be going. and it has nothing to do with the fact that he had dragged jay there despite the latter’s protests about how he had a report to file urgently.

jake tells himself he’s just here for lunch. that the fact that you’re sitting a few tables away, surrounded by your coworkers, is purely incidental.

jay, however, is not buying it.

“you’re the worst liar i’ve ever met,” he mutters, stabbing at his food with little enthusiasm.

jake doesn’t respond. he keeps his gaze on his own plate, like that might somehow stop his ears from picking up the sound of your laughter, the easy cadence of your voice as you talk to the others.

it’s strange.

he’s so used to seeing you in his space – his office, his schedule, his orbit. but here, surrounded by people who move through the world with you instead of just passing through it, you seem… different. freer, somehow. more yourself in a way that jake isn’t sure he’s ever seen before.

and it unsettles him more than he’d like to admit.

“dude,” jay says suddenly, dragging him out of his thoughts. “are you seriously considering it?”

jake frowns. “considering what?”

but jay just tilts his head in your direction. and that’s when jake realizes – somehow, at some point, he had started to stand up.

his pulse jumps. he hadn’t even thought about it. it had been instinctual, a decision made before his brain had even caught up to it.

he hesitates. this is a bad idea. he knows that. and yet, before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already moving, already making his way to your table.

the chatter quiets as he approaches. a few of your coworkers exchange confused glances, clearly just as thrown off by his presence as he is.

you look up last. your expression is unreadable.

jake clears his throat. “ms. heo.”

she blinks. “uh—yes?”

he exhales. no turning back now. “happy birthday.”

silence. and then,

“oh!” ms. heo recovers quickly, her surprise melting into a polite smile. “thank you, dr. sim!”

jake nods. “enjoy your lunch.”

and with that, he turns and walks off, forcing himself to keep his pace even, his shoulders squared.

by the time he reaches his table, jay is staring at him, looking equal parts entertained and exhausted. jake doesn’t say anything as he picks up his fork. he doesn’t have to.

because now, after everything, after weeks of trying to make sense of this – he finally understands one thing: you aren’t the only one confused.

you on the other hand, are mildly confused. for a moment, nobody says anything and then, it’s like the entire table collectively short-circuits.

“did dr. sim just—?”

“what the hell was that?”

“wait, how did he even know?”

you barely hear them over the sound of your own thoughts, still stuck on the fact that jake – dr. jake sim, notorious for barely remembering his own birthday – had gone out of his way to wish ms. heo a happy one.

you snap out of it when ms. heo turns to you, wide-eyed. “was that because of you?”

“i—” you shake your head, just as baffled. “i have no idea.”

because really, you don’t. sure, jake has always been a little softer than people give him credit for, but this? this was unexpected.

and it was…it was sweet.

maybe too sweet, considering you’ve spent the last few weeks trying to convince yourself that none of this meant anything. that jake only saw you as his assistant, that you had just misread things, that any warmth between you had been incidental at best.

but now, here he is, going out of his way to do something thoughtful – something he had no reason to do.

and it lingers. the way his voice had sounded, a little quieter, like he wasn’t sure how it would land. the way he hadn’t even looked at you, not really, before walking off like he was escaping.

you shake your head, pushing the thought away.

later, when you pass by the dessert counter on the way out, you pause.

jake doesn’t like sweets. you know that. you’ve heard him say it a dozen times before. but when your hand moves before your mind can stop it, when you find yourself paying for an extra slice of the coffee cake, something that’s not too sweet, you tell yourself it’s just a small thing. just a thank you.

nothing more.

you don’t give it to him right away. instead, you leave it on his desk, tucked neatly in a small paper bag, the note attached reading simply:

for the birthday wishes.

and then you go about your day as if you haven’t just done something completely out of character. as if you haven’t just spent far too long deliberating over whether or not to leave the note at all. it’s ridiculous. you don’t even know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. it’s just a piece of cake.

except, when jake finds it, it doesn’t feel like just a piece of cake.

he stares at the bag for a long moment, fingers brushing over the note, the simple handwriting somehow making his chest feel inexplicably tight. he knows exactly who it’s from. knows exactly why you left it. and yet, when he opens it to finds the dessert – something just sweet enough but not overly so – he finds himself hesitating. because it’s from you. and for some reason, that means something.

so he doesn’t hesitate this time before approaching you in the hallway, the small paper bag in one hand, the note pinched between his fingers. you’re balancing a stack of folders, mid-step toward your office, when you hear him clear his throat.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he says after a moment, picking up the note between his fingers. his voice is quiet, almost careful.

you force a shrug, suddenly very interested in the pile of folders in your arms. “it’s just coffee cake. thought you might like it.”

jake studies you for a beat too long, like he’s trying to make sense of something. then, instead of setting the bag aside like you expect him to, he opens it, peeling back the paper to reveal the neatly packed slice inside. the scent of coffee and caramel drifts into the air between you.

you watch as he hesitates, then picks up the small fork tucked beside the container. you don’t think he’s actually going to take a bite – he’s made his distaste for sweets well known – but then, to your complete and utter shock, he does.

he takes a bite before he can overthink it. the taste is rich, the coffee flavor strong, just the way he likes it. and maybe he should’ve expected it, but there’s something about the fact that you remembered, that you even thought to pick something he might like, that makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn’t entirely understand.

he doesn’t say anything right away. just chews thoughtfully, expression unreadable. then, finally, he swallows, clears his throat, and glances at you. “it’s good.”

you blink. “you don’t have to lie.”

“i’m not.” he looks down at the cake, then back at you, almost like he can’t believe it himself. “i actually… like it.”

something strange and warm curls in your chest. you don’t know what to do with it. don’t know what to do with the way he’s looking at you right now – like you’ve somehow caught him off guard, like he doesn’t quite understand how you’ve managed to do that.

you clear your throat, shifting the folders in your arms. “well, good. wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

jake nods, but he doesn’t look away, doesn’t move to put the fork down. he takes another bite, slower this time, and you realize with a start that he’s enjoying it. not just tolerating it. actually enjoying it.

the thought makes your stomach do something odd.

you take a step back, needing to put some distance between you before you start reading too much into things. “i should—um��i have some things to file. so…”

jake nods again, this time a little more distractedly, his gaze dropping back to the cake. “yeah. sure.”

you turn before he can say anything else, before you can let yourself linger, but as you leave, you hear the quiet scrape of his fork against the container, another bite taken.

the warmth in your chest lingers long after you’re gone.

as for jake, he doesn’t know what to make of it either. not yet. there was the whole 'date' fiasco before all of this.

the cake was a small thing, a simple thank-you, nothing inherently significant. and yet, as he stares down at the empty container on his desk, the lingering taste of coffee and caramel on his tongue, he can’t shake the feeling that it meant something more. that you meant something more by it.

he thinks about the way you looked at him, the way your voice had been just a little uncertain when you’d given it to him. thinks about the way you’ve been lately – present, but distant. still here, still doing your job, but something is different. something’s changed.

and he doesn’t know why it unsettles him so much.

jay finds him like that, still staring at the empty container like it might give him answers.

“dude,” jay says, sliding into the chair across from him, “i thought you didn’t like sweets.”

jake sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “i don’t.”

jay raises an eyebrow. “right. so that’s why you demolished that cake like it personally wronged you?”

jake scowls but doesn’t argue. he can’t. because jay is right, and they both know it.

jay studies him for a long moment, then leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “you know, for two of the smartest people in this office, you and y/n are really, really dumb.”

jake frowns. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

jay sighs dramatically. “it means you’re both dancing around whatever this is instead of just dealing with it like normal human beings.”

jake stiffens. “there is no ‘this.’”

jay just looks at him, unimpressed. “uh-huh. sure.” he gestures to the empty container. “tell me, would you have eaten that if it came from anyone else?”

jake doesn’t answer, because the truth is, he wouldn’t have. he knows it. jay knows it.

he wants to argue. wants to tell jay he’s wrong. but the truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. because something is changing, shifting, and he’s only just starting to realize it.

and it terrifies him.

because for the first time in a long time, jake thinks he might actually want something more. and he has no idea what to do about it.

twenty-two.

the first sign that something is off is the way jake is gripping his pen.

you notice it immediately when you step into his office, armed with a thick folder of notes for his upcoming conference. usually, he is composed, methodical – his precision extending even to the way he holds a pen, fingers relaxed yet firm. 

so when you see him hunched in his office one evening, a week before a big presentation, you can tell he’s stressed. his fingers are flying across his keyboard, typing in equations and theories as fast as he can.

it's one of those conferences where young researchers present their proposals for research. it's something jake has been working on the entire year – even before you came – and it's finally descending on him.

you linger by the doorway for a second, watching him. he hasn’t noticed you yet, too focused on whatever calculations are running wild in his head. his brow is furrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. his fingers hover above the keyboard for a second before he exhales sharply, leaning back and rubbing his temples.

he’s exhausted. you can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way his usually neat hair is mussed, tangled in soft waves, as if he’s been running his fingers through it all day.

“dr. sim?”

his head snaps up at your voice, and for a brief second, something in his eyes flickers – something tense, something uncertain. it’s rare to see him like this, so unguarded, so unlike the astrophysicist who always seems to have the entire universe mapped out in his head.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer. “are you nervous?”

jake exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “no,” he says, too quickly to be believable. then he pauses, scowling slightly before adjusting his glasses. “…maybe.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “maybe?”

he leans back, gaze flickering toward the papers spread across his desk. the conference is in two days – a huge opportunity, one that most scientists dream of. but instead of excitement, there’s only frustration etched into his features. “it doesn’t make sense,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “i’ve presented research before. i’ve written papers, given lectures – none of this is new to me.”

you tilt your head, watching him closely. he’s clearly overthinking this, spiraling in his own thoughts, which is unusual. jake never second-guesses himself. he never doubts.

but this time, something’s different. and for some reason, it bothers you.

enough that you move before you can think, reaching for his wrist. “okay, that’s enough.”

jake stills.

you tug at his hand, pulling him away from the desk. he doesn’t resist, though his expression is a mixture of confusion and intrigue as you guide him to stand up.

“step away,” you say firmly, steering him toward the window. “you’re overthinking.”

jake narrows his eyes. “i don’t—”

“you are.” you cut him off, leveling him with a look. “you’re spiraling, and you don’t even realize it.”

and then he looks at you. properly. he lets his heavy eyes rest on you, tilts his head slightly to match your height.

you’re too aware of him. it’s unbearable.

the way his fingers twitch against the desk, the way his jaw tenses, the way his throat moves when he swallows – you hate that you notice. hate that your body reacts to every little thing, hate that your heart stumbles over itself like some lovesick fool.

but none of that matters right now. because jake is spiraling, and you are the only thing tethering him to solid ground.

so you shove it all down. you tighten your grip on his wrist – not enough to startle him, just enough to be steady. to make sure he feels you there.

“step away,” you say, voice even, controlled. the exact opposite of how you feel inside. “breathe.”

jake exhales sharply, eyes flicking to yours. he hesitates, searching for something in your expression, and for one excruciating moment, you think he might see it – see the way you’re coming undone just being this close to him.

his jaw tenses, and for a second, you think he might argue. but then he lets out a breath, slow and measured, and glances at you. “…what do you suggest, then?”

you hesitate, then steel yourself. “you listen to me.”

his brow raises slightly, but there’s something amused in his gaze now, as if entertained by the fact that you’re taking charge.

you ignore it.

“i know you,” you continue. “i know that you hate failure, that you analyze everything until it’s perfect. but you need to stop treating yourself like an equation to solve, dr. sim. you’re—” you falter slightly, but then push through. “you’re the most brilliant man i’ve ever known.”

silence.

jake blinks at you, clearly caught off guard.

your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you don’t back down. “you don’t need to prove anything,” you say, voice softer this time. “not to anyone.”

for the first time since you entered the office, jake looks genuinely speechless.

you hesitated for only a moment before stepping beside him, reaching out to gently press a hand against his shoulder. the warmth of him seeped through the fabric of his dress shirt, and at last, you felt the smallest shift beneath your palm.

he exhales. “i need to get this right. the entire thesis hinges on this one equation and it’s just – it’s not clicking.”

you bit your lip, watching the tight set of his jaw, the way he pinched the bridge of his nose as though trying to ward off an oncoming headache. you weren’t a scientist, and you certainly weren’t an astrophysicist. there was nothing you could do to help him solve the problem weighing him down. but you could pull him out of his own head – if only for a little while.

so you smiled, aiming for lighthearted. “okay, but have you considered that your brain might just be staging a rebellion? like, maybe it’s on strike until you feed it something that’s not data?”

jake let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. still, he shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “i appreciate the concern, but i can’t afford to waste time.”

you hummed. “and what if i told you a break isn’t a waste? what if i told you that, statistically speaking, stepping away from a problem can actually improve problem-solving efficiency?”

that did make him look at you. a single brow arched, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “that so?”

“yeah.” you nodded solemnly. “saw it in an article once. probably written by someone much smarter than me.”

and just like that, the moment shifted.

the teasing lightness in your voice didn’t quite reach your eyes either, and jake noticed. he always noticed. something flickered across his face – something unreadable, something soft – as he turned slightly to face you. “you say that a lot,” he murmured. “like you don’t think you’re smart.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “i mean… i work with people like you. people who spend their lives studying the universe, making discoveries that change the way we see the world. compared to that, i just… remind you of meetings and make sure you don’t skip meals.”

jake’s brows drew together, his expression darkening slightly. “that’s not—”

but you weren’t done

“jay said you didn’t really see me at first, you know. and i didn’t hate that. i mean, why would you? you’re brilliant, jake. you look at the stars and actually understand them. people like me? we just look up and think they’re pretty.”

silence stretched between you. heavy. uncomfortable. real.

jake stared at you, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. you didn’t realize it, but you’d just gutted him. there was something about the way you spoke, the way you brushed it off like it was nothing – as if you genuinely believed your own insignificance. it made something tighten in his chest, something he didn’t know how to name.

you meant more. more than your job. more than your standing in society. and jake – who had spent his entire life grounded in logic, in facts and equations – wanted to tell you that. wanted to tell you that, in this universe, you meant something.

that maybe, to someone, you meant everything.

his throat felt tight. he swallowed, trying to push past it. “that’s not true.”

you looked up at him, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice.

“you’re wrong,” he said, firmer this time. he leaned forward, eyes locked onto yours. “understanding the stars doesn’t make someone brilliant. i spent my whole life looking up, trying to figure out what’s out there, but you see what’s in front of you. you remind people to eat. you remind me to eat. you make sure i don’t get lost in my own head. that’s not nothing, y/n.”

you stared at him, lips parted, words caught somewhere between your mind and your tongue. you weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure you could say anything at all.

jake wasn’t sure why this mattered so much to him. he wasn’t sure why the thought of you belittling yourself made his chest feel like it was caving in. but as he sat there, watching the way your eyes softened with something uncertain, something almost hopeful, he realized—

he wanted to be someone who saw you. really saw you. and he was starting to hope, achingly, desperately so, that you saw him, too.

“when was the last time you ate?” you say, changing the subject and hoping against hope that your cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel.

jake glances at his monitor as if the answer might be there. “…lunch?”

“that was six hours ago.”

at that, he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “yeah. i lost track of time.”

you already figured as much. without another word, you set the small paper bag you brought onto his desk. he looks at it, then at you, puzzled.

“i stopped by that bakery after work,” you say, not quite meeting his eyes. “figured you might need something.”

there’s a pause.

“you went all the way there?” his voice is quiet, almost unreadable.

you shrug. “it’s friday.”

jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at the bag before carefully pulling it toward him. he opens it, and the scent of fresh pastries immediately fills the space. his shoulders loosen slightly.

“it’s the coffee cake i got you last time, you seemed to like it.” please someone, make the ground crack open and swallow you whole/

“…thanks,” he murmurs. then turns away as if physically trying to shield himself.

you nod, pretending to busy yourself by scanning the contents of his desk. there are notes everywhere, covered in equations and scattered diagrams, a barely-touched cup of coffee off to the side.

“is this for your conference?” you ask, gesturing at the mess.

jake sighs, sitting back in his chair. “yeah. the presentation is next week, and i still need to finalize my model. it’s a mess.”

you glance at the numbers on the screen. “you say that like i can’t already tell.”

he huffs a quiet laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s just… a lot. i’ve been working on this for months, and if i screw it up now—” he exhales sharply. “i don’t know.”

you watch him for a second, weighing your words. then, without thinking too much about it, you sit on the edge of his desk.

“you won’t screw it up,” you say simply.

jake looks up, surprised. “you sound pretty confident.”

you tilt your head. “because i’ve seen how much you care about this. and i’ve never seen you half-ass anything. so, yeah. i’m confident.”

something shifts in his expression.

it’s subtle, but you catch it – the way his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. like he wasn’t expecting you to believe in him so easily.

a beat of silence passes. then, his gaze flickers down, like he’s trying to hide something. “you have too much faith in me.”

“maybe,” you say, watching him carefully. “or maybe you just don’t have enough in yourself.”

for a moment, neither of you say anything. the only sound in the room is the faint hum of his monitor and the city buzzing outside the windows.

then, slowly, his fingers tighten around the paper bag in his hands. he nods once – more to himself than to you.

“…i should eat.”

you take that as your cue to leave, pushing off his desk. “yeah. you should.”

you don’t expect him to say anything else, so you’re already halfway out the door when his voice stops you.

“hey.”

you glance back.

jake hesitates for a second before meeting your eyes. there’s something softer there, something unspoken.

“…thanks,” he says again, quieter this time.

you don’t reply, just give him a small nod before slipping out. and as you walk away, you feel it – that shift, that quiet realization.

something between you and jake sim is changing.

and there’s no stopping it now.

it’s a thought jake finds himself pondering upon too, when it's too late and all the lights in the office have gone out except his own and few stragglers, probably pulling all nighters like him.

his eyes hurt, squinting at his screen all day. if you had been here, you would have probably forced him to take some eye drops. it makes him let out a small laugh which dies as soon as it falls off his lips.

since when did he start thinking of what you would have done?

a quiet sigh escapes his lips. honestly he should have seen this coming. but here’s the thing – jake’s not good with feelings. well, he can’t be a judge of that entirely, mostly because he never tried. he’s never dated, never been in a relationship before, never even had a crush. and now that there’s an inkling of those feelings starting to rise up on him, he’s rightly confused.

jake exhales, leaning back in his chair, eyes trained on the ceiling. he should get back to work. he needs to get back to work. but his thoughts keep circling back to you – the way you just knew he hadn’t eaten, the way you told him he wouldn’t screw this up like it was a fact rather than a possibility.

the pastries sit untouched on his desk. he should eat. that’s what you’d tell him. that’s what he had promised you.

so he does.

the first bite is soft, a little too sweet – just like the memories it brings back.

because it’s friday, and you went all the way there, to get him your favorite pastries. it’s like he’s slowly stepping into you orbit, getting a taste of your life. what you like, what you eat…. and he’s never had this before. never had someone think of him like this.

jake sets the pastry down carefully, staring at it like it holds answers to questions he’s too afraid to ask. he can’t be imagining things, right? this feeling creeping up on him – this warmth, this tension that makes his fingers twitch whenever you’re near.

but what is it? what is this?

he scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated. damn it.

he hates not knowing things. he hates uncertainties, hates dealing in emotions when logic has always been his safest place.

so maybe he is overthinking it. maybe this is just you being nice, because that’s who you are. you care about people. this is just who you are.

jake exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. he glances back at his screen, at the blinking cursor waiting for him to continue his work, but his mind is already far, far away.

and then he sees it.

the note is small – just a simple sticky note pressed under the cardboard box, written in your handwriting. the ink is slightly smudged, probably from your fingers. jake stares at it longer than he should. he had almost missed it

“betelgeuse is still shining. you’ll get through it too!”

his stomach does something weird, a strange, unfamiliar pull tightening at his ribs. it’s like…it’s like someone suddenly opened a jar of butterflies within that erupted out all at once.

it shouldn’t be a big deal. it’s just a note. just like the dozens he’s left you over the past few weeks – facts about galaxies, black holes, the andromeda-milky way collision – but this one is different.

because it’s from you. because you thought about him. because you left it for him in return.

because you listened to him. and you remembered.

his grip on the note tightens. damn it.

jake has spent years understanding the mechanics of the universe, memorizing equations that map out the way things move, how things change. but this? this thing blooming in his chest – this warm, unfamiliar ache that lingers long after you’ve left – he has no formula for this.

no equation, no logical explanation.

just the undeniable, inescapable fact that you are getting under his skin. and for some reason, that thought sits uncomfortably in his chest.

for some reason, it feels too familiar.

jake thinks about the way his world has subtly, almost imperceptibly, started revolving around you. how your presence has become a fixed point in his orbit. the quiet check-ins, the shared lunches, the notes, the way you listen when he talks about the universe like you actually care. the way you look at him sometimes, like he’s someone worth looking at.

it was slow. a gradual shift. like a planet caught in a gravitational pull stronger than its own. he hadn’t realized it at first, hadn’t noticed the way he kept looking for you in a room, the way his mood lifted at the sound of your voice, the way he found himself wanting to make you laugh just to hear it again.

but now? now it’s undeniable.

because the second he sees that note, the second he realizes that you left it there because you know him – know how he’d find it interesting, how he’d read it and think of you – something in his chest collapses.

a free fall. a point of no return.

jake grips the note tighter, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat.

shit.

twenty-three.

jake doesn’t throw the note away.

he should. he should crumple it up, toss it in the bin, move on like it’s just another piece of paper. but he doesn’t. instead, it sits on his desk, half-hidden under a stack of equations and research notes, but never gone.

and maybe that’s why, over the next few days, something shifts.

it’s subtle at first.

monday, you bring him coffee. not on purpose – not really. you just had an extra one, you said. leftover from a run you made with a coworker. jake takes it without thinking, murmuring a quiet thanks. he doesn’t even realize until later that it’s exactly how he likes it.

wednesday, you’re in the break room at the same time. he doesn’t even mean to say anything, but somehow, you’re talking. about his presentation, about the stress, about how he’s barely sleeping. you listen like it matters. you tell him, very simply, “you’re going to be fine.” and for some reason, it sticks.

friday, you pass by his office when he’s too in his head to notice much of anything – until you pause in the doorway. you don’t step in, don’t linger too long, but your voice is steady when you say, “don’t forget to eat.”

and he doesn’t.

it’s nothing big. nothing dramatic. just… small things. but jake notices them. he notices you. and by friday night, when he finds himself staring at that damn note again, he realizes—

you’ve been there. all week. a quiet presence, slipping into his orbit before he even knew it was happening.

and for the first time, maybe ever, jake doesn’t mind.

scratch that, he stopped minding a long time ago. he stopped minding the day he had snapped at you and you had made yourself sparse to him. your little note had just been a nail in the coffin, the final act before he had fully realised the extent of his feelings.

the problem is, he doesn’t know feelings. he knows of them, but it all circles back to him being abysmally clueless on how this stuff works. does he just tell you? or are you supposed to figure it out by yourself?

jake doesn’t tell you.

not because he doesn’t want to. not because the thought hasn’t crossed his mind a hundred times over the past week, every time he sees you or hears your voice or finds another piece of you lingering in his space. no, he doesn’t tell you because he genuinely has no idea how to.

it’s a frustrating thing, realizing something but having no clear answer for what comes next. he’s spent years solving equations, mapping out trajectories, following strict logic to find the right answer. but this? this isn’t logical. there are no equations for this. no step-by-step process he can follow. no set reaction to plug into a formula that will tell him what to do.

and it’s driving him insane.

by saturday night, he’s overthinking so hard that his brain refuses to function properly, so he does what he always does when he needs a break – he texts jay. which is how he finds himself at a quiet bar, sitting across from his best friend while nursing a whiskey he barely remembers ordering.

jay watches him, unimpressed. "are you going to actually drink that or just stare at it until it evaporates?"

jake huffs but takes a sip. it burns in a way that should ground him, but his mind is still tangled elsewhere. jay catches the way his brows pinch together, the way he keeps fidgeting with the rim of his glass.

he smirks. "so. you wanna tell me why you've been acting weird for the past week?"

"i haven’t been acting weird."

jay raises a brow, unimpressed. “you just spent the last five minutes sighing at your drink like it personally wronged you.”

jake exhales sharply, shaking his head. "it’s nothing. i just... i don't know."

jay leans forward, resting his chin on his palm, clearly entertained. "oh, this is gonna be good. go on.

“jay, it’s just... how do you know when something's different?”

jay blinks. “different how?”

jake exhales. “like… when someone just—” he gestures vaguely. “—gets into your head. but not in a bad way. just – suddenly, they’re there. and you don’t know when it started, but you know it’s not going away anytime soon.”

jay tilts his head, considering him for a long moment. and then, he snorts.

jake glares. “what?”

“nothing. it’s just—” jay shakes his head, amusement flickering across his face. “man, this feels like déjà vu.”

jake frowns. “what does that mean?”

jay only shrugs, but there's something knowing in his gaze. something infuriating. “nothing. just keep going.”

jake scowls but does, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, dude. it’s just…you know how you can watch something fall into place in real time? like, it’s not sudden, it’s just a shift, slow and inevitable?”

jay hums. “yeah. i do.”

jake huffs out a humorless laugh. “yeah? and what do you call that?”

jay takes a sip of his drink, eyes glinting over the rim. “you tell me.”

jake doesn’t answer, just frowns at the table, running his thumb over the condensation on his glass. his thoughts have been a mess ever since you left that note – ever since you started feeling less like an anomaly and more like a constant.

and it’s not just the note. it’s the way you notice things, the way you always make sure he eats, the way you listen when he talks about space like it means something to you. it’s the way you looked at him that night in his office, like he was someone worth believing in.

jake shifts uncomfortably, gripping his glass. “i don’t know,” he mutters.

jay sighs. “you do know. you’re just refusing to say it out loud.”

jake looks away. he knows what jay wants him to admit, but there’s something about it – about the weight of acknowledging it – that makes his chest feel tight.

jake exhales, pressing his fingers against his temples. “i just don’t get it,” he mutters.

jay tilts his head. “get what?”

“this,” jake gestures vaguely, frustration bleeding into his voice. “how people do it. the whole – liking someone, being in a relationship, whatever.”

jay watches him for a second, expression unreadable. “you mean… how people fall in love?”

jake tenses. the word feels heavy, pressing against his ribcage like something sharp. “i don’t know if it’s that,” he says, and it’s the truth. “i just – how do people bank on feelings like that? they’re not stable, they change all the time. how do you trust something that’s basically unpredictable?”

jay’s quiet for a long moment. when he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more thoughtful. “not everything is an equation, jake.”

jake exhales sharply. “yeah, i figured that out the hard way.”

jay doesn’t laugh. instead, he studies jake carefully, and then, as if piecing things together, his gaze turns knowing. “this isn’t just about her, is it?”

jake stills. and suddenly, his mother’s voice rings in his head; ‘don’t be like your dad, jake. don’t push people away.’

jake grips his glass tighter. he hates this part – the part where everything circles back to the one thing he never wants to think about.

jay leans forward slightly, like he already knows. like he’s seen this before. “it’s about your dad, isn’t it?”

jake exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “it’s not—” he pauses, jaw tightening. “it’s not about him.”

he clenches his jaw, stares at the table. he knows he should let it go, but the words spill out before he can stop them.

“i just don’t get how people do it,” he mutters, voice lower now. “how they just decide to trust someone. to be with them. like it’s that easy.”

jay hums. “it’s not easy.”

jake looks up, brows furrowing as if begging to understand whatever this was.

jay shrugs, swirling his drink. “it’s not easy. and yeah, sometimes feelings change. sometimes they don’t last. but sometimes, they do.” he pauses, then adds, “sometimes, they’re the only thing that does.”

jake doesn’t say anything, just stares at his drink.

jay exhales. “you ever think maybe that’s the whole point? that people choose to believe in it, even when it’s uncertain?”

jake clenches his jaw. “and what if they’re wrong?”

jay tilts his head. “what if they’re right?”

jay watches him for a long moment, then leans back. “look, man,” he says, more casual now. “you don’t have to have it all figured out. but if you’re waiting for some kind of certainty – some mathematical proof that tells you this is safe – you’re gonna be waiting forever.”

jake doesn’t answer, just stares at his drink.

jay sighs, but there’s no frustration in it this time – just something almost fond. “you like her,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

jake doesn’t answer. he just exhales, jaw clenched, grip tightening around his glass like it’s the only thing tethering him to the present. because if he lets himself think – really think – he’ll have to admit it: that it’s not just about liking you. it’s about what comes after. about how people leave. about how things change. about how he spent years watching his mother hold onto something that was never coming back, watching her tell herself if i try harder, if i love more, he’ll stay – and how none of it had mattered in the end.

because sometimes, love isn’t enough. and jake has never been the kind of person to bet on something that fragile.

jay watches him, expression unreadable. he’s quiet for a moment, letting the weight of jake’s silence settle between them. then, with a sigh, he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“you know,” jay starts, voice even, “for a guy who spends all his time solving impossible problems, you sure make this one more complicated than it needs to be.”

jake huffs out something that might be a laugh, but it’s humorless, empty. “that’s the thing, jay,” he mutters. “this is impossible.”

jay raises a brow. “how do you figure?”

jake shakes his head, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. “because—” he stops, jaw working, frustration curling in his throat. “because she’s her,” he finally says, like that alone should explain everything. “and i’m me.”

jay just blinks. “wow. that sure cleared things up.”

jake exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “she’s… she’s good, jay. she believes in things. in people. she thinks the best of them, even when they don’t deserve it.” his voice dips lower, almost bitter. “even when i don’t deserve it.”

jay doesn’t respond immediately, just watches him, waiting.

jake exhales, shakes his head. “and she’s smart – god, she’s so smart. not just in the way i am, not just formulas and logic and equations. she understands people. she sees them.” he huffs out a humorless laugh. “she listens to me talk about space like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, like any of it matters, and i know that she sees something in me that i don’t. that maybe no one else does.”

jay tilts his head, watching him carefully. “and that scares you?”

jake scoffs, but it’s too sharp, too forced. “of course it scares me.” he clenches his jaw. “because what if she’s wrong?”

jay sighs. “let me get this straight,” he says, slow and deliberate. “you’re saying she sees something in you that no one else does, that she thinks you’re worth believing in—" he lifts a brow. “and that’s the problem?”

jake clenches his fists. “she called me brilliant.” his voice is quiet, almost small. “the most brilliant man she’s ever known.” he swallows hard. “she believes in me.”

jay tilts his head. “and?”

jake exhales, voice hollow. “and i don’t.”

jay stills.

for once, he doesn’t have a quick remark, doesn’t shoot back with a knowing smirk or a snarky comment. he just looks at jake, really looks at him, and it makes something in jake’s chest tighten, makes him want to take it all back before jay can say anything.

but jay just exhales. “okay,” he says after a beat. “say you’re right.”

jake blinks. “what?”

“say you’re right,” jay repeats, shrugging. “say she does see something in you that you don’t. say she thinks you’re brilliant, that she believes in you when you don’t believe in yourself.” he lifts his brows. “what then?”

jake doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t even know why the question makes his stomach twist.

jay leans forward, eyes sharp. “are you saying she’s wrong?”

jake presses his lips together.

“because if you are,” jay continues, “then you’re saying she’s not as smart as you think she is. you’re saying she doesn’t know you at all.” he pauses, lets it sit. “but we both know that’s not true.”

jake swallows. he hates this. hates how easily jay gets under his skin, how he takes things jake can’t even put into words and lays them out in front of him, undeniable.

jay watches him for a long moment. “you know what i think?” he says finally. “i think you’re so used to proving yourself with numbers and theories and things that make sense, that you don’t know what to do when someone just… believes in you. no proof, no equations. just you.”

jake tenses. he hates how much that makes sense.

jay shakes his head, softer now. “and i think that scares the hell out of you.”

jake exhales sharply, staring at the table. “you make it sound so simple.”

jay snorts. “oh, it’s not. it’s the farthest thing from simple. but that’s the thing, jake.” he leans back. “people don’t believe in you because it’s logical. they don’t care about how many degrees you have, or how many papers you’ve published, or how many theories you can prove.” he tilts his head. “she doesn’t believe in you because of those things. she believes in you, period.”

jake clenches his jaw, the weight of it all pressing into him, heavier than he knows what to do with.

jay watches him for a long moment before sighing. “you really think she’d waste her time on someone who wasn’t worth it?”

jake flinches.

jay shakes his head. “then maybe the real question is—" his voice dips, steady, almost quiet. "why don’t you?"

and that is the one question jake doesn’t have an answer for.

jake grips his glass tighter. the ice has melted now, whiskey diluted and forgotten. but he’s not really looking at it. he’s looking at nothing, eyes unfocused, as jay’s words echo in his head, looping over and over until they settle like lead in his stomach.

maybe he does have an answer.

but if he admits the truth – if he lets himself acknowledge that he’s the only one standing in his own way – then he has to face everything else, too. the quiet belief that he’s not enough. that no matter how much he wants you, how much you linger in his mind, it doesn’t change the fact that you are you and he is him. that you are warm and bright and brilliant, and he is… jake. just jake.

a man who is scared to believe in something good because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold onto it.

the thought weighs heavy, pressing down on his ribs, and before he can second-guess himself, before he can think at all, he’s pulling out his phone.

jake barely registers jay muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. the moment he’s gone, the absence is almost too much. like his thoughts, which had been held back by the steady presence of his best friend, finally push through the floodgates, drowning him whole.

your phone buzzes against your nightstand, the unexpected call lighting up your screen. you blink at the name flashing across it.

dr. jake sim.

your stomach flips. jake never calls. he barely texts. if he needs something, he emails. the fact that he’s calling you – past midnight, no less – has you scrambling to answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“hello? dr. sim”

there’s silence, then a low exhale. and then—

“why do you call me that?”

his voice is gruff, lower than usual, edged with something unreadable. you frown, shifting upright in bed. “call you what?”

“dr. sim,” he mutters, as if the words themselves irritate him. “told you to call me jake.”

his voice is rough – low and gruff in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. but it’s not the usual sharp-edged jake you’re used to. it’s looser, unguarded. and… is that the faintest hint of a slur in his words?

you blink. he sounds… off. not angry, not exactly, but different. looser. and that’s when it clicks.

"wait – are you drunk?"

a heavy sigh, followed by the sound of something shuffling in the background. "m’not drunk. just – thinking. about space. about the way everything moves, how nothing stays still. it’s all just—" he exhales, long and slow. "cosmic entropy."

you blink. "...what."

"everything’s always changing," he murmurs, voice dipping lower. "expanding, shifting, breaking apart. that’s the nature of the universe. you can’t stop it. can’t predict it. and yet… people still try. they believe in things staying the same, believe in things lasting." he scoffs, the sound almost bitter. "how do they do that?"

you sit up a little straighter, heart hammering. he’s never called you before. he barely even texts. and now he’s on the phone with you, drunk, rambling about entropy and permanence and—

"jake," you start carefully, "where are you?"

"bar." a pause. "jay’s in the washroom."

of course he is. you press a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself. "okay. do you need me to—"

"i just don’t get it," he interrupts, voice dropping into something almost too quiet, too raw. "how can people trust something so uncertain? how do they just… believe?"

your throat tightens. you don’t know what to say to that, don’t know how to answer a question that sounds so much bigger than just theoretical physics. so instead, you latch onto the one thing you do know.

"jake," you say again, softer this time. "do you want me to come get you?"

he doesn’t respond right away. and for a moment, you think maybe he’s drifted off, lost in whatever spiral of thoughts led him here in the first place.

"no," he says, quiet but firm. "just… stay on the phone. just for a bit."

your breath catches. but you don’t hang up. instead you stare at your phone, half expecting the call to drop any second, but it doesn’t. instead, jake keeps talking, voice low and gruff, words a little slurred but still oddly deliberate.

“i mean it,” he says, like it’s the most important thing in the world. “i told you to call me jake.”

you blink. “you’re literally drunk right now.”

“so?” he huffs, and you can hear the faint clink of ice in his glass, like he’s still holding his drink. “that doesn’t change anything.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, torn between frustration and the undeniable amusement bubbling in your chest. you have no idea how you ended up here – half-asleep in your pajamas, curled up on your couch, listening to your boss slash co-worker slash not-so-secret-crush spiral into some kind of drunken existential crisis.

“this is so weird,” you mutter to yourself.

“what’s weird?”

“this. this whole situation –  you calling me. you never call me.”

there’s a pause on the other end, just long enough for you to wonder if you said something wrong. then—

“you never call me either.”

that throws you off. you shift on the couch, pressing the phone closer to your ear. “i—well, yeah, because…you’re you.”

jake exhales, slow and deliberate. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you open your mouth, then close it again, realizing you don’t actually have a proper answer. because what are you supposed to say? that he intimidates you? that half the time, you don’t even know where you stand with him? that despite all that, he somehow manages to take up space in your mind like he’s carved out a permanent place there?

instead, you say, “you just – don’t seem like the type to want people calling you all the time.”

another pause. then, softer this time, “maybe i wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

your breath catches in your throat. your brain stalls completely. and jake – oblivious, drunk, or just too far gone to care – keeps talking.

“you ever think about the cosmos?” he murmurs. “like, really think about it? how we’re just – these tiny, insignificant specs in a universe that doesn’t even know we exist?”

you stare at the ceiling, trying to steady your pulse. “that’s…a little depressing.”

“nah,” jake hums. “it’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it? the fact that we’re here at all. that somehow, out of all the possible outcomes, we exist at the same time, in the same place.”

you swallow. something about the way he says it – low, thoughtful, like he’s on the verge of some grand realization – makes your chest feel tight.

“…jake,” you start, but before you can say anything else, there’s some muffled noise on his end, followed by a familiar voice groaning something that sounds like, “oh my god.”

you recognize it instantly. “jay?”

“yeah, it’s me,” jay sighs. “please tell me he’s not talking your ear off about space.”

you glance at the clock. “he might have been.”

jay groans again. “of course he was.” then, directing his attention away from the phone, “dude, i leave for two seconds and you’re out here drunk dialing her?”

jake mumbles something in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out. jay sighs again, more exasperated this time. “alright, i’m cutting him off. sorry for…whatever this was.”

you can’t help but laugh. “it’s fine. take care of him.”

“oh, don’t worry. he’s not living this down.”

you hear a faint protest from jake, but the call cuts off before you can catch what he says. you stare at your phone for a moment, heart still racing, brain still scrambling to process everything that just happened.

jake had called you. drunk. talking about the cosmos. and…maybe i wouldn’t mind if it was you.

you drop your phone onto your lap, pressing your face into your hands.

yeah. you were so not getting any sleep tonight.

twenty-four.

jake wakes up to the worst headache of his life. his skull feels like it’s been cracked open and stuffed with static, his mouth is drier than the sahara, and worst of all – there’s a deep, bone-chilling sense of dread sitting heavy in his chest.

he groans, shifting onto his back, trying to force his brain to function past the pain. the details of last night are foggy, blurred at the edges like a half-remembered dream.

he remembers the bar. he remembers jay. he remembers whiskey.

and then his eyes snap open. oh, no.

he remembers a phone call. he remembers your voice.

“shit,” he rasps.

from somewhere in the room, jay makes a noise – amused, awake, too awake for this hour. “good morning to you too, casanova.”

jake groans again, draping an arm over his eyes. “what did i do?”

jay doesn’t answer immediately, which is bad. jay loves rubbing things in his face, so if he’s holding back, it means he’s screwed. really fucking screwed.

jake forces himself up, barely able to sit without his head spinning. “jay,” he says, voice rough. “what did i do?”

jay is grinning. he’s too pleased, sipping his coffee like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “dunno, man,” he says, tilting his head. “why don’t you tell me?”

jake stares at him. then, cautiously, he checks his phone.

the call log is there. 13 minutes. what the fuck did he say…

he exhales sharply, gripping his phone tighter. “okay. so, i called her. what did i say?”

jay just shrugs, far too casual. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

jake nearly lunges across his bed. it does not help that the twenty four hours of agony that follow are pure, undiluted hell.

jake spends all of sunday trying to recall details from the call. some parts come back in flashes – something about the cosmos, something about his name. something about… maybe i wouldn’t mind if it was you...

which – yeah, that part alone is enough to make him consider moving to another continent. because what the hell was he thinking? he’s not the kind of guy to get drunk and call someone? especially not someone he likes. or maybe he is, since he’s never liked anyone before you.

by sunday evening, jake is halfway convinced he’s destroyed the only real connection he’s ever had that wasn’t based on logic or academia.

he doesn’t go outside. doesn’t even open his blinds. the sunlight feels too loud.

every time he remembers a new detail from the call – your voice when you answered, the soft laugh in the background, the way he apparently said your name like it was a lifeline – he sinks deeper into his mattress and contemplates erasing himself from the space-time continuum.

he googles how to fake your own death in the 21st century and immediately regrets it.

he briefly considers texting you. something casual. maybe: hey. sorry if i was weird last night. or just. weird in general.

he doesn’t send it. instead, he stares at the open and empty text box for ten whole minutes before deleting it and throwing his phone across the room like it’s personally responsible for ruining his life.

by monday morning, he’s more nauseous than he’s ever been in his life – part embarrassed, part anxiety, all nerves. he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if he looks as terrible as he feels. (he does.)

jake is running on approximately two hours of sleep, three cups of coffee, and the sheer willpower not to combust.

he makes it through the front doors of the lab with his head down, his headphones in, and his hope clinging to the desperate idea that maybe, by his sheer will of manifestation – you’re running late today.

you are not. because of course you’re not. you're always on time. of course.

you’re halfway down the hallway, looking just as composed and steady as always, clipboard in hand, hair pulled back in that way that should not make his heart stutter but absolutely does.

jake stops walking. like, fully halts.

you look up just then – because the universe has no chill – and your eyes meet his.

it’s maybe a second. maybe less. but it’s enough. because jake short-circuits.

he forgets how to move, how to blink, how to breathe. you don’t smile, but your expression softens, and it’s so much worse. because there’s something unreadable in your gaze. something curious. something almost fond.

jake panics. he looks away so fast it should cause whiplash and fumbles with his keycard like it personally offended him.

you don’t say anything. you just keep walking.

and jake? jake shuffles sideways like he’s trying to blend into the drywall. his fingers tremble as he finally swipes in, and the second he’s inside his lab, he shuts the door and leans against it like he just outran a tsunami.

from the other side of the hallway, your heart is beating somewhere near your ears. because what the hell just happened?

jake looked like he saw a ghost. or like he was the ghost. and you? you weren’t even trying to be weird, you just looked at him. like a normal person. and he—

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your clipboard tighter, silently begging the floor to open up and swallow you whole. because yes, jake is usually awkward, but he’s never… nervous.

not like that. not like he’s the one with a crush now.

jake lasts approximately three minutes in the lab before he realizes he’s going to have a full-blown meltdown.

because all he can think about is your face when your eyes met his. not shocked. not annoyed. just… soft. warm. the kind of look he’s only seen you give the stars when you’re studying the simulation or looking at the readings he forgot to be proud of until you pointed them out. it’s the kind of look that ruins him.

his brain is running a mile a minute, trying to reconstruct the pieces of last night’s call. he knows he said too much. knows he was rambling. he remembers – faintly – your voice saying “dr. sim,” and how that had cut through the haze in his head like lightning. he’d practically growled at you for it. told you to call him jake. not asked. demanded, more like.

he groans, dragging a hand over his face as he leans against the cool metal table, hoping the shame will physically leave his body.

he should say something. apologize. pretend it didn’t mean anything. but what if you pretend it didn’t mean anything? what if you smile like usual and tease him about being drunk and call him “dr. sim” again and laugh – and mean nothing by it? what then?

because jake doesn’t think he can take it. doesn’t think he can survive being the only one who’s still stuck on what he said. on what he meant.

especially now that he knows it’s you. it’s always been you.

you, meanwhile, are doing a very good job pretending to be normal. you’re even answering emails. smiling at coworkers. nodding politely as if your entire brain isn’t short-circuiting every time you replay the sound of his voice from last night. that low, unfiltered, almost serious tone when he said your name. when he muttered things you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear. things that didn’t sound like drunken nonsense so much as buried thoughts slipping past the guard he always kept so firmly in place.

yeah, you expected him to pretend nothing happened. but you did not expect to look at you like you’d caught him in a secret he didn’t know how to hide anymore.

but as the day continues, you’re unsure of what’s going on. because it already begins with jake nearly bolting in the opposite direction when he catches a glimpse of you turning the corner. it’s too early, he hasn’t had coffee, and he’s already nursing a headache that refuses to fade.

but as the day drags on, it becomes painfully obvious that it’s not. it’s you.

he spends most of the morning ducking behind doorways and acting like he’s suddenly deeply fascinated by spreadsheets he’d normally ignore. you’re around, of course – you always are – but it feels different today. jake can sense the difference in how his heartbeat spikes when he hears your voice, how his gaze flickers toward the hallway every time there’s movement, hoping and dreading in equal measure that it’s you.

the worst part? you’re trying. he sees it in the way you glance his way, the way you linger by the break room longer than usual, clearly waiting for a chance to talk. and jake? he wants to. god, he wants to. but every time he’s just about to walk over, something gets in the way.

first, it’s a department head asking for a last-minute update on his research. then, it’s a scheduling conflict about the upcoming conference that pulls him into an impromptu meeting. by the time he escapes, it’s already lunch hour – but you’re not in your usual spot.

he waits, telling himself you’re probably just running late. then he tells himself you’re probably eating at your desk. then he tells himself to stop being pathetic. he doesn’t eat either.

the afternoon is even worse.

every time he crosses paths with you, it’s like a scene designed to test his patience. you’re walking one way, he’s being pulled the other. you open your mouth to say something, but a colleague interrupts. he steps forward to greet you, but someone calls your name. it’s like the entire universe has conspired to keep you two from talking.

by 4 p.m., he’s convinced the day is cursed. the only moment he gets any semblance of peace is when he steps into the lecture hall to prepare for his keynote talk at the upcoming conference. it’s quiet. the kind of quiet that usually calms him.

it doesn’t work this time.

because now that he’s alone, his mind is a mess of what-ifs. what if you’re avoiding him? what if you regret picking up the phone? what if you remember more than he does? what if you think he’s an idiot?

what if you don’t feel the same way?

he rubs his hands over his face and stares at the empty auditorium. he’s supposed to be reviewing his slides. instead, he’s imagining the way you’d sounded that night – half-confused, half-soft, calling him dr. sim until he’d grumbled for you to use his name.

and the way you’d said it like it meant something. he wants to believe it still does.

but he doesn’t get to linger in that thought. another knock at the door. another set of questions. another missed moment.

the office is quiet.

it’s late – most people have already gone home, and the hallways have settled into that strange, liminal hum that only exists when the world is caught between work and rest. jake’s still in his office, slumped in his chair, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, the hum of his computer casting faint blue shadows across his desk.

he should be exhausted. he is exhausted. but his mind refuses to slow down.

you’d looked at him differently today. not in a bad way, not cold or distant, but like you were waiting for something. like you expected something from him. and jake had felt that expectation like a weight in his chest, crushing and confusing and impossible to shake.

he leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

all day, he’d meant to pull you aside. at lunch, when you passed by his desk. at four, when you bumped into him in the hallway. even just ten minutes ago, when he watched you gather your things with a smile too polite to be anything real.

he didn’t say a word.

because the phone call – that damn phone call – had changed everything and nothing all at once.

he doesn’t remember all of it. just enough. your voice calling him dr. sim. the way his stomach flipped even then.and then the part that keeps ringing in his ears, soft and slurred and unmistakably honest: "maybe i wouldn’t mind if it was you."

jake groans, burying his face in his hands. he’s never going to live that down.

but the worst part – the part that won’t leave him alone – is that he meant it. still means it. and if he’s honest with himself, he’s probably meant it for a while.

the conference. that’s where this started, didn’t it?

you were the one who told him he could do it. when he was spiraling over deadlines and expectations, when he was ready to pull the plug on the entire presentation and lock himself in his office forever, you were the one who’d looked him dead in the eye and said, “you’re the most brilliant man i’ve ever known.”

he’d scoffed at the time. maybe rolled his eyes. but he’d remembered it. he still remembers it.

and now, the thought of going to that conference – the one he’d only agreed to because you pushed him to – feels… wrong, if you’re not there.

he turns, slowly, letting his gaze drift toward the narrow window in his door. you’re still here.

sitting at your desk, a little slumped over your laptop, frowning in that way you do when you’re too focused to blink. your glasses are slightly askew, your hair a little messy, and jake thinks, without meaning to, how easy it would be to step outside right now. to knock on your desk, to ask you.

but not as his assistant – as something else.

he swallows hard, fingers tightening into fists on his lap. because here’s the thing: he doesn’t want to mess this up. he doesn’t want you to think the invitation is out of guilt or obligation or some weird post-drunken-embarrassment overcompensation. he wants to ask because he wants you there. because maybe he wants to hear your voice in his ear when he’s standing backstage. because maybe – he wants to see what it’s like to have someone like you beside him. for real.

and maybe, for once, he doesn’t want to be afraid of what that means.

his eyes fall back on the small bag by his desk, where the neatly printed schedule for the conference sits, tucked between scribbled notes and a half-eaten protein bar. he pulls it out slowly, flipping it open.

three days. two presentations. one person he wishes was going with him.

jake breathes out, slow and deep. he’s making a decision.

this time, he’s going to do it right. not by accident, not drunk, not in some cryptic metaphor or half-baked excuse. he’s going to ask you. properly. without hiding behind science or sarcasm.

he’s going to ask you to come with him – not as his assistant. not as a colleague. but as the one person who’s believed in him more than anyone else. as the person he can’t stop thinking about. as the one he’s scared to lose.

and if you say no – if you look at him with that confused expression and ask what the hell he’s talking about – then at least he’ll know. at least he’ll have tried. but if you say yes…

jake peeks out the door one more time, watching as you stretch and glance at the time, probably packing up soon. he lets himself smile; small, tired, hopeful.

if you say yes, then maybe the stars are aligning after all.

[38riku]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃

making the phantom bride final four feel things (it's my favorite event sue me)

warnings — suggestive? light flirting.

𝐀. 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀

"stop glaring or i'll mess it up."

as if to prove your point, his brows pinched further, causing you huff in irritation. "okay. what's wrong? you were psyched up like two seconds ago."

"yeah, well, that was two seconds ago and now is now." his rebuttal caused you to roll your eyes. 'boys' you thought as a viable excuse before trying yet again to straighten his eyeliner.

his eyes darted around the room where the others did similar things: riddle fixed his lapels, epel examined his bouquet, and rook practiced his lines, everyone was unaffected by the current circumstance.

not the rampaging bride that is going to doom a teenage boy to the eternal afterlife, no, the fact that you were straddling him in a small vanity chair.

why was such a compromising position seen so casually? now that he thinks about it, the two of you were rather touchy – piggyback rides, you holding his arms, hugs, etc. – still, this is really teetering the line of friendly affection.

"done!" beaming, you leaned back a bit, causing him to hold on to your waist a bit firmer to keep you upright. "riddle! you have a keen eye, is it straight or what?"

the house warden walked over to the two of you and ace was sure he'd call out how inappropriate this is, but he didn't. instead, he nodded and complimented you on your handiwork.

"no need to thank me." you snorted, getting up to go help the others.

riddle chuckled, patting his freshman on the shoulder as he spoke, "are you upset that they're casually intimate with you or are you upset they might act like that with someone else?"

"w-what?!" ace's cheeks flushed red.

"i may be romantically handicapped but i'm more perceptive to it than you think. i can only suggest to say something sooner than later."

he lowered his head, still blushing, diverting his gaze away from your swaying figure as his house warden's words sunk in.

damn. he did want it to mean something.

ace doesn't know which is more embarrassing: his crush on you or that riddle was the one to make him realize.

𝐑. 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

"may i offer a suggestion?"

riddle hummed, meeting your eyes in the vanity mirror. "and what might that be? it's impossible to elevate perfection, you know."

ignoring his arrogant statement, you took a seat, propping his collar up and undoing his tie. "i think you'll stand out more it you tie it differently." you explained your actions, pausing momentarily until he nodded for you to continue.

he watched as you knotted and twirled the fabric, straightening it here and there, and you were done a minute later.

"a bow? it's rather ... cutesy."

"but you're cutesy."

riddle choked, coughing loudly and catching the attention of the other occupants of the room. as they began to walk towards him, he waved them off, effectively keeping them away from his flustered form.

"w-why would you–"

"the cuter you look, the less they'll take you seriously, and as one of the strongest mages left that's perfect for us to break their defenses."

of course, you meant it as a battle advantage – that is your area of expertise, after all.

"don't look so surprised." you joked, flattening out his collar and he hopes you can't feel the heated blush on his neck. "you were thinking the same thing too, right?"

"no, actually... i can't say that i was."

you tilted your head sideways, doubting his words but dropping the subject. "well, from now on don't look down on being cute, kay?"

standing from your seat, you left his vanity to tend to grimm, who, was arguing with ace about who knows what.

if he had half a mind he'd scold them both and cut off the small feline's magic, however, his mind was completely blank.

cute. you think he's cute.

riddle didn't take it as he usually would. for some off reason he felt giddy inside, wishing you meant it in a different ... more flirtatious manner. the poor boy has zero experience but wishing might work, right?

𝐑. 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

"you need to talk normally to us so they won't be suspicious. try again."

if rook wasn't used to a strict training regime he'd undoubtedly call you a harsh teacher, but, as a lover of all things beautiful and magnificent he tossed the thought aside.

"no can do mon cherie. her actions are horrendous and nowhere near beautiful." he signed, placing a hand over his wounded heart. "but you, darling, are as heroic and magnificent as ever."

he watched as you rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip as you began to reprimand him for his lack of seriousness.

although he heard the words coming from your mouth, he couldn't help but focus on everything else.

despite not being a contender in this entire ordeal you were still dressed beautifully. the color is ethereal on you, he must make note of the hue for later ... and whatever scent you adorned had his senses on ten.

don't you know never to where perfume when there's a hunter nearby?

"rook! are you even listening to–"

all too suddenly he had your hand in his, the other gripping your waist firmly to keep your surprised form upright.

"let me give it to you straight then. the unseen beauty of your compassion and tender heart outshines that of a world class model. not that you aren't attractive, no, no, quite the opposite."

"how greedy can you possibly be?"

deep. rich. clear. his voice was positively enthralling when he dropped that phony accent (it does have a charm of its own in your opinion)

"perfect!" you beamed, his grip on you loosening in surprise of his own. "i knew you could do it. she'll be knocked off her translucent feet i tell you!"

rook allowed you to walk away, scolding epel who wiped his makeup off for the ninth time deeming it unmanly.

he couldn't help but laugh. he broke character, purposely, but he did nevertheless, and don't think he didn't notice the flash of attraction in your eyes.

never let your guard down in front of a predator, mon cherie.

𝐄. 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑

"i swear on the seven you'll have more problems than a poof of blush if you keep testing my patience."

epel felt a chill run down his spine at your words but he stood his ground. he let you do the liner, tousle his hair all nice, and even spray a painfully potent cologne – but he draws the line at that pigmented puff of doom.

"i'm telling ya i'm not wearing that!" he argued back from the other side of the table. the two of you were playing chicken to the amusement of the others who were nearly done with their preparations.

"stop being a big baby!"

"i ain't no baby!"

he flinched back as you narrowed your eyes in a glare. for a moment, he felt sorry that grimm had to live with such a scary person.

"fine. don't wear the blush." you slid the compacted container to his side of the table, raising your hands in surrender.

"let me redo your hair then. it'll fit the look better, baby."

yeah. that's right, you better listen when he — wait, baby?

you pushed him down in the nearest chair, undoing the small ponytail you had before in favor of something else.

epel thought this earlier but your hands did feel amazing as you twirled and pinned his hair. he nearly fell asleep the first time but he knew better than to let down his guard.

"what do you think of this, baby?"

you were teasing him but jeez, why did it make his heart race?

"doesn't matter what i think." he huffed, and you laughed softly at the statement.

"well, i'm no ghost bride with unnaturally specific standards but you look good, baby." this time, you drawled out the pet name, winking, and then leaving him alone to question everything.

in the end he came to the conclusion that he should've just let you put the damn blush on.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.

[carame1bunny]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Kinktober Day 3:

Lingerie w/Jill Valentine☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

───୨ৎ───────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ────

word count: 1.3k

warning: smut! lingerie, face sitting, 69, girl on girl action(my fav:3)

summary: you’re shopping, when you spot a lingerie store… and there is no harm with surprising your girlfriend with a sexy set, as long as she is the one who gets to take it off of you.

───୨ৎ───────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ────

It all started with you shopping with your friends at the mall. The S.T.A.R.S police officers were throwing a party and you were the plus one to your girlfriend, Jill, so you needed to buy a nice dress. You managed to buy a nice navy blue dress, and while you were on your way out… You spotted the lingerie store. You mostly had comfortable underwear, you knew that your girlfriend found you sexy even in a pair of cotton panties with coconut trees on them. But, you could buy a nice set, and surprise Jill after the party.

You didn’t need to look for long before finding a gorgeous lacy set. Navy blue with white lacy details, it even had a garter, so you also bought a white thigh high pair of tights.

In the evening, you and Jill took a shower together, and you left her with blue lady balls. She was getting touchy, but you needed to save the mood for later. You put some makeup on and put the dress on. You were adjusting it in the mirror when strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“You look gorgeous, baby.” Jill said as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “I’ll have to shoo my colleagues away from you all night.”

You giggled and turned your head back to whisper into her ear. “They won’t be the ones who will take this dress off of me at night.” You bit her earlobe, her sensitive spot, and smiled when you heard her quiet moan.

The party was alright. The food was good, and there was plenty of alcohol. You kept on being touchy with Jill, there was no harm in teasing her and getting her worked up.

As in Jill, she couldn’t wait to go home. Everyone had their eyes on you, her sweetheart. As she was hanging out beside the nachos, Chris came up beside her.

“What’s up, tiger?” He knew Jill well enough to notice when she was antsy.

“I want to go home.” She shrugged and shoved a handful of cheesy nachos into her mouth.

“Everything okay with the missus?” Chris smirked, he had to admit, you were a sight for sore eyes.

“She had been fucking with me all day, doesn’t let me lay a single finger on her. I’m shaking, Chris, fucking shaking!” She held up her hand to emphasize her point.

“Well, you’re lucky that I’m bored as shit, so… wanna split a cab?” Jill didn’t need to be told twice.

Just as you came out of the bedroom, she grabbed your hand and began pulling you to the exit. It took every cell in your body to hold back your grin, mission accomplished. The three of you catched a cab and told the driver your addresses. Jill was sitting in the middle, so Chris was blind to the fact that you were dragging your finger up and down her waist and thighs. What? If you’re gonna tease her and get her worked up, you will do it properly.

The driver barely pulled up to your apartment, when Jill handed him the money, said a quick goodbye to Chris and dragged you out of the car. You only turned back to share a knowing look with Chris.

The second you locked the door behind you, Jill crashed her lips against yours. She claimed your lips, while reaching up to tangle her fingers into your hair and give you a harsh tug.

“Whatever you’re doing… it fucking ends now.” She lifted you over her shoulder and began to make her way to your shared bedroom. You giggled and kicked your feet, but immediately quieted down when she gave you a smack on your butt.

As she threw you on the bed, you quickly stood up and pushed her to sit. She opened her mouth to object, and you were quick to shush her. After taking a few steps back, you slowly let the straps of your dress fall from your shoulders, while reaching down to pull off your dress. Soon, your navy thigh garter was revealed and her eyes widened. She wasn’t the only one starving for some action, you were too. So, you nearly ripped your dress off and stood before her in your lingerie.

She was still looking at you with a dumbfounded expression, but as you stepped closer, her hands immediately found their place on your waist.

“Wow… baby, you look—-Fuck. Come here.” She pulled you down, you now straddled her.

She nuzzled her face into your neck, deeply inhaling your sweet scent. She must have been a goddamn saint in her last life, otherwise, how could she deserve an angel like you? She quickly tore off her blouse and unclasped her bra, it was starting to get hot in the room. Just as she kicked her pants off, you attacked her lips with your own. It was messy and needy, teeth and tongues.

After a heated makeout session, she fell back against the mattress and smirked at you.

“Sit on my face.” She commanded. She needed to feel your body against her face, she wanted to suffocate between your thighs. If that were ever to happen, she would die the happiest woman who ever lived.

You reached back to take the top of your set off, but she slapped your hand away. She smoothed the lace with a finger. “This stays on. Now, come on, I’m starving up here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You crawled up on her torso and took a comfortable seat on her face. She took a deep inhale and sighed blissfully. “All mine.” She murmured to herself. Your hands were already gripping the bed frame. One thing about your girlfriend: if she ate your pussy, she really ate your pussy.

She began by kissing your already wet cunt through your panties, her tongue occasionally darting out to poke your clit through the fabric. It was good that you were already seated, otherwise your knees would have bucked from underneath you. Her fingers finally reached up to pull your panties to the side, and her tongue took a big lick from your clenching hole to your clit. After that, she took your little nub between her lips and sucked. Your moans were like music to her ears, that’s why she couldn’t help herself and trail her own fingers down her toned stomach. She dipped into her underwear and began rubbing her own neglected clit. You were conscious enough to notice and feel how her hips bucked up. So, you turned around on her face. Your torso leaning against her tummy, and your curious little fingers pushing her underwear down as far as you could reach.

You matched what she did to you. As she started to thrust her tongue into you, you did the same by feeling up her tight walls with your wet muscle. The sound echoing between the walls was downright filthy. Moaning, slurping, and the squelching of two needy and wet pussies.

You teased her entrance with your fingers, and began fingering her in a fast rhythm. She needed a second to catch her breath and do the same to you. She knew you well enough to instantly find that special spongy spot inside you.

Both of your movements sped up, and you were the one who orgasmed first, but she didn’t need much to follow right behind you.

You gave her cunt a goodbye kiss and plopped down beside her. She smirked at you, her lips glistening with your arousal. You couldn’t help leaning up to kiss her. You two just tasted yourselves on each other's lips, mixing both of your wetness into one unique taste. When you pulled away, you snuggled right into her side.

“S.T.A.R.S should throw more parties.” You said, half-asleep.

She chuckled and replied in her sleepy raspy voice. “And I should start buying you more lingerie.” She kissed your forehead and murmured. “My pretty baby.”

[goldenempyrean]

Not Quite 'Just Fine'

« Advent Day 1: “I thought you were ‘just fine’?” »

« Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader »

« Notes: First advent fic of 2023! Let's go! :D »

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“This sucks.” Came the quiet annoyed grumble of your girlfriend, who had been sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest, her head resting atop them.

Ross was currently on the warpath and had demanded the entire team be pulled into a meeting to lectured on why it was important they keep their operations within the strict protocols set by one of the many accords the government had put into place.

“He’ll be done soon.” You murmured in response as you reached underneath the table to rest your hand on her thigh, “You know how he is when he gets in a mood.”

You both knew all too well how Ross could get but you couldn’t help but feel especially bad for your girlfriend considering that she wasn’t exactly feeling 100% at the moment. The pair of you had only just gotten back from a joint 3 day long mission up in the chilly forests of Siberia. Everything had gone great and smoothly… well except for that fact Natasha had insisted on giving you her thick coat after finding out you’d forgotten yours.

Her thin suit had done little to stave off the harsh chill biting in the air and you’d noticed her shivering throughout the night - even after the pair of you had shared long warm shower together. But when you’d pulled another blanket over her asked if she was okay, Natasha had assured you she was fine.

But now you really weren’t so sure. As Ross continued his lecture, Natasha's shivers grew more pronounced, her tired eyes blinking heavily as she held up her head with her hands. You slipped your hand beneath her hoodie and discreetly rubbed her back - something you knew she aways liked when she was in need of a little extra loving - but you couldn’t help but bite back a sigh as you felt the warmth radiating from her.

She let out a soft, suppressed yawn, and you couldn't help but smile sympathetically.

"You look like you need some rest," you whispered, your hand still on her back. "Maybe we can convince Ross that we need to file a mission report or something. Slip away for a bit. I think we should get some medicine into you, bring that temperature of your’s down a little.”

“I don’t have a temperature.” Natasha sniffled faintly but nevertheless she still nodded. Just as you were about to propose your excuse, her body tensed, and she let out a series of quick, half-stifled sneezes into her hands, “Oh, gross…” She cringed in disgust.

"Great timing sweetheart," You mumbled with a chuckle, handing her a tissue from your pocket. "Let's get out of here. I'll take care of you, come on.”

Clearing your throat you stood up to address Ross, “Sir, if you’ll excuse us, there’s a lot of paperwork that needs catching up on which otherwise will end up on your desk, so, may we?”

The secretary seemed more than displeased at your interruption however when he rolled his eyes and nodded towards the door when Natasha curled into herself with a raspy sounding cough a few moments later.

You nodded back, before turning your attention back to your girlfriend who looked like she wanted to hide in her hoodie and never return. “Come on Natty.” You whispered, offering out a hand when she stood up and had to dizzily grab the table to stable her balance.

Walking down the corridor, you felt Natasha slip her arm around your waist she leaned on you for support .”I thought you were 'just fine'?" You teased, making her blush a little as she buried her head into your side.

She looked up and shot you a half-hearted glare, her voice hoarse, "Don't push it."

You chuckled, guiding her through the corridors, "Well, I did warn you to keep your coat, but no, you had to be the chivalrous girlfriend.”

Natasha snorted weakly, but the action caused her to splutter into a sharp cough making her whine in response, “Rub it in later, will you? I just want to get under some warm covers right now.”

Finally when you reached her room, she gave you a grateful smile, "Thanks for saving me from Ross though. I needed that.”

"Anytime, Agent Romanoff," you replied, helping her onto the bed, pulling the thick duvet over her and she snuggled down into the sheet, “Now, let's get you comfortable. I'll find some meds and we’ll cuddle up for the rest of the day.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips, "You're not too bad at this caring girlfriend sort of thing, y’know.”

You winked, "Years of practice. Now, rest up sweetheart and I'll be right back with that medicine."

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[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 5

Part 1 2 3 4

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, mentions of pregnancy/fertility issues, sunshine x grump, enemies to lovers (to enemies ? HAHA), slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, horrible communication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: im updating this on here solely because of @thatawkwardlittlefangirl's reblogs n tags. hi cutie i see you. i hope you enjoy!!! you reminded me i have to finish this story and i swear i will T_T. | cross posted on ao3

"W-where are you going?"

"To find someone to bring my things downstairs," I huff as I gather my skirts and head for the door.

"I can bring them down!" he urges, making me turn to him as he grabs the bags and picks them from the floor. Sandor slings the satchels on him and grabs up the rest, looking at me for further instruction. I face front and exit the room. I feel him follow closely after me.

Once I get down, I am met with a busy first floor. I dawns on me at this moment that I probably looked distressed and teary eyed. I wipe my face and fix my hair. I make myself smile as I walk towards the front door, looking for Trysha or one of her sons.

The Hound follows after me. He stands beside me and I sidestep to keep a good distance between us.

He clears his throat but his voice still cracks, "I'll rea-dy the horses."

I do not watch him as he walks off; I hover by the open door to what I assumed to be the kitchen.

Just then, Trysha comes out carrying a tray of food. She beams at me and I pull my cheeriest smile in return.

"Anything you need, milady?"

I shake my head, "no. I simply wanted to say that we cannot wait for our laundry."

"Oh. But I-"

"If it is agreeable to you, we will come back for it on our return."

Trysha raises her brows and nods her head slowly, "of course, lady."

I press my lips into a smile, "Lord Clegane and I will take our leave. I thank you for your hospitality."

Trysha wishes to reply but she does not get the opportunity.

I head outside, feeling my chest tighten with sadness and resentment. I think of my pups; oh, how I long to have them doting on me, licking my skin, whining for my attention. How foolish I was for even finding a morsel of annoyance in them. I regretfully catch a glimpse of the Hound, who was buckling up his ride. My belly curdles.

I ignore him as I head to the stable. I take deep breaths to calm myself. I rub my horse's snout once I am close enough, imagining it was Sage, or Lilac, or Rose who I was petting instead. Not even a second later, my eyes water and my lips tremble. Perhaps I am greedy in wishing to have children of my own. Perhaps I was meant to only care for animals. Or perhaps I was not meant to be loved this way.

My horse neighs and nudges me. I slightly topple back, yet somehow the action soothes me.

"Need some help, lady?" a deep but chirpy voice asks.

I panic and sniffle, wiping my face in a hurry. Before I know it, a large man comes to my side, and it is made clear my smile does not hide my sorrow, as the expression of the man slips into concern when he gazes upon my features.

It was Ian that stood before me. It seemed he was in a good mood until he saw my face. It makes me feel even more dreadful than I already was.

I sniffle and offer a chuckle, "yes. I would appreciate the assistance." I wipe my face, "I'm terribly horrible at saddling on my own."

Ian examines my body, then looks past me. He hardens when he sees the Hound staring back at him. The said man is visibly on edge, in fact he looks distraught or even guilty. Ian clenches his fists and turns back to me, "are you well?"

I feign ignorance, and quickly realize my mistake at how the man clenches his jaw in return.

"Has he hurt you?"

I raise my brows at him and smile softly, "do not ask such silly que-"

"I'm not 'fraid of him, " Ian cuts me off, unabashedly glaring back at the perceived villain, "my brothers and I can ta-"

"Do not jest over such things," I blurt sternly, "you will not lay your hands upon my husband, do you understand?"

Ian turns to me.

"You must cease your talk of such gruesome horrors," I wave a hand, "it will do you well to practice peace."

"Peace is a pleasure only afforded by the rich, milady."

I shake my head, "I say to you, you will find less peace in riches. Greedy people are always in unrest."

My own words shatter my heart. I feel like a hypocrite. I feel like I am deserving of my predicament. I battle with my mind and thankful do not burst into tears. I manage to look back at Ian with a neutral expression.

We stare at each other for a moment. I offer him my hand and he takes it, finally helping me up my horse. He guides me up, then hoist me by my waist. In the simple action, I am made aware of his strength. I begin to wonder what the chances of him and his brothers against my husband were. I banish the thought.

Once I am sat upon my ride, I look down and press my lips into a smile, "thank you, Ian."

Ian looks up at me, nodding, "milady." He hands me my reins and brushes my horse's neck. He speaks softly, as not to be conspicuous, "are ye certain about your lord?"

My brows furrow slightly.

"Aye, it's not my business, but a woman should never weep."

My heart squeezes at his sentiment. I shake my head and reach out, placing my hand on his shoulder, "I weep for my pups."

Ian looks up at me.

"I have 3 that I left at home. I do miss them terribly."

Though it was not a lie, at least not entirely, it was clear that Ian did not believe me. He had made his mind up about what he would believe and so nothing but that can wipe away his doubt. And yet, Ian nods again then leads the horse out of the stable.

When I look up, I see the Hound already mounted on his own horse. We are reunited and my belly pinches and rolls at our proximity. I have to tell remind myself that the sooner we leave, the sooner I can ignore him. I cannot bring even myself to smile at him for show, or look at him for long, as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I turn back to Ian instead and clear my throat before speaking, "I thank you again for your help, Ian."

Ian looks up at me.

"Your family's inn is a treasure. I pray the gods will grant you blessings and success."

"And I pray they give you peace, Lady Clegane," Ian replies, pulling away from my horse. He turns to Sandor, "may the Father punish the wicked those who wish you anything but."

The Hound's horse becomes restless.

I take this as a sign to begone. I spare Ian one last look before we ride off, "give your family my regards."

Ian bows. He offers me a smile. It drops and gis expression darkens when he turns to Sandor, who rides off before me to lead the way.

Sandor enjoyed the quiet, but the quiet in this travel was unbearable. His head so badly wanted to turn over his shoulder to check on his wife, to make sure that you were still there, to see how you were doing, but he told himself the sound of your horse's hooves where enough. When he caught the sound of your soft mewls, your soft sniffles and whimpers, he knew he didn't deserve to look. He'd made you cry again.

Again. And again. And again.

And now the night began to cover the land. It didn't look like there would be any inns to chance upon anytime soon. When Sandor caught sight of a lake, he decided it would be good to stay here for the night.

"We'll stop here," the Hound says, not expecting a reply.

He leads his ride to the lake and dismounts. He rubs the creatures face and steals a glance your way. You were cautiously getting off your horse... struggling.

"Fuck," he mutters and purses his lips. He battles with himself on whether or not he should help you.

Fuck it. He goes up to you and helps you down. Thankfully, you do not protest, nor do you wrangle out of his touch. When you get on your feet, you mutter something he doesn't catch.

Again, he hesitates, but he manages to mutter, "what was that?"

You turn to him. It's wholly apparent you had been crying. He feels horrid.

"I-"

"Thank you," you struggle to say through a clogged nose.

He freezes.

"I want to bathe," you walk back.

Sandor nods, "I'll hel-"

"Do not follow me," you raise a finger.

That comes to him like a punch in the gut. He feels like his heart was being pierced in every which way. He watches as his love walks away from him. He watches as his wife goes to the lake. He watches as she undresses herself. He turns away when she sees the bare skin of her shoulder.

He decides to gather some firewood nearby, never straying enough that his lady was no longer visible. He is lucky to find enough twigs to build a fire. By the time he's set one up, the moon was shining down upon earth, leaving a glow. He has more than once seen your skin under moon light, but in this moment, he has to banish the thought, lest the temptation to see you becomes unbearable.

You sink into the shallow lake, looking up at the sky, gazing at the full moon. The water was cold, and you were being chilled to the bone, but you invited the numbing sensation; it matched what your mind felt. You only decide to get out because your teeth began to chatter.

Sluggishly, you emerge from the water and frown at the towel waiting for you beside your clothes. You look out to your husband and find that he is sat by the fire, back turned to you. You shiver and hurriedly wipe yourself down and get dressed.

Just as you were about to walk towards your camp- "Milady!" you hear from not too far off.

"Ian?"

Sandor gazes at the fire, lost in thought, lost in life. He contemplates how long it will take for him to be forgiven, if he is worthy to be forgiven at all. He wonders how calloused he must be not to foresee the hurt it would stab upon your heart. His turmoil makes his head heavy, literally; he so badly wishes to shut his eyes and sleep, yet he cannot bring himself to do anything about it. And then, he hears whispers.

He brushes it off, thinking perhaps you were speaking to yourself. But then he the voices gets louder, and soon be realizes you were speaking to someone.

The Hound looks over his shoulder and sees you speaking to a large man. Immediately, his sleepiness if washed away and he is overcome with fight instincts. His face contorts as he grabs his sword and marches over to you.

Once he is close enough, he recognizes the man you were speaking to. It was the man from the inn, from the fucking stables. He draws his sword out of its sheath, immediately on the offense. His vein nearly pops when the stupid cunt readies to unsheathe his own weapon.

"Stop it!" you exclaim, walking towards him to press your hand on his chest.

Sandor's gaze is fixed upon you. Your hateful expression makes his brows knit in hurt.

"Both of you!" you snap to the other, "go home, Ian."

The Hound's anger flares, "the fuck is he even doing here?!" he steps forward, "how long have you been following us?"

Ian steps forward as well, but you also push him back, "stop it-"

"I know men like you," Ian mutters with venom, "you go 'round doing and takin' what pleases you because no one can stop you."

"Oh," the Hound chuckles dryly, "and will that-"

"STOOOOP!"

The two of them turn to you after let out the gut curling scream. You heave as bitter tears cloud your eyes and streak down your face. They both watch as you crumble into tears.

"Or perhaps I should just let you kill each other?!" you quip, "it's not like you're doing this for me because here you are saying you want to protect me but do not wish to listen to me, and you are doing the same in the name of love or whatever you fool yourself to believe it is! No, you fools only listen to yourselves because you can only love yourself!"

Needless to say, the two are frozen where they stand.

Ian is the first to try and explain himself. It falls deaf to your ears, and eventually he is off with his tail between his legs. As much as the Hound is pleased to see him go, he is not content to turn away until he is no longer in view. That is, until he notices you shaking with anger and frustration. He calls out your name carefully.

You hiss, "I've told you my piece," then shake your head slowly, "I do not have the energy to continue."

"I know," he grabs your arm, "but I-'

The sound of your sigh dries up his words. In this moment, he realizes your arm is limp in his clutch. You are not fighting him off because you are exhausted. That stupid fuck... he was right.

He releases you, "forgive me, I-"

"Tomorrow."

He clenches his jaw.

"We shall speak tomorrow. Tonight we sleep."

You stare at each other for what feels like forever. He nods, "good n-"

You walk past him, heading towards the campfire.

Sandor and I eat in silence. We were now at the nearby port eating freshly baked bread from a bakery in the marketplace. I promised him we would talk after breaking fast so that my hunger would not get ahead of me. I was rather prone to irritation when I had an empty stomach. Presently, we sat on the stairs just by the one of the docks, watching men come in with their catches of fish or imports.

I savor the last bit of bread I have before turning to Sandor, who had long finished his share. He turns to me, then back to the splashing waves. He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat.

"Sandor," I start, releasing a sigh.

He turns back to me. He carefully speaks my name.

"Our beginnings were... unpleasant," I mutter lowly, not trusting my voice enough to speak moderately, lest it break, "our union was borne from the mockery of King Joffrey and yet... here we are." I turn to my hands and rub them together, "I am your wife. My duty is with you, but-"

Sandor's throat constricts when the explanation is cut short.

I turn to him and feel like retching. It's as though there is rock that wishes to dislodge itself from my mouth. It takes a few long, gruelling moments for me to finally speak up, "Sandor, I care deeply for you."

Sandor faces body towards me

My eyes begin to water as we stare at each other, "I love you so terribly that the suggestion that you do not feel the same makes me want to rip the hairs on my head."

His face slips. He hesitates. His hand twitches. He tries to reach out for me but he decides against it. He purses his lips, "I would die for you."

My brows furrow. Tears fog my vision, "that is not the same as lov-"

"I love you," he blurts through a whisper, "and little else."

"Do you think I want your love for me to kill you?" I mumble as sadness overtakes my expression, "do you think that I want you to suffer for my sake?"

He takes a second but he slowly shakes his head.

"I want you to live for me," I squeeze his arm, "live with me. I want to know your woes. I want to help- and- and-... I want you to help me," I pinch my fingers and turn to my lap, "I don't want you chose for me because you think it's better, no more that you'd want me to do the same."

Sandor feels his chest tighten. He wants to speak but he does not.

I look up at him, cheeks wet with salt, "I don't want to be... alone when we're together... I don't want us to continue playing games for each other's sake when neither of us will enjoy the fruits it'll bear. I do not want us to assume our own suffering will benefit the other."

He feels like he is being eaten from the inside out. He hesitates to touch me. I take his hand and place it on my cheek, "embrace me when I weep... I beg of you."

The Hound no longer thinks twice. He reaches for me, arms coming around me body. He pulls me onto his lap and holds me against him. I slip between his thighs and bring my face into his neck. I take in his warmth, his scent, his feel. He rubs my arm and mutters softly, "my poor wife... forgive me."

I pull my head back and frown. His cheeks are damp and I wipe them dry, "forgive me, my poor husband."

Sandor sniffles, "I do not like hurting you."

"Neither do I," I sigh and frown, "perhaps we are doomed in tragedy."

He brushes my hair behind my ear, "perhaps I am your tragedy."

I swipes my lips when they wobble. 

A line forms between his brows.

"Your unkindness to yourself is just as painful as your unkindness to me," I whine, "if you are my tragedy then I am yours. What else have I done but vex and burden you?"

Sandor rubs my arms, "you have made me a home."

My heart races. My breath catches in my throat.

"You are my home," he adds just as I mutter the exact words back to him.

A moment passes of us simply taking each other's sad expression before we break into soft chuckles. Sandor leans his forehead onto my shoulder and kisses my collarbone. I turn to him and kiss his lips.

"From now on, do not make your mind before speaking it to me," I say, "and I will not make mine before speaking it to you. Agreed?"

Sandor pulls me into a tight hug and nods against my neck, "agreed."

I embrace him back, but gasp when I hear a bell tolling. A loud announcement that one of the ships will be leaving makes me break away from him and get to my feet. Sandor immediately follows suit and grabs our things as I hurry over to the ship heading for Volantis.

Only it's not the ship heading for Volantis and one headed to Lannisport.

I freeze in my place and turn to Sandor, who was already looking at me. I wipe my face and give a guilty look, "forgive me. I thought-"

"We should get more bread while we're waiting. I'm still hungry."

I purse my lips and nod. I take his arm and we both head back to the bakery.

Sandor is conscious of my hold on him, "do like holding me while walking?"

His question makes me tense, "I do. W-why? Do you not like it?"

"I like it," he secures my hand on his arm, "I just have never walked like this before. Normally, I walk 5 paces behind."

I let out a breath of relief, "well, you will not need to do that with me, not unless you want to."

"I do not."

I nod, "I am glad. I do not want you so far from me either."

It did not take long after we bought some more bread for us to board the ship. Sandor and I managed to hitch a ride with a trader that was set for Volantis.

Upon boarding, we were brought below the ship, along with the rest of the other passengers who wanted to hitch a ride. In truth, the area was not so bad; it did smell of market, of animal and vegetables, but it was nothing too foul. And yet, it didn't take long for my stomach to begin to react, and my ever-so-keen husband immediately caught on to my affliction.

We had settled ourselves by some crates, apart from the other passengers, but not so far away that we were isolated. Sandor had prepared a makeshift bed for me that we were both presently sat on. I was trying to take a nap but my fussing had turned his bored expression into that of concern.

"Squirrel?" he mutters, shifting to face me.

I ignore him and rest my head on his arm.

His brows furrow, "are you uncomfortable?"

I grunt, "I'm bored."

It's clear he does not believe me, given the fact he pushes my hair away and examines my face. Just as he was speak again, my stomach makes a sound and I slap my hand on my mouth.

"Are you seasick?" he asks, taking my wrist, rubbing it with his thumb.

I look at him and bite my lip. I shrug and rub my nose, "I have been on ships before. I did not get seasick... I think, perhaps, it is the smell."

Sandor knits his brows.

"Do not worry. I will eventually get used to it."

I rub his hand, soothing both him and I with the action.

He does not seem soothed though, and soon, I am craning my neck up to look at him as he stands. I furrow my brows then widen my eyes when he hands me his sword.

"I-"

"Stab anyone that gets too close."

"Sando-"

"I'll talk to the captain."

I watch him walk off in confusion. It was not like there was anywhere else we could go on the ship. What could he possibly need to talk to the captain about?

"Is he your ward, lady?" a voice asks from not too far to my left. I turn and see a middle aged woman and her two kids, sleeping on her lap.

I smile at her, "he is my lord husband."

 Her face falls in shock, "he is?"

My face scrunches in offence at her shock, but I decide not to answer in hostility. I pull a smile and bring Sandor's sheathed sword into my chest.

"May the lord of light grant you peace in your marriage," she says.

I turn away from her and scoff under my breath at the implication I did not already have peace... And what if I don't? My marriage is none of her concern.

A few moments of silence later, I feel my stomach reacting again, so I try and will myself to sleep. I lean against our bags and bury my face into the clothes to mask the scent of the area. It doesn't help though; I only feel suffocated. I sit up once I hear heavy footsteps approaching.

Sandor reemerges and immediately reaches a hand out for me once he is close. I look up at him and take his hand. He helps me stand then grabs our bags and his sword. We wordlessly walk off and find ourselves back on the deck. I look at my husband's broad back and take in the smell of sea salt. It doesn't really refresh me as much as I hoped. I frown when he seems to head off to other stuffy room of the ship. I take in a deep breath as Sandor opens the door for me.

I let out my breath in surprise when I see the room is not, in fact, another part of the hull, or whatever you call the bottom part of the ship, and instead, someone's personal quarters.

I turn to Sandor as he closes the door and puts our things down. It doesn't take long for me to figure this was probably the captain's room, based on the maps. "Are we going to speak to the captain?"

Sandor steps forward, and just then, a rough wave hits the ship. We quickly grab each other for balance. His hands squeeze my arms and my hands grip the sides of his shirt.

The towering man looks down at me and states for a moment. He takes a deep breath and rubs my arms, "you're so beautiful."

I raise my brows at this and pout when I see his solemn expression. I walk forward and press against him. I rub his belly, "thank you, puppy."

He embraces me and presses his cheek on the top of my head, "I've missed you."

I frown and tighten my arms around him, "forgive me."

"Forgive me," he mutters, "I don't like upsetting you."

I look up at him, "I am no longer upset," I brush his beard, "and, if it means anything, I know, deep down you mean well... even when what you think is well ends up hurting me-"

"I am s-"

"-hurting us," I caress his cheek.

I can already feel him about to apologize, so I stop him before he can speak by sealing his lips with mine.

His reaction is immediate. His hands rub down my back and he bends down to deepen our kiss. Before I know it, he's picking me up and lying me on the bed. Soon, my skirt is pushed past my knees and he's slotted between my legs.

My heart begins to race when he kisses down my neck, but that's when I remember where we were. I gasp and push him off, "Sandor!'

The Hound's eyes widen as he pulls back.

I sit up, "we cannot here," I sit up and fix my skirt. I look around the bed, "if we were to get caught-"

"We're not going to-"

"Why did you wish to speak to the captain anyway?" I move off the bed, hands coming to his shoulders, "I don't think he can give us a room if there are no rooms to give."

Sandor pulls me into him by my waist, "that's why I bought his room."

"You what?" I raise a brow.

He brings his face into my neck and kisses my pulse, "I would not let my poor squirrel suffer."

I brush my hands up his face as he frowns, "not any more."

I rub his cheeks, "my love, I do not suffer because of you. Twas the smell... and frankly," I rub my belly, "I fear it still lingers."

He rubs my sides, "are you still uncomfortable?"

"I feel like perhaps any moment I could retch, and yet I won't, which makes it worse."

"I can distract you," he offers firmly then whispers, "please."

I chuckle under my breath and brush our noses together, "what if I vomit on you?"

"Then I'll eat it up like the dog I am," he kisses my cheek, making me laugh.

"Oh, my lord. If I vomited as we coupled, I fear I would never want to couple with you again."

Sandor pulls away, face stunned.

I chuckle and, as if to prove a point, my stomach begins to churn and I feel queasy. I pull away from him and lie on the bed. I pat the area beside me, beckoning him over, "perhaps you can tell me a story."

The bed dips as Sandor comes to my side, "I'm not a story teller, and I fear my stories will only make your soft belly sicker."

I roll over and press myself on him, our chests were now against each other, "what about your travels? Surely you've been tasked to travel to places unknown to the likes of me."

He brushes my hair back, "most of what comes to mind are grubby and bloody memories."

I frown, "forgive me. I do not mean to bring back such scenes."

"Speak no apologies. In fact, I should thank you. You've changed that for me," he brushes my lips, "you've changed that."

I press my lips into a line, "... would you like to know about where I grew up?"

"Brownwood?"

I shake my head, "no, with my aunt and uncle, where I met Lucy."

He grunts, "mmm, let me guess, you found Lucy in a filthy alleyway on your way home to your uncle's pretty castle?"

"..."

He brings one hand behind his head and raises his brow, lips curved up in amusement, "hit the nail on the head with that one, aye?"

A line forms between my brows, "Lucy was sold to a brothel as a child."

Sandor's face goes blank.

"I met her I was eight," I tilt my head, "did you know she's a winter younger than I?"

He opens his mouth and slowly trails off, "no."

"All my cousins were boys and they were all much older than me. I had expected them to treat me like my brothers but they were too caught up in squiring and roughhousing to play dollies with me," I pay his chest, "and no, I did not find her in a filthy alleyway. I was picking flowers and she had been hiding in the bushes. She was on the run."

A guilty expression forms on Sandor's face.

I smile to myself, "in truth, I was very selfish. I saw her and spoke to her about dollies then decided I would take her home with me. I hid her in my room and bathed her and fed her so that I could have someone to play with," I chuckle, "it was a wonder I hid her as long as I did, considering her blabbermouth."

He snorts in amusement and rubs my arm.

"I was so afraid my aunt would throw her away if she was caught, but the gods kept us together. She has been my dearest friend for as long as I can remember. I am forever responsible for her, so..." I draw circles on his chest, "be kind to my Lucy."

He knits his brows and takes my hand.

I watch him as he kisses my knuckles.

"She is an annoying creature."

I grumble, "Hound."

"I will do my best to tolerate her."

I sigh, "very well."

"She has guarded you just as well as you have guarded her. I am glad you found each other."

I feel my stomach curdle when a wave makes the room teeter. I groan and bury my face into his neck, "your turn... please."

He wraps his arms around me and hums. He thinks and rubs my back, "I... rode a horse in a field once."

"Just once?"

"... many times, actually."

"Mmm..." I release a breath, "what were the flowers there that one instance?"

"... uhh... there were no flowers."

"Where were you going?"

"... somewhere ..."

"... I see... Were you meeting someone?"

"... I... I don't remember... I think I- ... no..."

I wrap my arms around him, "a lovely tale, husband."

"... the horse was brown."

[rogueddie]

Thinkin Bout You T | 1,061 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy

Even though he can admit that it's a selfish desire, Eddie still wants to use Steve's pool. He'd thought that, after finally defeating Vecna and saving Max, they could use it as an excuse to have some sort of party.

He's always wanted to go to one of Steves infamous, exclusive pool parties.

"No," Steve immediately snapped, when Eddie brought it up. It was the first time Eddie had ever really heard him angry. "No one goes in the pool. No one- just, stay away from it. It's off limits. That's it."

He'd been confused, but accepted his answer. It didn't matter what he wanted, it clearly made Steve uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to challenge those boundaries.

... but it did make him curious.

At first, he tried to figure it out on his own. Or, more accurately, tried to gauge how Steve fully and truly felt about the pool.

Steve avoided the thing like it would bite him if he looked at it too long. He always steered conversations away from it, or swimming in general, too.

"I'm worried," Eddie admitted, when he finally gave in and turned to Robin. "He can't keep avoiding pools forever."

"It's not pools," Robin says, reluctantly. "It's his pool, specifically. You'll have to ask him, but... you'd get it. If you knew why."

But the only answer he got from Steve was vague, something about Nancy and bad memories.

"I don't want to know what happened," Eddie starts, worming past Nancy as soon as she opens the door. "I only need to know if redecorating the pool might help. Like, if it's bad memories tied to it then spicing it up so it looks different... that'll help, right?"

Nancy stares at him for a moment, needing a moment to catch up.

"We are talking about Steve?" She finally asks.

"Yeah!"

"Right... um... redecorating..." She looks off to the side, frowning in thought. "It might help. He probably won't want to get in himself, no matter what, but... yeah, changing it up might make him more comfortable with it in general."

"Great! I don't know how to redecorate a pool."

Nancy rolls her eyes.

But she jumps into action. She calls Robin, Jonathan and Argyle, gathering them together so they can brainstorm ideas.

It's Jonathan who suggests they try and make it more kid friendly. Argyle is the one who collects pool decals, agreeing on placing them too. Robin insists on being the one to chose the colors with Nancy's help.

Eddie gets stuck with collecting floats and toys, making a mental list of what they could get.

With their hush money, they're able to put aside a decent amount of money for the budget. They're definitely going to be able to completely change that pool.

Getting the kids to agree to distract Steve for the entire day is too easy. They don't even ask why.

Steve calls Robins less than half an hour after they call the kids, pleading and whining about the kids plan. He tries to get her to come up with some excuse to get him out of it.

"Sorry," Robin says, wincing. "Need to stay home with mom. Sounds serious."

It takes another half an hour until Lucas is able to radio them, giving them the all clear.

Sneaking round to Steve's pool feels strange. Mostly thanks to how casual it is, how calm the others look despite the fact that they're technically breaking in.

"We're not breaking in," Nancy points out. "We have keys. He said we can come over whenever we want. We're welcome."

"Hey," Jonathan says, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "Come on, we have a lot to do."

And it is a lot.

Working together, they're able to get through the worst of it pretty fast. It's impossible to rush it all though, having to wait for paint to dry or glue to stick.

They've barely sat down, finally finishing everything, when Steve gets back with the kids.

"Woah, this is amazing!" Dustin says, grinning wide, the first to burst out the back doors.

"Holy shit," Mike says, next out. "How did you do all this in that time?"

"What are you guys yelling about?" Steve asks, voice distant.

The kids scramble out of the way, watching the door for Steve, excited.

"Where have you- oh."

He freezes in the doorway, eyes darting around the garden.

"Surprise!" Robin yells, jumping over to him. "You like it?"

"How did you..."

"It was easy," Nancy says, reassuring.

"Eddie noticed that you hate the pool," Robin adds. "He suggested we redecorate. Change it up. Make it something new."

Steve looks between them all, face blank.

"Steve?" Eddie says, shifting nervously.

"Thank you," Steve says. "It's... thank you."

"Does this mean we can use your pool now?" Mike asks.

Steve laughs, though it sounds slightly choked. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever, let's have a pool party."

The kids cheer, rushing off to get changed. The others follow after them slower, leaving Steve and Eddie alone.

"This was your idea?" Steve asks.

"Kinda? We all worked together to actually... do it. I only suggested we do something. Nancy's the brains behind it all, really. And Argyle."

"Still, you thought to do all... this."

"I guess."

"Thank you, Ed."

"Oh, nah, don't. It was motivated entirely by, like... greed."

Steve snorts, disbelieving.

"It was! You never let us use the pool."

"You wouldn't need to redecorate this much to do that."

"That... yeah, I would," Eddie winces at how his voice cracks. "You're overprotective."

"Eds," Steve grabs his hand, finally drawing his attention to how they've drifted to each other. "Just accept the thank you, alright?"

Eddie glances at their hands, half expecting Steve to pull away. But, despite the flush in his cheeks, he keeps a tight hold.

"Alright," Eddie finally says. "You're welcome?"

"Great," Steve tugs at his hand, keeping ahold of him as he drags them to the house. "I have spare swim shorts that you can borrow."

"You sure they won't be too big?"

Steve glances back, just in time to catch Eddie's eyes drifting down. He laughs bumping his shoulder into Eddie's.

"Perv."

"You love it," Eddie teases, expecting Steve to take it ask a joke.

But he smiles, soft and genuine, squeezing Eddie's hand as he says, "I really do."

[lsunstreakerl]

Omg omg omg instant casual intimacy, they are SO in love.

Oh please, Royal couple going on a cave excursion to soothe the townsfolk’s worries💞💞, I bet they LOVE Max, likes he’s had public appearances nailed ever since he gave that one little boy some gold at the inn, SURELY they’re obsessed w the new royal couple. If I was a fanfiction writer in Rico’s kingdom my ao3 would be going WILD

Why is Jos only missing a few fingers??? Can you make him miss an entire hand? Or arm? Or maybe like everything??

Desperately need Rico levels of Rizz rn.

Aww, “His voice hardens. ‘It won’t happen again.’” It’s so obvious he still feels pent up and guilty about it all, so glad he’s taking the correct plan of action and holding Max very very close just in case a breeze of wind hits him too hard and he needs to be right there to catch him falling off the bed, so he can be protected from any further injuries.

No way Max shanked some like 6’9 guy (I forgot his height) and his only damn reaction is “😒 I could’ve gotten away with no injuries, clearly this wasn’t good enough”, it’s a genuine wonder how the North was failing when there soliders are like THAT

Max🤝Rico’s bicep

Omgomg shut UP Rico is the only person Max feels safe enough to let his guard down with I’m literally dying. I mean I get it, if I was engaged to someone twice my height and large enough to cover my entire body who also happens to have insane fighting skills I’d feel pretty safe too, does Rico feel the same when he’s with Max??? Is there a kind of mutual understanding that they can both relax bc they know the other would rock someone’s shit for them?

Crazy how Max doesn’t have the biggest thighs in the relationship

Rico proud and impressed with his wifey and then very very jealous and the fact that he isn’t the only one who has realised how impressive and cool and pretty Max is (but seriously, how many times do you need to wrap a guy up in your royal craft and your cloaks and your clothes before other people start to back off?)

Lmao, Rico deeply enjoying when his tiny little wife gets moody with him (despite the very real possibility of his ass getting kicked if things go south)

What a very convincing ‘nothing’ Max! Well done on another day of complete and total subtlety!

Will Rico manage to put the dots together that funnily enough, the only time when Max started to squirm and blush was after he’d just had what was honestly another crazy homosexual fight scene with his ex?

THEY HELD HANDS!!! THEY HELD HANDS!!!! THEG ARE LITERALLY HOLDING HANDS!!!!

Okay this has the potential to sound really stupid, but who is Joris? I always hear him mentioned in literally every fanfic but I’ve only now realised I actually don’t know who he is or what he does. Same w Denis and Willem but I’m assuming that’s something on Ricos side of things, and the only thing I know about kickboxing, isn’t even about kickboxing it’s about wrestling, and it’s barely wrestling I just know that Rhea Ripley is very very hot.

MORE CASUAL INTIMACY!!!?

No way Dennis fumbles an entire mission, and Max fixes it all up quite nicely for them with a bloodied bow on top and all he gets in thanks is being referred to as consort.

Okay, what a king, Joris instantly reaching for his sword, and Max being hilarious as usually, and Rico being really fucking hot and protective as usual

I literally love protective Rico so much

Max has been horny ever since he’s learnt he’s allowed to be.

That is quote literally the gayest scene I’ve ever read, just making sure Max isn’t as tight…

Must have been difficult for Rico to try and hide the 12 inch horizontal hard on whilst Max clambers over him

SORRY THIS WAS SUPER LONG I JIST REALLY LIKED THE CHAPTER AND THIS WAS SUPER NICE TO COME HOME TO AFTER EXAMS LOVE YOU QUEEN THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

this was such a joy to get in the askbox!! yap begets yap :D

max has definitely already managed to build himself a positive reputation— he was kind in the first village they stopped at, he didn't abandon the castle when they got attacked, and he killed saddik! so the people are incredibly fond of him already. (and yes, they make up little scenarios based off of the gossip.)

he's actually missing those fingers because of sophie, LMAO. she threatened to do it, he thought she wouldn't follow through... not his brightest moment.

rico's guilt complex about not being there when he was needed absolutely eats at him. saddik was his problem, and he got out of hand because rico didn't have the heart to kill him sooner, and now not only are his people rattled, but his very new betrothed is laid up with a fairly significant injury. max obviously does not think the whole thing is near as complicated as rico makes it out to be, but that's also just him. (there was a threat, there is no longer a threat, problem solved) you definitely see rico's slight paranoia in his own POV— having to go make sure max is safe, wanting to keep him close, those are both behaviors that while yes, he would've eventually displayed organically, have come to the surface much quicker than they initially would have.

to be fair, the north is very good at producing soldiers. but a series of harsh winters decimated their already meager farmland, and they'd previously had a solid trading partner who'd then been conquered and would no longer trade, and everything just kind of snowballed. sophie was helping run things until she finally got fed up with jos and walked out, which is part of the reason she and victoria left. max took over the bookkeeping, which is how he found out things were worse than he'd assumed, and he proceeds to get even more hands on in the administrative day-to-day. (this helps him significantly when rico is gone)

the real ship is max and rico's bicep you are so right.

max finally not having to be the most responsible person in the room— you really can't blame him for immediately conking the hell out. rico "protecting" him from karim really helps cement that reassurance in his mind that rico can and will protect both of them. rico's not seen max in action yet, but it definitely becomes a foundation of their relationship throughout the years, that they truly and deeply trust each other. rico's been carrying the weight of the kingdom on his own for so long, max is able to understand when he just needs a break from it all.

rico is a very big fan of max's earmuffs thighs!

the duke got one judgmental stare from max and was immediately like "I must turn my attitude around for the honor of my family lest the new queen disapprove of me" while also being the worlds biggest flatterer. rico is... not a huge fan.

he was definitely playing with fire when he was teasing max! lucky for him, max is still shy enough that he's not going to wrestle him about being smug and thinking he's funny. (yet.)

words most convincing "nothing" goes to... anyone but max in that scene.

no, but in rico's defense, he'd been gone around a month at that point, so it's kind of fair he assumes it happened not too long after he left.

HAND HOLDING. SO PROUD OF THEM.

LOL okay, so you're probably thinking of charles' joris. he's one of charles' friends and also his photographer(?) iirc. for fmf, joris and willem are both original characters, whereas dennis and karim are part of rico's irl team, and saddik is another professional fighter.

rhea ripley is really hot you're so right.

THEY ARE SO. listen, when they get it together, they get it together. absolutely a royal family to be proud of. they care, and they're loyal, and they're disgustingly in love with each other!

ah, dennis. what an asshole. to be fair to him, he could've sworn he's seen max before...

max getting horny every time rico does anything is so real of him. I'll defend that behavior.

rico absolutely had an agenda with the whole no-shirt massage thing going on, and he now has spank bank material for the next... however long it takes until they actually get together.

I'm glad you liked it!!! chapter seven has had a very positive reception which always makes me super happy to see, and I'm of course always thrilled when you guys pick apart all your favorite little details 🫶🤍

[fairlyang]

Easy money II 🕷️

asked to do yet another shoot but with a plot twist

w/c: 2.4K

pairing: pornstaroomie!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. teasing, making out, handjob, blowjob

part one

Two weeks had passed and it was almost as if that shoot never happened.

We both went back to normal, only talking when we walked past each other or offered each other dinner.

But besides that it'd be fairly quiet.

Well obviously besides when he'd bring other girls over for more shoots.

Almost every. damn. night.

It drove me insane because I kinda wanted to do another with him but wasn't sure how to ask or offer myself up.

So instead I dealt with the fact that I'd probably not get another chance and just listened to him at work every night with my toys between my legs because I couldn't help myself and I was growing more jealous with every new girl he'd bring in.

I just wanted him to fuck me like he'd fuck them-

Or even suck him off.

But alas it looked like that wasn't gonna happen so I lost all hope until I got a notification from my bank that left me thinking I was dreaming. Or dead.

"MIGUEL O'HARA sent you $5,000"

What. The. Fuck.

I open up my bank app and sure enough I now have $8K. My eyes almost bulged out of my eyes and I cover my mouth, utterly shocked.

I immediately get up from my bed and practically sprinted to his room banging on his door like a psychopath.

"COME IN!" He yelled and I burst through the door, holding out my phone.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!!?" I yell, doing extra theatrics with my hands to accentuate my confusion.

"It's your half of the video." He says matter of factly making me gasp.

"That video made $10,000?!?" I exclaim and a smirk tugs on his lips.

"What can I say the people liked it." He says and sits up from his bed.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that, I was thinking we should do another...." He continues then mumbles the last part but I heard him clearly.

I kept my excitement hidden but inside I felt giddy and wanted to jump up and down. But maybe then he'd change his mind so staying calm it is.

"Oh yeah?" I ask and he shrugs, trying to act casual as if it hasn't been on his mind since he noticed the success and that he's been wanting to have you in his videos before you filled in.

"If you'd want to that is." He says and you shrug.

My heart was racing, palms sweaty, it was getting much harder to act cool now that he was awaiting my response. I clear my throat and nod, "I'm down."

Miguel nodded and stood up, "are you busy tonight?"

I laugh, shaking my head not too surprised he wanted to film already. "Let's do it."

He grins and gets up from his bed, walking over to his chest in front of his bed and grabs his tripods. He then grabs the masks we used last time, throwing the pink one at me which I made sure to quickly catch. "So what do you have in mind?" I ask and play with the mask between my fingers.

"Well the people," he starts walking over to the couch he had by his window, "really wanted to see you in action."

"Me?" I ask and raise an eyebrow, could I be so lucky...

He nods and places the tripod in front of couch, positioning it correctly before taking out his phone out of his pocket. "We could do a handjob if you'd like." He says looking down at his phone and typing.

"Or if you want more money..." he coos making me chuckle.

Only for the money....

Of course...

"Should I change?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"Well actually just take off those horrendous pj pants." He teases making me snort.

"You're wearing batman pants-"

"Batman is cool-"

"At your grown ass age-"

"Better than dinosaurs." He snorts and I gasp.

"Take that back! We literally watched Jurassic Park after the first shoot..." I say and playfully glare at him as he finally looks up at me.

Only he could rock those ugly pants.

Only you could rock dino pjs, he thought to himself before shaking his head. Focus.

"So oral hm?" I mumble and walk over to him as he places his phone on the tripod.

"Mhm if you want." He responds making me chuckle.

I move my hair back and slip the mask over my head then fixing it so I could see right and my mouth was out. Then I groan and shake my head, "this thing is gonna be a fucking mess by the end of this."

"It'll be worth it." He says with a smirk sending a shiver down my spine.

Finally.

"And I'm honestly thinking no more collabs after this." He mutters making me scoff.

"Yeah right-"

"No seriously." He replies sincerely and shrugs.

"Well maybe besides with you.. it would be easier since you're already here..." he says looking back at his phone, avoiding my gaze.

Huh-

"Plus I know this kind of money could help us both. You work so hard and don't get paid nearly enough for all you do." He says now finally looking up and into my eyes.

I bite my lip and breathe in through my nose then exhale, should I?

It was a much bigger step, technically like being partners in a way. And surely this way he'd fuck me eventually-

"And I mean this sincerely, the 'fans' loved you out of all the girls I've worked with. Said our 'connection was unmatched.'" He says in quotation marks which stung a little, but I ignored it.

He then presses on his phone and walks toward me, "and I think I agree with them." He sighs and I could feel my heart racing.

"Really?" I whisper as he steps in front of me.

He nods and brings his hands up to cup my jaw, "Really." He breathes out and I almost immediately melted into his touch.

He then did the unexpected and made this sweet little moment even sweeter by leaning in and kissing me softly. It was so gentle and it had me questioning if he did this with the other girls. Or to show he really wanted to do this with me and not just this shoot but future ones.

I shook my thoughts away and kissed back, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He moved us to the right so we'd be on camera then sits us both down on the couch with me on his left. I could feel my heart thumping and it made me so nervous thinking he could feel it too. But he was too focused on this sweet kiss there was no way that'd be something he's paying attention to.

Surely.

Meanwhile in Miguel's head all he could think of was hoping you couldn't tell how overexcited he was. Hell after the first shoot he's just missed your touch, your body, your sounds.

But he didn't want to overstep so he kept his distance and stayed to himself.

Then after every shoot after that one it just didn't feel the same. With you it felt natural, it didn't feel like you were putting on a show but actually caring about your pleasure.

But in todays case, it'd be his pleasure. Which he was so ecstatic about. Every time a girl would be sucking him off he'd just close his eyes and imagine it were you. And now it was finally going to happen and he didn't have to pretend anymore.

Finally.

His hands were tracing my body slowly which made me realize I should be the one doing that. This whole scenario was gonna be about him technically.

I deepen the kiss and move my left hand to his hair, playing around with the curls at the back of his neck. With my right hand I graze against his collarbone softly while I slide my tongue into his mouth.

He moaned into my mouth making me squeeze my thighs together then move my hand, trailing down his body.

I lightly grazed his abs but my hands stayed put on the waistband of his pants. I pull away from the kiss that left us both breathless but then bring my face down to his neck, leaving soft kisses on his warm skin before toying with the waistband.

He bucked his hips up but I just moved my hand away, up to his stomach. I let it sit there while I leave a few marks on his neck, making sure it'd last a handful of days.

I move up a little and nibble on his ear before moving my hand down and on his already hard bulge. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I feel the thickness then take a look down and that was when I noticed he was breathing heavy.

I turned to look at him and his eyes were shut and his lips were shaking. I smile and bring my hand down, palming him over his pants as I watch him let out a small moan.

I was already starting to feel my panties getting soaked which only surprised me that it didn't happen sooner.

I rub the outline of his dick gently, which earns me breathy moans that were music to my ears. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me and was about to say something when i slipped my hand down his pants and stroked him over his boxers.

He moaned again and it only gave me motivation to keep going, to hear those moans that were because of me. Not another girl. But me.

I then couldn't help myself nor how quickly I took the pj pants off him but he didn't seem to mind. I then grabbed his dick and slipped it out of the hole of his boxers. I look down at it on my hands and gulp, he was so thick and leaking so much precum.

I open my mouth and spit on his angry tip, watching as it dribbles down then start stroking it with my right hand before it could go all the way down. He lets out a loud moan and bucks his hips up, thrusting himself into my hand which only made more wet because he looks so good.

I stroke him faster and continue watching his face, his cheeks were rosy and there were beads of sweat along his forehead and he laid his head back against the couch. "Feel good Mig?" I murmur and he brings his head up nodding.

He then looks down at my hand and groans, "so fucking good baby."

I hum and continue my pace, then moving my face closer to his and leave a kiss on his cheek before kissing along his jaw. "Oh fuck baby-“

I then pull away and drop to my knees in front of him. I continue stroking him, staring up at him with big doe eyes before moving closer and leaving a little kiss on his tip making him groan.

I squeezed my thighs together and smiled up at him before leaving kitten licks on his tip and lightly circle around it earning myself a deep moan. "Just like that pretty girl-"

"Oh shit!" He moans as I slip him inside my mouth, bringing my head down as he tilts his head back.

I move my head down as much as I could, barely able to take half before pulling back and letting the drool drip out of my mouth and back onto his tip. I slip him back in my mouth and try to take more than the first time, already gagging on it but I wanted to take it all.

I pull back with no luck then try once more, taking him in my mouth and then go down as far as possible until I'm gagging on him and then going down further, finally able to take all of him down my throat.

"Fuck! God baby you're taking it s-so fucking good." Miguel moans and I feel myself clench around nothing.

I pull out then immediately go back down again, having him hit my throat some more. I then feel his hands hold onto my head so I freely let him guide me.

With teary eyes I look up at him and moaning at the sight of him rolls his eyes back, moaning louder and louder the more I take him. "So fucking good to me-" he moans and forces me to move my head harder.

"Take that fucking dick pretty girl- fuck- I know you can take it." He groans and slowly starts thrusting up into me.

I close my eyes and let him take full control which he was clearly, very appreciative of. He began thrusting his hips up then shoved my head down as deep as it could go then thrust down.

"Such a dirty fucking girl for me- taking all that cock-" he breathes out and starts thrusting his hips up faster but his grip on my head loosened.

"Oh baby- you have no idea how long I've needed that pretty mouth of yours. Too fucking long-" he moans making me whimper against him and I feel his cock begin to twitch in my mouth.

"Mmm gonna give you a load you deserve-" he murmurs and I squeeze my thighs feeling my arousal dripping to my inner thighs.

"All this cum just for you baby. Fuck!" And with one final deep thrust he came down my throat, I quickly swallowed and then pulled away, taking a deep breath before trying to control my breathing.

He then reaches down and grabs me, pulling me up and smashing our lips together. He places me on his lap as I kiss back and let him taste himself in my mouth. He then pulls away and gives me a small smile which I returned with pleasure.

But he then gave me a goofy grin which only made me laugh and playfully slap his shoulder. He rolls his eyes then pecks my lips softly before placing my head on his chest.

His heart was thumping clear as day.

"Only you cause this, with or without a shoot." He admits quietly and I quickly look up at him with wide eyes.

"I really would love to make content with just you." He says then quickly adds, "not just out of convenience."

I smile and feel my whole body grow warm, "so when's a good time to have the 'what are we' chat?" I joke and he bursts out laughing.

"We can be whatever you want us to be." He says and brings a hand to my cheek, lightly stroking it making me melt into his touch.

[urgardenandmine]

new acquaintances ✧ - n. scratch

summary: greendale isn't what it all seems, now is it? genre: fluff (kinda...)/action *WARNING: THERE IS A MENTION OF BLOOD A BIT SO IF THAT IS NOT YOUR VIBE, SCROLL pairing: m!reader x nicholas scratch word count: 2.3K

rushing through the woods, you couldn’t catch your breath. 

the moon was at it’s highest it’s ever been, practically blanketing the world in seeming never ending moonlight. the stars lit the sky like flickering light bulbs that were just almost dying out. you couldn’t tell if it was due to the clouds or just the tears in your eyes as you were rushing past the trees but being continuously smacked with leaves and branches that you couldn’t register. 

your senses were practically numb. you had lost both shoes way before you were making it to god knows where. your feet were being punctured from the small thorns, sharp twigs and bramble bushes you’ve been running on and through. your eyes were watering nonstop due to the feeling of fear overflowing from you. even wiping them with your battered sleeves weren’t helpful considering you couldn’t tell if these would be your last moments on earth or not. your ears were ringing from the hard cardio you were doing (and also from the fact you were tossed around earlier by some people who said they were just “missionaries”). 

as sweat dropped down your face, it trickled in with the blood from the cut on your head. some of it had gotten into your mouth, practically hydrating you. it was horrible but what could you really do in this situation? as much as you hated the taste of salty and metallic liquid, you didn’t have the time to stop and just drink some nasty water in the woods.

hearing the crackle of branches behind you, you pushed forward till you fell flat on your face. 

you groaned and grunted, crying as you gripped the ground beneath you and yelled. the dirt under you was cooling and soft enough to basically be a resting place for you. you turned onto your back, heaving and huffing, feeling that you were about to barf from running almost what you thought was a million miles when in reality, it was probably only six. lifting your head up and angling it back, your eyes saw about almost a hundred acres of more trees. slowly lowering your head, you gulped and sighed.

slowly closing your eyes, you heard the leaves atop of your head crunch. you immediately rolled onto your side, using your weak arms to prop yourself up as you stared into the face of a blonde woman. she was covered in a cute and flowy navy blue dress that was patterned in dark ruby red and almost darked yellow flowers. it was complemented with a gray cardigan. her bottoms were black heel boots, not an exaggerated heel but something to give her some height. her hair was somewhat like a bob yet curled slightly.

“oh my! what are you doing here, darling?” she questioned anxiously, helping you up. slowly climbing up by holding onto her hands tightly, the breeze picked up as you whimpered and looked around hurriedly. looking past the woman was now a stone building, making you furrow your eyebrows and more confused but you were in a time crunch. 

“darling?” she asked, now noticing her british accent as she looked at you. you shook your head to get out of your trance of wondering why and how this random building was here but that didn’t matter.

“w-we need to go! there’s people after me and i can’t explain but please!” you begged, stuttering and shaking as your legs were sore. you were shaking like a newborn baby deer. 

you saw her green orbs examining you, as she pursed her lips and nodded. she wrapped her arm around yours and helped you limp towards the doors while whispering small “i got you’s.” 

making your way towards the rustic walnut doors, she grabbed the black outward curved handle and pushed the door open. your head began to swing as you didn’t have any energy left in you to even power through and tell her the dangers you were facing. as your head hung low, you saw the designs of the floor, seeing geometric shapes on it. the lighting in the building was not the best, considering most of the lights were yellow and some lamps were covered in red shades. in the center of the building was the statue of a woman, or three?

she was a stone statue with three faces. behind her was a tree. one face was a woman that looked like a young adult, wearing a crown of what seems to be leaves, the center being an upside down waning moon. the second was a middle aged woman, wearing the same style of robe as the previous. her crown was almost similar, except instead of leaves, she had almost crosses, spread equidistant from one another. in the center of her crown was an upside down waxing moon. the last woman seemed to look more elderly, as her design depicted wrinkles under her eyes and there was an aura that exuded from her. her crown was more decorated than the other two. in the center was what appeared to be the full moon, while protruding on both sides were small flowers. all three women had their right hand above their stomachs, while the left was under. it was almost as if they were caressing their wombs like a mother would. 

as you two staggered towards what was hopefully a place to rest, you saw the faces of now almost a dozen, maybe even more, kids who looked like you. you saw them whispering, hoping that whoever ran this “establishment” didn’t immediately kick you out for getting blood all over their floors. feeling the cold marble touch your wounded feet was almost as if you touched ice for too long. rather than being cooling, it burned like you were wading through a river of rubbing alcohol. 

you both were now in a hall that was decorated in what seemed to be solely black wallpaper that had flowers on them. the walls had some art pieces but they were odd. they depicted almost hell-ish landscapes but i mean if that was the vibe then they obviously did a great job. as you both turned a corner, you pushed past two doors as you saw three bodies in what appeared to be an office.

“i’m telling you, i-” the words emanating from the other woman’s husky voice was cut short by the sudden rushing. 

the blonde woman had helped you make your way towards a small burgundy satin victorian couch, unlinking her arm from yours as she helped you down gently. she reached for a small dark brown throw pillow, propping it under your head, brushing away your strands of [h/c] hair. she made sure not to brush the cut you had on your [s/c] temple. she looked towards the other’s in the room, who were immediately gathering around you as you tried to catch your breath.

“who did this?” the husky voiced woman demanded. she wore a dark navy pant suit that had a lace collar layered over it. her ginger hair was straight down, yet somewhat curled like the blonde’s. she also had some hair covering part of her forehead yet not reaching her eyes, which were a piercing blue green. 

next to her on her right was a tall dark skinned man, who was dressed in what was assumed to be an almost 1980’s fashion. he was dressed in a tan corduroy jacket, underneath a simple black graphic tee and washed out bell bottom jeans. though he was somewhat nice to look at, there was someone else who caught your eye past your disheveled hair. 

on her left stood a built man (well, teenager). he was dressed in a greaser’s outfit. he was dressed in almost all black, his top being a black leather jacket with the smallest pop of color from under his sheer red shirt. his bottoms were baggy black jeans and he had on leather boots. his hair was dark black, yet the light made it lighter than you expected. his dark brown eyes were scanning your body. 

“i just found them like this, zelds.” the blonde worriedly informed, trying to intake all the wounds you were showing. the ginger haired woman stepped forward. hearing her name made her seem as if she was more learned than the others. something about her radiated command and leadership. looking at the blonde woman, she radiated comfort and almost literal warmth. 

“child, who did this?” the woman, zelds, asked in a hushed yet angered voice. she was almost maternal yet she had no idea who you were.

you gulped, clutching your stomach as you could feel the bruise from earlier almost growing rapidly. you cleared your throat, even though you knew the words would come out hoarse.

“i d-don’t know,” you pushed out, “all i know is that they are coming and they won’t leave till i die.” 

as you spoke the last word, tears began to form in your [e/c] eyes. the boy in leather kneeled down, reaching your eye level as he held onto your hand. he wiped away the dropped tear as he slowly formed a soft smile.

“you won’t die today, got it?” he reassured softly. you chuckled softly, which soon erupted into a cough but it made you feel a bit comfortable. how can a very handsome man say that to someone who was barefoot and practically battered down. the others in the room caught the small moment you both shared, exchanging looks but soon returning back to the matter at hand.

“did you happen to catch their names?” the tan jacketed man asked. you shrugged slightly, wiping your eyes as you slowly sat yourself up. 

“i don’t remember but they sounded like…biblical? like an arathmiel or whatever thing is religious.” you told the rest. 

looking at them all, they exchanged a look of something that seemed to be worry, but more of determination. the ginger hair woman clenched her fists, looking at the two beside her. 

“hilda, tell the students that we need to begin an extermination process. ambrose, with me.” she directed. your eyes widened at the immediate need to take action after you had told them that small bit of information. turning her attention to the two of you, she cleared her throat.

“nicholas,” the boy in black looked up, “tend to them.” she ordered. the boy who was still holding your hand, nicholas, nodded as he locked eyes with you. even though you practically had no blood in you, you felt your cheeks flush to a soft rosy color. having noticed, he smirked and slowly linked your arms together. he helped you up, slowly following behind the pair who was making their ways towards the exit/entrance.

as you all made your ways towards the doors, they appeared to fly open before the pant suited woman had reached them. peering over her shoulder from behind, you saw the two assailants who had attacked you in your simple and somewhat “owned” apartment. 

“hello, witch.” the bulkier assailant spat. his words were laced with venom. he was dressed in a navy blue sweater, with a dress shirt collar peeking from behind. his pants seemed to look like black slacks, but that wasn’t so important to you when you were trying to escape. in his right hand, you saw the weapon he had tried to use against you. it was a simple knife (or in his words, “the dagger of salvation.” like okay, fucking weirdo). his hair was a dirty blonde yet it looked practically unmoved. beside him was the other assailant. she was in the same outfit yet in her hands was a crossbow.

the commanding woman stood on the highest step, looking down at the two “missionaries.” 

“i am zelda spellman, directrix of this academy and you two are trespassing.” she said, her words laced with something that seemed to be a kindness. the man beside her stared at them, slowly pulling out what seemed to be a metal rod. 

the two assailants chuckled, before the younger female had fired the arrow. immediately raising her hand, the arrow had stopped in mid air. following her, the other man, ambrose, focused his attention onto the arrow. 

(1) “Ianuae sagittae!*” he exclaimed gruffly. the arrow then vanished before you. your eyes widened, looking at the sight in front of you. 

“we know you never come peacefully, so we upped our defenses since last.” nicholas hissed at them. this side of him, even though having just met, was something you could really get used to. seeing the two look down at the floor, they were entrapped in a circle that seemed to be gray ash and flowers. trying to move their feet, they couldn’t budge. 

zelda smiled, looking down upon them. “enjoy the little time you have while we help you on your journey home.”

turning on her heel, she marched back into the building (or academy?). ambrose had ran in, while nicholas helped you power through. making your way into the center of the academy, you had noticed a bunch of students now surrounding the statue, hands locked with one another. you had looked at them all, wanting to stop and help yet you were nudged by the one holding you.

“c’mon, they got it.” he whispered, helping you make your way to wherever he was taking you.

as you walked, he opened the doors to what he said under his breath was “the infirmary.” seeing the nearest bed, he gently laid you down on the pearl colored cotton sheets. he sat at your feet, looking down at you as he held your fingertips and began to whisper softly. looking at him, his eyes were closed, like he was focused on something. 

you exhaled softly, feeling the pain you felt almost become nonexistent. nicholas opened his eyes, chuckling as he inched closer and held your hand.

“i did what i could for the pain before hilda comes and helps you get better.” he explained. you nodded, taking in a deep breath of relaxation. as you looked down at him, you chuckled softly.

“don’t worry, i got you.” he encouraged, making you feel at ease. maybe you could get used to this place.

⋆｡°✩

hi y'all! hope this second story for y'all was good! i know it slowly dies a bit towards the end but it is late for me and i started a bit earlier today but i had shit to do so i had to finish up however i could TT

i tried my best to capture the characters but i like haven't seen this show for a while so i hope it's good!

(1) = lanuae saggitae = teleport arrow (according to google translate)

this story takes place after season four yet not towards the end ending so i had to take advantage of playing with bad boy nick scratch :p

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 19

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

When Bill and Ford are in the dreamscape together, their dialogue is written normally. But if Bill and Ford are communicating in Fords head without the mindscape, Bills dialogue is in "italics", and Fords dialogue is in 'apostrophes and italics'.

WARNING: T/W Implications of past child abuse

First - Prev - Next

CH.19

“I buy all of my guns from a guy named T-Rex.”

“Good lord…”

“He’s a small arms dealer.”

*Fiddleford groans aloud and facepalms. Ford is ahead of them and doesn’t turn back, but there are muffled snickers from him*

“A thief stole the wheels off my car last night.”

“Sweet Mary, mother of-”

“I’m working tirelessly to catch him.”

“It’s not that I don’t ‘preciate your efforts to lighten the mood, Stan. But why do you gotta load us up on puns this early?”

“Early? It’s twelve in the after-.‘

“It’s always too early.”

“Sheesh, break my heart why doncha.”

*Stan looks ahead at Ford walking ahead of them and lowers his voice so only Fiddleford can hear him*

“Between you ��n me, I think somethings up with him.”

“With Stanford?”

“Yeah. He’s been kinda… I dunno, down? It’s like someone broke his fancy chemistry set up or something. Hell, this morning he ate an entire bowl of unfrosted corn flakes. Without any milk.”

“Mhmmm…”

“Do you think something happened on Summerween? That’s when he started acting weird.”

“He ain’t said nothing about it.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at me… Like I’m a ghost or something.”

“Gentlemen! We found it.”

“What’d we find, Stanford?”

“The tracks of, what I have termed, the ‘Gremloblin’. Based on my intel, this footprint matches the description of the creature.”

“And where did your intel come from this time, Doc?”

“The fairies. It was all they would talk about at their nail salon.”

“...You go to a Fairy Nail Salon?”

“Yes. Twice a month in fact.”

“It’s a fight to get you to shower at least once a week but you’ll let magical creatures-.”

“Stanley, you are bringing us off topic. As I was saying, these tracks should lead us to the Gremloblin.”

“We’re just studying it from yonder, right? You’re not trying to fight, capture, interview, or gamble with it?”

“Yes, this is purely a research expedition.”

(...)

“Man you just had to jinx it didn’t you, PhD?”

“The fairies never told me looking into its eyes caused others to visualize their worst nightmare.”

“Specs isn’t handling it great-.”

“NOT THE SWITCH PAPPY! NOT THE SWITCH!!”

“-and the screaming is gonna attract the monster. What are we gonna do?”

“I am going to use my crossbow to scare it away, I need you to take Fiddleford and get far away from here.”

“What about you?”

“I am armed Stanley, I’ll only be a few minutes behind you.”

“If you say so.”

(...)

“You’re okay! It’s okay- I’m here just-.

“AHHHH!”

“C’mon F, you have to get outta your head! Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.”

“Not the birch branch, not the bir- NOT THE TELEPHONE CABLES!”

“I’ve tried reassurance, I’ve tried the sternal rub, I’ve tried logic- what else do ya want, a kiss on the cheek?! …Actually-.”

*Stan grabs him by the collar and pulls him up to kiss him on the lips. And then suddenly dropping him to gag*

“Wha- who..? Stan-?”

“Holy shit, gross. You had a dip in when the monster got you?! How did you not choke on that while you were screaming?”

“Was I having a nightmare?”

“Kinda. Listen - I need to make sure your friend is okay, he’s still back there with that big green guy.”

“You can call him by his name, you know. You know what it is.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna get too attached. Now, you wait here while I go and risk my life for him.”

*Stan runs off and Fiddleford stays in place leaned up against a tree, before sighing and reaching into his lab coat to pull out a cigarette and a lighter*

“Sure is a good thing he’s cute…”

(...)

“Sixer, I’m ending your hallucinations as fast as I can, but your adrenal system is going to take a few minutes to catch up.”

‘I have only one bolt left, Cipher. Can you at least steady the nerves in my hands?’

“Gotcha baby girl”

‘Please for the love of - you - stop calling me that. I need to make this shot worth it-.’

THWIP

“Oof, you missed.”

‘YES CIPHER, I MISSED; I CAN SEE THAT BUT THANK YOU FOR THE RECAPITULATION.’

“You saw, they didn’t.”

‘What are-. Bill you said you ended the nightmare hallucinations.’

“I did.”

‘Then why am I seeing Stanley standing between me and the Gremloblin?’

“Oh that’s actually happening.”

“Back off, ugly! Damn it, this guys crazy but I’m not letting you hurt him!”

“St-Stanley just leave-.”

“Oh shut your yap, you’re the dumbest genius I ever met if you think I’m gonna let this thing eat ya. You got a word of advice when facing these things?”

“When fighting a Gremloblin, use water-.”

*Stan opens his canteen and throws water at the Gremloblin, which becomes much scarier and grows wings upon contact*

“-only as a last resort.”

“Why would you say it like that-?! Ouch!”

“No, don’t look it in the-.”

WACK

“You still wanna piece?!”

‘This doesn’t make sense, why isn’t it-?’

“Hey pipe your thoughts down Fordsy I’m trying to watch the fight scene.”

“What, you’re supposed to scare me or something? Like you’re dangerous? Danger’s my middle name-.”

“Your middle name is Romanoff.”

“Really killing the intimidation factor here, PhD.”

“¿noʎ uo ʞɹoʍ ǝɹɐʇs ʎɯ ʇ,usǝop ʎɥM”

“So you can talk? I only got every other word of what you just said, but I’m guessing you’re wondering why your nightmare eyes don’t work on me?”

“˙ǝɹɐɯʇɥƃᴉu ʇsɹoʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɔɐɟ oʇ noʎ ǝɔɹoɟ plnoɥs ǝɹɐʇs ʎW ˙ssǝupɹᴉǝM ɟo ǝɹnʇɐǝɹɔ ɐ ʇou ǝɹɐ no⅄”

“Buddy, you have no idea what I’ve gone through. Fuck, I don’t know what I’ve gone through.”

WACK

“You think you can give me my worst nightmares? I have nightmares every single night.”

WACK

“And the funny part, the really funny part? I don’t even know why.”

WACK

“I’m half of a person missing huge chunks of who I’m supposed to be, and you- you think you can conjure something worse than that?”

WACK

WACK

“Don’t make me fucking laugh.”

“St-Stanley, I think you got him.”

“Because all I can fucking do about it is laugh.”

WACK

WACK

WACK

“Because I can’t do anything else about it! It’s either I laugh, or I fucking cry. Like a two year old who doesn’t even know what he’s wailing about anymore!”

“Stanley- Stanley! Enough… Please.”

“I am my worst nightmare-!”

*Ford puts his hand on his shoulder, and Stan stops punching the Gremloblin, who is already bloodied and unconscious*

“Let’s leave… Let’s just leave, come on. We’ll leave together.”

“...Stanford?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“...I wish I wasn’t like this. I-It’s not that I don’t want to believe you when you say I’m your brother. But what kind of brother am I if I can’t even remember why you care this much? … I don’t remember the person I’m supposed to be.”

“So it’s him, huh? I was betting on you.”

‘Betting on what?’

“On who would have a mental breakdown first - doncha remember what the hick said, IQ? One of you was bound to have one.”

“...When we get back to the cabin, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Aw, you’re finally going to be truthful? I was enjoying the drama.”

“Sure… Hey? It’s raining, right?”

“....Yes. It’s raining, Stanley.”

To be continued…

[rarepairdumpster]

True Love AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Canonverse, Trauma Mention, First Meeting, Minor Bullying, They deserve to be together and happy and in love~

Janna being a shape-shifter who takes the shape of the person who'll love you most deeply, most truly, and Janna always comes to Silco looking like a man he's never met.

It's before the stabbing so Silco is so confused that it isn't Vander.

Janna first coming to Silco when he's little, trapped in the mines after a cave-in, and leading to him to an opening somewhere else.

The Janna apparition has the appearance of the pretty, ethereal version of Viktor, with the soft pale purple hair and gold jewelry.

She kisses Silco's forehead and pets his cheek, murmuring "It's not your time, little one," before vanishing into the grey.

Janna having the same appearance when she rescues him in the river. And now he understands. Now he knows why Janna never came to him as Vander

Silco technically drowned before he could wrap his hand around the knife, but she breathed life into him with a kiss, and giving him that spark he needed to latch onto the knife and slash it across Vander's arm.

(Only Silco can see Janna. Vander doesn't have the honour.)

Years later, Silco is up in Piltover because he gets his makeup there (it's the only type that doesn't make him break out) and he happens to spot Heimerdinger and has to steady himself when he sees the man next to him.

The colour scheme isn't the same and the staff has been swapped for a cane, but the hair looks just as thick and soft. The skin looks just as smooth. Long limbs look just as willowy.

Its him.

The one who'll love him the deepest, the truest.

And for a terrible, wonderful moment, Silco remembers soft lips crushed to his and long fingers cradling his face.

There's no way Silco can approach now though. Not when the councilor is right there. He decides to follow them to see if there is a chance that he can catch the boy alone.

His thumb taps against his lighter in his pocket like a nervous tick.

Eventually, Viktor separates from Heimerdinger because he has to attend a meeting that is above Viktor's pay grade. Silco waits several moments, watching Viktor page through his notes and bring the pen to his lips several times in thought.

Those actions just make it clear how plush Viktor's lips are, and Silco feels something stir in him before he takes a breath and approaches.

"Hello," Silco internally cringes at the fact that he couldn't think of anything better.

"I'm sorry the professor is--" Viktor looks up and sees the man that appeared to him the day he hurt his leg in the fissures when he was a boy. 

"By Janna"

Viktor surges out of his seat so fast, he almost falls over, and then the man's hands -- as scarred and rough as he remembers -- are on him, gripping his arms tight, holding him upright.

And their faces are too close now, both staring at the other.

"It's you," Viktor says, voice unsteady.

"You know me," Silco asks, voice hushed. His heart punches against his ribs.

"Your face."

And then Viktor let's out a little, uncertain laugh. 

"But your eye is different. It was white before."

Silco smirks, releasing his grip as Viktor gains his footing. "Unfortunately the last time your face appeared to me, is when I got this."

"My face appeared to you?" Viktor asks. "I hope the real thing is not a disappointment."

"Oh, far from it," Silco raises his hand, wanting to push Viktor's hair behind his ear, but stopping. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen until now."

Viktor's face floods with colour. Just like it had when the man appeared to him all those years ago, the warm gravel of that voice like a caress as those hands had come to rest on his leg.

At the sight of that blush, Silco feels an intense urge to see it elsewhere, right now.

"When can I see you?" Silco insists, taking hold of Viktor's hand. "Privately."

"This evening," Viktor answers reflexively, breath hitching. "I finish work at seven."

"I'll meet you here," Silco smiles softly. "Until then." He leans in and kisses Viktor's cheek, just below his eye. 

When Viktor opens his eyes, Silco is gone, but the skin where his lips were tingles.

That evening, when Silco returns, has a single soft purple flower that happens to be Viktor's favorite.

"I didn't think any florist in Piltover sold these," Viktor says, taking the flower and smelling it. 

"They don't," Silco replies, smirking at the fact that Viktor knew the flower. "It's from the lanes"

Viktor smiles, something mischievous in his eyes, and says "I know where the flower originates."

"I have a feeling that is where you originated," Silco steps forward and grabs Viktor's lapel, feeling the starched linen between his fingers. "You must be exceptional. Not many of us make it to the academy."

Viktor's heart starts thumping, feeling like the man had just grabbed his waist rather than his lapel.

No one has called him exceptional in quite a while.

Viktor licks his lips. "Are assistants exceptional?"

"Any of us that can be accepted up here are exceptional," Silco replied, "but I have a strong feeling you're not living up to your potential." He looks at Viktor as he smooths the academics lapel, letting his hand linger on his chest a little long. "You never gave me your name."

"It's Viktor," He answers softly, a little rushed. The hand lingering on his chest is warm and solid, even through his clothes. "And you?"

"Silco," He replies, reaching up and pushing the hair behind Viktor's ear that he had wanted to earlier that day. "I never thought I'd know who you really were."

Viktor's breath hitches noticeably, feeling those rough fingers skim across his bare skin.

He tries to gathers himself.

But the presence of Silco is intense, almost overpowering, as if his very breath has invaded Viktor's body.

Silco lets his hand naturally lay on the back of Viktor's neck. "Can I..."

Viktor nods.

Silco's lips meet Viktor's and it's like a shot of electricity shoots down his spine. Viktor's lips feel just like Silco remembers, down to the breath of fresh air it feels like fills his lungs with every kiss.

Viktor finds himself arching against Silco, whimpering a little, his hands fisting Silco's coat.

Silco kisses like a starving man and Viktor lets himself be devoured.

Silco wraps his other arm around Viktor's waist, holding him close and tight. Now that he found Viktor he never wanted to let him go, not with the way he fit against Silco's body like he was handcrafted for him.

Viktor could have spent forever kissing this man, but he jerks back when he hears a snide filthy sumprat pass by.

Viktor feels angry, but also feels mortified for some reason. He doesn't know why it affects him so much. It wasn't as though he hadn't heard it before.

It was a common experience, here in Piltover, no matter how well-dressed he was

Silco frowns, hating to see how the comment had affected Viktor. He curses himself internally for not at least bringing the twins with for this sort of situation. 

"Don't listen to that nonsense," Silco says, pulling Viktor back close to him and combing his fingers through his hair.

"Usually, I don't." Viktor smiles wryly, looking at Silco. But his eyes glimmer. "I suppose something made me weak."

"Darling," Silco begins, smiling a bit at the shiver that runs through Viktor at the pet name. "Never let anyone, including me, make you weak."

Viktor let's out a breath in a rush.

No one has ever asked that of him before.

"Would you like to..." Viktor looks away, flushing. "To come back to my room? It-Its a little more private there."

Silco tracks the flush as it teases down towards Viktor's neck.

"I could think of little I'd want to do more."

And the thing he wants to do more is to take Viktor back to his bed, where privacy is guaranteed.

Arch + Woods

[spiral-writing-stuff]

hi hi! i saw ur requests were open? (sorry if theyre closed)

Can i request a Akutagawa x gender neutral teen reader? (Platonic ofcou) basically reader looks up to Akutagawa and sees him as a older brother figure and akutagawa sees them as a younger sibling :3 can it be angst also? like where one of them is badly hurt and the other is crying and all that jazz

pls and thank you <3

authors note: Don’t worry! If my bio says requests are open then they are! I just take a while to write because there’s a lot of stuff going on in my life, so I’m really sorry this took so long! Im thinking of splitting this into 2-3 parts because I’m still thinking of how to write the rest of the story, I have the plot already in my head but I just need to put it into words. This request is sooo cute big brother akutagawa is just such a great concept:,) Also so sorry if the angst isn’t good lol I’m not very good at writing creative sad stuff! (Please give me feedback!😭) also sorry if it’s too angsty i think I went a little overboard again. I might edit this story later.

Sorry this took so long!

I also couldn’t decide if reader is older or younger than Gin so you guys decide.

I Hope it’s what you wanted!!<3

On a Silver Night

Content/Warnings: angst, gore, blood/injury, abuse/child abuse, death, Dazai being a bastard, lmk if I missed anything

For as long as you can remember, Ryūnosuke was always protecting you and gin, as if you two are the thing he lives for. which you both are at this point He has always tried his hardest to defend you, gin, and the other children from thieves and abusive adults, he didn’t do it to be righteous, nor did he do it to feel better about himself, he just did. At least, that’s what you thought, it was hard deciphering his intent because everything he did, he did with the same, emotionless stare. People would always mention this fact. Even when he was killing, stealing, or when you found some food or someone told a joke, he always had the same blank expression. You thought it was funny sometimes though he never once showed any emotion, that didn’t matter to you, his actions spoke clearer than any words could.

Like when he would sometimes hug you and gin to keep you warm during cold nights, when he found food he would share it with the two of you first. And if anyone dared to threaten or try to hurt any of you they would be dead in an instant by Rashōmon’s sharp fangs. Yes, his facial expressions didn’t matter, he was trying his hardest to keep you and Gin from experiencing the harsh cruelty of the word, but he was still just a boy himself. There wasn’t much a malnourished and frail child could do, yet he persisted, despite how many times he’d fallen. You looked up to him and had a deep respect for him because of this.

Even though it was a horrible situation all of you were living in, you were happy just to be with your older brother, sister and the other children. Among all the other children, You, Gin and Ryūnosuke were the ones you were closest to.

Until that fateful day, when a group of criminals murdered all the other children in cold blood, leaving You and Gin injured, and Ryūnosuke thirsty for blood.

~ ~ ~

Gin had helped Akutagawa escape but you three got separated amidst the chaos and confusion, you held Gin’s hand tightly as you two ran and ran until you two were exhausted, collapsing onto the damp, cold ground. The air was foggy and cold, the night dark while the moon illuminated your surroundings with a silver light. After a few minutes of struggling to catch your breath you got up from the dirty ground and remembered only Gin was with you, Ryūnosuke had ran off in search of the criminals who killed your friends. Fear and panic shot through your body, terrified that Ryū was going to get himself killed.

“G-gin! W-we have to find Ryū!” You said to Gin in a rushed shaky voice. She swiftly nodded.

You two began running, this time slower due to how tired you both were. You were heading in the direction of where the shipment was said to be taking place.

“Gin! I think we’re almost there—“ you stopped when you saw a tall man walking in your direction with a shorter person. The shorter person had a black coat draped over his shoulders, the man seemed to be waking directly to you now, a smile on his face.

“Be careful Gin.. s-stand behind me..” you got in front of Gin just in case, until you realized the shorter person was Ryūnosuke, his eyes were slightly puffy and tearful, he had been crying. your heart dropping at the sight. Immediately you throw yourself at Ryū pulling him away from the mysterious man

“Just who are you and what are you doing with my big brother?!” You frantically yell at the man, hiding Ryū and Gin behind you

The man glares at you with boredom in his face, as if this was all nothing to him, but then he started to smirk slightly “Brother? Oh, I knew Akutagawa had a sister but I didn’t know he had another sibling. What’s your name?” He said with a mischievous face, He reached out his hand to seemingly pat your head but you smacked it away immediately, surprising him a bit “you didn’t answer my question-“ you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around “Y/n…cough it’s okay..you don’t have to worry..” Ryū weakly said to you. Your heart ached at the sight of his bloodied and bruised face, looking down you can see he has bloody scratches on his knees, arms and legs, his entire body was hurt.

“Hm? Oh, right! Sorry about that! Where are my manners?” He said rather loudly “My name is Dazai Osamu, I just got promoted to a Mafia Executive today, Which means, I now have the authority to do certain things. like taking anyone as my subordinate, and your brother here has accepted my offer.” Dazai said soft-spoken yet somehow overbearing with a kind smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You were confused by the man’s statement, many thoughts ran through your mind;

“Would Ryūnosuke really agree to join the mafia? Especially join through this guy? How would we be guaranteed safety? What if this is just a trap to exploit Ryū’s ability? What if he kills us?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a dangerous, slightly condescending soft voice “you don’t have to worry, if i wanted you dead, I would have done so the second I laid eyes on you.” He said to you, it’s as if he read your mind. He was staring into your eyes as you stared back, his eyes void of any emotion, much like your brother’s, except you found a deep cruelness to them, it terrified you.

“Well, it was just gonna be Akutagawa here and his sister, but I can make arrangements, just for you.” His eyes went back to a neutral state “I promise,” he puts his hand on his chest “that the three of you will be fed, clothed, housed and compensated accordingly, as long as you work under me, no one else in the mafia will dare harm you.” Dazai reached his hand out to you, a sweet smile on his face

“so Y/n, do we have a deal?”

~ ~ ~

To be continued.

Notes: it is 5am as I write this, can you believe I’ve been writing and tweaking this since April 7th??!? And this isn’t even that long. What ADHD does to a mf

Honestly I’m not sure if I should continue this, obviously if more people wanna read it than yeah since I have the story already in my head, just need the motivation. So comment and tell me that you want more!!!

Anyways hope y’all enjoyed. Stay hydrated!