#“yes” also includes having more than one pair

[honeyedfate]

kiss her you fool | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

as if accidentally convincing both of your fans on several occasions that you two hate each other wasn’t enough, jake had to go ahead and mumble some sleepily ambiguous words on a weverse live and involve the whole internet. to salvage whatever shreds are left of the plan, you are to attend a baseball game together.

genre. fluff

a/n. the third & last part to loverboy is here!! sorry for the wait i wrote 4 different drafts until i settled on this one lol enjoy!! xx

[ › first part ] [ › second part ]

jake is a chill guy. he’s cool-headed, efficient, steady under pressure, always on the side of healthy optimism. that’s the story he sells to others—and to himself. but deep down, he knows he might be a bit of a fraud. worse, he can feel it.

his hands are drenched in sweat as they clench and unclench inside his pockets, chasing an old gum wrapper around to distract himself. the tag of his shirt pokes at his neck, making him want to barbarically tear off his clothes in front of thousands of baseball fans.

but instead, he dutifully follows you through row upon row of seats and keeps his gaze on the back of your head.

so, yes. jake is a very chill guy.

you keep glancing back at him, the lower half of your face obscured by a black mask. still, he knows you’re flashing him reassuring smiles, and he feels bad for how nervous he is. if he’s not staring at you, his eyes are darting around, scanning his surroundings like one of the baseball players warming up in the field might suddenly climb the walls and come for him.

“i think these are it,” you say, glancing at your tickets before sliding them into your back pocket.

jake wordlessly takes the seat next to you, adjusting his cap to shield as much of his face as possible. he knows it’s futile—staying hidden is the exact opposite of why he’s here, but habits die screaming, or something like that.

his shoulders tense for a split second at the touch of your hand on his thigh, and guilt gnaws at him when you pull away almost instantly. he meets your eyes and musters a smile. not that you can see it beneath his matching mask.

“we can leave any time,” you say in a soft tone, looking at him from under your lashes. “i don’t care what the plan is. if you’re uncomfortable, we can ditch this whole thing and get ramen at cu.”

jake’s heart swells, wanting nothing more than to do exactly that, but he knows it’s his fault you’re in this situation in the first place. well, for the most part. he can’t tell you that, though. he knows you will just dispute it until he starts believing it himself, and that would only prove to him once again that his backbone inevitably snaps in the face of a pretty girl.

no matter that it’s his pretty girl, and he’d do anything for you anyway. breaking his spine included. the fact remains—he ran his mouth on live, so now he’s got to face the consequences. 

swallowing the lump in his throat, he shakes his head and threads his fingers through yours, tucking both hands into the pocket of his jacket.

jake grins. “no, this is fun.” you send him a flat look, but he just nods towards the field. “i’ve never been to a baseball game. now we can take it off our bucket list.”

“sure,” you say, sounding wryly amused. “we don’t have a bucket list but at least now we’ve got something to cross off. i’ve also always wanted to be on the kiss cam. guess it’s our lucky day.”

“lucky us,” jake says, his lips curling as he feels your hand squeeze his. he casts a glance around, then leans forward, swiftly pulling both of your masks down with one hand. it’s a brief kiss, just a soft peck that’s a bit inconvenient since both of you are wearing hats, forcing him to tilt his head. but when he pulls back, he sees the way you’re chasing after his lips, eyes still closed, and goes just a little insane.

you look entirely too pretty to leave it at just one kiss. you deserve all the kisses in the world, actually, so he captures your lips again, tasting the cherry gloss he bought you last week because he likes it a little too much. it’s the same one you wore on your first date together.

jake’s lips brush against yours once more, deeper and a bit slower this time as if savouring the moment. you sigh into the kiss and pull back to catch your breath, your lips lingering just above his. your eyes are still closed, but jake doesn’t mind one bit, taking the moment to let his gaze wander over every single feature of yours that he knows by heart. and would you look at that? suddenly, he couldn’t care less that he’s sitting in a huge stadium.

you tear your gaze away from his lopsided grin. “let’s save some of this for later, yeah?” you say, and jake is not ashamed of the groan rumbling in the back of his throat as he hides his face in the crook of your shoulder. how else is a man supposed to act when your lips look so plumb and kissable, and your voice sounds like that? hopeless.

you’re looking at him, a smile tugging at your lips when you notice an older lady a few rows down elbowing the person next to her, gesturing not-so-subtly at the two of you. under your breath, you mumble, “the ahjummas down there are looking at us.” 

jake leans back, glancing at them from the corner of his eye before lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “can you blame them? we’re not exactly hard to look at.”

“your modesty astonishes me,” you say, sounding unimpressed.

jake raises an eyebrow and leans forward on his knees, a smirk tugging at his lips. “we’d make beautiful babies, and you know it.”

you snort, shaking your head. “that’s what ni-ki said this morning. something about sacrificing himself for his future nephews and nieces because at least he knows they’ll be cute. i’m still not sure what he meant by that.”

jake cocks his head and pokes your side when you playfully mirror him. “he came down this morning when yuki was talking to us in the kitchen,” jake says, shifting in his seat.

he grimaces as he remembers the conversation with jungwon who was basically a zombie at that hour after having to stay up late as a consequence of jake’s faux pas on weverse. “ni-ki said he was going to take care of this for us. i didn’t know what he meant at first, but then sunghoon sent me a screenshot of what ni-ki posted on weverse. it was a selfie of him, facing the other way so his left side was showing.”

“wait, seriously?” your eyebrows shoot up, and jake nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“yep. he called himself a martyr in the group chat. said he was taking one for the team.”

you gasp dramatically, holding a hand to your chest. “a martyr? for us? what’s next, a shrine in the dorm?”

jake laughs, clearly entertained by your idea. “i mean, we could probably arrange one. heeseung’s room is big enough to fit ten.”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “that’s… actually true. but did it work?”

jake bites his lip, glancing at his phone. “i haven’t checked yet, but sunoo sent me a text earlier. apparently, engenes are seeing right through it.”

“what are they saying?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“they’re saying belift gave up ni-ki for damage control,” jake chuckles.

before you can say anything in response, your phone vibrates, the sudden buzz pulling your attention away. you reach for it, ignoring jake’s whiny protests as you untangle your hand from his. “hello?”

jake pouts and scoots closer, pressing his ear against the backside of your phone. you roll your eyes and click the side button to turn the volume up, letting him hear the voice on the other end, your manager’s. “…are you in your seats?”

you hum and nod, nearly knocking jake’s hat off with the movement. “yea, we’re here. we got here a bit early, so there are still a few empty seats. but the game should be starting soon. what’s up? did something happen?”

“well,” your manager says, her tone uncertain, and jake’s heart drops. “about half an hour ago, minjun posted the dance challenge you and jake filmed for their tiktok. it…er, seemed to stir up a bit more of a reaction than we expected…again.”

you exchange a confused glance with jake. nothing about the videos seemed off—he’d double-checked, paranoid he might’ve accidentally done something ridiculous again, like giving you a lap dance or declaring his undying love on camera.

filming those two dance challenges had already been an ordeal. the pr team was relentless, adamant on pushing you and jake to drop as many microscopic hints as possible to suggest something was going on between you two, but it was so painfully awkward that you ended up with enough unusable footage to last a month.

jake had been a giggling mess the entire time, finding it all so silly, like he was on some overly scripted dating show. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop tripping over your own feet, bumping into him more times than he could count. at least you managed to do it on beat.

regardless, even though filming the final video had been a struggle, it was ready to go. jake had made sure of that.

it was just another dance challenge, he thinks to himself, trying to push aside the unease creeping up. whatever’s going on now, it’s gotta be grey sweater guy’s fault.

“what do you mean?” your voice brings him back, your curiosity clear. “we didn’t do anything…right?”

“well,” your manager says again, clearing her throat. “since we couldn’t really get any dance footage of you acting like, you know, an actual couple—” 

jake snorts.

“—minjun ended up keeping the last few seconds of a video when he posted it to the enhypen tiktok page. he didn’t give us a heads-up before doing it.”

your eyes widen as you send a quick look in jake’s way. “is he going to get in trouble?” you say into the phone, and jake pulls a funny face. is that what he was supposed to feel? concern? apparently, he likes the guy even less than he thought.

“that’s the thing,” your manager goes on. “everyone seems to like it?” she sounds quite surprised about it herself, and jake has to strain his neck to make sure he heard correctly. 

“everyone?” he echoes in disbelief, and you nudge him when he inches impossibly closer, practically climbing onto your lap.

“what do you mean everyone?” you ask as jake moves back a little. “what were we doing?”

your manager lets out a long sigh, as if hoping you wouldn’t ask. “after you left for the game, minju and some of the others decided to go through the videos again, hoping to find something a bit more exciting. they ended up finding one where you two were dancing really well—everything was clean, no one was falling or laughing, and the chemistry wasn’t too forced.”

she pauses, and you can hear her shifting slightly. “but then, right at the end, you trip over your feet and… well, you kind of just leave the frame.”

jake frowns, meeting your puzzled gaze. you had filmed so many different versions, they have all blended into a nightmarish concoction of blurred memories, making it hard to recall which one she means. “i leave the frame and then what?”

the silence stretches on for a beat, and jake feels a spark of irritation bubbling up at the theatrics. horrified, he starts to wonder if he’s accidentally flashed the whole world and didn’t even realise.

“the entire thing only lasts two seconds, but you stumble, jake rushes after you, and you both end up out of frame—but we can still see part of it because of the mirrors. jake has his arms around you as you both tumble to the floor, laughing.” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, then adds quietly, “minjun removed the music at the end, so you can hear the laughter.”

jake doesn’t even know how to respond. sure, the company can post whatever they want of him, but they usually don’t. there’s an unspoken rule of decency and respect among the team, and he’s at least asked before anything goes up. this? this is just wrong.

he doesn’t realise that you’re voicing his exact thoughts into the phone until a loud cheer ripples through the crowd. a woman he’s seen on tv before appears on the big screen over the baseball field. she’s offering some welcoming words, and jake figures the match must be starting soon.

“—he’s lucky people are receiving it well, but he has to know that it’s not okay to just post that without our knowledge or consent,” you say, your voice tinged with more disappointment than frustration.

“i know, trust me. yuki and i made sure any future genius moves from him go through us—and you two—first. i know you're not mad, just…" she sighs, papers shuffling. “look, almost 80% of the comments are positive, calling you a cute, good-looking couple and all that. the rest are either in denial or upset, but it doesn’t matter. more people are for it than against it, so just enjoy the game. you don’t have to go through with what we discussed if you don’t want to. things are looking good, y/n.”

jake doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation, having heard enough. he leans back, resting a hand on the back of your seat and absentmindedly draws circles onto your skin.

you mutter something into the phone and end the call, melting into jake’s side with a sigh. he coos, pulling you closer, and presses a kiss to the top of your hat while humming. “you know what?” he says quietly.

“what?” your voice is muffled as you rub a hand over your face, looking up at him.

he grins. "at least they’re also calling us a cute and good-looking couple. ni-ki will be a proud uncle to our gorgeous kids.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face in his chest and, at once, jake finds it hard to be bothered by anything happening on the internet or even outside this stadium. he has you in his arms and the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy a baseball game. what concerns could he possibly have?

soon after, the players file out onto the field, and the match begins. both of you end up having a lot more fun than expected, and jake briefly leaves to go grab some food and drinks.

he’s walking back up the stairs, looking for you and not even avoiding eye contact with people around like he did before. right now, he’s just a guy hugging two cups of soda and a pile of snacks to his chest, wandering the rows in search of his girlfriend. 

he must look as lost as he feels because someone suddenly taps him on the arm. looking down, he sees the two older women from before. they’re grinning up at him, and jake hesitantly returns the smile, realising a moment too late that they can’t see it due to his mask. 

“you’re three rows up, darling,” the woman on the left with the big, blue-framed glasses says, nodding over her shoulder and vaguely gesturing to where you’re sitting. his face lights up when your eyes meet, and you raise a hand to wave at him. he thanks them and makes to walk up the stairs when she stops him, placing a hand on his arm.

a small voice in the back of his head screams ‘stranger danger’ in capital letters at him, but he brushes it aside, trying to figure out what she could possibly want and whether that might be his kidney or one of the napkins he’s holding.

“you have a very beautiful girlfriend,” she says in that ambiguous, sage voice that the elderly have, and he’s caught off guard. not due to the voice, of course, but the mention of you. jake blinks, processing her words before nodding slowly.

“she’s not, erm, i mean, of course, she’s—”

the woman in the green cardigan laughs delightfully, eyes twinkling with amusement. “sweetie, breathe. we’re not the cia. you can talk about your girlfriend. in fact, you should. it keeps you both young.”

jake is too stunned to muster a reply. he eyes them carefully, wondering if this is a weird interaction or if he’s just never talked about you to anyone before. a second later, he realises—he really hasn’t. not to a stranger, not to anyone.

the thought repeats in his head, looping like a broken record. he’s never talked about you to anyone. and yet, it feels like praises about you live right on the tip of his tongue, like they’ve always been there, just waiting for an opening. so he tries it out. “her heart is even more beautiful,” he says shyly, testing the words, rolling them over like he’s trying to get a feel for them. “which is near impossible but she somehow makes it work.”

it feels weird, to be honest. like he’s revealing a well-buried national secret and endangering the country. the two women share a meaningful glance that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. his stomach twists. jake’s gaze flickers toward you, and an overwhelming wave of emotions crashes over him.

it’s more obvious now than ever. jake is stupidly in love with you. so much so that he has made an utter fool of himself time and time again in the name of keeping you a secret. like love could be something silent, something that exists in the shadows without growing restless. like it wouldn’t claw at the walls of his chest, begging to be let out.

he truly did think loving you quietly would make him feel better about everything. safer. less exposed. but now, faced with the weight of his own realisation, he sees how wrong he’d been. what was the point of all that caution if it only made him feel like this—like he’s been holding his breath for months, maybe even years?

now, he’s given the chance to do the complete opposite. and for the first time, he wants to take it. he wants to love you loudly, unapologetically. because it’s what you deserve. because it’s what he wants.

he exhales, glancing back at you. you’re focused on your phone, scrolling through something with a tiny crease between your brows. probably checking the responses to the tiktok, probably making sure minjun hasn’t ruined both your careers. always so careful, so thoughtful.

“she’s… incredible,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can second-guess them. but they feel right, sitting on his tongue like they belong there. he doesn’t need to say more than that. doesn’t need to explain how you always make people feel comfortable, how you remember the smallest details about everyone you meet, how you laugh with your whole body like it’s the first time you’ve ever found something funny.

the women smile knowingly, and jake lets out a soft breath, something inside him settling.

“i’m very lucky.”

“she’s lucky, too,” the green cardigan woman says, her voice warm. “treat each other well, yes? a love like yours is rare. don’t do it the dishonour of keeping it in the shadows.”

jake lets out a small, breathy laugh, caught somewhere between flustered and amused. he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck, then nods—not just out of politeness, but because he hears her. really hears her.

the woman gives his arm a gentle pat before turning back to her friend, their conversation shifting elsewhere. jake exhales, then moves, crossing the distance between you in quick strides, taking the steps two at a time.

“should i be jealous?” you greet him with a teasing smile, taking the snacks from his arms.

he snorts. “they were just being nice. said you’re beautiful, by the way, and something about…” he hesitates, eyes flicking toward the field. “well, just… nice things.”

you watch him for a second, noticing the shift in his expression. but you don’t press, just shrugging it off and pulling down one side of your mask to take a bite of your corndog. your gaze drifts back to the cheer team as they work the crowd, the energy in the stadium picking up.

jake tries to focus, eyes darting to the blur of blue as cheerleaders and fans break into coordinated moves. but his mind keeps wandering back to what he’d just been told. normally, he’s not one to easily take anyone’s word as gospel, but this time, he can’t help it. it’s not just that he agrees—it’s the fact that he’s surprised by how much he does.

didn’t he spend all week trying to wrestle with this? he doesn’t want to put his relationship on display for everyone to pick apart—that’s the last thing he wants. but now, sitting here with you by his side in jamsil baseball stadium, he can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t matter.

he glances at you, completely unaware of his thoughts, and all he sees is his person. someone he never doubts. someone who loves him, and someone he loves in return. does anything else even matter?

occupied by his thoughts, jake doesn’t realise what’s happening around him until the clapping starts. he blinks, surprised, as you turn to face him, bright-eyed and joining in with the crowd. he looks around, confused for a moment, until his gaze lands on the jumbotron. instead of the game, it now shows a couple in the stands, both wearing the rival team’s merch. the man leans in and gives the woman a sweet kiss on the lips. her face turns red, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

it’s the kiss cam, jake realises, and reflexively claps with everyone else as the woman shyly hides her face behind his shoulder. the excitement echoes through the stadium, the chant growing louder.

he can’t help but smile as he watches them, their laughter infectious. “they’re adorable,” you comment, gaze still fixed ahead, oblivious to his smile. jake’s chest tightens, but the feeling isn’t quite discomfort. more like the recognition of something he hadn’t known he’d been longing for. something he now sees clearly.

your mask is hanging off your ear as you absentmindedly sip on your drink, and jake is so glad to see your lips again. it’s like running into an old friend he’s missed. sometimes, it feels like he spends more time missing them than actually getting to kiss them.

he’s about to reply when you suddenly choke, your back straightening in surprise. out of the corner of his eye, he sees people turning their heads, and even though the music is still blasting through the speakers, he’s sure he hears gasps rippling through the crowd.

without thinking, he shifts his attention away from you and glances up at the jumbotron for confirmation—and there it is. the two of you, front and centre, framed in a pink, sparkling heart.

his eyes flick to you as you glance around, your expression a mix of confusion and discomfort. it’s strange to see you so flustered when you’re usually the calm, collected one, especially in situations like this. but here you are, shifting awkwardly under the attention.

a voice from the crowd calls out, “kiss her, you fool!” followed by the sound of cameras clicking as everyone starts pulling out their phones. more voices join in, chanting in unison, and jake can see the tension in your body. you look uncomfortable, clearly not used to this sort of attention, and it’s hard to ignore.

he feels a wave of protectiveness, wanting to ease the situation and make you feel comfortable. seeing you out of your element like this—normally the one who knows how to handle everything—hits him differently. he’s already made up his mind, though.

this whole thing had been part of the plan from the start, and he’s not going to let it stress you out any longer. he wants to kiss you, right here, right now, because it feels right. it’s not about the spectacle, it’s about showing you how much he’s proud to have you by his side.

plus, you have quite literally already told him three times how being on the kiss cam was something you’ve always wanted to do before the game had even begun.

jake huffs a quiet laugh, his body moving on its own as he shifts in his seat. his gaze locks with yours, and he can’t help but grin at the sight of your panicked smile.

“guess we’re famous now?” you quip nervously, trying to make light of the situation. jake tries hard not to laugh, but the sound of it escapes before he can stop it.

he pulls down his mask, the crowd’s excitement swelling around you both.

he leans in, lowering his voice so only you can hear him. “what do you say?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “can i kiss you?”

he can see you thinking it over, your brows furrowing as nervousness peels away and you weigh your options. he already knows what you’ll say, but he still gives you the space to respond.

“we don’t have to do this, jake,” you whisper, the soft tone in your voice trying to make sure he’s comfortable too, even with thousands of eyes on you.

he smiles, the tenderness in your voice unfailingly melting him even more. “we don’t,” he agrees with a small shake of his head. “but i’ve never not wanted to kiss you, and i’m not starting now.”

your lips part slightly, eyes flickering up to his. the shift is almost imperceptible, but you feel it—his sudden insistence, the way he’s making this moment so much more than just a joke. the kiss cam, the crowd, all of it suddenly feels like less of a spectacle and more like something personal. something you didn’t expect but, deep down, have always wanted.

it’s strange, this feeling, and for a second, you almost don’t know what to do with it. the uncertainty that used to cling to you in moments like this is fading, replaced by something that feels surprisingly soft, sure. jake’s not just trying to make a spectacle of you; he’s actually trying to share this with you, to let you know that this is something he wants too.

your heart skips a beat. there’s no need for words, but you’re caught in the moment. a quiet nod is all you can muster, small but certain. “okay.”

his smile spreads before he even realises it. jake leans in, movements slow but purposeful, drawing it out just a moment longer. the kiss is tender, soft at first—he feels your breath mingle with his, the warmth of you close, the way you fit against him. it’s not rushed, not for the camera. it’s real. it’s something he’s wanted to do for so long, but this—this feels more like an act of love than just a kiss on a jumbotron.

you smile into it, and jake can’t help but grin too, the way your happiness settles deep in his chest. he knows the crowd is cheering, but all he can hear is the soft, breathy sound you make, the one that means you’re happy. the one that makes everything inside him flutter.

when he pulls away, the roar of the stadium hits him like a wave, but it feels distant, almost muted. you tuck yourself into his side, the sound of your laugh soft and light. there’s no turning back now. the world can know, and in this moment, jake couldn’t care less.

‘operation: no hate, just date’ has done its job.

he presses a quick, sneaky kiss to your temple, his grin still lingering, all warmth and love. he wraps his arm around you, pulling you just a little closer, the moment between the two of you nothing but pure joy.

alright. maybe jake is not the chill guy he thought he was. but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be.

all he’s ever wanted to be was a lover boy, and now it feels like he’s finally on the right track.

taglist: @jakeslvt @username-111222333444555 @pjselee

[facesittingnightmares]

Bangchan ‘The Daddy’ : Perceptions of Dominance

Post Includes: Facesitting, Face farting, fart sniffing, butt drops, face crushing, slight suffocation, willing sub, different perspectives

You looked all around as the door to Chans dressing room was within reach. Would anyone see you enter? At this point, looking in to see a black leather chair that had two large deep round indents, you didn't care. You close the door behind you and rush over to the chair. Your knees cried out as you dropped with immense speed and hovered your nose just above the indented leather cushion. "Ugh" You moan as the strong scent of Bangchans signature vanilla perfume invaded your nose. The sound of the door opening and then locking breaks you from your trance of analyzing the heat coming from the cushion.

"What have we got here?" Chans Australian accent only further fuels your hard on as he walks slowly over to you. "You like my seat? Maybe...maybe you wanna BE my seat?" He asks with a snicker, looking down at his belt buckle and then back up to make eye contact with you as he took his belt off sexily. He stopped beside you, allowing you to take in how much more muscular he was than you. His glutes protruded out towards your face and you couldn't resist his questions anymore. "Yes please!" You softly respond, unsure if it was the right decision.

Without skipping a beat he pulled his jeans down and showed off his new pair of black Supreme boxers that hugged his curves to the point the fabric was clearly stretching. He carefully handled you and lay you into a seated position with your head down on the seat where the craters were. "Okay test one for potential seats. You've gotta support my weight. As you could see, my massive ass indents anything I sit on with its heavy weight so it's crucial you can handle it!" He turns mid sentence and as soon as he finishes speaking, his ass lowers down. To you, the world was in bullet time, you could feel your heart racing as the black domes of fat ass descended. The black fabric of his underwear, already struggling normally, became slightly translucent at the peaks of his cheeks, and infront of his crack, giving a distorted glimpse at the perfectly smooth pale skin below. Finally you feel the fabric touch the tip of your nose and mould around it. This slight touch broke you from your state of grace and you realised what you were in for.

As if someone set time back to normal, his impact shocks you, and before you have time to think, your head is gone. You no longer feel any outside air, instead the straining fabric of his boxers along with the withering cushion below you. Unfortunately the cushion was to no benefit as his weight pushed your head deep down until you hit the hard support board of the chair. "Oh my, this is so much better. I was starting to worry my ass would go flat from having to sit on that weak cushion. Your head is so much more comfortable. Like how those gel insoles for shoes allow your feet to feel like they are molding into soft support, my butt feels like it's molding around the perfect seat cushion!" While Chan was excited and comfortable, you felt as though your nose was being crushed and your face was being reshaped.

"Chan....im...finding it....hard to breath!" You yell into the fabric. With little room to actually move your mouth, it came out like a completely different language. This didn't matter in the slightest. Any sound made in Chans BBL esque ass was completely inaudible on the outside, only alerting him through feeling. To make matters worse, the feeling of complete suffocation, being crushed, and just being in proximity to chan made you rock hard like never before. "Ohh yeah I completely forgot to tell you to breathe, actually feels nice!" The man said, assuming from your tight pants that you were happily breathing under him. As you also couldn't hear him, you assumed he was being overly dominant and punishing your invasion of his dressing room.

The next ten minutes were a grueling task. Having to manage your air in order to survive until the deadly dom would give you air. "You've been such a comfortable and well behaved seat. Just one more little part for this test and I'll move to the next!" His words of praise overlap with your screams for air, accompanied by slight thrusts, which to Chan, made it look like his praise turned you on. The weight lifts slightly, the muscular aspect of his glutes leaving your face as the fatty layers still drooped down slightly and moulded around your face similar to how slime droops with gravity. Chan had just lifted about 3 inches, but it was undetectable to your struggling face. "One Bang Chan Booty Bomb inbound!" He says excitedly. With the muscles of his glutes having been lifted a little, his words seeped through slightly, muffled to the point he sounded like a dominant australian whisper in your ear, despite him channeling a more excited and fun tone. You took a few breathes, unaware of what was to come, only hearing slight grunts from the perfectly sculpted man above you. The grunts were him focusing his strength into his glutes to crush your face fully. With no warning signs, no noises, and no chance to react, his weight dropped on your face with speed and determination.

You felt as though your nose cracked and blood vessels burst, even the cushion let out a puff as it burst open at the sides. With only a 3 inch gap for momentum, he hit you like a world ending meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs. Fighting the urge to pass out, and fearing brain damage, you would soon experience the aftershock of his butt bomb. The sounds of wood creaking alerts you first, followed by the slow and subtle sinking sensation, finally the wooden bottom of the chair split in the middle just below your head.

Your head followed and slipped into the new cavern. The sensation of his force turned you on further despite the horror you felt. "Oh god...shit I shouldn't have dropped so hard!" Chan moans a deep voice, the sudden force relocating his gas to his anus. It was swift and silent, his protein fueled flatulence invaded your shallow cavern of safety until it became a vacumn of cruel crippling gas. The gags of your struggling form barely echo out of his mounds. His unbearable gas would've ended you right then had it not been for his ass slipping down onto your face and crushing your head again. The heavy dense glutes hugged your face, with his black Supreme boxers now smelling of his vile fart. All the factors resulted in you blowing your load the instant his ass settled it's warm doughy shape on you.

From his perspective his soft approach of trying to give you your desire helped you 'arrive', whereas you perceived his actions as dom like, and almost evil, turning you on despite torturing you. Chan allows the pumping in your trousers to finish, dampening your fabric with sticky liquid, before arising and allowing the bright lights of the dressing room to blind you. If there were spectators to witness the event they'd assume you had a pancake face with steam rising off of it. "Ready for test 2?" He groans while taking his shirt off. You try to lift your body up but can barely feel your face. The effects of his astronomically massive ass dropping on your face culminate and the chair splits in two, your head landing flat on the floor, only the flattened cushion softening your fall.

"Are you okay?" His voice showed concern like you didn't experience before. "Ye...yes sir!" You responded as you lifted your head from the floor, looking back to see the seat split in two, collapsed in the middle with his butt boulders still leaving visable craters. "Oh? yes sir? I kinda like that!" His Eager Australian voice sent shivers to your crotch again. Your servant and sub like attitude sparked a dominant flame in Chan that would later ignite a new passion. You watched, dazed from his booty bombs, as he grabbed the deflated leather cushion which was now as thin as paper. He set it in the middle of the floor and moved the broken chair out of the way. "Lay down, head flat on the cushion." You follow his orders, still under the misconception that he was fully dominant. While staring at the ceiling, scared to tilt and look at him, his large muscular shadow began to cast over you until he finally stood above, now shirtless and showing off a ripped physique, having some hand prints painted on his back for his performance. In its full naked glory his body appeared shredded with minimal body fat unlike his ass which looked like it could provide him nutrients for months.

"The Second test to see if you are a good test is durability. Clearly you have the support in you, but no point in a seat that can support for only short periods of time." His words scratched an itch in your brain, the image of being forced under him for hours on end brought your erection back to life during his descent.

At first he did a deep Asian squat allowing his clothed ass the envelop your face again. Even with his weight not even half focused on your face, you felt suffocated as his boxers, saturated by his earlier fart, covered your mouth and nose but not your ears. Now, not clinging for dear life you got a sense of his stinky gas. You took deep breathes, just like with the chair before he came in. Chan responded to feeling your inhales by rocking back and forth, praising you for the initiative. At first the gas smelt meaty, powerful like his body would suggest, but below the surface there were hints of typical protein sources like eggs and dairy, as your inhales came to an end you got a powerful preview of his spices heating up your airways and burning your nose.

"..... pull me down." You were too busy dissecting his fart to hear what he said in entirety. Thinking he demanded you smother yourself, you obliged and reached up for his waist and pulled down. Chan transitioned from his deep asian squat into a kneeling position, his massive mounds giving your head a bear hug only held back by struggling fabric. His legs folded as his feet faced back towards yours, and his warm crotch spilled over your hair. "Such an eager fan aren't you?" His words turn you on, thinking he is teasing you. For the next half an hour he stayed on your face, completely still as he used the feeling of your deep inhales as a sign you were fine. You couldn't believe you stayed rock hard the entire time. Sure at first, the sensation of his fabric clad mounds crawling around your head like an evil force was intensely stimulating. First your nose was pushed deep between his cheeks. Then you felt the heat reach the midpoints of your ears, only being stopped because they hit the heels of his curled feet. Furthermore, his rocking back and fourth gradually edged your mouth open unintentionally, allowing you to now taste his underwear, secretly sweaty from sitting so long on one spot.

"Since you loved the Bang Chan booty bombs so much earlier, here's a little reward for surviving so long!" Yet again his words wouldn't be heard by your cut off ears. Instead, you simply felt the sensation of his ass turning soft, his muscle parts lifting a few inches. Bracing yourself helped very little as the first drop happened. His impact shook you to your core, disorienting you as the second drop occurred, or maybe it was the third as you were completely unable to keep count. His ass didn't even leave your face and yet had immense force. No longer restricted by a chair breaking, he continued to booty bomb for almost 5 minutes straight. Each drop turned you harder and harder but this time you reached down and freed your boner.

Just as you went to grip it to stroke, you got shook again. This time your entire body flopped and you tried to reach for your burning face, only for him to slam down on your hands too. "Oh good boy, spread my ass!" He moans, slowly being turned on by your continued servitude. The drops continued, speeding up as he approaches the 5 minute mark. Finally, with your hands held in place by his heavy cheeks dropping, you began to shoot your load again. With each drop of his weight you shot another burst of semen until he finally stopped.

The endless assault of your face ended but the banging sound continued as someone knocked aggressively on the door. "Chan....Are you in there?" The fellow group members shouted in. Chan panicking, got up suddenly. The cool breeze of the room air brought life back to your abused body for the second time today. "C'mon, let's get in here!" He says, picking you up with ease and throwing your over his shoulder. Your face meets the middle of his crack, bouncing to give ptsd like flashes of his drops on your face as he walked into the private dressing room bathroom for privacy as the members started screwing at the knob of the lock from outside. He dropped you onto the soft mat in the bathrooms and locked the door behind him before realigning over you.

Now in a seated position, his ass was mear inches infront as you looked slightly up to see it jiggling in his boxers, which were visibly wore from bouncing on you, the stitches at the side coming undone. You were mesmerized by it's movements. His cheeks looking both heavy yet graceful, deadly yet attractive.

"Okay so I know I've been nice so far, but last test of being my seat is the fart test. Whether I'm in the studio, the dorm, or the gym, the boys always complain I bombard them with gas and make the room uninhabitable. I need a seat that can absorb as much of my farts as possible!" His words stun you. Nice? He was a fucking butt demon hell bent on reshaping your face to his liking.

"Uhm that was you being nice? Not to complain...sir...but how was the butt dropping on me without warning nice? The fart from earlier? How about demanding I pull you full weight on my face? Or even when I screamed for air as I suffocated right off the bat?" Your boner reappears as you relive the few hours of torture. He simply looks down at your slightly scared frame in confusion and some regret as his dad like nature mad him concerned. "You thought I was mean? Dominant? Evil? I couldn't hear you because of my massive ass. I thought you were just breathing down there, I even told you to keep taking deep inhales. The fart was an accident that slipped out due to the butt dropping. I only dropped on you cause you looked like you enjoyed the weight. And as for demanding you smother yourself in my ass, my full sentence was if you wanted to indulge yourself, pull me down!" His concerned look slowly turned to a smirk of curiosity. "Wait, so you enjoyed thinking I was dark and dominant? I mean ONE part of you sure did!" He laughed, gesturing to your dried cum. You couldn't believe it, you were so turned on by this evil genius dom that smothered you for hours, just to realise it was just your perception.

"Ye...yes! I loved it Chan. I'm sorry for misunderstanding you." You slightly grovel but notice he continued to smirk. "How about we agree you are officially my seat now, I'll enact test 3 as your 'ceremony' and I'll let out my dominant side. I'm used to holding back around others, but you fucking love it don't you?" His Australian accent starts to fully show itself through his now dominant tone. "Yes..yes I do Chan" You agree. "You're such a good boy for daddy Chan right? You want my BIG, BARE, BREATHTAKING BUM to smother you and fart?" He asks, ripping his boxers off and throwing them into the corner. If you hadn't shot two loads already today, the glistening sight of his massive cheeks bursting from his boxers would've immediately got you to bust. Like a 3D horror movie jumpscare, his fleshy boulders appeared to leap from the confines of his underwear, towards your face as if it was food. "Yes..Chan...Sir!" You call him sir to keep the dominant tone going.

"Chan?? Answer us!" The other guys yell, finally making it into the room but being blocked by the bathroom door. "Okay seat lay down, imma let the flood gates open and smother you, drown you both in ass, and gas!" Following the instructions you lay down, lining up on the mat to comfort your head. "Yea boys I'm just in the toilet, having side effects from all the raw protein I've been taking! Small price to pay to keep the fans happy with my body!" He yells out as he quietly lines up just above your face, cheeks hugging your head lightly. "Ohh shit, you about to let the Bang Chan Bombardment off?" The men laugh through the door. Chan is silent, closing his eyes as he prepares to fart.

Your peaceful sniffs of his ass are disturbed as the blare of a foghorn sounding fart erupts and sends shockwaves across your skin. The fart lasts for thirty seconds, not wavering in strength at any point until silence returned. Now, not distracted by his bouncing, you experienced his glorious fart in all its glory. It's airy form pushed the oxygen from your body with force, evicting any pure air that you had as it's mixed scent of eggs, dairy, and something that clearly didn't agree with him destroyed your willing nose. Anyone else would've held their breathe; you, inhaled like a champ giving your nose to Chans ass. "Fuck that was a banger Chan! Damn the sme...the smell is leaking out. Let's get out of here!" The others leave, gagging as the fart leaked under the bathroom door.

"Fuck...I..stink!" Chan moans as he takes small inhales of his own smell, acknowledging it's stench while basking in his 'talent'. 'You want more?" He asked. But before you could answer he dropped into a full weight position like earlier, this time his legs folding by your side, his feet above your head with him facing your feet.

"I don't care if you do. It's your job to take them all. All my nasty farts! Your nose is my new air purifier and i want results!" He leans into his dominant side, finally embracing it as you get hard from hearing it just before your ears got swallowed by his fatty ass.

A few minutes of toxic farts destroyed your lungs. Long airy farts pushed oxygen from your system as the wet squeaky bursts of milkshake induced gas burnt and made you cry from their concentrated stench. "Time to combine some Booty Bombs and some Bombardment!"

His muscular glutes lifted, his fatty layers stayed, and in a few seconds he dropped. You cock pulsed to life with your nose went deeper than before, nose nearing his sweaty, hairless, slippery pucker. But unlike before, once his cheeks crashed down, he ripped a booming fart. It was like two enormous and surprisingly heavy helium balloons were deflating with sticking toxic gas coming out onto your nose. He continued this for almost twenty minutes. Raise, tense, crush, fart. Half way through it became too much, but it just meant you got harder as his dominant side was truly dominating you past limits you never knew you had. You struggled with the overwhelming dominance, suffocation, and stench. Reaching up to push his back, you perfectly align your hands with the red painted hand prints, something you can realise by the change in texture. Your mind races with thought ‘Has he done this before? Is that why he uses hand prints for shirtless performances?” As you contemplate the idea, you lower your hands back down out of exhaustion.

Raise, tense, crush, fart. You inhaled like it was oxygen, stinking oxygen that killed you slowly with its sewage smell. Your pre-cum began to leak but Chan was too far into his dom side to care. Raise...Tense...Crush...Fart. His final drop made your nose peak into his hole. It smelt devine. Manly, stinky, evil, and like a true Australian dom.

"Last stretch! Imma just unload my whole tank now seat. I know you won't get them all, but appreciate every fart you can!" Even though you didn't hear the message, you didn't need to be told to sniff anymore. Your were his. His seat and his property to sit on and fart on for ever.

You felt the rumble of his stomach trickle down to the flesh around your nose. Surprisingly his warm hand gripped your throbbing shaft, showing off his gorilla like grip. His glutes tensed up around your head, squashing it as his gas made its way through his intestines until it finally hit. "Damn...it's all coming now!" His words couldn't be more true as a barrage of gas, lasting ten minutes unloaded itself onto you. His cheeks relaxed again, feeling like warm cushions hugging your head as his gas was chugged into you like a vile protein shake. Each fart varied, and kept you guessing so you could never be prepared. You simply inhale like a wild animal in between screams for freedom. The screams felt good to Chan, vibrating inside a fart chamber as if you were praising his dominant turn. In return, he started stroking your hard on, one stroke per fart until you finally were near unloading for a third time. Instead he teased you, gripping and holding at the tip for a few minutes before lifting off.

"You wanna feel satisfied? You wanna blow your little load? Give Daddy Chans ass a kiss!" He slams back down onto your bright red sweat drenched face. Your teary eyes didn't deter him at all, giving you exactly what you wanted. The dominant leader that you fantasized about. You pucker your lips and he slams down. Your lips meet those of his ass and he throws his head back in pleasure as you realign your hands with the handprints on his back to add to the immersion. He didn't stroke yet though, waiting for a fart to line up with it. Not learning your lesson, you assumed he was being more dominant than in reality and that he wanted tongue.

His eyes lit up as he felt the cold touch of your tongue enter his hole. The sensation caused him to finally fart and stroke you so you could finish for the final time. He stayed on your tongue, riding it and slamming on your face for a few minutes after you passed out. Once he finally got up he was exhausted from his work and decided to get his private security to take you home discretely before tidying up the mess of the broken chair.

You awake on your bed, in the same clothes, and with the stench of his farts embedded on your nose and mouth. A gift box awaits you on the bed along with note. "Thanks for unlocking my dominant side! I can't wait to have you officially as my seat on payroll. I've got a contract in the box, along with other little gifts. Check your messages on your phone for a little something extra!" Your excitement got the better of you and you rushed to open the box. A deep familiar scent poured put and your eyes watered with happiness. It was his ripped boxers, freshly farted on by the man himself. You bring them to your face, and inhale deeply as the addiction to his smell was too strong to ignore. Other contents of the box included a small bottle of his signature vanilla perfume, some cooling body lotion, and a picture of his newly added handprint on his back to represent you.

Breaking from the trance you checked your messages to see an unknown number with a voice message. "You want a fart?...Say please!" His voice says seductively in his Australian accent. "Please!" You whisper instinctively. After the short gap, a massive ripper of a fart is heard on the recoding that send you over the edge.

*Let me know your favourite parts :)*

[vesseloflukola]

PR Relationship/Misdirection or Hard Launch?

As you know, I believe we have gotten a LOT of misdirection from this fandom lately. I believe as more and more goes on bts, additional misdirection is needed.

I STILL believe that Nicola and Luke are together and very private. I also still believe that they have given us quite of few wonderful crumbs that point to them being together.

We have not seen or heard from Luke in quite some time, so it was nice to see him out and about, looking dashing I might add. What we were not counting on was who would be out and about with him.

He showed up to the Boss One Premiere Party in London tonight with none other than Antonia. We have not seen her in his presence since last July. Almost exactly six months ago…how odd.

I honestly don’t think they have been together since then. I feel like Luke and Nic decided that now is the time for a big distraction. I think Antonia would jump at the chance to be more visible and network, so she agreed to it.

The video’s and pic’s definitely showed the same from Luke that pic’s of the two of them did last summer…unease and discomfort. He has never looked happy standing next to her. Weird, that! Yet, when he is standing next to Nic, he can’t seem to get close enough to her, he can’t touch her enough, he can’t stop looking at her, and he can’t stop smiling. It really is night and day.

What I did find different than last summer is that Antonia didn’t seem so happy and comfortable to be standing next to him this time. There is just something so off about the pic’s and the timing. Something smells fishy.

Ok, I wasn’t able to finish this post before my plans tonight, so I left it in my drafts. I have since seen the “loved up” video of Luke and Antonia. I will admit, it looked pretty realistic for a couple in love. I would maybe even believe it if I had not seen pic’s and video from earlier in the night.

Let’s see…what did the “loved up” video remind me of? Oh yes! Some pictures we got not too long ago of our lovely two apples tall heroine, as she went shopping and frolicking through an alley and streets of London with her “bestie”, hamming it up for the camera. Truth be told, both couples knew the camera’s were there. Also, both Nic and Luke have told us how private they both are with their relationships. Gee…and both Nic and Luke are getting paired up with 20 something partners. Wow…Nic and Luke have SO much in common…who would have thought!

Ok, now let’s talk about the possible hard launch. So, Luke claimed to be single during the World Tour. When Papgate 1.0 happened on June 13th, Luke looked pissed, gave claw hands, and still didn’t claim Antonia as his girlfriend. We get random pic’s of Luke with his group of friends (including Antonia) where he never looks happy to be standing next to her. We get Papgate 2.0 where lifeguard Luke looks so much more enthralled by talking to his best friend’s girlfriend than he did with the girl in his arms. We then see both Antonia and Rory show where Luke is in real time and we find out that he left the Italy trip without his friends early.

We also have articles where he says how much he wants to keep his romantic relationships private. First off, he could have claimed Antonia at any time and still kept their relationship private.

So then we have the next 6 months where Luke does not pop up very often at all. During this time, Antonia is constantly taunting the fandom by posting whenever Nic posts. If they were together, why would Luke be ok with this? Some people in the fandom are also not being very nice to Antonia. Luke does nothing. While at the same time, if anyone in the fandom thinks Luke has snubbed Nic in any way, Luke immediately corrects the narrative.

Luke also likes every one of Antonia’s Insta posts. Why would he need to do that if he was always with her. Doesn’t that seem odd?

For the question of the night…after Six months of not being seen together, photographed together, or a relationship claimed…why would private relationship Luke decide to hard launch his girlfriend on a random Thursday night in January? Let me know if YOU have any ideas why, because I sure don’t.

[soriastrider]

for science...

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt ── s. jy

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || angstttt, fluff, crack

↳ ✎ᝰ. 23.7k [never beating the allegations of getting too attached to my works and having too much fun writing i fear...]

↳ contains ── angst! very angsty but only after a lot of fluff...the cheesy cringe type but then it goes downhill real quick...but happy ending i swear!, mentions of insecurities, maybe one or two curse words, fic starts with jake dating og character named jenn, the use of pet names, jungwon practically plays therapist, jake is absolutely whipped for reader but is terrible at communication and a certified idiot . also jungwon is reader's best friend so the beginning sets up the context for that lolz

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── she's DONEEE [do u hear me crying in the background]...so some backstory lore abt this fic—basically two years ago i had a dream about the ~angsty scene~ of this fic and ever since then, i've had this itch of putting it into words. and when i finally decided to do it, no doubt came out and i thought it was literal fate since the lyrics match the vibe so well...don't tell me it isn't fate guys :') anyways..this is a little different than my typical writing style even though of course i had to include summm crack..but i am still nervous abt how it came out so i really really hope you guys like it :') thank u for all the support and love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

You and Yang Jungwon were literally born to be best friends.  

Like, there was no other option.  

Your mom? Their high school's poster child for academic perfection—top of her class, president of every club imaginable, a certified teacher's pet.  

Jungwon's mom? Their high school's unofficial social chair—life of the party, karaoke queen, probably responsible for half the faculty's headaches. 

Nothing alike. 

So naturally, of course, they were inseparable. By their junior year, they'd already started planning their futures together, including one very specific and totally realistic goal that all teenage girl best friends make when they're young:  

"We should have our first kids around the same time and force them to be best friends!"  

"Oh my gosh, yes," Jungwon's mom agreed enthusiastically. "Like, we'll make them share everything! Matching outfits, playdates, joint birthday parties!"  

But what your moms didn't realize as they were giggling over the playful promise that probably didn't hold any meaning to them at the age of 17? 

The universe was taking notes.  

So fast forward a couple decades later, and there you were, baby best friends from birth, fulfilling the shared dream of your mothers—the true puppeteers in this scenario.  

All your moms had to do was execute their promise as planned, but the rest of it? The rest of it was easy.  

You and Jungwon clicked before you even knew what words were, communicating in a series of shared giggles and unintelligible baby noises. By the time you turned two, you were finishing each other's sentences in your made-up gibberish language, and by preschool, the bond was unshakable. 

You two—just like your moms—were inseparable.  

By high school, everyone knew you were a package deal—where you went, Jungwon followed, and vice versa. So, when he announced your sophomore year that he was leaving to compete on a televised idol survival show, you were, understandably, skeptical.  

"Are you sure it's not a scam?" You had asked, rolling lazily around on his bed while he scrambled around his room, packing his bags.  

"It's not a scam," Jungwon laughed, carefully folding his clothes. 

"Did they ask for your social security number?"  

"Y/N."  

"Exactly. I'm just saying—if you end up on one of those exposé documentaries about fake talent shows, don't say I didn't warn you."  

Despite your teasing, you knew how much this meant to him. Jungwon had been dreaming about being in the music spotlight since he figured out how to work a karaoke machine at the age of six.  

So when he eventually did make his debut with his group, you weren't surprised at all—it was inevitable, written in the stars, just like how your friendship with him was.

What did surprise you, though, was how seamlessly you got roped into his new world.  

Sure, Jungwon's life got infinitely busier overnight, but there is no universe that exists in which he'd forget about you—his non-conjoined twin, ride-or-die, and ultimate life-long nuisance (his words, not yours).  

And so naturally, you became an honorary member of this new life of his. The boys' practice studio might as well be your new home—the endless days camping out on the floor of their dance studio with your head in your textbooks while they drilled their choreography for the hundredth time proved that. Or maybe how you crash on their dorm couch so often that Sunoo coined you your new nickname: their unofficial eighth member.  

Which brings you to now: a marketing major by day, unofficial idol by night, and, as always, a certified magnet to chaos.

Case in point? Whatever madness was happening around you at this exact moment.  

"Okay, but hear me out," Heeseung says, gesturing dramatically with his pizza slice—one of many scattered across the coffee table everyone was sitting around. "Pineapple is the perfect combination of sweet and savory—"  

"It's a crime against humanity," Sunghoon cuts in. 

Tomorrow? The boys leave for their five-month tour.  

Tonight? Tonight is tradition: the pre-tour pizza bash.  

Naturally, it's chaos, as no one has bothered with the last-minute packing they're supposed to be doing.  

Not a single bag is packed.  

"It's fruit on bread," you scrunch your nose, taking a bite of your own normal pepperoni pizza. "This isn't dessert, Hee."  

"Thank you!" Sunghoon reaches across the table to high-five you. 

From the couch behind you, Jake chuckles and nudges your back with his knee, "Big talk coming from someone who claims pickles belong on everything."  

"Uh, because they do," you whip your head around to glare at him. "Pickles are versatile."  

"Versatile my ass," Jungwon mumbles from his spot beside you. "I love you, but you're deranged."  

"Look who's talking, Mr. 'I-put-hot-sauce-on-everything'," you shoot back, eyes narrowing at your best friend. Everyone chuckles from around the table at your dramatic, yet endearing, overreaction. 

"Hot sauce is different," Jay chimes in without even looking up from his phone. "It's an enhancer."  

"Pickles enhance flavor too!"  

"By making everything taste like vinegar," Sunoo deadpans from your other side. "Gross."  

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "You're all uncultured."  

"And you're a menace," Jake quips from behind you, his voice dripping with amusement. You don't even have to turn around to see the smirk on his face—you can hear it loud and clear. 

"Careful, Sim," you say with a sly glance over your shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll start adding pickle juice to your coffee."  

The room fills with laughter, but before Jake can fire back, his phone buzzes aggressively against the couch. You watch him glance down at his screen before his playful smile instantly fades.  

"I'll be right back," Jake mutters, getting up and heading towards the kitchen without another word.  

You frown as you watch him disappear around the corner, the sudden shift in his mood gnawing at you, and you can't help but wonder what's gotten under his skin. 

After a few more minutes of heated debates over pizza toppings—and yet another round of everyone ganging up on your weird pickle obsession—you decide it was time for a drink refill.  

Excusing yourself, you step into the kitchen, only to find Jake leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and gaze fixed on the empty wall in front of him. His phone sits abandoned on the counter, screen dark.  

"Jake?" You call out softly, approaching slowly. 

Your voice breaks through his haze, his expression flickering as he registers you standing in the doorway, your brows furrowed in concern.  

"What's going on?" You ask, moving closer to stand in front of him.   

"Nothing," Jake says too quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

You give him a look and he knows that you know he's lying, "Jake.."  

He exhales, his expression crumbling as he runs a hand through his hair, "Just...Jenn called."  

Ah. Of course. Jenn.  

You almost flinch at the sound of the name, the weight it carries instantly souring your stomach. Jake's on-again, off-again girlfriend of two years was a constant source of heartbreak—not just for the poor boy, but for the entire group who helped pick up the pieces of his broken heart after every messy break-up…and even messier make-up.  

"She broke up with me," Jake admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. Something about me leaving for tour and how it wasn't going to work out."  

Your heart hurts at the sight of him in front of you—shoulders slumped, hands nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, as if trying to distract himself from the conversation.  

"Oh, Jake...," you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you lean against the counter next to him.  

"I'm fine," he insists, waving it off, but the expression on his face clearly betrays him.  

"No, you're not," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "And that's okay."  

Jake lets out a shaky breath, finally looking up from the ground to look at you, before shrugging, "I don't even know why I’m surprised. We've been...really off for a while now. Like, more than usual. But still, it sucks."  

“Of course, it sucks," you nod, agreeing softly. "You guys were together for a long time. You cared about her."  

For a moment, the two of you sit in a heavy silence with an unspoken understanding, the only sounds coming from the muffled chatter and laughter in the other room. You stay close, letting him process without pushing further.  

Still, you can't entirely suppress the annoying flare of emotions bubbling in your chest—a tangled knot of sympathy and…something else. Relief, maybe? Not that you would ever wish any sort of pain on Jake—but you hate the way Jenn always leaves him like this: drained, doubting himself, and trying to piece together what went wrong, where he went wrong. 

"Come back to the living room," you say finally, nudging his side gently. "Ni-ki is freaking out over which hoodies to pack. And I swear, they're all the same black hoodie."  

Jake lets out a small, tired laugh, "You don't need me for that. He's gonna end up packing all of them, just watch."  

"You don't know that," you tease. "Besides, I need someone's back up to help me convince him he's not actually going through an emo phase."  

His eyes carry a faint smile as he looks at you, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to remind you of the warmth he usually carries.  

"Okay," he says in a whisper, pushing himself off the counter.  

You start towards the doorway, forgetting about your drink refill entirely, but his voice stops you.  

"Y/N?"  

You turn to find him still standing there, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.  

"Thanks," he adds, a small smile on his face. It's such a simple statement, but the way he says it—soft, sincere, and maybe just a little desperate—makes something twist in your stomach. "For just...always being here."  

You smile back up at the boy, "Of course, Jake. I'll always be here for you. You know that."  

For a moment, he holds your gaze, as if taking a mental note of something. Then he nods, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay," he says, exhaling as he gestures toward the doorway. "Let's go.”

You follow behind the boy back to the living room, silently hoping he knows just how much you mean your promise to him.  

Jake's body is on autopilot at this point.  

Another city, another show, another string of flashing lights and deafening cheers. It's a month into tour, and the endless loop of responsibilities has left him no room to just breathe.  

And he loves this life—he really does. But tonight, for reasons he can't explain, the adrenaline that usually keeps him afloat isn't enough. Pure exhaustion lingers in his bones, heavier than the applause and screams echoing in his memory, and he just can’t seem to shake it. 

When his head finally hits the stiff hotel pillow, Jake exhales with a heavy sigh. The city around him is alive, the neon lights brightly dancing against his windowpane, but he feels none of it. 

Instead? He just feels the weight of homesickness and the ache of being alone. 

Normally, he would push through, shove these thoughts into the back of his mind, call it a night. But tonight, the ache feels different—sharper, louder—and before he knows it, his phone is in his hand before he can talk himself out of it, his thumb hovering over your name on his screen. 

A familiar battle wages in his mind, one he’s been battling more recently ever since tour became a little heavier on him. Slowly, the quiet yearning has been creeping in, and he’s been missing home more and more, craving the feeling of familiarity. But it isn’t just the physical places or the comfort of his regular routine that he craves. 

It’s something else, something harder to name. 

And for some other reason he can’t seem to explain, he thinks it’s you. 

Jake doesn’t know when it started. Maybe it was hearing the sound of your voice through the phone whenever the guys called you to check in every now and then. Or maybe it was the way you would text in their shared group chat, your messages always tinged with humor or a sense of calm that somehow made everything feel a little less overwhelming. 

Whatever it was, it stuck with him. He finds himself craving that unexplainable comfort only you seem to bring. He tells himself it’s nothing special, just the natural pull of familiarity. You’re back at home, the place he misses the most, so obviously, through association, it makes sense. 

It’s logical. Nothing more. 

That’s what he tells himself as his thumb hovers over your name. It’s not about you specifically—it couldn’t be. It’s just the connection to home. The grounding warmth of your voice. The way you somehow make the distance feel a little less suffocating. 

Obviously. Nothing more. 

He presses call.  

Two rings. That's all it takes before your voice cuts through all the static in his head. Groggy, soft, and achingly familiar. Like home.  

"Jake? It's late, is everything okay?"  

Jake glances at the clock. 10:13PM where he is. Much later for you, he imagines. Guilt stirs, but...  

He doesn't want to hang up. 

Hearing your voice feels like the first breath of air after surfacing from deep water. He instantly feels more comfortable despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice quiet. "I'm okay. Just...needed to hear a friendly voice, I guess."  

"Wow, are the boys that bad that you need to call me?" You tease warmly, despite the sleepiness lingering in your words.  

Jake chuckles, the sound low and tired, "Nothing against them, really. It's just...sometimes you need someone who reminds you of home, you know?"  

The other end of the line goes quiet for a moment. He can hear you shuffle, and he braces himself for a teasing comment about him being sappy and sentimental. But instead, your voice softens.  

"Well, I'm glad I could be that for you," your voice telling him you're smiling brightly on the other side of the screen. "Though if I had a private jet, I'd send it right now. Bring you back instantly."  

"A private jet, huh?" Jake's eyes flutter close as he's engulfed into the usual, playful rhythm that's always there between the two of you. "You'd do that for me?"  

"Only if you bring back goodies, preferably snacks," you quip back, and the warmth in his chest grows.  

There's another pause, the kind that feels comfortable rather than awkward. Jake shifts in his spot and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “How do you do that?”  

“Do what?” 

“Make everything feel...lighter. Like, I can’t explain it, but just hearing you makes me feel like I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.” 

Your voice softens at his sudden vulnerability. 

“Because you don't have to carry it all on your own, Jake. You know that, right? That’s what friends are for."  

Jake hums in response, a low sound of acknowledgement as he keeps his phone pressed close, your voice instantly soothing the heavy emotions he's been carrying. 

"You sound exhausted," you say after a beat, your tone cautious but filled with genuine care. "How are you holding up? With everything—the tour, the...break-up, just...you?"  

Jake lets out a low groan, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You sound like my mom."  

"Well, someone has to," you tease lightly, a relieved laugh slipping into your voice, as if you'd been afraid you overstepped. "Seriously, Jake. Are you doing okay?"  

Jake hesitates, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't let himself think too much about Jenn or the breakup since leaving for tour a month ago. The boys knew better than to bring it up, and Jake had been grateful for that—for the distraction.  

But now, with you, it feels different. 

Safer, easier. Natural.  

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he sighs, the sound heavy through the phone. “Some days it feels like I’m fine, like I’ve moved on, and other days...it’s like I’m stuck in this loop of ‘what ifs.’ Like, what if I did something different? Or..."  

He trails off to a pause, his throat tight, before he finally admits to you, and himself, "...what if I just wasn't enough?"  

“Jake,” you say gentle but firm, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You've always been enough. Jenn...she just wasn’t the right person for you. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.” 

He swallows hard, your words settling into the cracks he didn't even realize were there. 

"Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. It's just...hard, you know? Haven't really talked about it since it happened. But talking to you helps—a lot."  

“I’m glad." He can hear the quiet sincerity in your words. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. With tour, with...everything. You've got this, Jake. I’m really proud of you.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, the warmth in your words settling something in his chest—a knot he didn't even realize was there. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” 

“It’s a gift,” you easily reply, and he can hear the grin in your voice, the easy banter making him feel lighter.  

"I missed this," the words tumble out before he can stop himself. Then he quickly adds, as if to explain himself, "It's weird not having you around. The boys are great and all, but you give the best advice. Don't tell them that."  

You giggle on your end, the sound making Jake's lips curve into a small smile and his heart twists.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way. 

"I miss it too," your voice quieter now. "But I'm here. You know that, right? Even if you're on the other side of the world, or if you call me at four in the morning like you're doing right now."  

Jake lets out a chuckle followed by a sleepy groan, "Sorry about that. But...thank you, Y/N. For picking up."  

"Always," you reply, and he hopes you mean it.  

A beat passes. Jake knows he should hang up, that he should let you sleep. He tries to convince himself that you need the sleep more than he needs this call.  

But he can't help himself.  

"You'll yell at me if I don't sleep, won't you?"  

"Absolutely. Go to bed, Jake. Or at least try. Zombie mode doesn't suit you."  

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes feel heavier and he knows he's falling asleep, the tension in his body from before easing away. "But only because you scare me sometimes."  

You laugh. "Good. Now get some rest. And call me whenever you need to, okay?"  

"Okay," he mumbles into his phone quietly, his mind already slipping into a deep sleep. 

"Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

"Don't you have a bedtime, Sim Jaeyun?" You tease, answering the call. The clock reads 1:27AM, and you should be asleep—you really should—but you smile anyways when Jake's name appears on your screen.  

"Bedtime? I don't know her," his voice slightly groggy, but as usual, still warm. "Besides I knew you'd be awake. You don't sleep like a normal person either."  

You roll your eyes, knowing fully well he can't see it, "Yeah, well, I don't have to dance around a stage for two hours tomorrow."  

"True, but you do have to deal with my constant calls and keep me entertained. That's way harder."  

"Oh yeah, obviously," you say with mock seriousness. "Being your emotional support human is a full-time job." 

“Emotional support human,” Jake repeats, chuckling softly. “You’re right. I guess I really owe you, huh?”

“Oh, 100%,” you shoot back, a grin in your voice. “I want one of those tour hoodies you guys keep posting with.” 

“Done. What size?” 

"The oversized one."  

Jake pauses. “Let me guess—so you can sleep in it?"  

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish at how he knows you too well, “Hey, it's only cozy if it's oversized!"  

You hear his soft laugh on the other end of the line. 

“Cute. I’ll make sure to steal one for you.” 

You try not to overanalyze the way your stomach flips at the word cute, and the easy way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

You shake the thought off immediately. This wasn't new, after all, Jake's always warm and easy to talk to. But lately—over the past month of phone calls—the way he says certain things, the tone he says them in, and the way they make you feel? It carried a weight you weren't sure how to hold.  

In both a comforting and terrifying way.  

“So, how was your day?” you suddenly bring up, trying to redirect your thoughts. 

"Tiring," Jake sighs, his voice muffled as he shifts around in bed. "And Jungwon keeps beating me at Mario Kart during our break time. My pride is in shambles, Y/N."  

"Let me guess," you smirk, repeating his words from earlier. "He picks Yoshi, and you keep picking Toad because you think he's underrated."  

"Excuse me," Jake scoffs. "Toad is underrated. But, for your information, I choose Toad because your go-to character is Toadette."  

Your heart does that stupid flip again. His words are light—I mean, you guys are talking about Mario Kart for god's sake—but it's stuff like that that keeps you questioning the true meaning behind his words.

You ignore the feeling, instead, a laugh bubbles up in response, an attempt to sound unaffected.

"You're so weird."  

“But you like it,” he quips, voice dipping just slightly, like he’s testing the waters. 

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but you recover just as quickly. 

"Debatable."  

“Liar.”

His tone is teasing, but there's something softer behind it, “You wouldn’t still be on the phone with me if you didn’t like me at least a little.” 

“Maybe I’m just bored,” you shoot back, though your cheeks are burning at his sudden forwardness, questioning if he’s serious or just messing with you. 

You hear him hum in response, "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to keep you interested."  

“Oh yeah? How are you planning to do that?” You try to match his teasing tone, but internally, you feel unsteady under the implication of his words. 

“By being my usual charming self, duh,” he says, his voice dropping into a smooth tone. “And, you know, calling you every night so you don’t forget about me.” 

Your heart squeezes. "You already do that, stupid. You think I'd forget about you?"  

“Never,” Jake's reply is immediate, almost instinctive, leaving no room for doubt. “But just in case…I like hearing your voice. Makes me feel like I’m not a million miles away.” 

His words linger in the space between you, heavier than the playful banter from earlier. You swallow hard, trying your best to keep your voice steady. 

“You’re not a million miles away, Jake.” 

“Feels like it,” he murmurs. You hear a pause in his voice, as if he's thinking hard about his next words. “I miss home. I miss...you." 

Your chest tightens, and your hands grip the sheets beneath you, as if the fabric could somehow ground you. Your heart is doing that thing again—the erratic, terrifying thing that makes you want to believe in something you're not sure is even real.  

And at the same time, your thoughts are scrambling to say something lighthearted before the conversation steers into that dangerous, dangerous territory you were sure you weren't ready for.  

Not yet.  

"Well, you better win at least one round of Mario Kart for me while you're out there," you force a laugh, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.  

Jake laughs, the sound genuine, "I'll try. But if I lose, just know I'm dedicating every race to you."  

"Wow, I'm so honored," you try to deadpan, but he can sense the grin in your voice.  

"You should be," his voice softens again. "Thanks for picking up tonight, by the way. I know it's late."  

He never fails to thank you every night, as if you haven't been picking up every day for the past month and won't be picking up tomorrow, and the next day...and the day after that.  

And, somehow, the same, genuine appreciation makes it so hard for you to ignore that weird, warm, fluttering sensation growing inside you every time you talk to him.  

But, regardless, you always give him the same reply: 

"Always," your voice matching his softness. "Call me whenever, okay?"  

"Don’t say that," Jake warns, the teasing edge creeping back into his tone. "I'll actually do it."  

"Fine," you giggle. "But if you call me at four in the morning again, I'm putting my phone on Do Not Disturb." 

"Deal." He pauses, then adds, "Goodnight, Y/N."  

"Goodnight, Jake."  

As you hang up, you stare at your phone for a moment longer than you should have, your room feeling oddly quiet and too empty without his voice.  

It's just another call, Y/N. Just another call between two friends.  

But deep down, a part of you tells you it isn’t that simple anymore.  

And maybe—just maybe—he knows it too.  

“Are you busy?” Jake’s voice sounds more tired than usual, heavy with an overwhelming amount of tension. 

“Never too busy for our calls,” you easily reply without hesitation as you lay back in your bed, phone close to your ear. Your voice is light, a stark contrast to the weariness laced in his, and when he doesn’t respond with his typical chuckle, you immediately sense his mood. “Hard day?” 

He exhales slowly, the weary sound answering your question. Today was a lot. Hours of rehearsal followed by a concert, the adrenaline rush of performing, followed by the chaos of having the guys’ hotel information leaked. Crowds of paparazzi and fans swarmed the entrance, the relentless flashes of cameras breaking through whatever little pieces of calm he had left within him. The noise, the pressure, the endless cycle—all spiraled into a mental mess he doesn’t seem to shake. 

The second he settled into his hotel room, all Jake knew was that he needed to talk to you—the one person who could steady his racing thoughts. 

"I just...I didn't think this would get to me, you know? The cameras, the people, the flashes in my face—I'm just—it's like I'm never alone."  

Your heart twists at the vulnerability and rawness in his voice, as if he’s admitting something for the first time—not just to anyone else, but to himself. 

"I—I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, just for a little while. Just to breathe, you know?"  

You close your eyes, your grip on the phone unconsciously tightening as if it could anchor him somehow.  

"I know it's not the same," your voice steady, even as you internally ached for him, "but...you can disappear with me, Jake. Even if it's just through the call. No cameras. No noise. Just...you and me."  

He lets out an exhale—shaky, but relieved.  

"You're really good at this. Making me feel like it's all gonna be okay."  

"Because it is going to be okay, Jake," you reply softly. "You're not alone, Jake. Not with me."  

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he wishes more than anything else in this moment that he actually was with you. “I know.” 

"Jake," you groan, sitting cross-legged on your bed, staring at the flustered boy through your laptop screen. "I'm begging you—just wear the black jacket. It's literally impossible to mess up black."  

"But what about the beanie?" He whines as he pops back into view, his face scrunched up in genuine distress. "Do you think I can pull it off, or will I look like I'm trying too hard? Be honest, Y/N."  

What started as a simple fashion-advice-question over the phone turned into a two-hour wardrobe emergency—all because Jake couldn’t figure out what to wear to the airport the next day (because, apparently, airport fits matter—his words, not yours).

"Jake, you could wear a literal trash bag to the airport and fans would still lose their minds," you tease, biting back a laugh. 

He rolls his eyes at you, but the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.  

"Okay, but seriously, you’re trying too hard. Just go with the jacket, no beanie," you add on, just to end this two-hour long madness.  

"Hmm," Jake plops on his bed and turns towards his phone camera, and you swear you can see the pout forming on his lips. "But I already posted a preview of the jacket last week. Isn't that, like, repetitive?"  

"Jake,” you blink at him, "it's an airport. Not a fashion show."  

He stares at you for a beat, then lets out a dramatic sigh, "Fine! Jacket, no beanie. But if I see even one criticizing comment calling me basic, I'm blaming you."  

You laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness, "Deal. Now go to sleep, Sim Jaeyun."  

His grin softens as he adjusts the camera to fully look at you, pout gone, eyes glistening.

"Only because you said so."  

"Hey," you say softly, answering the call as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, letting it engulf you completely.

The familiar sound of Jake's quiet breathing fills the space between you, and before he even says a word, you already know.  

"Rough day?" You ask gently when he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual, almost drowned out by the low hum of background noise. "I just...I don't really feel like talking right now, if that's okay."  

"Of course," you reply without hesitation, your tone gentle, no questions asked.

On the other end, Jake presses the phone closer to this ear in an attempt to feel closer to you, instantly feeling better from your pure understanding of how he’s feeling, and he thinks—not for the first time—that you might be his favorite person in the world.  

The warm silence engulfs the both of you like a shared blanket, unspoken yet understood. You can hear the faint echoes of his surroundings: the muffled laughter of the boys somewhere nearby, the distant honk of traffic outside his hotel, and then the quiet shuffle of Jake shifting positions in his hotel bed. You catch his breath catching slightly, like he's finally allowing himself to relax—to just be.  

You don't try to fill the silence. You know that he needs this—a moment of peace in the chaos. Instead, you similarly press the phone closer to your ear, as if doing so can somehow bridge the miles between you, hoping he can sense your presence reaching out for him. 

Minutes pass like this, and for a moment, it’s so quiet you begin to wonder if he's falling asleep. But then, a deep exhale breaks the stillness.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says finally, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart clench.  

"You don't have to thank me, Jake," your voice matches his softness. "You know that."  

"Still," his voice is low, so quiet, it feels like a secret meant only for you. "I appreciate you. More than you probably know."  

You smile to yourself, your heart aching in the best way possible, and you desperately try your best to ignore it, no matter how much excitement it brought you. 

"Always, Jake." 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” you challenge him, your voice carrying that light and endearing tone over the phone that Jake’s come to crave. 

“Hmm,” Jake hums thoughtfully as he lies in his bed, eyes closed, just simply treasuring the small moments, like this one, with you. 

Even though it’s definitely 3AM where he is right now. And he definitely has to be up in a few hours for rehearsal. 

Oh well, completely irrelevant. Talking about everything and anything with you just felt so right. 

“I don’t know,” he eventually exhales, his brain too foggy to think of anything logical right now. “I feel like you know me better than I know myself at this point, Y/N.” 

“You’re so corny it physically hurts, Jake,” you scoff, and Jake swears he can feel your exaggerated eye roll from thousands of miles away. 

“Oh—wait, wait! I have one,” he perks up, his eyes shooting open as he turns towards the phone in excitement. 

“Hit me,” you say, unconsciously smiling at how cute he sounds. 

“I’m allergic to flowers.” 

The line falls silent for a beat before you erupt into a storm of giggles so wild it makes Jake feel sick from how fast the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering. 

“That’s your fun fact? That’s so tragic, Jake,” you gasp through your giggles. “Like, depressingly tragic.” 

“Hey! It’s not that sad, it could be worse,” Jake hopes you can hear his pout over the phone (you can). 

“So you’re telling me you’ve never bought a girl flowers before?” You tease, smiling to yourself as you stare at your ceiling. 

“Guess not,” Jake lets out a laugh, which surprises himself. “Jenn used to always get mad at me for never getting her any, but what am I supposed to do? Show up with a bouquet and an epi-pen? I literally start tearing up whenever I’m around any kind.” 

You lose it all over again, your laughter spilling through Jake’s phone like sunshine, and Jake doesn’t even realize he’s smiling so widely until his cheeks start to ache. 

But what Jake does realize is something unexpected: for the first time in forever, he can talk about Jenn without a single pang of…anything. No weird tension, no lingering sadness—just a casual mention and then…nothing. 

It’s freeing, this feeling of lightness, like an invisible weight he didn’t know he was even carrying has suddenly lifted. He wonders if this is what moving on really feels like, if he’s found his emotional freedom. He wonders when it changed. 

He wonders maybe it’s not when—maybe it’s who.  

And he wonders if it’s you. 

Today was supposed to be Jake’s day off. The golden ticket to rest, recharge, and not think about anything.

Key term: supposed to be.

Instead, Jake found himself knee-deep in the trenches of emotional warfare—and losing spectacularly.

The morning started innocently enough. No alarm, no schedule, just the soft promise of freedom that was so close within his reach. But by noon, Jake came to a harsh realization.

Freedom was a lie.

Because every step, every sight, every breath, was haunted by one inescapable thought: You.

It started with a boutique. Him and the boys had wandered down a cobblestone street in a city that Jake had already forgotten the name of—city number ten or eleven of tour? He barely knew anymore. But then his gaze caught on a mannequin in the window.

Big mistake.

The outfit on display—similar to his mind—had you written all over it. Immediately, his brain spiraled.

Y/N would love that. She'd probably drag me and all the guys in and force me to hold her bag while she tried it on.

He had to physically stop himself from dragging the group inside to purchase it on the spot.

Next? A coffee shop. And there it was: a poster featuring some limited-edition iced peach latte. Jake froze, staring at it like it held the answers to life itself.

You’d love it. You would order it, (well, you'd make Jake order it, because you hate talking to cashiers), sip it, smile, and probably rant about how overpriced it was—even though Jake would pay for it—yet you’d still finish the entire thing.

And then, you'd steal half of his drink, too. 

Because you always did. 

And Jake always lets you.

The final straw? A cat. Just a random stray, peacefully lounging on a sunny part of sidewalk, looking like it had zero interest in the world around it. And even that didn't escape Jake's you-obsessed filter. Without even thinking, Jake whipped out his phone. 

It was instinctual at this point.

Jake [1:06PM]: (attached - one image) Jake [1:06PM]: thought you'd like this one :)

Because obviously, you needed to see that cat. Immediately.

By the time Jake collapses onto his hotel bed that evening, he feels like he’d run a mental marathon—except instead of a finish line, every road led back to you.

He flops onto his bed, hoping sleep would save him from the storm raging in his brain.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't.

Instead, it leads him to the complete opposite. He stares at your name on his phone, your contact picture, your last messages to him. 

You texted him two hours ago—a sweet goodnight message that ended with your usual, 'Don't hesitate to call if you need me.' 

Casual. Normal.

But it probably didn't mean, 'Hey, please interrupt my sleep from the other side of the world so we can discuss your ongoing emotional crisis over me.'

Don't do it, Jake. The remaining rational brain cells within him beg him to stop. You're being dramatic. She's not the air you need to breathe.

But at the same time, deep down, Jake really thinks you are.

The worst part? You two already had talked on the phone earlier—when Jake had another fashion crisis and couldn't decide what to wear for his day off exploring with the guys. Of course, you laughed at him, teased him, but then helped him pick something out anyways. Typical.

Personally, if it was up to him, he'd spent his whole day off on the phone with you. Talking about everything. Or nothing. Whatever you wanted, Jake would've done it, no hesitation.

Don't do it, Jake, his brain warns him again. What kind of obsessed-lunatic calls the same person twice in one day?

Answer: Jake.

But as Jake lies in his hotel bed, thoughts heavily clouded with the image of you and the sound of your voice, he realizes...this wasn't just a phone call thing. No, this was deeper, worse. And somewhere between staring at the same patch of ceiling and replaying every memory of you on a mental loop, Jake tries to rationalize it.

She’s just a good friend, Jake. A best friend, even! You think about her a lot because she’s cool and funny and…and she has the laugh of a Disney princess...But it’s normal to think about your friends, right? Right??

But the more he tries to downplay it, the clearer it becomes. This was something else.

And then it hits.

Like, really hits.

Oh my god. I like her.

Jake shoots upright, widened eyes filled with horror, as if the realization itself just physically smacked him across the face.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Jake buries his face in his hands, groaning. But the groan quickly turns into a muffled scream, because the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.

Because he thinks you're going to be the death of him. He really, really likes you. Not in the vague, 'Oh, she’s cute' way, but in the write-her-name-in-a-heart-and-doodle-little-stars-around-it kind of way. The stare-at-her-texts-like-they’re-poetry kind of way. The imagine-her-laughing-at-your-dad’s-jokes-and-enjoying-your-mom’s-meals-forever kind of way.

And this feeling? It's new. It's terrifying. 

It's exhilarating.

Jake realizes in this very moment that he's never experienced this heart-pounding, face-flushing, breath-taking kind of feeling towards anyone. Sure, his past relationship had been meaningful in its own way, but now Jake is realizing that the foundation of his past relationship was tangled up in obligations and unspoken expectations. A tightrope act of Jake having to be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect idol, the perfect...everything. He never realized how suffocating it was until now—until you. Because this feeling with you?

This was pure. Simple, clear, and undeniable.

Your sheer existence proved that it's possible for someone to understand him better than he understands himself. Your laugh had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world had been momentarily suspended. Just one look from you alone somehow always manages to make him feel like he was still worthy even on his worst days.

With you, Jake felt...himself, for once. Not Jake Sim, global popstar. Not Jake Sim, the boyfriend of so-and-so. Just...Jake.

Jake's heart pounds as the realization sinks in. He's now transitioned from screaming into his hands to his poor hotel pillow.

Because as clear and strong as this feeling is, the doubt is just as overwhelming. What if you don't feel the same? What if this ruins everything?

But at the same time...what if you do feel the same way?

What if this is his chance? The butterfly effect that changes everything? What if you're it? You have to be.

And so, like an idiot possessed, Jake's finger is one millimeter away from pressing call on your name again.

Because, obviously, the best way to deal with overwhelming feelings is to confess them from a hotel room five countries away.

Obviously. 

Because what if he didn't call? What if he spent the rest of his night spiraling into an endless pit of unspoken feelings and overthinking, arms flailing as he knows the only way out of the pit is with your help?

What if his brain explodes with the sheer amount of feelings he has for you and he never has the chance to tell you ever again?

He presses call.

The line rings twice before you answer.

"Jake?" Your voice is soft, laced with surprise and just the faintest trace of sleep. "It's late for you, is everything okay?"

Jake's brain short-circuits. What time even is it for him? He has no idea, and frankly, he doesn't care.

"Yeah," he blurts, far too quickly that he winces at himself. He clears his throat before trying again, "I mean, yeah. Everything's fine. I just...couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you hum softly and Jake swears the sound alone could single-handedly resolve global wars.

Yeah, he definitely likes you.

"Is something stressing you out?" The genuine concern in your voice makes his chest tighten.

"No—well, nothing like that," Jake rushes to assure you, sitting up straighter in bed now, as if you could see him. His voice lowers, almost shy, "I just...I was thinking about you."

Silence. Jake's heart pounds so loudly, he's sure you can hear it through the phone.

"About me?" You finally tease, light and playful, but there's something softer underneath. "What did I do to deserve such an honor?"

Jake lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair, “You exist. That’s what.”

Another pause. He hears you exhale softly, and the sound alone sends his heart into overdrive.

"That was smooth," your voice is quiet, soft, as if teetering on the line of teasing and nervousness at the same time. "Ten out of ten, Jake."

"I'm serious," Jake tries his best to keep his voice from cracking, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I was lying here, thinking about everything, and I realized something."

"And what's that?"

Jake's throat goes dry. His heart is screaming at him to say it, but his brain begs him to reconsider.

But Jake's sure he's lost all his rational brain cells for sure at this point, so he swallows hard, and braces himself for impact.

"I like you, Y/N."

The words spill out, raw and unpolished, but so utterly true.

“I mean, I really like you," Jake continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. "More than a friend, more than anything.”

The line goes silent, and for a split second, a lifetime of pure awkwardness and torture of not having you in his life anymore flashes in his vision, and he rushes to fill the void.

"I know this is probably the worst timing ever, and probably really scary...and it's okay if you don't feel the same way," his voice definitely cracks this time, laying everything bare, but he doesn't care anymore. "But I had to tell you. I can't pretend around you, not when being around you feels like the only time I'm really me."

Then, you let out a soft exhale—a disbelieving, breathless sound that makes Jake's heart skip a beat.

"Jake..."

"You're...you're everything, Y/N. You make life better just by being in it. And I haven't even seen you in four months, but you're all I think about," Jake lets out a small laugh, swallowing the remainder of all his pride and dignity. "I promise, when I'm back...I'll prove it to you. I'll show you how much you mean to me. Anything it takes. "

For once in his life, Jake feels completely vulnerable—and yet, strangely, it feels right.

Because he means it, every word.

He's never meant anything more.

The line had gone quiet after Jake’s confession, his words echoing in your ears. 

“I like you, Y/N.” 

No, not like. Really, really like. 

You spent the last few days replaying his words over and over, dissecting every syllable, every tiny inflection in this voice. At first, it didn't even seem real.  

A part of you still thinks it isn't—that this is all a cruel dream and you're going to wake up any second now back in the real world. The one where Jake Sim, the boy who turns heads and steals hearts without even trying, didn't just confess his deepest, most vulnerable feelings for you in a single phone call. 

But no. He said it, alright. Clear as day.  

First, all you felt was pure happiness. Maybe it was hearing his voice everyday, or maybe it was seeing how his face lit up through the screen when you picked up his video calls—but somewhere along the way, you knew it was something deeper. 

Something that made your heart skip when his name lit up your phone, something that left you craving his voice to make your day feel complete. And now? Now the boy who’d effortlessly become your favorite part of every day was telling you you’d done the same for him. 

But then, came the fear. 

Because what if this was just a rebound? What if you were just a soft landing for him, a way to patch up the holes left behind by his past? Here you were, standing at the edge of something terrifyingly real, wondering if you were just a step in his recovery process—a way to fill the cracks, but not the kind of permanence you were beginning to crave. 

You weren’t naive enough to see Jake’s past relationship didn’t still linger in the corners of his mind. You’d seen him struggle with it before, how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. What if you were just the next step in his healing, rather than something real—a Band-Aid for a wound that wasn’t even yours to heal? 

And worse—what if you let it happen? What if you let yourself fall, only to hit the ground at an alarming speed, and...splat. Not just a regular, embarrassing tumble, no. But the kind that leaves you flattened on the pavement like a cartoon character who ignored every warning sign. 

Because that’s exactly what it would feel like, wouldn’t it? Giving it, letting yourself hope—only to crash and burn spectacularly. 

Deep down, you knew you weren’t just risking a little heartache. Because Jake? Jake had quietly claimed a permanent spot in your heart at this point. 

You were risking everything. 

And the worst part? 

You were already halfway there. 

That was the reason why you told him you needed time. The reason why all you could manage to respond was a meek, 'I just...I need to think about this.' And to his credit, Jake hadn't pushed. Of course, not.  

But now, three days later, you were no closer to an answer. If anything, the time apart had made everything worse. 

Because as the days stretched on, with every passing hour, every text you didn’t send and every call you didn’t make, one thing became gut-wrenchingly, undeniably clear: 

You were already his. 

You miss Jake’s voice, his laugh, the way he rambles about the most random things late at night. You miss how, somehow, he made you fall asleep with a smile on your face from the other side of the world. You miss him, that even in his absence, he was still your first thought in your mind when you woke up and the last before you drifted to sleep. 

And no amount of overthinking or second-guessing could change the truth that finally settled in your chest like a secret you weren’t ready to admit to yourself:

You were his. Completely. 

The only question now was whether you’d let yourself believe he was yours too. 

"Y/N?"  

"Jungwon," you groan helplessly into your phone. "Help me."  

A pause. Then, "Are you sure you meant to call me? It's Jungwon, not Jake," he teases lightly. "I can go get Jake if you meant—" 

"Jungwon!" You cut him off, panicked. "I'm being serious. It's about Jake, dummy."  

"Oh," his tone shifts instantly as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "Did something happen? Because I swear, for the past three days, Jake's been moping around like a kicked puppy, and I was gonna ask you about it because I know you guys have been talking a lot more, but I didn't want to push, and—" 

"That's exactly it, Jungwon!" You wail into your pillow, your voice muffled. Great, now you feel even worse, knowing Jake is moping around, waiting for you.   

"What's exactly it?" Your best friend presses, voice curious. "I need specifics, Y/N."  

You hesitate, the words clinging to the back of your throat like they're too heavy to admit. Finally, you take a deep breath and force them out.  

"Jake told me he likes me, Jungwon. Like really, really likes me. He gave this whole monologue about how I'm all he can think about, and it was so cute, and it made me want to explode from joy and fear all at once, and I don't know what to do!"  

A beat of silence. 

Jungwon sucks in a dramatic breath and then, "Wait, wait, wait. Back up. First of all, this is not news to me."  

You blink, as if he can see your look of shock over the phone, "What?"  

"This was obvious, Y/N. The guy's been smitten with you for months. You guys literally have been talking every day since we left."  

Your jaw drops, "So what? You and I talk every day! How is this any different?"  

Jungwon snorts, "Y/N, we text every day. About minuscule things. Like me reminding you not to forget your keys and you ghosting my last text. But you and Jake? You guys talk for hours—into the illegal hours of the night, mind you. Trust me, I know. Hotel walls are thin."  

You feel your cheeks flushing, "That doesn't mean anything."  

"Doesn't it?" Jungwon's voice is laced with amusement. "When's the last time you called me just to hear my voice?"  

"Jungwon."  

"Exactly."  

You groan again, "But Jungwon, what if…what if he's not over Jenn? What if I'm just a rebound?"  

Jungwon goes quiet for a moment, his tone softening when he finally speaks, “Jake’s not like that, Y/N. You know that. He wouldn’t tell you he likes you unless he meant it.” 

“Yeah, but—” 

“Look," he interrupts. "Jake’s a lot of things—annoyingly loud, for one—but he’s not the kind of guy who’d use someone, especially you, as a rebound. If he said he likes you, he likes you.” 

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a warm blanket—because you know they're true.  

“And for what it’s worth,” Jungwon continues, “I think you like him too.” 

“I..,” you falter, your heart hammering in your chest. “I do.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

You sigh, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves coiled in your stomach, “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared.” 

“That’s okay,” Jungwon says gently. “But don’t let fear stop you from something that could make you happy. You deserve that, Y/N. And so does Jake.” 

You close your eyes, letting Jungwon's words sink in. Deep down, you know he's right, he always is.  

"Thanks, Jungwon," you say, your voice softer now, tinged with gratitude.  

"Anytime," he replies, and then, with a teasing lilt, "But seriously—you should probably tell him soon. I can't stand watching him mope around like a sad, abandoned puppy. It's seriously tragic, like, to the point where I’m gonna have to start letting him win at Mario Kart."  

A small giggle escapes you, light and genuine for the first time in three days, "I know, I know. Eventually."  

"Y/N," his voice turns playfully stern, like a parent lecturing their toddler. "Eventually isn't a time. Just call him. You've been thinking about him nonstop, haven't you?" 

Unfortunately, Jungwon knows you too well. Your silent response betrays you, and Jungwon lets out a triumphant hum.  

"Thought so. Well, you should go. You have a call to make."  

You sigh, a mix of nerves and a new determination bubbling, "Okay, okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."  

"It won't. But deal," his tone is reassuring, confident, like he already knows how this story ends. "You got this, Y/N."  

The call ends, and the quiet still of your room taunts you. For a moment, you sit there, staring at your phone, the little icon of Jake's contact picture—a selfie the two of you took together many years ago—staring back at you like a challenge.  

Your fingers hover. Your heart races, your palms feel clammy, and your stomach twists.  

But then you remember Jungwon's words.  

You deserve this.  

And so does Jake.  

You take a deep breath, then you press down on his name.  

The phone doesn't even reach the second ring before he picks up.  

"Y/N," Jake’s voice is rushed, a little breathless.  

"Hey," you say softly, suddenly unsure where to start. "Um, were you busy?"  

"No, no," he quickly responds. "Not at all. You could call me at 3AM, and I still would’ve picked up."  

"That's unhealthy, you know," your lips twitch as you lay back in your bed, taking a deep inhale. You missed this—you missed him.  

"For you? Worth it," you can hear the smile in his voice, but along with the slight tension just beneath it—the faintest tremor that tells you he's been waiting for this call, maybe agonizing over it just as much as you have.  

You swallow hard, gripping the phone tight, "Jake, about...our last call..."  

"Take your time," he says gently, though you don't miss the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. "I mean it, Y/N. There's no pressure."  

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes, “I’ve been thinking a lot, too. About you. About…us.” 

Jake stays silent, but you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was bracing himself. 

You squeeze your eyes hard, as you let the words finally come out, "I like you too, Jake. A lot. So much, honestly. It's just..."  

"It's just...?" Jake's voice repeats softly, as if that's all he can manage to let out in the midst of his nervousness.  

You hold your breath, scared of what you're about to admit—to Jake and to yourself. 

"It's just...I'm scared," your voice comes out barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this is too good to be true. That you're saying all of this because...I don't know—you're trying to move on...from the past, or because you're lonely on tour, or—" 

"Y/N,” Jake's voice cuts through firm, but gentle.  

"You're not…a rebound, or a distraction, or anything like that," he starts quietly, each word deliberate. "And this isn't about...Jenn, or me being lonely, or whatever else you think. This is about you."  

Your breath hitches as you take in his words and open your eyes, hoping that staring at the ceiling above you could somehow ground you.  

“You’re the one who makes me laugh when I’ve had the worst day,” Jake continues. “You’re the one I want to talk to, even when I’m running on zero sleep. You’re the one I think about when I’m on stage and wish I could just look into the crowd and see you there. It’s you, Y/N."  

His words are overwhelming, too much, and you're unsure how to even process them. Your throat tightens, and you can feel the subconscious tears prickling at the corners of your eyes without even realizing they were forming.  

"Are you sure, Jake?"  

"More than anything else, Y/N," he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on the tip of his tongue. "And I want to do this right, Y/N. No rushing, no expectations. Just...tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."  

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You can picture him on the other side of the line, sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, his brows probably furrowed in that adorable way they always do whenever he tries to find the right words.  

You bite your lip, a small laugh escaping despite the tears sliding down your cheeks, “You’re so cheesy, you know that?” 

Jake lets out a small laugh, immediately easing from the tension that hung in the air.  

"Only for you," he mumbles, his voice soft but steady.  

You sigh, the sound reaching Jake on the other side. There's a pause, a moment of mutual understanding in silence, just listening to the quiet, peaceful hum of each other's breathing.  

“Jake?” You say finally, your voice trembling. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think…” You take a deep breath, and you think your heart is about to break out of your chest. “I think I want to try too.” 

The silence on the other end was electric, and for a moment, you think maybe the call dropped. Then, you hear the unmistakable sound of Jake’s laugh—soft, relieved, and filled with so much warmth that it instantly makes your own heart feel lighter. 

“You're driving me crazy, Y/N,” he says, his voice almost breathless, but tinged with humor.  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he says, a smile clear in his tone.  

“I hope I am,” you quip, and it makes him chuckle, the sound warm and full of relief. “Guess I’m stuck with your cheesy lines now huh?” 

“Stuck with me?” Jake repeats, pretending to sound offended. “No way. I’m stuck with you, Y/N. And trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

His words are so simple, yet so full of promise, and it leaves you feeling a little breathless. 

“Good,” you whisper, your cheeks warm. “Because I don’t want you to.” 

“Hi Jake,” your voice bright as you immediately pick up his call and see his face appear on the screen, his expression softening when he sees you. 

“Hey pretty,” he replies, without missing a beat, his voice laced with a soft fondness that never fails to make your stomach flip. 

You roll your eyes, failing miserably to hide the blush rising to your cheeks, “Oh, so now I’m pretty, huh?”

Jake smirks at your words, leaning closer to his phone, “Nah, you’ve always been pretty. Just didn’t have the guts to say it to your face before.”  

You groan, dramatically planting your face into your pillow as an attempt to bury the smile on your face, your voice muffled, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Jake.”

“Stop that, don’t hide. Let me see your face,” his tone dips somewhere between playful and pleading, and you give in, lifting your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your red cheeks. 

“Cute,” he says with a knowing grin, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. 

“Whatever,” you murmur, but the smile on your face remains. “How was your day today?” 

“Mmm, it was good,” Jake says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Busy, but good. I forget how loud the fans get each time. But it’s nice. Makes it feel worth it, you know?” 

“I’m glad,” your smile grows as you watch him speak, feeling nothing but proud of him. “You deserve all of it, Jake.” 

“Stop,” now he’s groaning, throwing a hand over his face to cover his shy expression. “You’re going to make me blush.” 

“Mm, looks like you already are, Jakey,” you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“Maybe a little,” he admits as he peeks at you through his fingers, his grin boyish and infectious, and you can’t help but laugh again. 

The call falls quiet for a moment, but it’s not awkward—just comfortable, like a shared breath. Jake shifts, turning on his stomach and propping his phone up against some pillows to make sure you can still see him. 

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, and there’s something raw in his tone, something unguarded that catches you off guard. 

Your heart stutters.

“Jake, I literally called you this morning,” you tease, your tone light and sweet. But still, you can’t resist, “I miss you too.”  

“You don’t sound convincing enough,” his eyes narrow at you, the pout forming on his lips quickly turning into a small smirk. “Say it like you mean it.” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “I miss you so, so much Sim Jaeyun, that it’s physically painful and I might conbust on the spot if I don’t see you soon. Happy?” 

“Very,” he grins into the camera, making your heart beat faster. Ugh. "But please don't combust for me. Who else am I supposed to call every day?"  

"Oh, please, you'd survive," you shoot back, smirking. "I'm sure anyone else would be more than happy to fill the spot."  

Jake clicks his tongue, shaking his head dramatically. "Nope, no one could keep with you, Y/N. You're a handful."  

"Excuse me?" You scoff, mock offense all over your face. "You're calling me a handful? Jake, who's the one that texts me random song lyrics at 3AM and expects me to interpret their deep meaning like it's poetry?"  

"Okay, first of all, they are deep," he argues, his grin widening into something boyish and utterly unfair. "And second of all, I know you secretly love it."  

You let out a laugh as you roll onto your side, propping your phone against the pillow next to you.  

"Maybe I do," you admit with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant despite the smile on your face. "Or maybe I don't. That's up to you to find out."  

Jake shakes his head, laughing softly, his eyes twinkling as they linger on your face. 

"You really are a handful, Y/N," his voice teases while his eyes remain on you through the screen, as if studying you, and it makes your stomach flip.  

You glance away, suddenly feeling shy again under his unwavering gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."  

"Like what?" His voice is innocent, his eyebrows lifting in feign obliviousness.  

"I don't know—like you're trying to memorize my face or something," you mutter, your cheeks burning.  

"Maybe I am," his voice dips, low and soft. "Honestly wouldn't complain if that's the last thing I ever got to remember."  

His words hit you square in the chest, and despite how ridiculously corny they are, they manage to take your breath away. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this newly discovered side of Jake—the one that speaks so candidly, so sweetly—like you're the only person in his universe.  

But honestly? You love it. You love how he makes you feel, how his words wrap around you perfectly like they were tailor made just for you. But as much as you love it, you fear it too.  

Because the more you fall into this feeling, the more you wonder if there's anything solid beneath it. Despite all the soft words shared and sweet nothings exchanged, at the end of the day, deep down inside you can't help but ask yourself if his words, if he, is even yours to begin with. 

"Jake..."  

"Hmm?" His voice is gentle now, the teasing edge in his voice fading.  

"You really mean it, don't you?" You ask, your voice quieter now, the question laced with your vulnerability. "You're serious about...this? About us?"  

"Of course I am," he answers without hesitation. His soft eyes stay trained on you as he sits up in his spot in bed, as if to show just how serious he is. He lets out an exhale, as if mentally encouraging himself to continue, "I know we're not...whatever this is, officially yet. But I do know that I like what we have."  

He brings his phone closer, a small smile on his face, his expression earnest, "And that I like you. A lot."  

You swallow hard, his words settling in your chest in the best way possible. Because despite everything—the doubts, the undefined boundaries—you can't deny the truth of how you feel.  

"Me too," you admit, your voice steady and honest. "I like what we have too. And I like you."  

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you feel the remainders of your walls crumbling down, "You make me happy, Jake. Like annoyingly happy."  

"Good. Because you make me happy too," His smile spreads wide, the kind that is contagious and could light up an entire room. "Annoyingly happy, if we're being specific."  

You roll your eyes again, though you're smiling just as much, "We really are insufferable, aren't we?"  

"Oh, completely," Jake nods, his tone playful. He's more relaxed, back to leaning against his headboard as he looks at you with a softened gaze. "We'll figure it out, Y/N. I promise. Whatever this is, or whatever it becomes, I'm not going anywhere. And honestly? I just can't wait to see you. Finally."  

"Me too," you perk up, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you bring your phone closer, "It feels like it's been forever. This tour feels so much longer than the other ones for some reason."  

"It does," Jake hums in agreement, his eyes thoughtful. "But you know what? I think It's because, this time...I actually have something waiting for me. Something—or someone—I want to come home to. And that makes every day feel so much longer."  

You think, at this point, you should check yourself into the emergency department for the sheer amount of times you thought your heart was going to pound out of your body from Jake's words alone.  

“You're ridiculous," you laugh, the sound bubbling out so naturally you couldn't hold it back even if you tried. "It's getting kind of out of hand how cheesy you are, Jake."  

"And yet," he fires back with a smirk, "you love it. Admit it. I've cracked the code."  

"Maybe I do," you tease, repeating your words from earlier as the corners of your mouth tug up into a smile you can't suppress. "But don't let it get to your head."  

"Too late," he grins. "It's already there."  

Jake [2:15AM] : can I call you?   Y/N [2:16AM]: jake isnt it like 2AM for you?   Jake [2:16AM]: well…yea but I was thinking about you so… 

Your feet are kicking before you even realize, and before you can type up a response, your phone lights up with Jake's name and contact picture. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, trying not to let the giddy smile growing on your face take over. 

“Hey pretty,” he greets, voice warm and easy as he brings a hand through his messy hair. The lights in his room are off, and the dim glow of his phone screen casts a soft light over his features, making him look unfairly good for someone who should be fast asleep.  

“You have two seconds to give me a good reason why you’re here talking to me instead of getting a good night’s rest before your concert tomorrow,” your eyes narrow in mock disapproval as you give him a knowing look.  

Jake laughs lightly, “Hey! Okay, hear me out. I couldn’t sleep, so I did something.”  

You raise an eyebrow, “You did something? That sounds ominous, I’m scared.”  

“Yeah. For you,” he states plainly, leaving you even more confused for a second more before he continues. “I made you a playlist.”  

Your brain stalls at how simple he says it—so casual, as if not packed with so much meaning.  

“A playlist? You—wait, why?”  

Jake shrugs, “I don’t know—I guess I just wanted you to hear what I hear when I think about you. Which, by the way, is a lot. So..”  

You blink at the screen, your mouth slightly agape at the boy who's watching you with that lopsided grin that makes it practically impossible to function. You scramble to collect yourself, but the more you try, the worse it gets, and by now, you think he definitely took some secret class on how-to-make-Y/N-completely-flustered.  

And aced it.  

And of course, he notices—because Jake always notices.  

“You okay there?” His voice breaks you out of your overwhelming thoughts, his teasing tone laced with curiosity.  

“Define okay,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your face in an attempt to cool down the warmth spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. “Because if it means not feeling like a complete fool over a guy who’s halfway across the world, then no, I’m absolutely not okay.”  

Jake lets out a low laugh, the sound affectionate as he leans closer to the camera, the light reflecting off his shining eyes, “If it helps, you’re not the only one losing your mind here.”  

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow, “What’s your excuse, Sim?”  

“My excuse?” He tilts his head with a small, exaggerated frown, pretending to think. “Hmm…let’s see…I’m hopelessly into this girl who somehow makes being teased fun, who makes me smile just by hearing my name come out her mouth, and who—“  

“Okay! Stop, stop, enough,” your voice strangled as you try to talk through the fit of giggles you couldn’t hold down. “You’re gonna kill me, Jake. Like, actually. I’m not strong enough for this.”  

Jake laughs at your flustered reaction, holding up a hand of surrender, “Fine, fine. But seriously, look.”  

You hear the sound of faint typing in the background before your phone buzzes with a text containing a link.  

“It’s called Songs That Remind Me of Y/N. Creative, right?”  

You open the link, and your thoughts are dazed at the sight of the endless playlist of songs. Some new to you, some you recognize—all of them feeling like little pieces of Jake's heart he's handing to you.  

"I think it's perfect," you murmur softly, scrolling through the titles, the warmth and appreciation for him now feeling almost too overwhelming.  

"Yeah?" Jake's eyes shine with a mixture of pride and hope as he watches your reaction.  

"Yeah," you repeat, switching your phone screen back to his face and giving him a genuine smile. "I love it. Thank you, Jake."  

Jake hums in response, the look on his eyes gentle as a beat of comfortable silence falls between you two.  

"Well, I should probably sleep for real now, but...listen to it when you miss me, okay? Because chances are, I'm probably doing the same."  

You pause, letting the weight of his words settle over you—vulnerable, yet undoubtedly honest. "Deal. I'll listen to it right now, then."  

"Good," his smile grows, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Because I am too. I miss you, too."  

You both linger for a moment, neither wanting to end the call just yet, simply enjoying each other's pure, raw presence.  

"Sweet dreams, Jake," you finally say, your voice gentle as you slowly let sleep take over. 

"Only if they’re about you," he quips, grinning.  

You roll your eyes, your chest feeling lighter, "Go to bed, Sim."  

"Yes, ma'am," he winks, and with one last fond look, he ends the call, leaving you smiling at your screen like the absolute fool he's turned you into.  

"I can't believe you're finally coming back tomorrow," you murmur into the phone, your voice soft but buzzing with excitement as you take in the sight of Jake sprawled out on his bed. The dim glow of his phone highlights just enough of his face to remind you how impossibly cute he is—even with the pillow creases on his cheek.  

"I know," Jake sighs dramatically, flopping onto his side. His head sinks into the pillow, and you hear a soft fwump as he shifts to find a comfortable spot. "I just wish I wasn't landing so late. If I could, I'd come see you the second I land. Like, bags in hand, running to your door."  

"You'd probably trip and knock yourself out with your carry-on, Jake," you snort but then smile, the imagine of Jake rushing to get to you playing in your head.  

"First of all, I'm very athletic," Jake raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Second, that's exactly what would happen, but at least I'd be unconscious on your doorstep, which is still closer to you than I've been in months."  

Your heart does a little flip at the sound of the sincerity in his voice as you try to keep your tone casual, "It's okay, Jake. I'm not going anywhere. We'll see each other the next day? If you're free, maybe."  

Jake's face softens in that stupidly adorable way he always does when he knows you're just trying to play it cool. "Free or not, I'll find a way. Nothing's stopping me from seeing you, Y/N. Not jet lag, not my schedule, not even my manager if he tries to barricade me in the building."  

A giggle escapes you, partly at his sheer determination and partly to cover up the butterflies constantly causing the havoc in your stomach when it comes to him. And Jake, of course, looks all smug, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you. Typical Jake—sweet, determined, and impossibly endearing.  

But as much as his words make your cheeks warm, there's another reason why you're holding back your smile.  

Because, despite what Jake thinks, you're going to see him much sooner than he expects. All thanks to a message you got earlier from the group's manager:  

Y/N! Hope you’re doing well! We all miss you and can’t wait to see you soon! As you know, the boys are returning tomorrow late at night, but the staff and I want to plan a little surprise party at their apartment, they have no idea. The team’s already prepping everything. We’d love for you to come—it wouldn’t be the same without you. 10 PM! See you! 

You're practically vibrating with excitement, each passing minute on the call with Jake making it harder and harder to not just blurt it out and tell him you'll be seeing him in less than 24 hours. And, somehow, hearing his sleepy voice on the other side of the call, completely oblivious, just makes it even harder to contain yourself.  

Jake's brows furrow as he watches you try (and fail) to suppress your grin, "What's up with you? You're smiling so much, and I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything that funny."  

"Me?" You blink innocently, even though your heart skips a beat. But you shrug casually, masking your smile with a feigned yawn. "Nothing's up, you've just been acting too cute tonight. That's all."  

"You're lucky you're cute," Jake narrows his eyes at you, but even you can see through the dim lighting the red creeping across his face, "And that I'm tired. Or else I'd call you out for how you're gaslighting me right now."  

"Gaslighting?!" You sputter out, breaking out into laughter. "How am I gaslighting you for calling you cute?"  

"Because I know you're hiding something—" Jake replies, his pout audible in the way his voice drags. He yawns mid-sentence, the soft sound and the image of his eyes fluttering closed making your heart melt. "—and you're using my sleep-deprived state against me. It's not fair."  

"I'm not hiding anything!" You protest, your face one second away from cracking into a guilty smile. "Go to sleep—you're barely holding it together over there."  

"Like I'd ever fall asleep on you," he mutters, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "You're way too important for that."  

His words hit you like a train, and you have to physically restrain yourself from squealing, burying your face in your pillow before you let out a strangled, "Okay, enough sap for one night, Romeo. Go to bed."  

"Mmhm, fine, fine," Jake hums before he yawns again. "Goodnight, pretty. Dream sweet dreams, okay?"  

You let out a breath, losing the last remaining bits of your composure at this point—but in the best way possible, of course.  

"Goodnight, Jakey. I'll see you soon."  

The day flies by in a whirlwind of anticipation and sheer chaos, the emotional hurricane brewing up inside you rooting from one source and one source only.  

Because ever since you woke up this morning, every step, every sight, every breath was haunted by one inescapable thought: 

Jake.  

The morning was a blur of pacing around your room like a Sims character who was glitching after being told to "Go Here", overthinking every possible scenario for how tonight—when you finally see Jake in person—could go down.  

Because, really—how exactly do you approach the boy you've been friends with for years, who you've fallen for, in a room filled with people, including yours and his closest friends, all while pretending your heart is trying its hardest to not control, alt, delete itself?  

Not exactly something you can Google.  

Like, do you hug him? Does he hug you? What if he doesn't hug you? (Unacceptable, you decide, before pacing faster.)  

By the time afternoon rolls around, you're about 78% sure you've developed three-and-a-half migraines from the sheer pressure of it all. Not to mention, the borderline illegal amount of caffeine coursing through your veins isn't helping—why did you think drinking four cups of coffee was a good idea? (You didn't. Your brain has officially gone rogue.)  

And now, here you are. The buzzing apartment of the boys is alive with the sounds of laughter, the crinkle of party streamers being hung up, and two staff members arguing about where to put the over-dramatically large "WELCOME HOME" banner. You, along with everyone else, await for the signal, passing time by keeping up small conversation with the friends and staff you've gotten to know over the years—all the while you desperately try to keep your nerves from causing a mental crash out right here and now.  

Eventually, one of the staff gets the alert that the group has landed and is minutes away, the energy immediately shifting, both in the apartment and mentally. You settle in place in the back of the crowd, near the door but not too near the door—because 1) you're 99.99% sure you're not emotionally stable enough to be front and center, and 2) the staff and camera crew are already hogging the entrance as if this was the world's greatest comeback (and spoiler alert—to you, it really is.)  

The lights dim, the chatter fades, and the room hums with anticipation. And meanwhile? Your heart won't. Stop. Pounding.  

Any second now.  

Your nerves bubble up even more than you thought is humanly healthy, and you're not sure if you're about to a) pass out, b) puke, c) or both.

Simultaneously.  

The sound of multiple footsteps echoes faintly in the hallway, followed with muffled voices—one of them the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter. Your breath catches.  

And then the door swings open.  

"SURPRISE!"  

The boys freeze in the doorway, their suitcases still in hand, the looks of genuine, yet pleasant, confusion plastered on all their faces. Sunghoon's eyes dart to the snacks table, Jay looks like he's deciding whether to laugh or roll his eyes, Sunoo is on the verge of tears, and Jake—Jake looks beautifully, stupidly confused.  

Your eyes immediately find Jake's face, like some natural gravitational pull you can't fight, and suddenly it hits you: he's here. In front of you. No blurry video calls, no glitchy Wi-Fi interruptions—just Jake.  

It feels surreal, like you're living in a sugar-induced dream that you aren't sure of is real yet or not. Last time you saw him in person, he was merely just Jake, one of your best friends, your go-to guy for bad jokes and late-night rants about life. But now? Now he's Jake—the boy who's somehow become the main character of your life (and brain capacity) over the past five months.  

Every memory of your late-night calls, every teasing smile, every time his sweet, groggy voice promised he'd prove himself to you—it all comes rushing back. Like those cheesy montage scenes in a rom-com, except instead of a whimsical romantic song playing in the background, it's the sound of your brain, and heart, screaming WHAT NOW Y/N?! 

But then, finally, his eyes land on you.  

The moment your eyes meet, you think your lungs give up on life. Breathing? Never heard of it. It's like someone hit the pause button on the entire universe, and you're convinced that the only thing to ever exist is Jake looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression.  

But you manage half a second of calm—half a second—before that softness on his face disappears. Just as quickly as it appeared, it's replaced by...something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on. Something you've never thought could exist on his face. A flicker of...conflict? Hesitation? Like he's staring straight at you…but also from miles away at the same time.  

His jaw tightens slightly—so slightly only you would notice with how intently you're looking at him—and for a split second, his hands fidgets at his side before he quickly clasps it over the handle of his suitcase. And right as you process it, right as you're about to convince yourself it's just the million grams of caffeine rushing through your blood that's making you hallucinate and see things— 

He looks away.  

He looks away.  

He looks away. As if you're not even standing there, as if he didn't just short-circuit your entire brain. His attention shifts to the nearest staff member, greeting them with a quick nod, and suddenly he's smiling and laughing at something they're saying like nothing just happened.  

And just like that, the universe hits the play button again, and you're left standing there—staring, blinking, wondering if the last thirty seconds of your life was, indeed, a caffeine-induced hallucination after all. Surely. Right?  

Because Jake definitely didn't avoid you on purpose. Nope. Because that would be insane. Insane, you think to yourself, as the invisible angel on your shoulder continues to whisper into your ear the same sweet words Jake's been telling you the past five months about how much he cares for you, how much he likes you—remember all those times he said it?  

Right. Right. Of course, he does. But still, you stand there frozen, trying to ground yourself, even though your hands start fidgeting at your sides anyway. Great. Fantastic. Cool, cool, cool. This is fine. 

You mentally curse yourself for not being closer to the door after all, and then, you mentally curse every single person in this room for not magically gaining telepathic powers and knowing that you, personally, were trying to have a moment.  

It's fine. You'll find him again. He's just too preoccupied with all the staff members and people to greet. Busy Jake. Social Jake. You're just imagining things. Definitely.  

Trying to distract yourself, you glance around the apartment, everything suddenly feeling suffocating. Maybe a snack. Maybe a drink. Maybe a portal to another dimension. 

Shaking your head out of your spiraling thoughts, you bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself and turn away from the crowd, quickly settling yourself near the beverage table, pouring yourself a cup of...whatever this is—your mind too cloudy to even bother looking at the sign on the table.

You don't know how much time passes, and frankly, you don't even know if you're fully conscious. Your mind is still living in the past, lingering in that moment where you locked eyes with Jake for the first time in five months, and despite all the overthinking you did this morning of all the possible scenarios that could happen—this was not one of them.  

You're about to pour yourself a second drink just to keep your thoughts busy when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  

"Y/N!"  

Before you can fully turn around, you're engulfed in a warm hug, the familiar scent of Jungwon's cologne immediately grounding you, "Oh god, I missed you. Took me forever to find you with all these people."  

"Jungwon!" You exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up your face despite the emotional tug-of-war in your chest, because, of course, leave it to your best friend to immediately ease your inner panic. You squeeze him back, playfully ruffling his hair as you pull away, "I can't believe they made you grow out your hair. Now you actually look older than me for once."  

He stares at you, blinking. "Y/N. I am older than you."  

"Literally by a week. We all know I'm mentally older," you deadpan, crossing your arms.  

"Okay, I take it back. I didn't miss you after all," he scoffs as you laugh, pulling him into another hug for good measure just to annoy him.  

"I'm so glad you guys are back," you say as Jungwon grabs the drink in your hand and takes a sip himself as he listens to you. "I was dying of boredom without you guys."  

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, "Uh-huh. Definitely didn't sound like boredom all those nights you called Jake at 2AM."  

You freeze. Oh. Great. The one topic you were trying to avoid (how you were going to avoid it—given you're at his literal apartment, with his literal group members, and literal staff members that all work for him—you're not sure. Avoidance was a doomed plan from the start, I fear).  

But before you could answer, Jungwon continues, "So...are you guys, like, a thing now? I know you guys were just talking this whole time, but now that we're back, are you guys gonna be in a relationship and all that stuff? Because if so, I need a heads-up. As much I love you both, I don't know if I can stand you two being all couple-y right in front of me—oh, and also—"  

"Jungwon." 

"—if he hurts you in any way, I swear to god I will not hesitate to—"  

"Jungwon!"  

He stops, wide-eyed, before flashing you a sheepish smile. "Sorry. But seriously, what's happening? You haven't given me any updates!"   

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. Because if he had asked you yesterday—or even an hour ago—you would've been able to answer confidently. But now? After Jake's apparent Olympic-level avoidance of you? You're not so sure anymore.  

"I...I don't know," you mumble, the words barely audible. Jungwon tilts his head, leaning closer to catch them.  

"What do you mean, you don't know? You guys haven't talked about it?" His brows furrowing as he studies your face, clearly picking up on your hesitation in true best friend fashion.  

"I, uh, I haven't...seen him yet," you admit, hoping the crack in your voice doesn't reveal the real reason you haven't approached the boy in question. "Everyone's busy, and I didn't want to get in the way."  

Jungwon gives you a look like you just said the earth is flat.  

"Get in the way? Y/N, you're insane. This is the guy who's been counting down the days to see you. If anything, everyone else is in his way."  

You give him a helpless shrug, but Jungwon isn't having it. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pointing across the room to one of the other snack tables past the crowds of people.

"Look. He's right there. Alone. Perfectly free to talk to you. Go."  

Your eyes land on Jake, back facing you and Jungwon, casually scooping chips into a bowl. You hesitate, scanning his relaxed posture, and the knot in your stomach tightens. Because that's exactly the problem. He's perfectly free. And if he's so excited to see you, how come he hasn't spoken to you yet?  

But before you can voice your doubts, Jungwon gives you a not-so-gentle nudge forward, "Go talk to him before I carry you over there myself."  

And next thing you know, Jake's right there. In front of you. His back is to you still, his eyes scanning the various snacks lined on the table, completely unaware of the full-on mental breakdown occurring just behind him.  

This is your moment, you tell yourself, despite the endless alarms going off in your brain. Every single nerve in your body is on high alert, screaming at you to abort mission, abort! But before you can give in to your panic, your hand is already reaching out, lightly tapping his shoulder.  

"Jake!"  

Jake turns around, and for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—you catch it. The way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. The way his lips part as if they're about to break into that familiar smile you've missed for months. But just as quickly, similar to earlier, it vanishes, replaced by that flicker of hesitation, and it's enough to make your breath catch.  

"Y/N."  

Your name on his lips used to sound like a warm promise. Now?

Now it feels like an afterthought. 

His voice is calm, steady—too steady, stripped of every ounce of emotion, and not at all like someone who's been counting down the days to see you. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the crowd behind you before reluctantly meeting yours, "It's been so long."  

Your stomach sinks. That's all he had to say? You were completely wrong. You spent precisely 23 minutes of your morning debating if he was even going to give you a hug—but now? Screw the hug, he won't even give you a full sentence. Something's off, and your mind races to figure out what happened, as if you missed a major chapter of your own life.  

Trying to ignore the sharp pang of something lodging itself in your chest, you offer a small smile, hoping to break the tension.  

"Are you...okay? I thought...I don't know, I thought you'd be more excited to see me," the words spill out before you can stop them, and you want to crawl into a self-dug hole from how raw and vulnerable you feel.  

Jake shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the floor, then at you, "No, yeah, of course I am. I'm just...really tired. The flight, you know. And all this," he pauses to gesture at the environment around you two, "it's a lot."  

You stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack—silently begging for some sign of the Jake you thought you knew. But all you get is a shrug.  

A shrug.  

Suddenly, his words feel like a punch to the gut, let alone the way he can't even fully look you in the eyes. In just those few seconds, the invisible angel on your shoulder—whose voice sounded just like Jake's—whispering those promises into your ears suddenly disappeared with no trace in sight, as if it was never there—as if it was never yours—in the first place. Every late-night call, every whispered promise, every shared laugh. 

As if they never belonged to you.  

You swallow hard, trying to keep the growing lump in your throat from choking you, hoping your emotional turmoil isn't blatantly obvious to the boy in front of you.  

"Right," you murmur, nodding as if his excuse makes perfect sense. But it doesn't. "That's...understandable."  

The silence that follows is suffocating. Not the comfortable kind of warm silence you two used to share, but the awkward, unbearable kind that makes you claw at your own skin and makes you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there.  

Jake shifts again, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours. There's something there—but before you can grasp it, a voice from the crowd calls his name.  

"I—I should go," he mutters quickly, stepping back. His voice is quiet, his tone almost apologetic, but his words feel like he's hammering the nails to your coffin. "I'll...see you later though, yeah?"  

He doesn't wait for an answer. He's gone before you can say anything, before you can process his words, and for the second time that night, he leaves you standing there with your heart in pieces and your thoughts in chaos.  

For a moment, you swear you're paralyzed. You can't move. Can't breathe. Your vision blurs as every doubt you'd buried for months comes rushing back, screaming in your face louder and crueler than ever. You've never felt smaller, more foolish.  

Your heart beats erratically now, fighting against the realization of the truth settling in your chest—a  heaviness so suffocating it threatens to take you under. The Jake who stood in front of you just now—guarded, distant, a stranger—was so unlike the boy who had made you laugh until your sides ached, who'd stayed up with you on countless late nights, sharing secrets no one else knew.  

The Jake who made promises.  

Your mind spirals. Maybe...maybe those promises were never meant to be kept. Maybe they were just words to fill the time.  

Maybe you were just someone to fill the time.  

Your breath starts to pick up and you're frantically scanning the room, desperate for an escape from your thoughts through any familiar face. Your eyes finally land on Ni-ki and Heeseung casually sitting on one of the couches, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to your inner implosion. You beeline to them, forcing a smile on your face as you plop down beside them.  

"Y/N!" Ni-ki grins the moment he spots you, scooting over to make room. "Where've you been hiding? Thought you ditched us for good."  

"I've been here,“ you give the boys a small smile, praying they don't notice the way your hands tremble as you sit down, “just...mingling."  

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at the faint crack in your voice, but doesn't push further, "Well, we all missed you. Pizza pig-out sesh and games tomorrow? You can tell us everything we've been missing out on."  

You laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, but it comes out shaky, your voice tight under the weight of your hidden emotions, "I think it's you guys who need to catch me up."  

Ni-ki tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, "Are you okay? You look...off. What—did someone spill punch on you? Lemme guess, was it Jake?"  

At his name, the knife in your stomach twists even deeper, and you look away, hoping they don't notice the way your face falls.  

But Heeseung notices. Of course. His gaze sharpens, the playful teasing in his expression replaced with a softened concern, "Y/N...what's going on?"  

"I'm fine," you reply a little too quickly, your voice a little too high. You plaster a smile on your face, turning back towards the two boys, concern written all over their faces. "Just tired. Long day."  

Neither of them look convinced, but before Heeseung can say anything else, Ni-ki nudges him and gestures towards something across the room.  

"Hey...isn't that—"  

You follow Ni-ki's gaze, and you immediately wish you didn't. 

Because just like that, your world crumbles.  

There she is—Jenn.  

You're not even wondering when she got here, how she got here, or even why she's here in the first place. No, not even.  

Because all that's occupying your mind right now is the way she's there, perched comfortably on Jake's lap on one of the couches in the distance, her arm draped casually over his shoulder.  

The way she's laughing freely at something he says, her hand lightly brushing against his as if it's second nature, her fingers briefly pushing a strand of hair away from his face.  

The way Jake doesn't even flinch, the way he doesn't pull away.  

The way he smiles at her.  

That same smile—the one you've spent weeks convincing yourself was yours—now feels like a cruel joke.  

And that does it. For the first time that night, despite all you endured, you shatter.  

You force yourself to look away, but it's too late. Your chest hollows out deeper and deeper with every passing second, until all you're left with is a final realization:  

Maybe you never really had him at all. He was never yours in the first place.  

Ni-ki and Heeseung exchange glances before looking at the expression on your face—all the color drained, as if you were merely just a body, paralyzed. Both of them open their mouths, but nothing comes out, clearly unsure of what to say, but you don't give them the chance. You're already standing, grabbing your bag at your side with trembling hands.  

"Y/N, wait—" Heeseung starts as both him and Ni-ki stand up with you, but you shake your head, his voice distant and muffled as if he's speaking to you underwater.  

"I need some air," you mumble, but you're sure neither of them hear you, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Before they can stop you, you're already weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring as you fight the overwhelming urge to break down. You stop at the door, your eyes quickly scanning the cluttered floor for your shoes. For a moment, you think you've made it—escaped the suffocating air and heartbreak clawing at your throat—but a mistake you didn't mean to make stills you.  

You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.  

Jake's eyes meet yours, and the world comes to a stop. His easy smile slips from his face and is immediately replaced by a flicker of panic, his brows drawing together as if he's just realized something, but you don't stick around to analyze it.  

Not when your heart is already in pieces on the floor.  

You quickly look the opposite way, fighting the sting of burning tears threatening to spill over as your fingers fumble desperately with the zipper of your coat when you hear a concerned voice from behind you.  

"Y/N?" Jungwon's familiar voice cuts through your haze, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What—where are you going?"  

"Home," you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you finally manage to get your coat on, turning towards the door.  

Suddenly, Jungwon steps in front of you, a firm frown on his face, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me—"  

"Jungwon, I need to go," you look up at him as your voice cracks for the nth time that night, feeling Jake's set of eyes on you still, "Please, Won."  

He hesitates, clearly confused but more worried over anything else, "Okay, but I'm driving you."  

You sigh, shaking your head, "No, it's fine—"  

"I'm driving you," Jungwon repeats, leaving no room for argument as he's already grabbing his coat and walking out the door.  

Not bothering to look behind you to see if Jake's still watching, you follow Jungwon out to the hallway, the chill of the air feeling like a fresh wave of emotions crashing over you all at once: embarrassment, anger, heartbreak.  

You're too caught up in your spinning thoughts to even notice the sound of frantic footsteps behind you until a voice cuts through the silence.  

"Y/N."  

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago.  

But still, you hear it anyway—because of course you do. Because it's him. And no matter how much you wish you didn't, you'd silence the entire world just to hear that voice.  

And you hate it.  

You hate how your entire body freezes mid-step, you hate how every nerve within you comes alive at the sound of his voice, you hate how your heart stumbles, as if trying to root itself in the pain you've been trying so hard to outrun.  

You turn around slowly, against every ounce of logic telling you to keep walking. And when your eyes land on him—on the raw, desperate, almost broken look on his face—you hate yourself even more.  

Because even now, even after everything, your heart still sinks at the sight. And you hate how you give him the power to break you with just one look.  

“Can we talk?” Jake asks, his voice low and unsteady as he takes a small step towards you.  

From beside you, Jungwon hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Jake. After a beat, he nods, "I'll get the car. Wait here."  

He spares Jake a final look of warning before nudging you for comfort and stepping into the elevator.  

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Jake alone in the hallway, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.  

You swallow hard, your throat tight, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"  

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter. 

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.  

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation, his heart breaking at the way your tears are a second away from falling over. 

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.  

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."  

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt finally bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…” 

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll break if he gets too close. "I was nervous." 

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest. 

You let out a hollow laugh, the bitter sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.” 

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."  

"Then why was...," you look at him, your eyes still stinging from all the unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?” 

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting him deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"  

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you were afraid of. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you’ve tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you like waves, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true. 

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."  

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said—I meant it."  

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see the way your tears finally spill over.  

"You promised," you let out softly and slowly, through your sniffles. “You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you...you hurt me anyways."  

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate as he shakes his head. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing against yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one."  

You shake your head again, the tears now freely rushing down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I—I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I want to, I really, really do. But tonight..."  

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes turning glassy themselves. The sight of you—broken, because of him—cuts deeper than he thought was humanly ever possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.” 

You look at him—at the boy who became your safe space these past few months—and all you feel is the ache in your heart.  

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out through your broken voice as you take a step back. "I think I just need space."  

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in the face, "Y/N..." 

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay—to give him the chance he's yearning for. But your brain knows better. 

"I have to go," you murmur softly, as you take a final step back, turning away before more tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.  

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he lets you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.  

To Jake, the sounds of the party are now far in the distance, drowned out by the pounding in this ears. Instead, the hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps—a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.  

The car ride starts in complete silence, the only sound between you and Jungwon the soft hum of his engine and the faint sound of whatever playlist he was playing in the background. You stare out the window, watching the city lights blur together, your coat clutched tightly under your grasp as if it's the only thing keeping you sane.  

Jungwon glances at you out the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything at first, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing in his head.  

"Okay," he finally says, as if on cue, breaking the silence. "Spill."  

You don't respond, your eyes still fixed on the surrounding city breezing by you, as if the passing view could somehow erase the memory of him. Your fingers dig further into the fabric of your coat, your knuckles going numb.  

Jungwon gives you a few more moments of silence, but when you don't make any sign of responding, he speaks up again. 

"Y/N," his voice softens, but the edge of his concern cuts through. "Don't do that thing where you shut people out. Especially me, you know I hate that."  

"I'm not—" you start, but your voice wavers, and the lie dies on the tip of your tongue.  

“You are," he exhales sharply from beside you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Look, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."  

The words sit heavy in the air as you swallow hard, your throat burning as you finally whisper, "It's stupid, Jungwon."  

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but his tone is firm, "I'm sure if it's got you looking like this, it's not stupid."  

You want to argue, to tell him to just let it go, but the hurt pressing down on your chest is too much. The ache in your body threatens to take over again, and you hate it. You hate how the tears form again, how you can still see Jake looking at you like that, like you were breaking right in front of him and he didn't know how to stop it.  

Jungwon waits. He doesn't push, because he knows you. He knows you're just hurting, struggling to grasp your overwhelming emotions, so he gives you the time you need. But his quiet patience is unbearable, like he's peeling back every layer of your resolve just by being there, and eventually, you give in.  

"It's Jake," you finally choke out, the name tumbling from your lips like a curse.  

Jungwon doesn't respond immediately, but you can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex against the wheel, "I figured as much honestly, after what I saw in the hallway, but what exactly happened, Y/N?"  

You shake your head, your voice shaky, "It doesn't matter. I—I just feel so stupid, Won. Like, how could I think..." 

You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Jungwon gives you a softened glance, signaling you to continue whenever you're ready to.  

You take a deep breath before you speak up again, "How could I ever think I was good enough for him, you know?"  

There's a silence that follows after your words and you hear Jungwon take in a deep inhale.  

"This isn't on you, Y/N. This has nothing to do with whether you're enough or not," Jungwon's voice is steady, but there's a firm edge to it now. "Look, I don't want to overstep or anything...and I definitely don't want to vouch for him—especially right now but...are you sure he's not just freaking out?"  

You tilt your head over at the boy next to you, "Freaking out about what?"  

"You," Jungwon says simply like it's the most obvious thing in the world.  

"That doesn't make any sense," you start shaking your head. "Why would he—"  

"Because you're you," Jungwon interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him. "And Jake's a complete idiot, but even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

You blink, Jungwon's words sinking into all the cracks formed within you, "You really think he cares about me that much?"  

“Are you kidding?” Jungwon scoffs, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung his moon and stars. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” 

And you don't know what comes over you, but Jungwon's words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you've been holding back come rushing forward, hot and relentless. You cover your face with your hands, your body shaking as the sobs you've been swallowing all night finally make their way out.  

Jungwon quickly looks over at you and, without hesitation, glances over his shoulder to pull over to the side of the road, the soft clicking of the hazard lights mixing in with your cries. When he finally puts the car in park, he doesn't say anything and just leans back in his seat, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder—close enough to remind you he's there, but not too much to smother you.  

"I'm sorry," you manage to gasp out between sobs, your hands going up to wipe your face as all the overwhelming emotions finally take over you.  

"Don't," Jungwon says firmly, "Don't apologize for feeling like this."  

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself together as your sobs eventually start to slow down, "I just don't understand. If he cares so much, why does this hurt so bad?"  

"I don't think it's about how much he cares," Jungwon sighs, as if carrying your pain alongside you. "Sometimes...sometimes people care so much that they don't know what to do with it. They panic. They overthink. And they mess up in the worst ways because they don't know how to handle what they're feeling."  

You look up at him, your face still wet with tears, "So you're saying it's an excuse."  

"No," Jungwon replies, quickly shaking his head fervently. "Definitely not an excuse. Jake screwed up, Y/N. Big time. And it's 100% on him to fix that, not you. But—"  

He pauses and thinks for a second, his words deliberate, "—it doesn't mean his feelings aren't real. Or that he doesn't care about you."  

You look away, glancing down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the hem of your coat as you take in Jungwon's words.  

"It's just feels like...like I'm the only one who got hurt here, Won. Like I'm the only one who..," you trail off, unable to form your thoughts into a coherent sentence, but leave it up to Jungwon to always fully understand you.  

"You're not the only one," he says softly. "He's hurting too, Y/N. Maybe not in the same way, and maybe he doesn't deserve any sympathy, but I can see it. I've seen it. Jake...Jake isn't Jake without you. And honestly? That idiot is probably tearing himself apart right now."  

Your lips part, but the words don't find you. Instead, you let the weight of Jungwon's words sink in, unsure what to do with how true they may be.  

"You don't have to forgive him right now," Jungwon adds after a moment. "Hell, you don't even have to forgive him at all. Honestly, that might satisfy me just a bit. But maybe...maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Not for him, but for you."  

You turn to Jungwon, your lips forming into the smallest pout, "But what if it just makes everything worse?"  

He gives you a faint, grounding smile, equal parts reassuring and honest.  

"Then you walk away knowing you did everything you could—for yourself. And if it does come to that," he shrugs lightly, "we'll figure it out together."  

You're quiet for a long moment, the thought of walking away from Jake and everything he means to you terrifying you…but you know Jungwon's right. You owe yourself the chance to try—even if the unknown outcome fails you.  

With a shaky breath, you nod, brushing away the last of your tears, "Thanks, Jungwon."  

"You're welcome," Jungwon hums in acknowledgement before his lips curve into a small grin, the atmosphere lightening slightly, "but, uh, could you at least use the tissues in the glove compartment before my seats turn into a snot rag?"  

You manage to let out a small scoff of disbelief as you roll your watery eyes, "You're the worst."  

"Nah," Jungwon replies with a cheeky grin as he shifts the car back into drive, but not before he reaches over to ruffle your hair playfully. "C'mon. Let's get you home."  

The knocking at Jungwon’s door comes at the worst possible moment. 

He’s halfway through organizing his desk—something he only attempts when he’s too frustrated to sit still—and the last thing he expects to see when he swings the door open is Jake, standing there looking like he hasn’t slept a millisecond all night. 

Jungwon makes no sign of saying anything or making a move, just staring at the older boy in question. Jakes shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair, not used to seeing Jungwon in this sour, expressionless mood.  

"Hey," Jake finally says, his voice hesitant.  

“What do you want?” Jungwon deadpans, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He knows he sounds harsh, but, frankly, he doesn’t care.  

Jake falters for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground, "I...I need your help."  

Jungwon's eyes narrow, "With what, exactly?"  

He knows what, but he's not letting Jake off that easily. Not after last night.  

"With Y/N," your name hangs in the air between them as Jake's voice cracks, and Jungwon clenches his jaw before he lets out a frustrated sigh.  

"I don't think you're in any position to be asking me for help right now."  

"I know," Jake says quickly, his hands raising in surrender. "I know, okay? I screwed up big time. I—God, I don't even know where to start, Jungwon. I just...I don't want to make things worse."  

Jungwon lets out a bitter, humorless laugh, stepping back and motioning his head to let Jake enter his room, "You've already got a good head start on that, I see."  

Jake steps inside, awkwardly hovering near the door as Jungwon moves to sit on the edge of his own bed. He doesn't offer Jake a seat, and Jake doesn't ask for one.  

"She cried, you know," Jungwon says after a few moments of silence, his voice stone cold. "I had to pull over because she couldn't even hold it together long enough for me to get her home. I've known her my entire life, and I don't think I've ever seen her cry that hard, Jake."  

Jake flinches, the words physically hurting him, "I didn't mean to—"  

"Yeah, I know," the younger boy cuts him off, his voice sharp, his anger rising on behalf of you. "You didn't mean to hurt her. But you did. And now you're asking me to help you fix it like it's that easy."  

"It's not easy," Jake mutters quietly, his hands fumbling with the edge of his hoodie. "Nothing about this...none of it is easy. But I know I messed up, and I—I can't just leave things like this, I can't lose her, Jungwon. I care about her too much."  

Jungwon deadpans at his friend, fighting back the urge to scoff in his face, "If you cared about her, you wouldn't have let her walk out of that party looking like her entire world was falling apart."  

Jake looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with something Jungwon can't quite name...desperation, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.  

"I didn't know what to do," Jake finally admits, his voice still barely above a whisper, as if admitting to himself for the first time, too. "I saw her, and she looked so...broken. And I—I panicked, I didn't know what to do, and by the time I realized, she was gone."  

Jungwon leans back, groaning as he runs a hand over his face. The anger bubbling within him hasn't fully faded, but he knows there's something else now—something softer, something that makes it harder to keep his protective guard for you up.  

Because he knows Jake isn't lying.  

"You don't get to half-ass this, Jake," Jungwon finally says after he thinks to himself. "She's not some random girl you're trying to impress, she isn't Jenn. This is Y/N. If you want to fix things, you have to be ready to own up to everything. No excuses, no backing out. She deserves that much."  

Jake nods quickly, his eyes wide and hopeful at Jungwon's slight change in demeanor, “I will. I swear, I will.” 

"And don't think she's going to forgive you right away," Jungwon adds. "She's hurt. You have to give her time. This isn't about what you want—it's about what she needs."  

Jake swallows hard, nodding again, “I just want to talk to her. To explain. To tell her I’m sorry and—”  

His voice cracks, and he looks down, his hands trembling slightly. Jungwon lets out a sigh, his mixed feelings turning more into something closer to pity. Because as much as he wants to stay mad for your sake, he's known Jake long enough to know that he's a good guy—and that his heart is in the right place.  

But even more than that, he knows you. And he knows how much Jake means to you, even if you won't admit it, especially not now more than ever.  

"You're actually an idiot," Jungwon says after a few beats, his voice carrying a lighter tone now. "But for some godforsaken reason, knowing her, I think she might actually miss you."  

Jake looks up from his hands, his eyes searching Jungwon's face for any flicker of doubt, "You really think so?"  

Jungwon shrugs, standing up and moving towards his door, "I think you've got a lot of work to do if you want to earn her trust back. But...I think you still have a chance."  

Jake doesn't say anything as he follows Jungwon to the door, but the look on his face says enough—there's a new slight look of hope. It's small, but he's clutching onto it like it’s his lifeline.  

“You know," Jungwon says when he reaches the doorway. "Y/N’s not the type to let people in easily. She puts up walls—but with you…she let them down. You’re special to her, Jake, even if she doesn’t say it. Don’t throw that away. For her sake, and yours.” 

“I won’t,” Jake promises, his voice steady now. “Thank you, Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nods at the older boy before giving him a faint smile, "And just so you know, I defended you yesterday. So don't prove me wrong or I'm actually going to deck you."  

Jake lets out a weak laugh as he hangs outside Jungwon's door, "Noted. I promise I won't let her down again."  

Jungwon doesn’t respond, just closes the door with a soft click, and hopes—for all their sakes—that Jake means it.  

Jake [5:12PM]: hi Y/N   Jake [5:12PM]: i know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. and i don’t blame you at all   Jake [5:13PM]: but i cant just stay silent and let this sit between us, and i value you too much to not respect you needing space and just show up at your door  Jake [5:14PM]: even though it’s killing me to stay away  Jake [5:14PM]: after you left the party last night, i went back inside. i told jenn that whatever we had in the past is exactly that, the past. and i swear to you, Y/N, there’s nothing between us. there hasn’t been for a long time. and it’s my fault for making it seem otherwise.   Jake [5:15PM]: and as for how i acted…i don’t even know where to start. i fucked up extremely. nothing will excuse my actions and i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need to apologize properly, you deserve that much.   Jake [5:17PM]: please let me see you, Y/N. i don’t deserve it, and i don’t deserve you. but you mean everything to me, and i hate that i hurt you. and i promise, if you let me, i’ll do everything to make it up to you.  

You stare at the phone in your hand, the messages feeling like salt to an open wound. The words on the screen begin to blur together as tears prick your eyes, spilling over before you even realize it. You don't bother wiping them away—the sting in your chest too raw, too heavy. Each word feels like Jake is standing right there in front of you, his voice soft and broken, tangled with regret.  

You tell yourself to stop reading. You've already gone through the same messages at least a hundred times in the past ten minutes, overanalyzing each syllable as if they hold the answers to all of your questions.  

And yet, you can't stop.  

You want to be angry. You are angry. Or, at least, you think. Because beneath the flame of your anger that's already threatening to die out? There's an ache you can't ignore—a small, stubborn part of you that refuses to let go to the sincerity in his words, clinging onto the hope that he's telling you the truth.  

You mean everything to me, and I hate that I hurt you. I promise, if you let me, I'll do everything to make it up to you.  

The ache twists harder, curling into doubt. What if he means it? What if he's telling the truth?  

But of course, the fear rises just as quickly. Because what if he's not? What if you let him back in, and it all falls apart again? What if you let yourself believe in him, giving him the second chance he's asking for, only to have your heart shattered worse than before?  

And then, there's Jungwon's voice, soft but steady, cutting through the chaos brewing in your mind: "Even idiots get scared when they care about someone as much as he clearly cares about you."  

Your breath catches.  

Because that's the worst part. Knowing that maybe—just maybe—Jake really does care. Knowing that maybe he's telling the truth—and you're the one too afraid to take the risk, ready to build up the walls Jake's managed to get through.  

Your phone screen suddenly dims, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You blink rapidly, wiping at your face, your mind a mess of emotions you can't untangle or describe.  

Fear. Hope. Doubt. 

And something else—something you're afraid to admit, but you know is unmistakably real.  

And it's stronger than the fear churning in your chest—it's something that's pulling you forward.  

Your heart pounds almost out of your rib cage as you let out a shaky breath, the weight on your shoulders pressing harder and harder with every second you hesitate. The ache doesn't let up, but neither does your hope.  

So you stop thinking altogether, letting your heart take control instead.  

You shut your eyes, as if bracing yourself for a crash, take a deep breath, unlock your phone, and let your fingers fly across the screen, each word feeling like a leap off a cliff.  

You hit send.  

Y/N [5:30PM]: hi jake  Y/N [5:30PM]: you can come over 

The soft knock at your door startles you, even though you know it’s coming.  

“Y/N?” 

His voice. Jake’s voice.  

Your heart clenches painfully, a conflicting mix of longing and hurt washing over you all at once. It hasn't even been a full day since the party, but the weight of his absence has already hollowed you out, leaving a hole you can't ignore. You know he's the one who caused it—that the cracks in your heart are his doing—but at the same time, the stubborn part of you whispers that he's also the only one who can mend them.  

You make your way to the door, your movements hesitant as you crack it open, peek out, and...there he is.  

"Hi," Jake says softly.  

He's a mess. A beautiful, saddened mess—his hair messy, like he's been running his hands through it all day, his eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion that isn't just physical. One hand is buried deep in his jacket, and in the other— 

"Flowers?" You ask, raising a brow in surprise.  

Jake's ears turn red. "Yeah. Uh, I didn't know if you had a favorite, so I got—"  

You open the door wider, revealing the full bouquet—daisies, tulips, roses, all wrapped together in crinkled tissue paper.  

"—a little bit of everything," he finishes awkwardly, his voice trailing off, pausing for a second before holding them out to you with a sheepish smile.  

Your lips twitch subconsciously, despite everything.  

"Jake, you're literally allergic."  

His mouth opens, then closes, the redness from his ears now spreading to his cheeks.  

"Well, yeah, but—," Jake mumbles, shifting on his feet. "—not, like, deadly or anything dramatic like that."  

He pauses, his voice dropping into something softer, more vulnerable, "I just wanted you to have them. That's all."  

You feel your insides tighten, the sincerity in his voice getting to you. For a moment, all you can manage to do is stare at him—at the way his eyes are silently pleading, wide and unsure.  

You hesitate for a second, then step back and open the door wider.  

"Thank you," you say quietly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the bouquet, sending a flicker of warmth through you. "Come in."  

Jake hesitates, his eyes searching yours like he's not sure if he's actually allowed to. When you turn away and walk towards your kitchen, he finally steps inside, kicking off his shoes quickly and hovering by the door like he doesn't know what to expect next.  

You set the flowers down on the counter, adjusting them carefully before turning back to him. He's still standing there, stiff and uncertain, the distance between you feeling larger than ever before.  

"So..." You say, crossing your arms tightly across yourself, shifting your weight as a way to ground yourself—though the lump in your throat makes it feel impossible.  

Jake exhales shakily, his hands fidgeting by his sides and gaze darting to the floor before finally landing on you, "I came to apologize. Properly."  

You blink at him, expression unreadable, "You already said sorry."  

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, surprising even yourself, but the words leave before you can stop them. Jake flinches, just slightly, but he nods, knowing he deserved that. 

"Not like I should have," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and careful, like he's afraid you'll run out of your own apartment. "I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel like you weren't enough or that someone else could ever compare to you, Y/N."  

Your arms tighten around yourself as if the words might knock the breath out of you as look away, unsure if you can meet the rawness in his eyes.  

"Last night," Jake continues, his eyes filling with guilt, "I didn't handle last night right. And not just how I handled Jenn, but I let my own insecurities and stupid fears of being perfect for you get in the way. I let it happen and mess everything up. I let you think that you didn't matter to me, and I will never forgive myself, Y/N."  

His words hang in the air, heavy yet sincere, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him as you process his words slowly.  

"And I don't expect you to forgive me either, Y/N," Jake's voice wavers before he continues, "but I need you to know that I'm so, so sorry. No excuses. For all of it—for making you feel like anything less than everything, for making you feel like you weren't my first choice. Because you are. You're my only, Y/N." 

His words hit you with a force that crashes over the walls you tried so desperately to build. They're overwhelming yet tender, like rediscovering a piece of yourself you hadn't even realized you lost. And you want to let them comfort you, you do. But the pain from last night lingers deep down, reminding you of why you built those walls in the first place.  

For a moment, the silence stretches on longer than you intend, the weight of his words settling in the air between you. Jake doesn't look away though—his gaze unwavering, vulnerable, and raw.  

As though he's laid himself bare before you, giving you the power to either accept or shatter him completely.  

When you finally find your voice, it trembles despite your best efforts, "Jake...I don't know if I can just forget what happened."  

"I'm not asking you to forget," he says quickly, taking another step closer until there's only a few feet left between you. "I just want the chance to fix us. I can't lose you like this, Y/N."  

Your breath catches at the proximity, his presence pulling you in like gravity. The pain from last night tries to claw its way back into your heart—sharp and bitter—but his warmth reminds you of something else that refuses to be ignored.  

That flicker of hope that's demanding your attention, screaming at you to just let him in—not just for his sake, but for you. 

You take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Jake, I don't need you to...to be this perfect person. I don't need you to prove anything to me."  

You pause, pushing past the lump in your throat, "Because since the beginning, I always believed you. And...I think I still do. Even after last night, I still believe you, Jake. No matter how hard I try to."  

Jake lets out a breath he thinks he's been holding in for hours, "Really?"  

"Yeah," you nod slowly, as if reassuring yourself as much as him. "But I don't need any of your promises or proof or any of that. I just...I just need you as you."  

His eyes soften at you as he nods so quickly it's almost desperate.   

"And I need you to be honest with me, Jake," you continue before he can speak. "If we do this, I need to know I can trust you. Because I don't know if I can do this...this waiting game anymore."  

"You can," he says immediately, closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. You can see the way his hands are trembling, the slight quiver in his lips. "You can trust me. No more hesitation. I'm all in, Y/N. This is it for me, you're it."   

You search his face for any sign of doubt, any speck of hesitation. But all you find is his sincerity—so hopeful and so real—the kind that makes you want to let him in fully and let your walls crumble all over again.  

So you do.  

"Okay," you say softly, almost as if you're testing the word.  

Jake's eyes widen, the relief and hope flooding his features. Slowly, as if asking for permission, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours tentatively.  

"Okay?" He whispers, his voice barely audible to you as his eyes flicker between your hands and your face.  

You nod, your own hand turning over so your fingers curl around his in an instinctive gesture that feels so natural it makes you want to scream. The warmth of his touch feels like the first real comfort you've felt in forever, and it's enough to make your resolve slip.  

"But," you add softly, your eyes not leaving the way his hand wraps around yours so perfectly, "this doesn't mean everything's fine. We need to talk. We need to figure out where we stand, and where we go from there."  

Jake nods again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, "We will. Whatever it takes, Y/N, I'll do it. I need you to know how much you mean to me and I'll never stop trying to show you that."  

You let out a shaky breath as you take in his words, finally looking up from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes, your own slowly filling with the tears you've been holding back. 

"You really hurt me, Jake," you say quietly, your voice breaking from the sheer weight of your vulnerability being laid bare.  

Jake's face crumbles instantly, guilt etched into every line of his expression. Without hesitation, his free hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb light brushing away the tears that fall, as if he's afraid you might pull away.  

Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth of his hand, and despite the emotions raging inside you, you let yourself lean into him. It feels both reckless, yet inevitable, like free-falling and trusting—knowing—he'll catch you.  

"I know," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion he can't swallow down. "And I'll spend as long as it takes to deserve you, Y/N. I'll never make you feel like that again."  

You nod weakly, and before you can think too much, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into the safety of his chest, his chin moving to rest on top of your head as his warmth envelops you completely.  

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself break, burying your face into his chest as the tears flow freely, the weight of everything finally breaking free as you let yourself melt into his tight embrace.  

It's not perfect. It's not a fix-all.  

But as Jake holds you close, whispering quiet reassurances into your hair, you know it's a start.  

And a start is all you need.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue:

“Hi, pretty.”  

“Hi, Jake.”

On the other end of the call, Jake lets out a playful scoff. Even with the slight lag, you can see his lips twitch into that familiar pout—the one that still gives you butterflies, no matter how many times you've see it now, even a year later.

“After all we’ve been through, you still won’t give me a cute pet name?” 

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin, “What do you want me to say? Hi, my handsome, perfect, kindest, funniest, boyfriend in the whole wide world?”  

Jake leans closer to the camera, his expression completely serious as if you should already know his answer, "...Yes." 

Giggles burst out of you, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re too cute to be doing all that, Jake. Pick a struggle.” 

He clutches his chest dramatically, “You know, what? You’re my struggle—I fly across time zones, run on three hours of sleep, and you still won’t give me a crumb of your affection?” 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And yet…,” Jake trails off with a teasing smirk, his voice dropping into that playful, yet low lilt that still makes your stomach flip to this day. "Here you are, calling me at 1AM in the morning.”  

Your cheeks flush as you glance away from the screen, trying to ignore the way his teasing gaze makes you feel, "Don’t' get confused, it's not like I wanted to or anything. I just figured someone should remind you to go to bed or else you'll look like a zombie tomorrow at the fanmeet."  

Jake laughs softly, the sound grounding you in a certain way only he ever can. "You're so thoughtful, babe. My number-one hater and number-one fan, all at once. I'm so lucky."  

You send him an air kiss, the teasing grin on your face mirrored by the fond one tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he did in that first-ever call way back then—like you're his whole world, and he can't believe you're real.  

"How's the jet lag this time?" You ask, steering the conversation to safer ground.  

"It's not so bad," he shrugs, despite the clear exhaustion in his voice. "At least this trip is only for a few days. Then I can come back to the comfort of our bed."  

You raise an eyebrow, "My bed."  

Jake's eyes narrow, "Our bed. Just admit it—you miss me."  

You pause. "Maybe. Just a little."  

His grin widens, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, the conversation lulling into an easy silence—the kind of warmth that only comes with knowing someone so well.  

Finally, you shift under your blanket, getting comfortable as Jake watches you through this screen, his gaze tender, as though memorizing the curve of your smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear.  

"You should sleep," you murmur, holding your phone closer to your face. The glow of your phone reflecting off your soft features sends palpations to Jake's chest so loud he almost doesn't hear your words. 

"Mm, I really should," Jake sighs, though he doesn't move an inch. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah?" 

"Mmhm," you hum, your eyes closing at the softness of his voice.  

“Sleep tight. I love you,” his says, voice soft and deliberate, making sure you feel every word. 

“Goodnight, Jakey,” you tease, letting the smirk creep into your voice, peeking an eye open just to catch his reaction. 

Jake groans dramatically, running a hand down his face, “Y/N…not this again.”  

You giggle, the fondness within you growing tenfold as you take in his face—the slight pout of his lips, his messy hair, his eyes shining with unwavering adoration for you. 

“I said I love youuu,” he whines, dragging out the last word, his lips tugging into the tiniest of smiles, his entire universe reflecting from his eyes.  

Finally, you give in, smiling sweetly.  

“I love you, too, Jake. You already know.”  

And you’ve never meant anything more.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Songs that Remind me of Y/N:

From the first call to forever—you've always been my favorite melody.   Yours, Jake <3

"As I Am" – Justin Bieber (ft. Khalid)  

"Daylight" – Taylor Swift 

"DIE 4 YOU" - Dean 

"Psycho, Pt. 2" – Russ 

"Heaven" – Bazzi 

"Every Kind of Way" – H.E.R. 

"Off My Face" – Justin Bieber 

"Before You" – Benson Boone 

"Sunflower" – Post Malone & Swae Lee 

"Pink + White" – Frank Ocean

"No Doubt" – Enhypen <3 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it all the way, this is for you:

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

p.s. i wanted to leave the ending kinda up to interpretation—hence the time skip to a year later..but lowkey what if i wrote short drabbles/scenes of things jake does to gain Y/N's trust again, from small to big gestures etc etc..lmk if that's something anyone would wanna see !!

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list (love you all <3):

(i hope it let me tag everyone!)

@thesassy-mia @ikeulove @renaishun @xylatox @puma-riki @blackberryrains @dreamiestay @junislqve @lamin143 @dreamy-carat @etherealhan @vvenusoncasual @belovedsthings @somuchdard @sumzysworld @mirouie @almondtofu006 @fancypeacepersona @vivimura @hollxe1 @missthang600 @sugarikiz @sanasour @enhamonsterghoul @etherealriki

[snoopyracing]

grapes and good fortune // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: friends to lovers, mutual pining, and fluff

summary: when your plan to find love on new year's eve doesn't work a certain someone may just fix those plans.

a/n: surprise! here's a cute little lando nye fic for you! it was so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s not the end of the world to be single. You’ve gone your whole life technically being single– each guy you’ve had a thing with never resulted in a full fledged relationship. It never really seemed to bother you that much, you’d learned to be more independent and learned that your time is in fact more valuable than men think. Though, as the years passed and your friends started to get into serious relationships you couldn’t help but feel a little left behind.

You knew everyone’s time would come and seriously you were in your early to mid twenties – you still had a whole lifetime ahead of you. But the third wheeling you seemed to be a professional at by now was starting to get embarrassing. Also, holidays just really seemed to suck while being single. You knew there was more to life than being in a relationship, but god dammit you’re a human. You crave love and affection and no matter how independent you are– you still want to love and be loved. 

Your friend group had unsuccessfully tried setting you up with more guys than you could count. Each one you really did try and give a chance, but there was nothing there. You didn’t think you had high standards by any means, but if you didn’t feel anything with these guys then why waste your time? 

“You went on how many dates this month and none of them piqued your interest?” Your friend grills you as the two of you are sitting on the balcony of your apartment. You’d come back from another unsuccessful date and decided to drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine and a yapping session. 

“Genuinely think there might be something wrong with me at this point.” You complain as you sip the sweet wine in your glass. 

“There isn’t anything wrong with you.” The two dates a week for the past month say different, but you weren’t going to actually disclose that number to her. “Maybe your heart has already laid claim to someone else?” 

“I think I would know if I was in love with someone.” She doesn’t say anything, but the way she inconspicuously sips her wine is telling you what she’s wanting to say. “Not this again.” 

She puts her hands up in defense all while having a shit eating grin on her face. “I didn’t even say anything, but you immediately assuming that’s who I’m talking about says it all.” 

“I’m not in love with Lando.” 

Yes you were. 

“I mean he’s one of my closest friends and it would just make things weird. He also for sure does not look at me in any way other than platonic. He’s got models flocking to him and literally thousands of other girls– I couldn’t compete.” Your friend remains silent once again as she sips her wine and watches the scene in front of her unfold. “Ok– just because I drunkenly admitted last year that I might possibly have a little tiny miniscule amount of feelings towards him does not mean I’m in love with him.” 

“Yes it does.” Your friend replies without missing a beat. 

“No it doesn’t” You say with a huff. 

“Y/N, babe. You don’t see what everyone else sees and maybe your brain is trying to protect itself from the small chance of destruction, but you two are so in love it’s actually ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think he’s looking for a relationship right now. If this season so far is any indication of what next season is gonna be like, do you really think he’ll want a serious relationship to juggle too?” You’d chugged the last bit of wine in your glass and immediately filled it back up. 

A loud scoff comes from your friend. “With some girl he just met? No. You are a whole different story though. You two have history and are quite literally each other’s person. Two peas in a pod. Match made in heaven.” 

You didn’t understand why your friend was so adamant about Lando and you getting together. What if it ended in flames and your friend group is stuck having to play children of divorce? You don’t want that. 

“Do you hear yourself right now? I think you’ve had too much wine because that’s not true.” 

She sits up on the edge of the wicker couch with an annoyed expression painted across her face  “Do you hear yourself? I’ve never seen someone deny themselves happiness like you.” 

“I don’t think I have actual feelings for Lando though. I really think it’s just because we are the only two single people in our friend group and it’s like I feel obligated to somehow have feelings for him. I just need to find the right person and whatever I may be feeling about Lando will go away.” 

If someone could professionally roll their eyes your friend would be a pro. “You’ve already found the right person though!”

Before you can argue back for the hundredth time tonight the familiar tune of an incoming facetime call fills the air. Your phone that’s sitting on the glass coffee table lights up and Lando’s face fills the screen. You glance over at your friend who’s got a smirk on her face that could rival the Cheshire Cat. 

“Speak of the devil.” She laughs. 

You let it ring, fully knowing that if you answer it your friend will be insufferable the whole time you’re talking to him. You do send him a quick text to make sure everything's alright and of course he immediately responds with-

everything's all right.. just missed you is all. 

Which has you locking your phone and stuffing it in the pocket of your hoodie. When you reach for your glass and realize it’s empty again you decide to just grab the bottle and drink straight from it. 

“Drinking from the bottle because you’ve come to terms with how dumb you’ve been?” Your friend teases. 

“Nope. It’s from having to deal with you all evening.” 

Alright so maybe you did have actual feelings for Lando, but you were never going to fully admit that to your friend or anyone else for that matter. You didn’t want to risk ruining what you two already had, which was an amazing friendship. So for the following months you continue to go on an endless amount of dates and with each one that fails your friend's voice rings in your mind.

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to find someone else if you subconsciously compared every guy to Lando. They were never funny enough or charming enough or took themselves too seriously. In the end it was simply the fact that they weren’t Lando. So maybe your heart had already dug its claws into Lando, but you weren’t going to give up without one last battle. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

New Year's Eve. The final night of the year and the one party of the year that celebrates ends and beginnings. You’d hoped that with the plan you had for tonight that your streak of horrible dates would end and the next one would be the one. The trend of eating twelve grapes under a table at midnight on New Year’s Eve had been all over your social media. According to the internet if you were to do this you’d find love or your soulmate the following year– which was something you were so desperate for. So, your said plan was to bring some grapes with you and find a table to sit under. 

As you were taking one last final look in the mirror a familiar British accent echoed through your apartment. “Are you almost ready?” 

You quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your bag off the dresser, but by the time you turned around there stood Lando, leaning against your doorframe with a slight smirk on his face. “Been waiting forever. It’s gonna be next year by the time we get out of here.” 

His teasing, which usually always got a reaction out of you, was ignored. The sight of him had you frozen in your tracks for a moment. He had on a white button up, which he always looked good in, but it was the couple of undone buttons at the top and the necklace you got him for his birthday last year around his neck that got your attention. There was always something about seeing Lando in things you got him that made that funny feeling bloom in your stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that everytime he chose to wear them you knew he was thinking about you and that when he was away a part of you was always with him. 

“Quit staring.” 

You're knocked out of your trance and the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from getting caught is almost as embarrassing as being caught. “I wasn’t staring. I was admiring my good taste. Should have gotten one myself.” You try to play it off and push your way past him with what little amount of confidence you have at the moment. 

“I’ll get it for you, then we can be matching.” Lando says as he follows behind you. 

“I can buy it myself.” 

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna get it for you anyways.”

You stop in the kitchen and grab the little bag of grapes out of the fridge. “I don’t need you to get it for me Lan.” You’re too preoccupied with figuring out how to fit everything into your small purse to see the utterly confused look on Lando’s face. 

“Ok forget about the necklace. Why the hell are you bringing grapes with you?” 

“Incase I get hungry.” You reply without missing a beat. 

“There will literally be food at the party. I even made sure Max got those little cocktail sausages you like.” 

And there he goes again, making those feelings you’ve tried and are still presently trying to push down come to the surface all because of some damn cocktail sausages. “I appreciate that Lan, but I’ve been on a grape kick lately. Just can’t seem to get enough of them.” 

With your purse finally closed with the grapes securely inside, you head towards the door, more than ready to get to the party. 

“I’ll text Max and tell him to get some grapes delivered.” Lando mumbles as he closes the door behind him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but there must have been something in the air tonight because you were living it up. From the dancing to the drinking and then to top it off somehow in the middle of everything you showed off your DJing skills with Lando. 

Somehow you’d managed to unglue yourself from Lando for a moment and ended up in the kitchen among the various kinds of alcohol. You’re pouring the last bit of coke into your coke and malibu when Max comes up beside you. 

“I see you finally escaped from Lando for a moment.” 

An airy laugh emits from you. “Yeah, he’s been a little clingy tonight.” You state as you turn and lean back against the counter, facing the large crowd of people. 

Max copies your actions, but not before grabbing a beer. “What are you talking about tonight? When he’s back home it’s like you two are conjoined at the hip.”  Which was true, but you didn’t get to see Lando as much as you’d like, so you make the most of what you can. “Oh forgot to tell you, your grapes are in the fridge.” He motions towards the stainless steel appliance with his beer bottle. “Lando better pay me back. Do you know how much I paid to get that damn bag delivered? Absolutely insane.” 

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape at Max’s words. “I heard him mention something about asking you to get some when we were leaving. I thought he was just joking.” 

Max scoffs. “There is no such thing as Lando joking when it comes to you. Think he’d chop off his own arm to make sure you were happy. Hell if you needed an organ he’d be the first one in line to give you one.” 

This time it’s your turn to scoff. “No he wouldn’t.” 

“Why do you do that?” Max groans. 

You narrow your eyes at him, confused as to what he was referring to. “Do what?” 

“Act like he doesn’t think the world of you.” 

Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out. Instead you bring your cup to your lips and fill the void with your drink. What Max had said was true, but you couldn’t help it. You figured if you forced yourself to think that Lando didn’t care that deeply about you, then those feelings that you harbor for him wouldn’t rise to the surface. It didn’t help that his behavior recently had you thinking that perhaps he felt the same about you and when you have your mutual friends in your ear implying that to be true it just makes things that much harder for you. 

“You probably haven’t even noticed that he’s been practically watching us talk this whole time have you?” 

You can feel your heart rate start to speed up just at the thought of it. As your eyes scan the room they finally land on the Brit standing in the corner with some other people, but he’s not actually engaging in the conversation, he’s too busy staring back at you. Somehow from across the room you can still see those pretty mixture of blue and green eyes of his sparkle and when he realizes you're finally looking back at him a shy smile spreads across his face before he’s quickly looking away. 

“Wish you two would stop dancing around each other and just admit what we all already know.” Max mumbles before taking a swig of his beer. 

Maybe it’s the mixture of alcohol and the fact that you’ve once again got someone in your ear about Lando and you, but you can sense those feelings starting to claw their way back up and you aren’t sure if you can push them back down tonight. 

“Ten minutes until midnight!” The DJ’s voice travels through the apartment and you’re sure Max will be getting some kind of fee taped to his door in the morning. 

Max says something about talking to you later before exiting the kitchen and you realize with ten minutes till midnight that you’ve got to get your grapes and find a table to fit under. For the moment you push Lando to the back of your mind and focus on your very important task at hand. 

Luckily for you Max had a decently sized dining table in his apartment so with your grapes in hand you crawled under the table, which thankfully was shielded by a tablecloth, and settled in for your feast. 

Lando on the other hand had been searching for you everywhere since the ten minute announcement. He’d literally just seen you in the kitchen with Max and then when he looked back again you were both gone. He’d gone in the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the closets, every single place he could think you would be and it’s like you had vanished. Max had a large apartment, especially to be living in London, but it wasn’t that big to allow for you to not be found. His texts to you had gone unanswered and he began to think maybe you had left, but he knew you would have told him if you were leaving, so that theory went out the window. 

When the five minute announcement hit his ears he began asking people if they had seen you and with each no or i think she was in the kitchen a while ago he received his hopes of finding you before midnight started to diminish. 

He’d finally worked up the courage to tell you how he’d felt tonight. After years of holding himself back and not wanting to ruin what you two already had, he’d decided that life was too short and that he would come to regret not allowing himself to truly love you like he should. He knew you were the one and there wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t think you didn’t feel the same. So, he was finally going to bite the bullet tonight and he wanted you to be the person he was kissing as the clock struck twelve. But if he couldn’t find you, then how in the world was he supposed to do that? 

Lando was honestly starting to get worried over not being able to find you, screw the whole love confession at this point. What if something had happened to you? He’d been all over Max’s place countless times and he still couldn’t find you. With the official countdown echoing through the apartment he decided to just say fuck it and head to your place and see if you had gone home.

As he was heading to get his coat a familiar sparkly heel sticking out from under the dining table caught his attention. It was the same type of heels he’d seen you put on earlier and he did somewhat of a double take. He wondered if it was the couple drinks he’d had messing with him because why would you be sitting under Max’s dining table? 

He crouches down and slowly lifts the table cloth up, unsure of what he’s going to find underneath it. Everyone is only getting louder and with five seconds until midnight what he finds staring back at him under the table is not at all how he expected his night to end up. There you are with your now empty bag of grapes on the floor and your cheeks stuffed full of said grapes. You resemble something of a chipmunk and Lando can’t help but laugh at you. 

“What the hell are you doing down here?” 

The excessively loud shouting of happy new year from everyone while noise makers and confetti fill the air distract both Lando and you for a moment. He didn’t think this is the position he’d be in right now, he figured he’d be in that crowd with his lips on yours like so many others right now. While you on the other hand didn’t think you’d be caught in such an embarrassing situation, not to mention you hadn’t even gotten all your grapes down, so this stupid thing was probably all for nothing. 

His attention is back on you in no time and he really wants to know what you were doing. Were you that addicted to grapes that you had to hide under the table while you got your fix? If so, he may need to have a talk with you. 

“Seriously, why are you hiding under the table stuffing grapes into your mouth?” He prods again. 

Your mouth is still so full of the grapes that you can’t really talk and all you can manage to get out is leave while simultaneously trying to jab his leg with your heel. You were embarrassed and at this point scared you might choke on the grapes, and you’d rather go out in peace then have Lando cause a scene because you were choking. 

“Ouch!” Lando yelps as your heel finally makes contact with him. You know he’s being dramatic because you barely even kicked him, but you would try anything for him to drop that table cloth and let you be. “Come on, come out from under there.” Lando grabs your arm and practically forces you to come out from under the table.

Luckily, everyone else was too preoccupied with still ringing in the New Year to see you crawl out and as you dust yourself off you're still chomping on the last couple grapes left. The party only seems to be getting crazier and you don’t really feel like staying here until the party inevitably ends at an ungodly hour in the morning, especially now that your plan for love has undoubtedly failed. 

You finally swallow the last couple grapes and take a deep breath, the fear of choking and embarrassment now behind you. “Do you care if I leave? Not really feeling the party that much anymore.” 

Lando doesn’t even question your request. “I’ll walk you home, let me grab our coats and tell Max we are leaving.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The cold England air hits you as you exit Max’s apartment building and you’re thankful that your place isn’t very far from his. It’s silent between Lando and you for some time, the sound of your heels on the pavement, fireworks in the distance, and other people celebrating are the only things you two hear. 

“Can I ask you something?” Lando finally breaks the silence. 

“Shoot.” 

He takes a deep breath fully knowing once he opens this locked away side of him that there’s no going back. “Have you ever thought about us?” 

You feel your heart skip a beat at his question, yet you try to remain cool and collected. “What do you mean?” 

He stops in his tracks causing you to mimic his actions. “Like,” he motions between the two of you, “us.”

There’s not a doubt in your mind about what he’s referring to and yes you do think about the two of you. Yet your brain feels scrambled once you're actually confronted with the possibility of Lando feeling the same as you. You’d tried so hard to ignore the feelings, hell you’d tried something you saw on the internet to hopefully bring a different man into your life to finally squash those feelings. You’d just never thought you’d be in this position though and it’s throwing you into a whirlwind. 

Lando isn’t sure what your silence means and he figures he’s already started, he might as well just fully admit it at this point. 

“Fuck it. I told myself I was going to do this tonight and I’m not gonna chicken out again.” His cheeks are rosy from the cold and you can tell by the way his pretty eyes dart all around your face that he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “I’ve got feelings for you.” He finally blurts out.

“No scratch that I’m in love with you Y/N. Think I have been for some time now. I’ve tried telling you how I felt for what seems like ages, but I’ve always been too scared to. I’ve been afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same and to me I’d rather bottle up my feelings and keep you in my life then tell you how I feel and lose you. But clearly I’ve grown tired of that and realized that the reward would be higher than the risk. You’re my person Y/N. I couldn’t imagine life without you and to have you be mine would make life that much better. So here I am baring my heart to you on some street in London on New Year’s Eve. I actually had a whole plan on how I was-” 

His rambling while you loved most of the time was cut off by your desire to shut him up with your lips on his and you did just that. You grabbed him by his coat and pulled him into you, your lips crashing together. It takes him a moment to realize what's happening, but when his brain finally starts to work and he kisses you back it’s everything you could have imagined and more.

Kissing Lando is like heaven on Earth and the way his soft lips feel against yours has you wishing you would have just stopped being so stubborn and listened to your friends ages ago. His large warm hands come out of his pockets and he cups your face as he deepens the kiss, which has you feeling lightheaded and warm all over. 

There’s fireworks being let off not too far away that light up the sky above you, but you’re too engrossed in each other to pay them much mind. It’s truly like a scene straight out of a movie and you know you’ll remember this moment forever. 

You two finally pull away to breathe and it’s like you can see the world in a whole new way. The depressing grey landscape of London in the winter time suddenly looks like it was painted in technicolor and neither of you can wipe the cheek hurting grin off your faces. “So I guess you feel the same?” He asks. 

“Yes Lando Norris, I’m in love with you too. Have been for a while and like you I didn’t want to ruin what we already have. To me there was no possible way that you felt the same and I hate rejection and the idea of losing you. So, I went on a million dates trying to find someone that would replace how I felt about you, but I guess you can’t replace someone who your heart has already laid claim to.” 

You feel Lando intertwine your fingers with his and it’s like everything just feels right in the world. 

“I’m glad we stopped being so stubborn and that I don’t have to see you out with all those random guys anymore.” 

“Believe me, none of them even came close to comparing to you. It was like going on a date with a sack of potatoes most of the time.” 

His infectious laugh fills your ears and you feel your heart swell. You can’t believe this was what you were depriving yourself of for so long. 

The rest of the walk back to your apartment is spent walking hand in hand. All while little giggles escape each of you ever so often and Lando occasionally kisses you on the head or lifts your intertwined hands up to plant a kiss there. 

“I have to ask again. It’s really been bugging me. What were you doing under that table?” Lando asks as you near your apartment building. A loud groan emits from you and there isn’t anything less that you would want to talk about than that. “Come on, just tell me!” 

“Fine! I saw this thing on the internet that if you eat twelve green grapes under a table at midnight that it’s supposed to bring you luck in the love department in the New Year. Like you’d find your soulmate or something. I was so desperate to try and get over these feelings I have for you so what we had wouldn’t be ruined that I was willing to try anything.” 

He’s silent for a moment and then he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face. “Well I’d say it worked didn’t it? You’ve found love and not to be overzealous, but I’d say your soulmate too.” 

You’re stunned for a moment when you realize that yes, the grapes did work, just not in the way you planned. The universe had put Lando in your life years ago and for some weird reason had you wait this long to finally truly be in one another's lives, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, you’d eat a whole package of grapes if that meant Lando and you got to be together in every lifetime. 

“They did, didn't they? I guess almost choking to death was worth it in the end.” 

“I mean I know I’m every woman’s dream, but you didn’t almost have to kill yourself to get my attention baby.” 

You playfully slap his arm as he laughs at you. That big head of his was sometimes fully ego and you realized you were going to have to put up with it all the time now. “Oh shut up.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.” He states before pressing a kiss to your lips, which has your mind feeling like TV static once again. 

When you pull away and look him in the eyes there’s nothing but pure love staring back at you and you know that this is who is meant to be in your life, till the end. “More than you’ll ever know.” 

The next morning you receive a group text from Max with Lando and you in it.  

max: why have i found an empty bag with what looks to be a grape stem in it under my dining table??? i fully know it was one of you.

you: i don’t know what you're talking about. 

lando: me either. no grapes were consumed by us last night. must have been someone else. 

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon: chapter four | formula one imagine

chapter four: matchstick men

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

the cocktail party is fun while it lasts, late guests throw y/n’s decision into question but also show her just who she’s a mentor to.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

there was a january chill in the monaco air as max and y/n exited the dutchman’s apartment complex and started their short walk to kimi’s place. y/n pulled the shawl around her tighter, the light material of her slip dress doing nothing to keep the heat in.

“i told you you were going to be cold,” max teased, pulling her into a side hug, rubbing his free hand up and down her arm, “are you sure you don’t want me to run back and get your jumper?”

y/n leaned further into the dutchman’s warmth but shook her head, if she was really that cold by the time they made it to kimi’s she’d just had to steal something from them.

“sometimes you have to make sacrifices to look this good maxy,” y/n said, poking her tongue out at him, “and that includes hypothermia!”

“you don’t need to do anything, you’re perfect the way you are. i should’ve known you were still the same diva from karting when you still managed to look perfect in that ghastly shade of orange.”

“a dutchman who doesn’t like orange, now this is a scandal!”

“i like my orange, my shade - not that ugly papaya. i like you in my orange.”

“well if you play your cards right i might just wear some in zandvoort. they might be paying me a lot, but no one can pay me enough to wear that ugly uniform.”

max tightened his grip on y/n as they turned the corner to kimi and ollie’s place. there, in front of their door, stood the pair… in suits.

“did i miss the memo of this being a black tie event?” max yells, making the two boys jump, “now i look like i just rolled out of bed!”

“you always look like you’ve just rolled out of bed, we’re lucky i put all of your red bull merch in the wash so you’d wear something different tonight.”

kimi came to stand by y/n, she looked down at the italian and fixed his collar.

“are the suits too much? we wanted to make a good impression but… are they all going to laugh at us?” his voice was small and the way he craned his head to look at y/n made him look even smaller.

“no! it’s cute, you guys are going the extra mile and that means a lot. plus if they have a problem with you dapper gents, then they’ll have a problem with me!”

kimi giggled as the pair started on their way to charles’, ollie hung back and turned to max, “thank you for convincing her to say yes, he hasn’t stopped bouncing off the walls since.”

max slapped ollie’s back, “he convinced her all himself. that letter had her immediately, i think she has this weird belief that we’re not all over the moon she’s back. she’s been more herself in these past few days since meeting him than she has in three years. trust me mate, she was a shell of herself. hell, i would’ve given him the second red bull seat years ago if i knew he would bring the real her back to me.”

“i don’t think you have the power to give out the second red bull seat?” ollie pointed out, max shushed him loudly, “that’s what we want you to think.”

up ahead, y/n and kimi had linked arms like they were old friends.

“i don’t want you to be nervous going here tonight. i know my whole retirement to solitude may look like i don’t like anyone in formula one but truth be told they’re all big nerds. i expect you thought max was this big massive asshole before you met him properly but we all know he’s a big softie inside.”

kimi let out a deep breath, “i know i’ve technically met all of them, i mean i’ve been to countless race weekends now, but i’m still scared - i don’t want them to treat me like a kid, i’m a competitor!”

y/n laughed even though truth be told she was guilty of treating kimi like her long lost child, hair ruffles and cheek pinches, the lot. kimi tugged on her arm, “what was it like when you first met the drivers? not like on the grid where everyone is on their best behaviour, but when you truly met them?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

march 2020 - bahrain testing.

“i’m nervous! what if they hate me!”

y/n whined, throwing the entire contents of her suitcase at george sat on the bed. despite having meticulously planned about a million different outfits for the annual post-test party, she was at a loss for what to wear.

“did you smash into them during preseason? did you piss in their coffee? no! so you’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

“but what if they still hate me?” the look on her face was so genuine that george’s heart broke a little.

“no one can be angry at you for too long,” george laughed, “i’m sure that even if you shunted them into the first wall you they’d be here grovelling first thing.”

pelting another piece of clothing at george’s head, “what like you? i remember monaco last year. how long did it take you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m a broody, stoic stallion, i don’t grovel.”

“your delivery of artisan croissants and a teary monologue about how much i mean to you says different…”

a blush breaks out over george’s face at the memory. he’d hardly covered himself in glory in monaco he’d admit that, but every ounce of common sense left stage right when he saw y/n lean in and lick the line of salt off of mick’s hand.

“i treasure our friendship, i didn’t want to lose you over a dumb drunk argument,” george said, taking her hand in his, “i’m older now and i know when i should and when i shouldn’t step in. you’re old enough and ugly enough to look out for yourself.”

the pair had been friends since they first started karting against each other. y/n was nervous, lining up against a grid of boys for the first time but george had come right over and introduced himself, prim and proper handshakes and all.

y/n finally found the dress she had been looking for in the worryingly big pile of clothes, jumping up with a pleased grin. she ran to the bathroom and pulled it on, a short black sequin dress with boots and a black leather jacket on top. y/n thought she looked mysterious enough without looking like she was attending a funeral.

“what do you think georgie? does it scream ‘don’t take me out on track or i’ll kill you’ but also a healthy amount of ‘i’m a scared little girl don’t be mean to me or i’ll cry’?”

george was speechless, his mouth open but no words finding their way out. y/n did a little spin but he was still sputtering and running his hand through his hair like a mad man. he cleared his throat and stood up abruptly, “you look amazing y/n, i mean seriously amazing but i just remembered that i think i left the iron on in my room and i don’t want to burn the entire hotel down!”

he rushed towards the door, flinging it open, “williams definitely can’t afford that, i’ll see you later!”

he took off running down the hotel corridor, very nearly barrelling into alex who was on his way to y/n’s room.

“where’s he off to?” alex asked, coming into the room and making his way straight to the mini bar.

“he said he left the iron on in his room? i don’t know. he just started freaking out for like no reason. i just asked him whether this outfit is cute enough for tonight and he just sat there like i told him his whole family is dead and bolted.”

“weird.”

“so weird, right?” y/n made her way back to the bathroom to start her makeup, “i don’t know what came over him, is my outfit really that offensive? alex, you’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“i think it might have been too much for george, but he’s being a weird puritan maniac recently, so?”

y/n poked her head past the door, “you’re so right. he’s posted about a hundred topless photos since making it to formula one but got so angry at me for licking mick’s hand!”

y/n was so close to the point it was right in front of her, but much to alex’s disappointment it looked as if she was just as useless as the rest of them. he tried to hide his annoyance on his face, but y/n still caught onto it.

“did you think that was bad too?! have you people never done tequila shots? so do you think this is too slutty for a driver party?”

alex shot up, nearly spilling his drink all over y/n’s bed, “no! george was being a weirdo about the tequila salt thing, had a proper bee in his bonnet that night. you look great, don’t change. i think he’s going through boy things…”

alex did not sound convinced by his own words, but he would work with it. y/n was confused until alex picked up a pillow and mimed putting it in a very specific spot and it finally clicked.

“he got a boner?!”

alex barked out a laugh, “oh tell the whole floor why don’t you? be quiet!”

y/n could not keep her laughs in, folding over with tears streaming down her face. this would definitely explain the emergency exit.

“you cannot tell him i told you, swear it!” alex hissed, grabbing y/n’s hand, “please, he’ll kill me and you know him he’s weirdly sadistic he’d go all dexter on me!”

the two linked pinky fingers, “i promise to never tell george that you told me he got a boner from me in a leather jacket”

“didn’t have to go into that much detail, but yeah i promise too.”

y/n touched her makeup as alex finished off his drink, “but you’re sure this is okay? everyone knows that the real time you meet the grid is when they’re all drunk.”

“you look great, stop worrying. i think george would agree, little george as well-” y/n pelted a pillow at him.

“i just fixed my makeup, don’t make me cry laugh again!”

y/n slipped her shoes on and the pair made their way down to the lobby and across the street to the bar. it was very laidback, completely empty bar the other drivers and some of their significant others.

“about time you guys turned up!” daniel called out from the table most of the drivers were huddled around.

“sorry all, um, we had something to iron out - ouch!” alex said before an elbow to the side from y/n cut him off. the rest of the table were none the wiser but george was suddenly infatuated with his drink, hoping the small umbrella in the glass could cover his blush.

amongst all of the chaos of welcomes, lance pulled up a chair for y/n and asked what she would be having to drink. “just a tequila sunrise for me lance, if they do them. thank you.”

the canadian gave her a little salute before heading to the bar. pulling up his own chair beside her, alex grumbles a little ‘don’t ask me if i want a drink then’ and gets another shove.

daniel claps loudly, silencing the table. he turns to y/n theatrically, wiggling his eyebrows. “so, to our lonely rookie of the season here, a couple of questions.”

the table all turned to her and y/n let out a nervous chuckle, fiddling with her jacket - where was lance with that drink?

“we won’t be hazing you, no worries. no that’s actually illegal, although i am curious as to your karaoke song of choice… we’re getting off topic! my burning question is… growing up with half of the grid you must have a rolodex of embarrassing stories about them. spill. i’m talking embarrassing falls, pissing in their karts or awkward boners, i want all of it!”

daniel looked at her earnestly, waiting on her response. this was a little overwhelming, lance had returned with her drink, alex was trying to keep his laughs at the mention of boners and charles was fixed on her with a death glare - guess the waterpark story was out of the question.

all of the focus was on her and it was overwhelming. y/n was somewhat used to having people watch her every move, you get used to that as the only girl in paddocks where people are just waiting for you to fail.

“i don’t know if i want to make enemies on the grid this early on,” y/n said, looking shyly at daniel to see whether this would be considered a good enough answer.

“very diplomatic, very diplomatic indeed,’ daniel said, pondering, “you’ll do well with the media with answers like that.”

“you learn quick as a girl in this sport.”

the entire table quietened again, although a lot more awkward this time. great first impression. daniel broke the silence once again, “not that we’re going to haze you, but just out of interest, what IS your go to karaoke song?”

“man i feel like a woman,” y/n answered without hesitation, seeing a wide smile break out on daniel’s face, “i think we’ll get along very well, rookie,” daniel replies. the aussie stands up and drags her to the bar, proclaiming that they ‘simply must do some shots together on account of being his new best friend’. y/n was not complaining, this was the first driver outside of the 2019 rookies and max who was expressing actual interest in friendship.

max had always gushed about daniel during and after their time at red bull together. y/n was surprised she hadn’t seen the dutchman yet that evening, but recalled him saying that he wanted to let her get to know the others, not wanting to hover over her like an overprotective parent.

another figure slipped in beside her at the bar and when she turned she came face to face with none other than sebastian vettel. the german gave her a soft smile and said, “i hope tonight wasn’t too daunting for you, we’re all very excited to have you on the grid, though some more than others.”

y/n raised her eyebrow, imploring him to continue. “the way max insists on praising you at every turn i thought your name was already on the second red bull.”

she let out a short laugh, “max does like talking…”

“oh he’s been showing us your formula two highlights all season, gushing about your lines and how we’ll all have to watch our backs this season.”

daniel finally got their shots and butted into the conversation, “max literally hasn’t shut up since you started in formula two, he’s all in on the y/n train.”

y/n smiled. she knew max was a big supporter of hers but hearing it from others made her heart swell.

the trio headed back to the main group who in the short time at the bar had managed to consume a worrying amount of alcohol. there was something surreal about seeing world champions struggle to string a sentence together or keep their heads up straight.

“oh my god what happened? how are they this fucked? we were gone for like five minutes?”

sebastian chuckled, looking over to fernando who was practically sat on a very bemused kimi raikkonen’s lap, “some of us have tasted the glory of winning the championship, so when you know that your car is nowhere near that this season, you cope in your own way.”

the bar had descended into chaos, looking closer to a renaissance painting than a sophisticated night out amongst high performance athletes. alex was sat in the same seat but now found himself flanked by two of his rookie class who now closely resembles a pair of clingy cats. y/n was sure she even saw lando, for the lack of a better word, nuzzle alex’s neck.

when checo appeared with an entire platter of tequila shots, alex took that as his cue to take lando and george home before they got their hands on any more alcohol.

“do you want some help with them?” y/n asked, watching alex wrangle the two drivers towards the exit.

“no, i can handle them. if you think this is bad, you should’ve seen them last year, proper made a fool of themselves. stay and get to know everyone, soon they’ll be so drunk you’ll have some good blackmail material on them.”

y/n hadn’t thought about that. not that she’d ever blackmail a fellow driver…

“well good luck getting them back to their rooms, see you tomorrow!”

y/n turned back to the mess in the bar. max was pouring pure gin in pierre’s mouth, charles was trying (key word, trying) to slow dance with sebastian despite the only music playing being edm and kevin magnussen was already asleep at the main table with nico hulkenberg and lance stacking coasters on his head.

“enjoying the circus?” a voice asks her from behind, y/n turned to see none other than kimi raikkonen. trying not to show her nerves, y/n took one of the drinks kimi was holding.

“i think i am. it’s a bit overwhelming.”

kimi nodded. there was a silence between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“are you excited for your first formula one race?”

“i am. i just want to show mclaren that they made the right decision on me.”

“you’ll be fine, trust me. i watched you in testing. i know that doesn’t mean much when it comes to the actual pace of the car, but you already had good control over the car. have faith in yourself.”

all of the praise from everyone else was nice but to get that many words out of kimi, it all was real now.

“thank you kimi, i hope we get to race this season. you’re a hero of mine.”

“that makes me feel old.”

“oh! i didn’t me too-”

“i’m kidding. most people would’ve chosen seb or lewis as they’re heroes.”

“oh i admire them, but there was only one blonde i loved in formula one.”

kimi let out a little laugh. the two sat there, observing for a couple of moments.

“don’t trust anyone,” kimi said suddenly, turning to y/n. “huh?”

“don’t trust anyone. i’m sorry that it’ll likely be worse for you, but these people they’re not really your friends, not when you’re in the car and everything is on the line. you can’t take it personally but you can prepare yourself. you’re a girl, so people will take their side more often than not. just know you’re here for a reason, they can’t push you around without repercussions.”

y/n took a second to let it sink in. there were things that managers and friends from outside the sport had warned her about, but a reminder from someone like kimi made it really resonate.

“i guess i’ll just have to be so fast that they can’t get near me.”

kimi laughed, properly this time. they clinked their glasses and went back to watching the mess unfold before them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

yourusername

may 2020.

liked by alexalbon, lewishamilton and 1,289,409 others

tagged: georgerussell63, fernandoalo_oficial & landonorris

yourusername: that’s one way to get introduced to the grid

view all comments

user1: the way i’d actually give a kidney to have been here

user2: so much i need to know, so little information

user3: george and lando are never getting rid of the lightweight allegations

yourusername: as long as i am living and breathing those allegations will live on

landonorris: and when i sue you for slander

yourusername: come for me baby i know the law

landonorris: bring it on, the mclaren legal team love me

yourusername: they’ll take one look at my camera roll and laugh in your face xxx

landonorris: CAMERA ROLL?

yourusername: sleep well

landonorris: i will ruin your life rookie

user4: mclaren duo you are so precious

user5: now i have them, i can never see them at different teams

user6: they’re my prediction for biggest surprise this season

maxverstappen1: who keeps leaving bottles of gin unattended around me

yourusername: why can’t you control yourself around them

maxverstappen1: gin talks to me like the green goblin mask

yourusername: that much is clear

yourusername: poor pierre was sent into a different dimension that night

pierregasly: still better than my red bull experience

user7: this girl has chemistry with everyone damn

user8: bro sees a girl having banter with someone and loses his mind

user9: this is why the ‘friend zone’ exists because you guys mistake a girl being nice or funny for flirting

alexalbon: i miss out on so much because those dumbasses can’t handle liquor

yourusername: you should’ve just left them to die?

alexalbon: i fear both mclaren and williams know my address

georgerussell63: i don’t know where this is all coming from?

alexalbon: you threw up in the shower?

georgerussell63: i don’t recall this therefore it didn’t happen

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

“george got a boner? can i use that as blackmail for a quali tow?” kimi gasped, clutching his metaphorical pearls.

“do not tell him i told you that,” y/n thought for a second, “or you can, i don’t really care.”

the four of them approached charles’ house and could already hear the hustle and bustle from inside. y/n went to ring the bell but kimi grabbed her hand quickly,

“you’re sure this will be okay?”

the italian had a little shake in his voice.

“you’re going to be fine, everyone will love you, okay? stop doubting yourself.”

she finally rung the bell and the group could hear the silence sweep throughout the house. the door swung open to reveal charles who was already pink in the face, telling y/n that the monagasque had already been amongst the drinks.

“well look what the cat dragged in,” charles said looking her up and down. the three behind her were suddenly weary, charles’ face had hardened when his eyes landed on y/n. “i’ve fucking missed you!”

charles pulled her into a tight hug. the world had stopped. y/n hadn’t spoken to charles since the crash and three years of silence was suddenly pouring out of both of them. tears slipped out from both of them, pulling each other so tight like they were trying to fall into each other’s bodies.

“as touching as this all is, it’s fucking freezing out here and i’d love that cocktail i was promised?”

max broke the silence in his typical fashion and charles finally acknowledged the three others. his smile turned wicked when he realised what kimi and ollie were wearing.

“oh mon amis, those suits are just too cute!”

y/n peered over charles’ shoulder with a very clear ‘i told you so’ written on her face. charles pulled on ollie’s hands, muttering about how well dressed his son is, and ushered the rest of them into his home.

kimi, ollie and max continued down the corridor and into the common space with the other attendees but y/n and charles hung back.

“i’m being serious, i really missed you,” charles said, “i really haven’t been the friend i should’ve been during all of this. i know i hurt you and i don’t expect you to forgive me, but know i am sorry, truly.”

the tears had returned to charles’ eyes once again. y/n tried to summon the anger that she had festered in for three years, but here, stood face to face with charles, she just couldn’t. the monegasque looked so wrecked and she knew that wasn’t a lie. y/n, through common sense but also the advice of her therapist, had never seen the race that ended her career. however, in a weak moment of social media addiction, y/n had stumbled upon a clip of charles’ radio. it was a compilation of his radios across the year, including grosjean’s fireball, pierre’s near miss in japan a couple years ago and finally, silverstone 2022.

“holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck! is that y/n?”

“i can confirm it is y/ln, we are waiting for news from mclaren”

“is she okay? has she responded on the radio?”

“no news yet charles, stay in delta and come to the pit lane.”

“anyone but her, god please. please be okay, please, please, please. not another one, don’t take another one.”

shivers had wrung up her spine when she had heard it. the weekend had been so traumatic that she had hardly stopped to think about anyone else. the crash had unleashed such an ugly anger within her, so powerful that just a glimpse of a formula one car made her feel so vulnerable to her emotions. instead of facing it head on, it just felt easier to hide and to try and forget.

“hey, hey,” y/n took charles’ face in her hands, “look at me okay, i have no hard feeling against you. you don’t need to be sorry, these things happen. i did what i thought i had to do and that was hide. was it healthy? no, but i hate that my silence might have made you think that i blame you in any way.”

charles let out a wet laugh and y/n continued, “i heard your radio, for the first time a couple months ago. i know what you’ve been through, i should’ve spoken to you.”

charles shook his head, “you did what you needed to do, i won’t ever hold it against you. i’m just glad you’re here now, we can make up for lost time now. although i am pretty offended that you didn’t come back for me but for this kid?”

“kimi is a lot nicer than all of you dummies,” y/n poked her tongue out, “and once he looks at you like a lil puppy, you can’t say no.”

y/n smiled to herself, and charles replicated it. the two just existed together for a moment, listening to the greetings down the hall. a small shiver of doubt made its way up y/n’s spine. the reunion with charles had gone well, but would everyone else look past her three year silence?

“they’re looking forward to seeing you,” charles said, nudging y/n closer to the action. she took a small breath and made her way to the common area.

all conversation ceased when she took her first step in the room. max, kimi, ollie and alex all smiled at he, trying to ease her into the room. carlos looked happy to see her, but as always there was something off in his eyes, like he didn’t quite trust her and oscar was there? y/n had never met the aussie but had heard he was a little standoffish.

oscar couldn’t even make eye contact with her, he looked anywhere else, charles’ white ceiling suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. that was odd.

“welcome back!” alex yelled, making everyone else jump, “i have missed you so much, so much has happened. please never disappear again!” he said, wrapping her in a hug. y/n snuggled in closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her friend. drawing back she looked up at him with a strange look,

“have you changed your cologne?”

“well, i’d like to think i have changed a lot in three years, but yes i have?”

“do you have a girlfriend?”

“tell me you don’t check my instagram why don’t you? yes i do, you’ll have to come to dinner at some point. lily is very excited you’re coming back, she says we don’t shut up about you.”

y/n was so happy for alex, “you smell like a girl, she’s done wonders for you.”

alex’s smile fell immediately, “i didn’t miss this, you didn’t get any nicer in your break huh?”

“still a bitch i fear.”

everyone was back engrossed in their conversations, with carlos keeping his distance from y/n by busying himself with charles at the bar. y/n saw oscar again, hovering by ollie, trying and failing to conceal his staring.

“is oscar usually this weird with new people?” y/n asked alex, “he’s staring but also can’t make eye contact without looking like he’s going to shit himself.”

“oh he’s got massive survivors guilt, which is a weird way to put it considering he wasn’t in the race that day, but…”

oh. now it makes sense. “i see, i should probably talk to him shouldn’t i?”

“you can if you want to but you also don’t owe anyone anything? it’s your choice.”

y/n looked over again and oscar again quickly diverted his eyes. here goes nothing. making her way to the other group of drivers, oscar started looking for his escape.

“hi guys, are you okay if i steal the aussie for a second?”

the rest of the group didn’t care but oscar sputtered out a, “really? i’m okay, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to?”

“come on,” y/n took ahold of his arm, “let’s go talk somewhere else.”

the aussie looked nervous but he followed y/n through charles house. after trying a couple doors, the finally found a study and the pair sat down. oscar couldn’t stop fidgeting, he felt the sweat beading at his brow and the collar of his shirt was starting to strangle him.

“do you want to tell me why you’re so nervous?” y/n asked, “as far as i’m aware, you’ve done nothing to warrant this?”

oscar didn’t say anything. he didn’t know how to word it without sounding like an idiot.

“i just thought you would maybe resent me for taking your seat? i’m sorry for being such a weirdo about it. i know it was a dick move from me to not even bring you up but there was this whole thing with mark and zak, but i should’ve listened to myself, i’m sorry…”

it all spilled out at once and oscar just looked at her horrified. did she even know about mark and zak?

“oscar, i don’t resent you for taking the seat. i can’t say i’ve watched much more than just the races, so i can’t say for sure you’re the greatest guy off the track, although the fact you were even invited here tells me so, but you more than deserved that seat. yes, it’s unfortunate the way it became available, but i’ll never resent a racer for following his dreams.”

oscar let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, “thank you, you don’t know the amount of sleepless nights i had after i took the seat. i thought that maybe you would come back and either i’d have to give it up or i’d keep it and stop you from coming back. i mean you’re a hero of mine and all i could think was ‘am i an asshole for taking this from you when you’re still in hospital?’”

y/n sighed, “i won’t lie, it hurt. but not because of you. a full lifetime of work was snuffed out in one second. i understand formula one is a business but i don’t think zak knows that i could hear everything while i was in the medically induced coma.”

oscar’s head shot up at the mention of zak’s name and this told y/n everything she needed to know.

“he was on the phone just five minutes after the nurse told him i’d never be able to get in a formula one car again. my racing body wasn’t even cold yet. i do know it was mark on the phone. i’ve not held it against him, unless there’s something you’d like to tell me?”

was it betrayal if he told y/n? everything had already happened and the truth was y/n knowing wasn’t going to change anything. but if he didn’t say then y/n could decide to go back and watch interviews and videos and see what a big liar he was.

“him and zak had this weird thing they were stuck on. like i said you’re a hero of mine, and i still wanted to honour you in any way i could. i had a plan to have a 13 on my helmet, i even wanted to dedicate my first win to you. but i wasn’t allowed. they said i needed to leave you in the past or it would make me look weak.”

tears were falling down oscar’s face as y/n pulled him into a hug. the aussie shook with the strength of his sobs.

“i’m a grown man, i should’ve told them no, but i had just gotten there. i’m sorry, i wish i had a back bone.”

y/n ran her hands through his hair, comforting the younger driver, “oscar, don’t worry. i don’t take any offence. you forget i raced under zak, i know what an asshole he can be. you don’t have to do anything to make it up to me, just don’t be a stranger in the paddock. i may be there for kimi, but you can still come to me.”

y/n wasn’t sure how lando was treating oscar, had he started off kind with him and flipped on his head as well? it couldn’t hurt to check.

“i know lando can be difficult, so don’t think you’re alone okay? i know how it feels, so come complain to me if you need to.”

oscar laughed, “i know exactly what you’re talking about. did you watch hungary this year? that was a mess, it was so awkward in the garage after that. it’s creepy how he can turn it on for a video right? i don’t know what happened between you but it’s almost like he knew i wanted to dedicate it to you? he asked me like ten times whether i dedicated it to anyone.”

okay, that was a problem. y/n had stupidly thought that maybe lando going cold turkey from her for three years might have made whatever weird vendetta he had against her disappear, or at least lessen.

“if i’m being completely honest, i’m not sure what happened between us. we obviously grew up together and were close from that, we all were, but as soon as the racing started he just switched up, and by the sounds of it, it hasn’t gotten better in my absence.”

the pair moved to the bathroom to get oscar some tissues and make him look a little more presentable. fixing his hair, y/n said, “i’m serious oscar, there’s no hard feelings. i’m proud of you-”

y/n was cut off with some commotion coming from the common area. the pair looked at each other and hurried to the scene of the noise. there stood george and lando, they both looked like they had grown up, lando sporting some facial hair and george in a suprisingly formal getup.

both brits locked on y/n and oscar as they returned.

“so one mclaren driver wasn’t enough for you? you had to go and seduce oscar as well?”

lando accused, a look of pure disgust on his face, “he’s got a girlfriend as well, do you have any respect for yourself?”

y/n burst out laughing, looking bewildered at lando. “is this guy serious?” she asked looking around the room, most of them looking just as shocked as her at his outburst.

“i don’t know what you’re laughing at,” lando said and turned to oscar, “i really thought you’d last more than five minutes mate.”

“lando, i don’t know what you’re problem is, but we were clearing the air about me taking the seat after her crash. you know, we spoke, like normal fucking people. just because you couldn’t spend more than five minutes with the one girl in the sport without wanting to fuck her doesn’t mean i don’t see her as an actual person.”

oscar replied, standing in front of y/n who was shocked but also impressed by the aussie’s take down of his own teammate. lando glared at his teammate, “you know having her on side will do nothing for this bullshit bid you have to be the number one driver this season. in fact i remember her launching a plot like that herself, and look how that ended.”

one second lando was smirking in front of oscar and y/n and next he was on the floor, all courtesy of kimi. the italian was looming over lando, the angriest anyone in the room had ever seen him. ollie tried to grab his hand, but he yanked it back and set his sights back on lando.

“you really are the dumbest person in the world aren’t you?”

lando was speechless, still on the floor.

“she could’ve said so much about you, your team and the bullshit you both put her through, but she didn’t. we all know you were an asshole to her, she could’ve ruined this dumb boy next door act you’ve got going, but she didn’t. so you should think yourself lucky.”

kimi felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see y/n. he stood up, moving away from lando and let y/n lead him towards the exit just as the other one decided to pipe up.

“she’s a bit old for you isn’t she, buddy?” george’s voice rung out, “or are you really going for the max verstappen route, problematic older woman and everything?”

that was a low blow. kelly was a sore subject for max, y/n didn’t really know much about her, just that they got together and broke up during the time that y/n was first moved to london. max had been the only one to know where she was, but that was only months after she had moved. y/n never met her and only heard about her when max had visited and gave her a life update that included a whirlwind romance.

“that’s a bold choice george,” max said, getting in his face, “isn’t kimi like a son to toto? you really think he’s choosing you over him? you were just a bed warmer for him when lewis had pissed him off. we all know he’d choose kimi and well, that he’d do anything for me, so are we really the ones you want to try and go toe to toe with?”

george narrowed his eyes at max, “i went through so much trouble for that girl back then, i hope you’re not getting your hopes up. she’ll just lead you on like she did to us, you’re just a stepping stone to her.”

“i am right here, you know? you don’t have to talk about me like i’m not?”

george’s head whipped around to her direction, “you were fine not talking for three years. why now? why come back now? there’s nothing for you there? or do you have an ulterior motive? are you using kimi to sabotage me?”

y/n let out another laugh in disbelief, “are you being serious right now? you can’t be this seriously delusional. despite popular belief, to you, not everything i do, is to do with you. both of you seem to have such an inflated view of your place in my life, please sleep well knowing i don’t want anything to do with either of you.”

charles interrupted, “i invited you two because i thought you would be happy to see y/n, why are you ruining my night? i brought olives and you’re bringing the mood down!”

“yes, i think it’s time you guys left.” max said, ready to escort them himself, with force if necessary.

the two gave y/n a final dirty look before storming out of charles’ house. y/n didn’t understand how it had gotten so bad between them, she longed for the times when they’d sneak out for ice cream at karting competitions and tell each other ghost stories. she wanted those times back so badly, but with displays like tonights she wasn’t sure if it was worth it. maybe those bridges had burnt the moment her car hit the wall.

the atmosphere in the room was thick, no one knew what to say following what ever they just witnessed.

“i guess we don’t outgrow the pettiness. ever.” ollie said, downing his drink, “if that’s what formula one does to a man i need another drink.”

charles started working behind his home bar and with the silence broken, the conversation started again.

“y/n i’m sorry i brought you back into this. i just wanted to have you as a mentor and try and get you to fall back in love with the sport, i didn’t want to bring you into a civil war where you get accused of seducing everyone.”

“kimi, i am happy to be here and we will work together. they don’t mean anything to me, okay? the things they say is water off a duck’s back for me now.”

“as long as you’re sure, i want you to enjoy it.”

“there’s enough of you i love to stick around. i’ve only known you for a short while, but the way you go for the things you want and stand up for what you believe makes me believe. they don’t matter to us. what matters is you and your car, and we will prove them all wrong.”

max slipped his arm around her shoulder as she spoke to kimi. “do you want to go?”

y/n looked back to kimi, “are you okay if we go? you and ollie can stay and enjoy yourself, rinse charles for as much as he’s worth.”

kimi nodded and hugged y/n. “see you soon, thank you again.”

“no worries, bunny.”

y/n and the dutchman grabbed their stuff and made their way to the door. charles escorted them out, “sorry it became such a downer, but i still liked seeing you again. we’ll have to get lunch some time before testing, arthur has been bothering me about meeting you.”

the pair ventured back out into the wind, a strained silence between them. “you know none of us believe what they said, right?”

“unfortunately, i’m very used to it maxy,” y/n said, leaning into him, “but it doesn’t bother me anymore. the people i care about know me, that’s all that matters.”

“just say the word and i’ll make their lives hell.”

“that’s noble, max, but i’m okay.”

“you let them get away with too much, y/n. seriously, what they just did was fucked up.”

“maybe to them i did do those things?”

“don’t say that,” max said stopping her, “they’re being childish. they can’t act like they have and expect that you’ll just fall into their arms.”

“do you think i’ll fall into your arms?”

“no. maybe? i don’t know, i want whatever you want. you know how i feel about you, but i just want you in my life. you’re the only one who has always really known me. we were so young and you saw me, not my dad and not my driving, but me. i will forever be grateful for you, it’s in your hands.”

“it’s all so confusing, max. if i do anything i just prove their point. at this moment i just need to exist. but i’d like to exist with you.”

“i’d like to exist with you too.”

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fin.

note: it's the drama mick i love it! a big bust up chap for you all, and boy have i been tired this weekend so this took a lil longer than i wanted it to. testing next!!!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn @blueberry648579 @dog-and-cat-person230 @fastandcurious16 @obxstiles @cosmicwintr @becca388510 @savagittariuspy @tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

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Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating. 

You’ve never felt quite like this. 

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be. 

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before. 

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying. 

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over. 

And yet. 

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch. 

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him. 

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.” 

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.” 

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness. 

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second? 

“Since you what.” 

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip. 

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.” 

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was. 

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes. 

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over. 

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute. 

There was something you never circled back to. 

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered, 

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?” 

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire. 

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets. 

But because the motherfucker was right on the money. 

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know? 

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want. 

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning? 

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.” 

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?” 

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.” 

“Keep it.” 

What? 

“It’s yours.” 

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence. 

Who even is this man? 

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.” 

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.” 

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”  

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?” 

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.” 

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.” 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.” 

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.” 

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.” 

“But I want to.” 

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.” 

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod. 

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds. 

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started. 

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over. 

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city. 

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?” 

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.” 

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.” 

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.” 

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.” 

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else. 

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.” 

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.” 

“You never bothered me.” 

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.” 

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?” 

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.” 

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.” 

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.” 

“Where’s he at now?” 

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor. 

“Yoongi?” 

He turns. 

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer. 

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest. 

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown. 

“Not much to tell.” 

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in. 

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises. 

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips. 

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours. 

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops. 

Sounds muffle. 

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side. 

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door. 

It’s a phone ringing. 

A fucking. Telephone. 

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him. 

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved. 

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room. 

Shit. 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. 

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off. 

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim. 

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt. 

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse? 

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.” 

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.” 

“Nothing.” 

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade. 

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.” 

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger? 

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up. 

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns. 

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause. 

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid. 

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole. 

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat. 

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Say it and it’s yours.” 

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.” 

“How.” 

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…” 

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking. 

Tell him. Four words. 

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. 

“So sensitive..” 

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.” 

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?” 

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing? 

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss. 

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease. 

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”  

“But what if someone—” 

“They won’t.” 

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side. 

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick. 

Your very, very wet slick. 

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices. 

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.” 

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth. 

Sucking. 

Licking. 

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars. 

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles. 

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want. 

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two. 

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point. 

“You good?” 

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.” 

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?” 

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.” 

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.” 

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by. 

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now. 

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real? 

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?” 

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!” 

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover. 

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck! 

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other. 

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.” 

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like. 

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him. 

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name. 

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze. 

“Move your fucking hand.” 

Your eyes fling wide. 

“I wanna hear you.” 

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest. 

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes. 

“You’re gonna scream for me.” 

“Or else what.” 

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder. 

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.” 

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes. 

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed. 

Like a normal person. 

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms. 

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half. 

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent. 

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper, 

“I wanna see you.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor. 

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid. 

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent. 

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.” 

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.” 

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.” 

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.” 

…Huh? 

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.” 

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense. 

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.” 

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course. 

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.” 

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling. 

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else. 

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint. 

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you. 

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin. 

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward. 

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip. 

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.” 

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts. 

Fucking hell, this feels good. 

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off. 

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your  lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right. 

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.” 

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next. 

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.” 

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning. 

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare. 

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton. 

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.” 

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat. 

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall. 

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.” 

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out. 

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”  

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?” 

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.” 

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with. 

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.” 

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.” 

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied. 

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.” 

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.” 

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?” 

“Yes.” 

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.” 

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.” 

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses. 

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.” 

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.” 

“Good girl.”  

Wait, did he say again? 

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move. 

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs. 

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.” 

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank. 

Your laugh only spurns him on. 

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes. 

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go. 

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed. 

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.” 

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged. 

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.” 

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat. 

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward. 

“Just felt like calling you that.” 

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.” 

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it. 

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.” 

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.” 

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!” 

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest. 

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.” 

He can’t say stuff like that. 

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest. 

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling. 

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock. 

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck. 

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.” 

“Show me more then.” 

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours. 

“Just like that. There you go.” 

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you? 

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad. 

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.” 

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home. 

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise. 

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears. 

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.” 

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell. 

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives. 

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good? 

Both of you may feel the same. 

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you. 

It’s done. 

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller. 

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever. 

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder. 

Was it all worth it? 

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have? 

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for. 

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp. 

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum. 

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.” 

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.” 

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself? 

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion. 

“What?” 

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?” 

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.” 

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt. 

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily. 

And both of you groan so full. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry. 

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again? 

Holy fuck, again? 

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside. 

Was it all worth it? 

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case. 

But it’s okay. 

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for. 

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling. 

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away. 

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper, 

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.” 

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer, 

“S’ok.” 

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin. 

“Just stay on your side.” 

Ah. 

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night. 

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals. 

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows. 

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference. 

Don’t think too much about it. Do not. 

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...” 

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts. 

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact. 

“You’ll always hate me.” 

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in. 

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs. 

Did last night really happen? 

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so. 

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is. 

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one. 

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home? 

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean. 

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over. 

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes. 

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..” 

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants. 

Yoongi isn’t here. 

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts. 

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door? 

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths. 

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds? 

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder. 

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do. 

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture. 

What the hell is going on? 

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall. 

And his hair is strikingly… 

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!” 

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question, 

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?” 

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?” 

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

-

-

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: ONLY IF YOU SAY YES (please say yes)

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst.

word count: estimated 15k words. (currently 8k)

teaser wc: 748 words!

synopsis: having your enemy in your friend group was tiring enough, but having him shift into your apartment at the same time all your roomie friends had their club’s exchange program? that was your final straw.

warning: the fic will contain 18+ content, minors dni.

a/n: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but the fic is getting longer than intended! so i’ll just leave a little teaser as something to compensate while i finish writing. also, the given teaser is unedited, changes might be included in the fic <3

taglist is open! comment/send an ask to be added <3 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl)

With tiredness still evident in your eyes, you worked the stove on, grabbing a pot to heat up water, standing still as you took the support of the marble countertop, your palms lay flat on it as you stared at the packet of mint chocolate that was in the shelf in front of you, something that Sunoo possibly had forgotten to take with him.

“Not sleepy?” A husky voice made you gasp and turn around, caging you right in between the counter and Heeseung.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you gasped at his shirtless figure, “why the fuck are you awake and why are you not clothed?” You asked, distressed.

“I heard noises from the kitchen so I obviously had to come over and check,” he said, tilting his head innocently right after, “I have to make sure the princess is safe, right?”

“I can very well take care of myself, thanks,” you huffed, waiting for him to move, which did not happen.

“Okay, then try pushing me away,” Heeseung said, a slight close-lipped smirk present on his face.

You simply made use of the little space to pour the hot water into the cup noodles, covering it with its lid.

“You love these games too much, don’t you?” You said, finally looking up to see his body right in front of your face.

With thick yet lean muscles, he stood tall, his clavicles visible in an attractive fashion as the dim lights of the room only enhanced the slight traces of his abs, making it evident that Heeseung included working out in his daily routines.

You gulped unknowingly, closing your eyes for a second before meeting him, only for his eyes to fall on your lips for a slight enough, just enough for you to miss it.

“Not gonna push me?” He asked, still playful, but with a gentle rasp in his voice.

“You’re not appropriately clothed for me to touch you, Heeseung,” you said, trying to muster a bored, unimpressed expression, as if your ears weren’t burning warm.

“Why? Does skin to skin contact scare you now?” He challenged, “one touch is all it takes, babe.”

“Oh lord,” you groaned, stretching your neck back, only to find Heeseung’s gaze more intense than ever, “fine, move.”

You placed your cold hand on his warm torso, right above his heart, and you could have sworn it was beating a tad bit faster than how a normal heart should be beating.

Pushing him was practically impossible, especially when he bit his lip and chuckled, not moving an inch despite your efforts. The room felt warm as you scoffed and retrieved your hand.

“Can’t move?” He teased.

“I’m just tired, move.”

“Or, you’re just weak.”

“That’s all you can do Heeseung, challenge a tired girl who’s trying to eat.” You pushed him again.

“I’m strong, princess. Don’t you see?” He pointed at his body, and you closed your eyes yet again, trying to convert your feelings into anger.

“Your body might be strong but your fucking ego is weak.” You said finally shoving him enough for you to move.

“Now, now. That’s wrong, princess.” He said, grabbing your cup noodles and testing your patience yet again.

Messing with you was one thing.

Messing with you while you were sleepy was another thing.

But messing with you while you were sleepy and hungry, that was war.

“Give me the noodles back you small dicked asshole!” You chased after him.

He stopped you easily with a hand, twirling you around and pulling you back, his bare chest pressed against your back.

“Small dick, hm?” He mumbled, keeping the noodles on the counter beside you, dragging his warm fingers across your bare tummy, stopping right on your belly button, “it would go up to here, yeah,” he caressed the area before letting go of you.

You stood there, breathing hard as your cheeks burned with the implication of his cock in your cunt.

“How do you even get women, all talk and no action?” You asked, walking back to your room with the noodles in your hands, avoiding the fact that you were completely flustered.

“Oh I’ll show you all the action you need to see, princess,” he winked as you turned to look at him, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants, “g’night, darling,” he smirked, walking away as you spent the night punching your pillow, eating your now soggy noodles.

Lee Heeseung was going to be the end of you.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Yandere batfam or justice league with a reader who’s afraid of strong people/men due to a past abusive relationship? She never wants to feel that powerless and weak again so she actively avoids interacting with anyone stronger, bigger, taller any more than necessary. She doesn’t hold it against other ppl she just has a lot of trauma that she’d rather not work through and feel safe in her little bubble

Hit me Hard and Soft

Synopsis: You get saved by Robin, but not everything is as it seems.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: All characters aged up, of course; Mentions and descriptions of violence, including physical, psychological, sexual and financial abuse, and Damian fighting criminals (I'm particularly proud of the action scene I wrote); Drugging and being unconscious; Mentions of death of minor characters and suicide; Mentions of past grooming (Reader's ex) and age gap (Reader’s ex, Reader X Bruce, and the batboys age is not mentioned); Implied stalking; Mentions of kidnapping; Reader's very traumatized and weary of everyone; Reader doesn't trust the police; Mention of a panic attack and descriptions of actual panic; Guns and knifes; Mention of cigarettes; Implied needles; English isn't my 1st language.

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Wish I had more interactions between Reader and the batboys here, but I'm more than willing to make a part 2 with the right idea.

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

He's back again. You wish you could say you didn't know why he always came back, but you did. The food wasn't that great and it wasn't that close to where he told you he worked or lived. It also didn't help that he always made sure to be served by you. And that he flirted with you.

— Evening, (N/N)! Is there something as sweet as you on today’s menu? — You gave a small and polite laugh.

— Strawberry pie… As always…

It was kinda sad, but mostly scary. If it wasn't for your ex, you would be thrilled to have gotten the attention of Dick fucking Grayson. The whole city knew he was handsome, rich, talented and charismatic. Gotham's sweetheart, Gotham's golden boy. And from your daily interactions, he lived up to the expectations. He was polite even when flirting with you and asking you out. Yet, something held you back.

— Nice! Since you get out in a few, why don't you bring in two slices? One for me and one for you, it's on me, of course. — You shook your head quickly, with an empty heart, just wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

You were with your ex since you were 17 to 26. Almost 10 years wasted on a dirtbag. He convinced you to leave your friends, to leave your family, to leave your job. As soon as you started living together, you were completely dependent on him. Sometimes you blamed him, sometimes yourself, sometimes the people you had around you, but back then, where you came from, people weren't questioning the imbalance of powers between a 17 year old highschooler with no job and a 23 year old man with a steady job and living alone.

He convinced you that going to college and ending your relationship was the worst decision you could take. Then, that you didn't need your family, he could take care of you. One day, he decided you couldn't have friends.

He often locked you inside the house, cursed your skills and appearance, neglected your overall health, intimidated you, screamed at you, broke your things that he did and didn't pay for. He hurt you physically, even sexually. You knew both dating him and leaving him was hard, you just expected living with the scars was going to be easier.

And it was! You decided to run away from him and to Gotham when you received the news that your mom died and he didn't even want to let you go to the funeral. The grieving made you reflexive and you realized how shitty your situation was. For years you just thought that it would eventually get better, that you just needed to be strong, that he showed he loved you when he wasn't being an asshole, that you couldn't get anything better, that he made you feel special.

You couldn't even go to the police, he was a cop, you knew the chances that in any scenario you would lose. So you ran.

You knew it was dangerous, but you had nothing to lose. If he didn't kill you, you would do it yourself. You made a plan, drugged him, took some of his money, used his house keys, left everything behind for the second time in your life. You didn't waste time asking for help from the people you knew. You took the bus and went as far away as you could.

Your paranoia was so bad that for almost a year, you would settle in a city, work to save up enough, and leave again, rinse and repeat. Eventually, Gotham seemed big and far enough to go by unnoticed.

Or that's what you thought, until Dick Grayson stopped by the diner you worked to have breakfast before going to work, as a cop, and decided you caught his attention.

Since then, he came back everyday. Either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just to hang out with some family member, usually one of his brothers, his dad appeared with him sometimes too. Your boss loved the attention Bruce and Tim attracted, the two most media active ones, since they both led Wayne Enterprises.

Eventually, even them started appearing multiple times a week. You thought you were healing, until you found yourself crying for almost four hours at home in a panic attack.

You didn't want their attention. Not only was it weird, but they were just so… Superior to you.

They were all taller, more muscular, faster, smarter, richer. It was like reliving the beginning of your relationship at 17, plus 10 times worse. Five because they were five people mirroring your ex, and more five just because of your trauma, experience, negativity and lack of naiveness.

Also, why were they ALL into you??? And they were aware of it! It was weird! Why??

Bruce Wayne was disarmingly charming in his dilf way. Dick was surprisingly accessible. Jason was soft spoken despite his resting bitch face and leather jacket. Tim was cute in a nerdy way. Damian almost made you laugh with his sarcastic humor.

Either way, you never wanted to feel as little as you felt before, so you just did your job, acted polite, but ultimately kept your distance.

Freedom has its difficulties, one of them being that you need money, and for money, you need a job, which means sometimes you have to stay until closing time, at 11 PM, in Gotham.

You're not the only employee to stay so late, but you and your co-worker live in opposite directions, so walking alone it is. They're taking the bus, but you only live two blocks away, so you gulp down your anxiety and keep walking. One hand on your pocket, holding your taser firmly, and keeping your head up, turning to look at every sound.

It's cold, and the street is empty and dimly lit. Some places are so dark that you wonder why you're even paying taxes if the streetlamps won't work.

Two men turn the corner a few meters in front of you, one at least a foot taller, the other, two inches max. They're wearing hoodies and their hands are on their pockets, the light behind them creates a shadow that doesn't allow you to see their faces, nor where they're looking at, but they are coming in your direction.

There's a car, parked between you both. Some people might think at this point it's just paranoia, but you’ve heard stories of people walking next to cars, getting pulled inside by someone who was hiding in there, and getting kidnapped.

Your first instinct is flight, so you turn around, ready to run, even if you look weird in case those guys weren't planning to do anything with you, just to see other two guys emerging from the other corner, those two almost as tall as that first guy. Aside from the smaller one, they're all broad, even with their thick clothes covering them.

One of them has a cigarette on his mouth, which he throws on the ground when you turn your attention to him. Your fear might have caused you to hallucinate, but you're almost sure he's smirking.

You freeze for a second, your only escape is to run to the side, and pray their long legs don't get to you first. You think you hear one of them start hollering at you.

You only take a step to the side, when a loud crash startles you so hard that you have to look behind, while walking backwards to the street. You take a second to process the sight.

Robin is standing in the middle, just a few steps behind where you were standing a second ago. He's at least half a foot taller than all of them, and a lot broader. He's holding the tall one by his neck with his right hand, repeatedly hitting his head against the car’s window.

You're shell shocked, torn between staying put to watch this disaster, as interesting as a car crash, or running away. Gotham is so big that you never thought you would encounter one of its heroes, you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

When the guy seems to stop moving, Robin throws him against one of the other tall ones, the guy practically flies across 2 meters before hitting him, and when he does, they both fall to the ground. You remember all the times when your ex pushed you to the ground.

Your eyes are wide, horrified, watching the shortest guy take a pocket knife out of his pocket. Your throat locks, even if you want to scream for Robin to turn around, you only manage to stare and stay in place, however, the vigilant turns halfway around just in time to grab the guy by his wrist and his arm, just as he launched to stab him. He uses his body’s impulse to push the guy forward, the knife going to the fourth guy's shoulder, you hadn't even seen him get so close to him.

You look at the man from the car, he's still unconscious, the one who got tackled with him, however, is already standing and walking to the fight.

Everything’s happening too fast, you turn to the side to see the guy with the knife on his back on the ground, groaning and twitching in pain, while Robin is punching the shit out of the other guy, movements faster than you could ever dream of achieving. You remember being on the receiving end of someone's fists before.

With a final elbow to the cheek, the guy stumbles to the ground, you don't know what level of consciousness he’s in, by his posture before, you knew he was already compromised since the first hits he took.

Robin doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at the guy who just fell, he's just looking forward, and when you notice this, you look at the remaining guy.

He's pointing a gun at him.

You don't think you can watch someone get shot in front of you, and you know if he gets rid of Robin, it's over for you. Logically, you knew these vigilantes somehow never die, still, it's counterintuitive to think he won't.

And he doesn't, in the blink of an eye, Robin's on the air, his right boot kicking the gun away, while still on the air, he wraps his legs around the guy's head, bends backwards, puts his hands on the ground, then launches his whole body to the front, the guy getting thrown over him. He falls to the ground, Robin stands on top of him with perfect balance. You don't even have time to process what just happened, the coolest and scariest thing you saw your whole life, when Robin punches him one last time. Now, he's definitely unconscious.

You’ve felt like a bystander this whole interaction, it felt like ages, but in reality all of this couldn't have taken more than 20 seconds, maybe even less than 15. You don't know what to do now. You're theoretically safe, but Robin’s still too big, too strong, too fast. He knocked out four guys without getting touched a single time. He broke a car's window. He threw around two guys who weighed at least 80kg. He's not even panting. And now he's looking at you.

A whimper gets stuck in your throat. You don't know if you should thank him, stay silent, or yell at him to stay away from you. When he takes a step in your direction, your instincts get the better of you and you turn around, running.

You hear him call your name, although your brain doesn't process it. You see headlights and look towards it. It's a car. You don't trust you’ll get help, but at least you're not alone. You run in it's direction, waving your arms and screaming bloody murder.

The car almost hits you, but you don’t process that until the last minute, but you get tackled to the ground just in time by the hero from before. You scream again, he's too close. Now, he's trying to hold you down. You keep screaming and trying to escape. You look to the side and the car just kept driving away, likely the driver wouldn't stay behind to be another victim to Robin's hands. You know you're not being rational right now, those guys are known for helping people, he just saved you, he's still trying to stop you from getting hurt, but you're scared. You've been scared since you were a teenager.

Your eyes burn, your arms and throat hurt, but adrenaline doesn't let you feel anything. Not even the invasion of a needle on your side.

— Was it really necessary? — Tim deadpans Damian, who growls.

— You would have done the same, Drake.

— No, I wouldn't. You were supposed to use the psychological first aid approach and (Y/N) would've calmed down and trust us more in the future. But of course, you never use your brain. — Damian growls, stepping towards Tim, but he is stopped by Dick’s hand resting on his chest.

— Damian, calm down, Tim’s right. You knew better than to sedate them. You knew of (Y/N)’s trauma and you knew the route we wanted to take. — Damian's brows furrowed and he crossed his arms.

— I knew your feelings toward (Y/N) would make you become impulsive again. — Tim looked at Bruce, who was silent, with hands intertwined and elbows on the table, focused on your vitals on the screen and the sight of you laid on the bed on the medbay. — Will you now consider just letting you, me and Dick keep an eye on them during patrol? — Damian and Jason scoffed.

— Why you aiming at me now? It was the demon who gave that guy brain death! — Jason protested and Tim looked at him.

— Just to be sure you won't freak out like him and kill thrice as many people, on purpose this time. — Jason glared at him.

— B, you better add more security measures around (Y/N), before Timbo tries to clone them or something. — He muttered with snark.

Dick shook his head and sighed, going to stand on Bruce's side, crossing his arms and looking at you through the camera with him.

— What's the plan now, B? They're probably waking up soon. — Bruce hummed, relaxing his stance and resting his back against his chair. The silence lingered for a few seconds, everyone just looking at you, waiting for the oldest’s opinion.

Bruce turned around, looking at them.

— … Damian, Tim's right. You were impulsive today and you killed someone, even if it was an accident. I stopped expecting that from you since you were 12, you're an adult now. You not only broke our trust, but (Y/N)’s already shattered trust. They need to know they're safe with us, and drugging them, instead of puting to use more time and effort to bring the comfort to them, is not going to do that. You weren't much different than the man who hurt them tonight. — His father's words were like a punch to Damian's stomach, leaving him speechless. Dick pursed his lips, not turning around as to make it easier to not comfort his brother just yet. Bruce turned to Tim. — Tim, I understand you want to take measures seriously. But you need to give Jason a chance. That was unasked for. — The mentioned blinked, still unacostummed with the treatment he received from his dad when he followed his rules. Tim looked away. Bruce turned to Damian again. — Damian, no patrolling around (Y/N) until you prove we can trust your temper again. — He waited for a confirmation, which came with a sneered lip.

— Yes, father.

Dick looked back a Bruce.

— What about (Y/N)? — He bit his lips. Bruce hummed, turning to look at the monitor again.

— … What do you all think?

— Well… Damian said their name, they might not remember it, but they can't just wake up at home. They’d try to flee from us. We could bring them home earlier, but our ideal plan was to make them come willingly, in the period of at least two years, in the best case. We could leave them at the hospital, and just keep our plan going. — Dick listed the possible strategies they could take. Bruce hummed.

Tim piped up.

— I already altered their phone's algorithm to send the job application as my assistant at Wayne Enterprises to them. And the Wayne Foundation’s application for the internship at Gotham Uni. — Bruce nodded.

— Damian? What do you understand about that? — It was clearly the beginning of his test.

— The more secure in their independence they feel, the easier it is to heal and open themselves up to new opportunities. — Damian exclaimed with confidence. Bruce nodded.

— Jason, are you still interested in college? — Everyone looked at Jason surprised, he was also surprised, he hadn't talked to Bruce about college since before he died.

It took a few seconds to processes what it would mean.

— Uh… I think so?! — Bruce nodded.

— What about me, father? — Damian spoke inquisitively. — I also want more opportunities to get closer to (Y/N)! — Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

— We will think about that when you're in the clear.

— But-

— That's final. You reap what you sow. — Damian huffed and nodded begrudgingly. — … Now, since Robin was the one to save them, take the batmobile and leave them in the hospital. Then come straight back home. Understood? — Damian clenched his jaw and nodded silently, leaving to get your unconscious body.

Moments later, when you were both out, on the way to the hospital, Tim fiddled with the computer, the scream showed the batmobile’s tracker, your tracker, Damian's tracker, Damian's contact lenses’s camera and the car’s camera. They all looked at him.

— … It's just to make sure…

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DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @hxsun4 @silverklaus @toast-on-dandelioms @bluewillbon @ladyel1x1r3l0p3r

[starsworldd]

Solar Return Sun in Houses

I know that this is a post that many creators on here have made, I thought i could add in some new ideas and such! ☀️

my readings are open :) ⭐️

sun in 1st house: there is a ton of opportunity given to you this year, even if natally your sun is in detriment (libra/aquarius). you may become more independent this year, you may become more noticeable or praised by others. even if you may be scared, this is your time to take life into your own hands. be sure to reach out to others regularly even if life forces you to focus on your personal endeavors the majority of the time. you may also learn to overcome some long-held fears this year.

sun in 2nd house: life may slow down a little bit (unless if there’s other indicators) with this placement in the chart. similar to the 1st house, there’s a good chance that people will give you praise even gifts/money for the skills and talents you possess. this is a good time to reorganize your life, to journal, to do some self care too. if you’re looking for a job that keep you stable, you may find that job this year and it could go quite smoothly with bosses. you will start to realize the importance of standing up for yourself.

sun in 3rd house: busy year, similar to that of the 1st house but it’s more externally-focused than you-focused. games, video games, long-convos could be happening much more frequently and be quite enjoyable for you this year. you could be receiving a lot of news around you, which includes being more exposed to gossip. you could get more attention for your charisma, humor, and/or charm. this year may force you to get more involved with your community/town, extracurriculars could be more expansive too.

sun in 4th house: you could be preparing for something this year. a lot of your family members could be proud of you for a particular achievement you made, you could also find some new coping mechanisms if you’ve been struggling with that too this year. this is a time where you could feel more connected with nature/universe itself. history, death, and the concept of nature’s cycles could be highlighted this year. this is a very transformational time in your life where you feel in-between worlds

sun in 5th house: recognition of some kind is likely for this year since the 5h is a house of honor/adoration, especially for those of you who have side hustles or passions you really want to express to the world. this year could be particularly memorable if paired with other prominent aspects in the solar or natal x solar chart. even if you may be an introvert you will be engaging in a variety of activities and probably going out more anyways (think late night drives, carnivals, doing art, etc…). overall, a very fun year ahead!

sun in 6th house: yes, schedules this routines that, but this year is one that will really build your fortitude and tenacity for whatever life may throw at you. the 6th house is a busy house, but not the same type of busy like 3rd house is. 6th house’s type of busy is about running more errands or doing more tasks to prepare for the bigger goals and visions you have for your life. you could be doing a lot more housework or drafting new plans for career as potential examples. you would come out this year stronger and more prepared for life

sun in 7th house: you could feel more inclined to follow people��s lead, depending on the sign this could be a year where you are exposed to a lot of new endeavors through others. the 7th house could also signify something to do with business so you may grow your business through partnerships or gaining praise from other people on your business or achievements. this is a year that can bring a lot of opportunity and where you will learn a lot of new things in general. you may start to become more aware of your impact on others.

sun in 8th house: i’m not going to sugarcoat it, this can prove to be a difficult year. while you may be able to get help from others easily and at the same time others would take you more seriously, there can be this feeling of never-ending burden as well. this is a year that tests how far your willing to go for your goals. is this your true calling? what bridges are you willing to burn down? what bad habits do you need to become more aware of? on the reverse, what life conditions imposed onto you are holding you back?

sun in 9th house: this is typically a joyous year because sun naturally rejoices in this house. you may feel much more free to do as you please this year but still supported nonetheless. you may see a lot of regiments or routines come to fruition or at least significantly progress this year. your view on life will definitely change for the better. even though you could still be surrounded by others, there’s definitely an internal pull to really focus on the changes made to yourself internally and/or externally this year.

sun in 10th house: as cliche as it is, yes recognition for your work(s) is to be expected of this year. this is a good indicator of big projects finally being released out into the world and finally reaping some rewards (but this also depends on the 11h + it’s ruling planet). very busy year, there’s likely a leveling up in your societal status (ex: marrying, new job, becoming a parent, etc…), you would be much happier and fulfilled in the work/projects you contribute to society overall this year. definitely an increase in popularity.

sun in 11th house: popularity is a crucial theme this year, you’re most likely involved with some new friend groups or extracurricular activities/clubs than you were beforehand, this is a great year to experiment socially and to find your “clique”. since this is the house of jupiter, you could have a lot of lucky moments this year not just socially but also in the opportunities you garner this year in advancing your status/career or money as well. a key word for this year is “opportunity”. you could be dealing with larger audiences/crowds too.

sun in 12th house: this is a very chaotic and externally a fast-paced year. but internally you could feel so confused about how to achieve your goals or that you often get side-tracked by a lot of other things. this is not to say that this confusion or side quests are necessarily bad, but this year could also be a very life-changing year and you will most likely not come out the same as before. on the flip-side, this could also be an indication that you are taking more vacations and breaks from work to focus more on other projects or self-healing.

hope you enjoyed!

[angelltheninth]

Caitlyn's Strike Team Hiding Your Relationship at Work

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, secret relationship, kissing, getting caught, sneaking around, marks, flirting, co-workers

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Yes, I am including the fact that canonically two of these people (looking at you Caitlyn and Maddie) are absolutely abysmal at this.

VI

Been known to be pretty sneaky when she needs to be, now if only she was better at holding back. Unfortunately, or not if you ask her, she can't help but tug you along when she's going pretty much anywhere and returning with both of you looking a little more disheveled than when you left. To say nothing of the way she proudly wears the marks and lip stick stains you leave on her neck and the collar of her shirt. She might as well shout it for everyone to hear that you're dating, that you're her woman.

CAITLYN

Good at so many things, has so many talents, but keeping your relationship a secret is not one of them. Not from the lack of trying, she tries really hard, she wants to be professional. Yet sometimes she forgets that she's not supposed to call you by that affectionate nickname or invite you into her office. She also forgot to lock her office door and you've been caught in the middle of a make out session, her legs around your hips, lipstick smudged, shirts untucked, too many times by now.

MADDIE

Keeping secrets is her job and yet she is terrible at keeping this a secret from her co-workers. Actually she blames you for this because you're too charming, too cute for her to keep her affections to herself. She can't help but smile and sigh dreamily when you invite her out for a lunch break, or when you compliment her, tell her she's doing good and tap her cheek affectionately. Indeed it's all your fault that she admits she loves you in front of everyone. Not that it was some big secret, everyone knew, she was like a lovesick puppy around you.

LORIS

Would have been great at it if he wasn't completely awestruck by you and wanted nothing more than to shower you with affection. Since he'd been there a long time romance wasn't exactly on the list of his priorities so when it happened the feelings hit him hard all at once. And he wasn't afraid to start showing it more and more the longer you dated. It started subtly enough, buying you lunch, advice from someone more experianced, flowers at your desk, protectiveness, then came the reveal, the handholding and the kisses.

STEB

Actually not that bad at keeping things on the downlow for quite some time. He is the mysterious, silent type anyways, everyone knew he had his secrets, you were just another one of them and one that he cherished the most. Very subtly he would nod his head towards the door when he wanted to leave or pass you notes, letters telling you that he wants to go home early and he would love it if you accompanied him. The only reason you were caught is because you fell asleep while holding hands on a night patrol.

[ellieputellas]

the bird | a.putellas x reader

You’re a model student at a religious boarding school, expected to uphold tradition, and never question the path laid out for you. But when Alexia Putellas moves to your boarding school for reasons unknown, you struggle to reconcile your religious devotion with the new, unfamiliar feelings you have for Alexia.

tags: troublestudent!Alexia, modelstudent!reader, angst, fluff, religious guilt, religious trauma, forbidden love, friends-to-lovers, slight slow burn, tension, school setting, eventual smut in preceding parts (will tag those parts) warnings / notes: will contain homophobic sentiments from other characters, religious themes that may be sensitive to some people (including questioning religious beliefs), alexia and reader are both around 19 years old

partially inspired by this request and also beyond salvage by @angelsforthenight (and my own religious experience lol)

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤchapter one 🕊 other chapters

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPROLOGUE.  The Bird.

“We have high expectations of you,” Sister Superior Philomena said, her voice measured and steady as she adjusted her glasses. She looked up briefly from the papers she was meticulously arranging. “And time and time again, you have not only met but surpassed those expectations.”

“Yes, sister,” you replied softly, your tone respectful and subdued. The nun offered a small, approving smile before neatly assembling a set of documents. You stood attentively, your posture impeccable—back straight, shoulders poised with quiet confidence. 

Having been a student at Instituto Santa Eulalia Mártir since you were 8 years old, you had long since absorbed the institution's unspoken code of conduct. The perfect student carried themselves with pride but never arrogance. They spoke with clarity and conviction, yet knew the value of restraint. They displayed individuality and a strong sense of self but never had an overpowering, flamboyant personality. In just over a decade, you have become the embodiment of these ideals—a model student who was silent but not shy, strong but humble to a fault. You were practically a nun-in-the-making, as your peers have joked.

“These are the profiles of the new arrivals,” Sister Philomena said, sliding a slim file across the desk with deliberate care. “Five freshmen, a few sophomores, and one senior.”

You paused, eyebrows lifting slightly. “A senior?”

She inclined her head in confirmation. “Alexia Putellas Segura,” she said, tapping the topmost profile with her pen. “We rarely admit students at such a late stage, but this is an exception. She has transferred from one of our sister academies.”

Your gaze dropped to the profile. The photograph was of a brunette girl with striking features and soft hazel eyes, her expression neutral, almost guarded. As you scanned the page, nothing immediately stood out to you. “Sister, if I may ask—why has she transferred?”

Sister Philomena sighed, her hands folding neatly over the desk. “The reason, I’m afraid, is all too familiar. A troubled soul.” Her voice softened with a trace of pity. “As she is in your year, I have decided she will share a dormitory with you. I entrust you with the responsibility of guiding her, molding her into a student who reflects the values of this institution. Can I count on you for this?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes, Sister.”

Your gaze returned to the photograph attached to the profile. You traced your fingers over the typed name – Alexia Putellas Segura.

You looked through her profile which had not much information about the girl aside from her age, address, and other basic data. Her grades seemed good and she seemed to be active in her extracurriculars. So, why is she here? What trouble did she get into?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤACT I. The Arrow.

Alexia Putellas was more beautiful and captivating than you expected.

She stood taller than most of your peers which was made more intimidating since it was paired with some kind of silent confidence – tall, composed, self-assured. She was quiet but not shy. There was nothing hesitant about her; she was reserved but not shy. Her eyes, sharp and attentive, seemed to notice everything.  And those eyes… you just could not get over how beautiful they were. A stunningly warm hazel with golden specks.

It would be an understatement to say that you were completely captivated by the sight of her.

“Okay, girls, let’s introduce ourselves by saying our names, nicknames, and favorite things to do in your free time.” The overenthusiastic novice Sister Catherine chirped in the new student orientation where you were present together with a couple of other seniors. “Let’s start with our current students!” Sister Catherine nodded at you. You smiled, trying to make eye contact with every new student but your eyes just kept drifting  back to Alexia whose gaze felt too intense for your liking. You kept your hands clasped behind your back. “Good afternoon, new students.” You said before introducing your name. “I’m a senior. I serve as praepostor of the Dorm de Santa Rosa on the first level of this building. In my free time, I enjoy reading the Bible, embroidery, and volunteering in the library.”

Your words were met with polite nods, but as your gaze briefly flicked to Alexia, you noticed a faint smile curve her lips before she glanced down at her shoes. There was an entertained look in her eyes. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly conscious which you never felt before. 

The introductions continued, but your attention was frustratingly divided. You could barely focus, your mind circling back to Alexia. The way she carried herself, the unreadable expressions on her face, even the firm, athletic build she possessed—it was all distracting in a way you didn’t know how to name.

When it was finally her turn, her voice was calm, low, and self-assured. “I’m Alexia Putellas. Senior,” she said, her gaze locking onto yours with unnerving directness. Something about the intensity of her eyes sent a shiver through you. “I, uh… like football.”

You nodded politely, managing a small smile. Football. That explained her build, her quiet confidence… the biceps that showed whenever she crossed her arms. But as your thoughts began to drift into admiration—or something more troubling—you caught yourself. I don’t think I should be looking at her like this. But… she’s just another girl. And I’m a girl too. Is it wrong to notice her this much?

Your internal scolding fizzled the moment she smiled at you again. It wasn’t much, just a fleeting expression, but it left you warm and inexplicably flustered. Whatever it was you were feeling, it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

The other praepostors of the dorms had come to a unanimous decision: a pajama party would be the perfect way to introduce the new girls to life at Santa Eulalia. The event was meant to be lighthearted, a blend of camaraderie and tradition, designed to ease the newcomers into their new environment while showcasing the values of the institution.

You took the task of preparation seriously. Each welcome basket was carefully assembled with thought and precision, a reflection of the standards you upheld as a praepostor. Inside each basket, you included a neatly folded school shirt embroidered with the Instituto’s emblem, a new rosary with polished beads, a selection of prayer cards featuring saints and scripture verses, and a modest set of toiletries—simple but elegant. You even tied each basket with a satin ribbon in the school colors, a final touch of warmth and care.

The other dorm heads welcomed their respective new students, handing them their baskets and chatting enthusiastically. While you might have been the nun’s favorite student, you didn’t find it easy to relate and interact with fellow students. They all felt you were too cold, too uptight and rigid, even if you didn’t intend to. This just made it difficult for you to seem warm and open to the new student Alexia. 

Usually, you could draw energy from the excitement of a group of new students but now, it was just you and Alexia. And, Alexia was more quiet than you expected. It wasn’t exactly easy to bounce your energy off of someone as guarded and calculated as you were.

You led her to the farthest room at the end of the hallway, where the two of you would be sharing the space. The room was meant to house four students, but over the past year, many had transferred to more secular academies, leaving several beds vacant. Alexia set her bag down with a deliberate air, and you handed her the welcome basket, trying to gauge her reaction.

She sat on the edge of the bed and began sifting through the contents with slow, deliberate movements. Her expression was unreadable as she picked up the prayer cards, flipping through them one by one. You noticed the faintest curve of her lips as she did so—a smile, but one you couldn’t quite decipher. Was she genuinely touched by the gesture? Or was it amusement at the pious simplicity of it all?

“Thanks,” she said at last, her voice low and restrained, yet not unkind.

You nodded, hesitating for a moment before sitting on the edge of your pristinely made bed across from hers “You’re welcome, Alexia.” You replied, carefully. Then, after a brief pause, you ventured.  “So… you like football?”

She glanced up at you then, her hazel eyes momentarily meeting yours before she returned her attention to the basket. Something about the way she looked at you unsettled you, not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel hyper aware of yourself. Alexia hummed. “Yeah, I do. I used to play as a midfielder in my old academy.”

You nodded, unsure of how to continue the conversation, knowing fully well it was off limits to ask “trouble students” why they ended up in the Institute. Alexia smiled, noticing your hesitation and. “And you? You like football?”

You nodded quickly. “If watching the girls play during sports week counts.”

She chuckled, a warm sound that made you relax slightly. “Of course, it counts.”

Silence followed, and you felt an awkward pressure to keep the conversation going. You’d already shared everything important on the walk to the dorm—school history, the names of the sisters she would encounter, and a rundown of the cafeteria food. What else was there to say? Ask her about her favorite Bible verse? That seemed…awkward.

“So, Alexia,” you said finally, grasping for a neutral topic, “do you like to read?”

 She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I do, but probably not the same things you read.” “How do you know what I read?” You immediately worried it sounded defensive, so you glanced down, hoping it didn’t come across as rude.

She smiled, noticing your reaction. “Hmm, you mentioned you liked reading the Bible just a while ago so I assumed you mostly read that.”

“Oh,” You said softly. “Yes, I do…of course.”

Alexia’s smile lingered, but her gaze grew a touch more curious. “Are you, like, the president of our year level?”

You shook your head, grateful for the change in topic. “Oh no, there aren’t any presidents here. Just dormheads like me. We take care of dorm activities and…” You hesitated. “Yeah.. mostly that.”

Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “And watch over troublemakers like me?”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Well, not exactly. We just remind everyone of the virtues we uphold in this academy.”

Her smile turned into a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, monjita,” she said, her voice dropping into a playful tone as her lips curved into the faintest smirk. “I wouldn’t dare ruffle your feathers.” (trans. monjita – little nun)

You weren’t particularly close to other students. They always found you too uptight, too rigid, a perception that left you feeling isolated despite your good intentions. However, Ingrid was one of the few exceptions—a rare friend with whom you could talk easily. She was a year younger than you, yet she carried herself with a confidence and ease that often surpassed your own.

Having transferred from a sister school in Norway, Ingrid had quickly adapted to life at Santa Eulalia despite her initial struggles with Spanish and Catalan. Her cheerful demeanor and genuine kindness had endeared her to both students and staff, earning her the role of dorm head almost immediately after her arrival.

“Darling, have you tasted the cookies I baked with Maria?” Ingrid’s voice was as warm as the smile she wore, and she presented you with a basket of sugar cookies. “They’re actually decent, considering we had no idea what we were doing. Sister Cathy had to step in and save us.”

You winced slightly at the use of the nickname for the junior nun, knowing the more senior nuns would never approve of shortening their chosen names—it was far too casual for their liking. But you let it slide, worried that if you corrected her, you might come across as overly strict and risk alienating your one true friend.

“Ingrid, you should meet Alexia.” You said, stepping aside as you introduced the new student who was trailing behind you. Alexia politely smiled at the taller Norwegian, before offering her hand. 

Ingrid’s expression immediately brightened as she extended her hand. “Alexia! You must be the girl from our other sister school. I came from a sister school as well… but from Norway.” She beamed warmly. “You’re lucky to be sharing the same room as the best dorm head this school has to offer.”

Your cheeks warmed at Ingrid’s exaggerated praise, and you offered her a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

Alexia smiled at Ingrid before carefully looking at you. “Seems like it.”

Something about the way Alexia looked at you made you feel exposed, and you quickly tried to shake off the awkwardness her gaze stirred in you. “Uh, Ingrid,” you began, trying to redirect the conversation. “Alexia plays football, too.”

Ingrid’s eyes lit up. “Does she? That’s fantastic! What position?”

You stepped back slightly, letting the two of them ease into the conversation. Alexia answered Ingrid’s questions with quiet confidence, and though her initial replies were short, you could see her slowly starting to open up. As you observed, you began to notice nuances about Alexia that hadn’t been apparent before.

She wasn’t just reserved—she was thoughtful, deliberate in the way she spoke and carried herself. When Ingrid asked a question, Alexia listened intently before replying, her answers polite and measured. Despite her firm demeanor, there was a gentleness in the way she engaged with Ingrid, an unspoken respect that made the interaction feel natural and unforced.

Watching them talk, you realized that Alexia wasn’t difficult to connect with because she was closed off, but because she paid attention—careful, almost wary attention—to the people around her. You couldn’t help but wonder how you exactly felt about being subject to her perception. What does she think when she looks at me?

The pajama party started getting rowdy as the night passed and the nuns retired to their quarters

And by rowdy, that just meant as rowdy as a Catholic, all-girls school sleepover could be. That just meant a bunch of girls laughing, eating sweets, and giggling over magazines or board games. Somewhere amidst the muted chatter, Ingrid, Alexia and you were somehow roped into a circle with the new students.

You noticed that most of the old students sitting with you in a circle were also the ones who transferred due to being “trouble students.” You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite; you were always made to be the example for the troubled students. It made you feel out of place, unsure of what stories you could share that wouldn’t sound out of step.

Anna, a sophomore with braces and a nervous smile, shifted in her seat before speaking. “My mom was done with me after I got caught skipping class to hang out at the arcade. I just… I didn’t want to say no to my friend, you know? But I guess it didn’t matter because we’re not even friends anymore now that I’m here.” Her words slowed as she reached the end, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. But then she perked up slightly, like she was willing herself to be optimistic. “Still, I don’t mind too much. It’s kinda nice, being away and meeting new people.”

The group cooed and broke into a silent chorus of murmured affirmation. As the circle’s de facto senior—and someone the younger students clearly looked up to—you felt compelled to step in.

“Anna,” You chimed in respectfully, your tone firm yet kind.“Just remember that the people you surround yourself with can really shape who you are.” You paused to let the words settle. You weren’t the most social person but you did give good advice. “Just remember Proverbs 13:30 – ‘walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harms.’”

The group collectively nodded. You continued. “The right friends will lift you up and the wrong ones will pull you down. I know it’s tough starting fresh, but you’re in the right place to find people who will bring out the best in you.” You smiled at Anna whose eyes had softened.

Anna’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the circle felt lighter. The tension had dissipated, and even Ingrid offered a small, approving smile. But as you glanced at Alexia, you caught something else entirely — a faint, knowing smirk.

It was the kind of look that made you second-guess yourself, that made your pulse quicken in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Was she amused? Impressed? Mocking you? Her expressions always left you grasping for answers, and the more you tried to ignore them, the harder it became.

Before you could unravel it, Anna turned to Alexia, her curiosity unguarded. “So, Alexia… why are you here?” The question hung in the air. Alexia’s smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of hesitation.

You jumped in before she could respond. “Anna,” you said, careful to keep your tone even, “the sisters discourage us from asking about someone’s past unless they choose to share it. Alexia’s reasons are her own.”

Anna blinked, realizing her mistake. “Oh… I’m sorry,” she murmured.

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “What’s more important is how we grow and learn from the past, and not fixate on the mistakes themselves.”

The circle seemed to accept this, returning to their quiet hum of chatter. Yet, deep down, you felt a pang of regret. You wanted to know why Alexia was here, too. It was the right thing to do, you told yourself—the sisters had made that clear. Still, the question lingered in your mind, refusing to be silenced.

What had brought her here? And why did it feel like the answer mattered more to you than it should?

As the chatter and laughter continued in the background, you found yourself retreating to the corner of the common room, more concerned with tidying up the scattered plates and cups than joining the conversation. Besides, as soon as the chatter turned into crushes and past boyfriends, you knew your presence was neither wanted nor important to the group. Growing up in the institute, relationships were foreign to you, a concept you understood but never experienced. Even if you were around the age other people got boyfriends or even crushes, you never really had anything remotely close to a relationship. 

Even in the rare interactions with boys from the brother academy, no one had ever sparked that fluttering, heart-racing feeling you’d seen in movies or heard about in whispered gossip. It wasn’t for a lack of trying from the boys’ end. A lot of boys liked you; you’ve always caught the eyes of several peers from the brother academy. However, you were convinced that that was just because you were their mother’s dream daughter-in-law and they’ve hyped you up to their sons. Regardless of all the interest and attempts, no one piqued your interest. No one has even close to making you blush.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on the small of your back. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. “Not interested in girl talk, I see?”

The voice was low, smooth. You turned, and Alexia stood closer than expected. Her hazel eyes locked onto yours, her expression unreadable yet undeniably captivating. You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the nearness of her and the intensity of her gaze.

“Oh—Alexia,” you stammered, fumbling with a stack of plastic cups in your hands. “I didn’t see you there.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “You were pretty focused. What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” you replied quickly, avoiding her eyes. “I can’t stand a mess, and I know everyone will be too tired to deal with it later.”

Alexia hummed thoughtfully. “Mind if I help?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks warm under her steady gaze. “I’m sure the others would appreciate your company more. Talking about crushes has to be more interesting than… this.”

She chuckled softly, her voice like a low ripple of amusement. “Honestly, cleaning up sounds better than hearing another story about some guy from one of the brother schools. It’s all the same anyway.”

You smiled. “Well, we make sure to recycle here. Same rules in our room apply here, which I already told you about.” You nodded. “But if you need assistance, just let me know.”

“Responsible and hands-on,” Alexia observed, picking up a pile of paper plates. Her tone was casual, but her eyes lingered on you, as if she were studying you. “No lucky guy’s noticed that about you yet?”

You sighed. “I’m not interested in relationships.” Your voice was quieter than intended.

“Ah, I see.” Alexia’s smirk turned playful. “So, you’re planning to actually become a nun, Monjita?” She leaned closer, her teasing tone wrapping around the pet name. “I bet you’d look cute in those headscarves, robes, and cross necklaces.”

Suddenly, you were getting flustered, blushing, and out of words. You opened your mouth to correct her — that they were called habits, not headscarves — but nothing coherent came out. You were way too flustered. Alexia’s smirk widened, clearly pleased by your reaction. 

She chuckled. “So, you’ve really never had a crush?”

You paused then shook your head, barely meeting her eyes. “No, I don’t think so.” You peeked a look at the taller girl, seeing her put all the paper plates in the bin. “Probably wouldn’t like the feeling of having a crush, honestly.”

She arched an eyebrow, her gaze still fixed on you. “Interesting.” She continued stacking plates as if the conversation were the most natural thing in the world. “But if you’ve never had a crush, how would you even know what it feels like?”

The question lingered, heavier than you expected. You glanced at her, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know, blushing and flustered whenever they look at you… intimidated and nervous around them? It just doesn’t seem appealing to me.” you admitted. “Maybe I just… haven’t met the right person.”

Alexia’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe,” she said simply. “Or maybe you’re just not looking.”

Her words settled in the air between you. You gazed again at Alexia whose expression was unreadable. Before you could muster a response, she reached for the cups in your hands, her fingers brushing yours briefly. 

“But enough about that,” she said lightly, breaking the tension. “I’m more interested in recycling than rehashing crushes.”

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and nodded. Together, the two of you worked in silence, the background noise fading as the common room gradually emptied.

When the last of the mess was cleared and the others had gone to bed, you found yourself sitting beside Alexia on the worn-out couch. The quiet felt comfortable, though charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

After a moment, Alexia turned her head to look at you. “So…” She began, her voice softer now. “You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

You frowned, trying to recall. “What question?”

Her smirk returned, subtle and teasing. “Do you want to be a nun?”

You paused, deep in contemplation. You looked around, checking if anyone was within earshot. You hummed. “I used to,” You paused, fiddling with your thumbs. “But now… I don’t know. I’ve always loved God. I love the Church. I have always devoted my life to it…”

Alexia leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “But…” Alexia asked gently, her tone coaxing yet patient.

You didn’t know why you felt so comfortable with someone you just met but it all felt so natural with Alexia. You’ve always been so guarded with other people, especially when it comes to your faith. But something about her… you just felt at peace. You couldn’t help but open up.

“I feel like there’s something missing in my life.” You said under your breath. “I pray to God, ask Him to tell me what’s missing in my life or why I haven’t felt fulfilled despite devoting and pouring my all to the Church…” 

You trailed off, your voice faltering under the weight of your own vulnerability. When you dared to glance at her, you were met with a concerned expression that made your heart tighten.

“Alexia, I know it’s wrong to feel this way,” you said quickly as if trying to justify yourself. “I know I shouldn’t expect anything in return for my devotion, but sometimes — sometimes I just feel incomplete.”

The silence that followed was deafening, each second stretching longer than the last. You regretted speaking, regretted opening up. Maybe you had said too much. Maybe Alexia would think you were ungrateful, or worse, weak in your faith.

But then she spoke, her voice steady and kind. “Monjita,” she said softly, using the nickname again, but this time without the teasing edge. “You don’t have to defend yourself. I get it.”

Your eyes snapped to hers, and you were struck by the warmth in her gaze. In the dim light of the room, her hazel eyes seemed to glow, and the intensity of her soft expression sent a ripple of heat through you.

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. “You do?” you whispered, almost afraid to believe her.

She nodded, her lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. “Sometimes… even when you give everything to something, it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. It just means you’re human.”

Her words settled over you like a blanket, comforting but unfamiliar. You weren’t used to being seen like this, to someone understanding parts of you you hadn’t fully understood yourself.

The way Alexia looked at you then — steady, unblinking, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the room — made your breath hitch. Her gaze was different now, more intense, and it sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your face was heating up. You tore your eyes away, focusing on the floor to compose yourself, but when you glanced back at her, she was still watching you with that same expression… but somehow, more intense. You swore that, for a moment, her eyes fluttered to her lips.

Your heart raced, and suddenly, you felt flustered all over again, the warmth in her gaze threatening to undo you completely. Uh oh.

As the weeks passed, you and Alexia found yourselves spending more and more time together — breakfasts, walking to class, hanging out between lectures, and even doing homework side by side. Alexia had a habit of accompanying you to the chapel during your daily rosary. She never prayed aloud, but she’d sit quietly beside you, her presence steady and unwavering.

Even if you spent so much time together, you still felt uneasy around Alexia. It wasn’t discomfort with Alexia herself, but with how she made you feel. You didn’t know what to make with the intensity of her gaze or the way she smiled at you. Mostly, you didn’t know what to make of the way she made you feel – heart racing, palms clammy, feeling overwhelmed by her presence. 

You loved being around Alexia. She was kind and attentive in ways you’d never experienced before. She noticed the little things: how you tried to be modest with your breakfast portions and would slyly slide extra pancakes onto your plate when you finished. She’d reach for the high shelves in the library without you even asking, or patiently guide you through Spanish essays, her explanations both thorough and encouraging. You truly loved being with her.

But at the same time, you began to think that perhaps some distance would help. You needed clarity—time to pray, reflect, and ask God for guidance about the novel emotions that had taken root within you.

Luckily, Ingrid came in the clutch and invited Alexia to train with the school’s football team just to see how she would like it. Of course, Alexia agreed under the condition that you would watch her during her first time.

You acquiesced. This was supposed to be our time apart, you thought. But the idea of supporting Alexia made your resolve falter. After all, she had sat through countless rosary sessions just to be near you. Watching her play for a little while wouldn’t hurt, right? What could possibly go wrong?

But you were wrong.

Seeing Alexia on the field was something else entirely. The way she moved, so fluid and confident, was mesmerizing. The ball seemed like an extension of her, every pass, every run executed with effortless grace. Your cheeks warmed, even in the brisk wind, and your heart pounded despite sitting still on the cool grass. The feelings stirring within you didn’t just linger; they intensified.

Things got worse on your walk to the showers. Alexia was still radiating the heat of the match, her hair damp and her skin glowing from exertion. She walked close — too close — and the warmth of her presence made your head spin. You tried to create space, stepping slightly farther away, but Alexia noticed.

Alexia chuckled softly before linking her arms with yours, forcing you to be closer to her. “Why are you so far, monjita? Do I smell?” She teased.

No, you smell too good, actually…

“N-nothing,” You stumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

It was becoming apparent to Alexia just how flustered you got around her. She didn’t want to scare you off but she also found it so cute how you reacted and just how clueless you seemed to be about your own emotions.

It was just so endearing to her. She already thought you were beautiful from the moment she met you but it wasn’t just your appearance. It was your quiet kindness, your humility, and the way you so easily became flustered in her presence. It was utterly charming. And, to her surprise, she was beginning to develop a huge crush on you.

Of course, given the circumstances, she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate those feelings. So, she figured the best approach was to tease you just enough to see if you’d slip up first. Which is why, as soon as the two of you entered the shower room, she decided to remove her shirt without a second thought.

Your eyes widened at the sight of your roommate’s uncovered torso. You quickly spun around, quietly gasping. Alexia smirked. “Alexia,” You croaked out, unable to keep the nervousness from your voice.

Alexia chuckled as she smirked. “What? You act like you’ve just seen a ghost…”

You stammered, your voice coming out in an embarrassed truth. “Uh, Alexia, you shouldn’t be removing your clothes in front of people like that.”

Alexia smiled, clearly enjoying the fact that you were flustered. “Monjita, I don’t see anything in the Bible that says anything bad about sports bras.” She teased with a light tone. “Though, didn’t Jesus say something about plucking out your eyes if you feel tempted?”

You drew in a shaky breath, desperately trying to compose yourself. “I… I just think it’s better if we keep a little more modesty,” you muttered, still not daring to turn around. You and Alexia often changed in your showers after bathing so this was the first time that you were seeing her so exposed.

Alexia took a step closer, and you could feel her presence behind you, the heat radiating from her still-warm skin. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, all you have to do is say so,” she said, her voice low and playful.

“It’s not that, I just—” you started but trailed off, heart hammering in your chest. Before you could finish, Alexia laughed softly and stepped into her shower stall, leaving you standing there, unsure whether you were relieved or even more nervous.

As the sound of water began to fill the room, she called out casually, “So… how’d I do out there? Be honest.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on her words rather than the strange, jittery feeling in your chest. “You did great,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat to sound less meek.  “You had such great control of the ball. I haven’t seen anyone play that good since Ingrid and Maria.”

She hummed, pleased with your response. “Gracias, monjita. That means a lot coming from you.” She said, her voice echoing.

Your light conversation soon fell silent as Alexia cleaned herself. You awkwardly lingered by the sinks, unable to get over the overwhelming awareness of her just a few feet away. Even if you two had showered at the same time, there were usually a bunch of other girls too. Now, it was silent – just you, Alexia, the sound of rippling water and the loudness of your thoughts. No chitter-chatter to distract you from the thought of Alexia…

You jumped as Alexia’s voice cut through the sound of water. “Uh..I forgot my towel outside,” she called out. “Mind handing it to me?”

You hesitated for a moment, silently willing your pulse to slow down. “Uh, sure,” you finally replied, moving to grab the towel.

When you turned to hand it to her, you kept your gaze averted. Her fingers brushed yours as she took the towel, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you,” Alexia said softly, her voice carrying an almost imperceptible edge of playfulness.

You nodded stiffly, retreating to your side of the room. Your mind was a blur of confusion, and for a brief moment, you thought about praying. But the truth was, you weren’t even sure what you were praying for anymore — clarity, calmness, or for these strange feelings to go away. One thing was certain, though: Alexia quickly became the center of your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to focus elsewhere.

Even if Alexia loved your presence and loved your companionship, the experience at the boarding school was sometimes too much for her to handle. 

When she first moved in with her grandparents, she never anticipated that her stay would eventually lead to being sent to a boarding school after an unpleasant experience. The thought of living away from her friends, her home, and access to decent football training had been unbearable at first. But then, she met you—a sweet, devout girl whose head seemed so deeply buried in the Bible that you didn’t even realize you were still in the closet.

Despite loving your presence, Alexia still felt like the school could be too much at times – the lackluster football program, the seemingly endless Bible lessons, the preachy talks, the relentless schedule, and the constant pressure to be a proper Catholic girl all the time. It was a big shift from being in a more liberal school. 

In addition to all that, she just couldn’t reconcile the growing feelings she had for you with the way the nuns always seemed to lecture against those very feelings. It got too much.

So, when the weight of it all bore down on her, Alexia would sneak out in the dead of night while you were fast asleep. Wandering aimlessly around the campus grounds, she often ended up at the prayer garden nestled in the small forest near the school.

The quiet solace of the garden, with its canopy of stars and the hum of nature, offered her a much-needed escape from the pious expectations of her daily life. It was the one place where she could breathe without feeling judged, without having to be so guarded.

After a few successful midnight escapes, Alexia had grown more confident in her routine. Perhaps a little too confident. As she carefully climbed out of the window one night, the sound of her movements stirred you from your sleep.

“Alexia?” you murmured groggily, blinking at the shadowy figure moving by the window. You rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes as you saw your roommate with a cardigan thrown over her pajamas, practically half out of the window. “W-what are you doing?”

Alexia froze for a moment before turning to face you. “Monjita… hey,” she said softly, using the nickname that had inexplicably grown on you. “I was just going to the prayer garden…to destress.”

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, still half-asleep. “The nuns will catch you,” you muttered, voice laced with drowsy concern. A yawn escaped her mouth. “They might punish you if they catch you.”

Alexia hesitated for a moment before offering you a small smile. “Maybe,” she admitted, “but I’m going anyway. And… if you’re worried, you could come with me.”

You blinked at her in confusion. “What?”

“Come with me,” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling “You’re in better standing with the nuns. If we get caught, they’ll go easier on us if you’re there. Besides, I could use the company.”

You bit your lip, torn between your better judgment and the strange pull of Alexia’s request. Alexia hummed before proceeding to step both feet out of the window, baiting you. After a moment of internal debate, you sighed and climbed out of bed. “Fine. But we need to be back before anyone notices, okay?”

Alexia’s grin was radiant as she reached for your hand. “Of course, monjita.” she whispered. “Now, come on.”

Your heart was beating so fast as you slipped out the window and into the dark of the night. If anyone heard your heart now, they would have thought you were robbing a bank by the way it thumped and thrashed in your chest. On the other hand, Alexia moved with confidence and no worries.

“Alexia, aren’t you afraid of night creatures… owls… foxes?” You asked as you and the other girl weaved your way through trees to make it to the prayer garden.

Alexia, who was leading the way, turned her head and flashed you a smile. “All God’s creations, right?” She teased. “Don’t worry, we’re not too far away, angel.”

That was another nickname Alexia liked to call you, which always got you flustered as well. Even now that you were fearing for your safety, you still felt your cheeks warm.

It wasn’t long before you both found yourself in the prayer garden, seated on makeshift benches crafted from large slabs of rocks. You always loved the prayer garden but at night, it transformed into something almost magical. The stars scattered across the sky like shimmering jewels, and the moon bathed everything below in its soft, silver glow.

As you gazed at Alexia, you couldn’t help but feel a little breathless. Under the moonlight, she looked ethereal—her skin glowing like porcelain, her dark eyes shadowed yet undeniably captivating. You quickly turned your gaze upward, trying to ground yourself.

“I come here at night when I feel overwhelmed,” Alexia said, her voice breaking the stillness. Her tone was unusually soft, vulnerable. Despite knowing Alexia for a while, she rarely talked too much about her emotions. She was rarely so open like this, which just made this experience more special. 

“I just need to sit in silence,” she continued, her eyes fixed on the stars. “To look at the sky, the moon, hear the trees rustling. It’s… healing.”

You nodded silently, sensing there was more she wanted to say.

She sighed deeply, her words weighed down by emotion. “When I feel like the guilt is too much... like it’s drowning me, I come here. And for a moment, I can breathe again.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. You looked up at the sky, your shoulder brushing lightly against hers. Normally, being so close to Alexia made you nervous, but tonight, in this shared stillness, you felt oddly at peace. The heart that was previously violently thrashing in your chest was now a consistent, steady beat.

After a moment of silence – just gazing at the stars and listening to the rustle of the trees, you broke the silence. “Can you believe our Creator? He made all of this — so vast, so beautiful. The stars, the trees, the world… it’s like proof of His greatness.” You gushed, feeling yourself grow appreciative of the world around you. You figured sneaking out was just a way for you to appreciate God’s creation in a different light.

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia wasn’t sharing the same train of thought. She sat quietly beside you, her gaze distant as she absorbed your words. After a moment, she spoke, her voice soft yet tinged with sadness. “Yes… but who created all the pain?”

Her question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her, unsure how to respond. “What do you mean?”

Alexia met your gaze, her eyes glimmering with an unspoken ache. “If there’s a creator who made all this beauty, then who made all the suffering?”

The weight of her words settled heavily between you. You hesitated, your mind racing for an answer. “Maybe… maybe it’s not Him,” you said cautiously. “Maybe it’s humans, not him."

Alexia’s eyes didn’t leave yours, her expression unreadable. “Then why doesn’t he stop it?”

You faltered, unsure how to respond. You looked down, feeling the gravity of her question but unable to offer a clear answer. “Maybe… maybe it’s because we have free will. We have to face the consequences of what we do."

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, the next words barely audible. “But… what if the way I was born is a sin? Does that mean I’m damned from the start?” she whispered. "What can I do then?"

Your heart stuttered, her words hitting you like a sudden blow. You didn’t fully understand what she meant, but you could feel the weight of her confession. It meant something to her — something big, something raw.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. What did she mean? You searched her expression for clarity, for reassurance, but found only a vulnerability that left you speechless.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. It wasn’t the first time that someone came to you with religious doubts and apprehensions. Typically, you handled it well but now, all you could do was keep your eyes glued on to Alexia’s hazel eyes. 

She smiled weakly, her eyes glazed a bit, before looking up again at the stars. You paused, taking her presence in before mimicking her and looking up at the stars again. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT II. First All at Once, Then All Together.

After that night with Alexia at the prayer garden, you’ve grown more and more comfortable with her, spending practically every single waking moment with the girl. You became even more inseparable.

Sneaking out at night became a ritual, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you’d open up about your religious upbringing. Sometimes, Alexia would share about her life outside the boarding school – telling you about all the shenanigans she got into. Other times, Alexia would be telling you about football rules and gameplay. (She practically spent an entire night explaining to you what offside was and you still were confused, unable to visualize it even after she explained using rocks and twigs.) 

These days, you laughed a lot, more than you ever had in all your years combined inside the institute. It felt so freeing being with Alexia, opening up and just getting to laugh boisterously without being scolded. 

Alexia loved seeing this side of you, growing more and more comfortable with her. She loved making you laugh, loved the way you made her laugh. But it wasn’t just the lighthearted moments she treasured—it was the quiet, vulnerable ones, too. Sometimes, she wanted to tell you everything about how she ended up at the school, but she always hesitated. A part of her wasn’t ready, unsure of how you’d react.

The downside of spending so much time with Alexia was that you were starting to fall behind on your dorm head duties. You managed the basics—leading morning prayers, fairly assigning chores, and organizing Bible study sessions every couple of weeks—but some responsibilities slipped through the cracks.

It wasn’t a big deal until you forgot to monitor the weather, failing to inform the nuns of an incoming storm. So, when a storm hit and the dorm lost power, all the batteries in the lamps and the flashlights had corroded and you were all forced to use candles. 

Alexia, as always, was quick to help. She volunteered to search the storage closets for any working battery-powered lamps. While you rummaged under your bed for spare supplies, Alexia explored the rest of the room.

“Hmm…” Alexia hummed, cutting through the silence as you searched for the lights in your room which you were sure you stored under the bed. You turned around and could barely make out her figure in the dark. 

“What is it?” You asked, still rummaging through the box under your bed. 

“Jewelry and birds?” she said, her tone curious.

Confused, you turned to find Alexia sitting on the floor, flipping through your old sketchbook. Your eyes widened in horror. “Wait – Alexia!” You yelped.

Back when you were a freshman, an alumni visited the school to share her life as a jewelry designer. After which, for a year, you were convinced that jewelry designing was your passion, making several sketches of rings, necklaces, and other pieces. After filling an entire sketchbook of drawings, you figured that it was a ridiculous dream to have and quit your jewelry-making aspirations

The obsession with drawing birds… well, there wasn’t an explanation for that. You just liked birds somehow.

You tried to snatch the sketchbook from Alexia who held it away from you, a teasing grin on her face. “Relax, angel,” she said, thumbing through the pages. “You’re really talented. Did you design all these?”

You bit your lip, cheeks warming. “Well… yeah. But it’s not that creative. It’s just… birds and jewelry.”

Alexia frowned, shaking her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is amazing.” She stopped on a page depicting a necklace of a bird inside a cage. “This one especially. It’s beautiful.”

You tried to snatch the book again, but she pulled it away, her expression softening as she flipped through more pages. Her gaze lingered on darker drawings that littered the last few pages — birds with arrows through their hearts, birds lying lifeless, and cages that seemed impossibly small. 

She finally closed the sketchbook, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she reached out and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her lap. You froze for a moment but eventually relaxed, adjusting yourself to sit more comfortably. Alexia held you like that, her warmth radiating through you. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she spoke into your ear. “You don’t have to stay in the birdcage.”

You didn’t reply, but your arms tightened around her. Somehow, in that quiet moment, the message was clear. Yet, you said nothing.

After that night, Alexia had grown fond of hugging you. 

Well, not just hugging, but holding your hand and brushing your hair with her fingertips. You never talked about what she said even if you felt like you wanted to, but you just knew you had some sort of silent and deeper understanding of each other since then.

The lingering fluttered feeling remained with Alexia but it soon dissipated into comfort. You’d let her hold your hand under the table during lunch. You’d let her hug you from behind and rest her head on your shoulder when you washed the dishes. On your end, you just loved being close to her, often offering to brush her hair and sort it into braids or other silly hairstyles. 

The weather got colder and colder, making your nightly sneaking-out sessions impossible. Unfortunately, this meant that you were suddenly having a hard time sleeping. The walks and nights out talking provided you with a peace of mind that allowed you to sleep soundly after. Now, you felt like life was incomplete without it.

It was past midnight and you still couldn’t sleep, feeling anxious considering that you had to wake up earlier to prepare for First Friday mass. You already tried praying, counting sheep, and reciting Bible verses in your head but to no avail.

You sighed and turned again in your bed. The Catalan took notice of your restlessness and sat up slightly to glance over to your bed. The nightlight barely illuminated the room but it was obvious to her that you were still up.

“Angel,” she whispered, her voice soft but distinct in the quiet dormitory room. You turned around to see Alexia propping herself up in her bed. She smiled warmly at you. “Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head. “I’m having trouble,” you whispered back. “But, I’m sure I’ll drift off sooner or later.”

Alexia hummed and tilted her head thoughtfully, then lifted the edge of her blanket in a silent invitation. “You know,” she said lightly. “Sleeping next to someone is supposed to help. Something about oxytocin or whatever. It’s supposed to calm you down.”

You chuckled. “Suddenly, you’re a biologist?”

“Nah, just a cuddle scientist.” Alexia teased, her grin widening. “Come here. If it doesn’t work out, you can always just go back to your bed.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping for reasons you couldn’t quite place. The idea was harmless — just two friends sharing a bed — but something about the offer felt different, like stepping over an invisible line. Still, the way Alexia looked at you, patient and almost knowing, made it hard to say no.

Biting your lip, you slid out from under your covers. The cold floor sent a shiver up your feet as you tiptoed toward Alexia’s bed. She scooted back slightly to make room, her blanket still held open. You slid in carefully, the scent of her shampoo immediately enveloping you. The bed was as tiny as yours, forcing your bodies closer than you’d planned.

You laid stiffly, your back almost to the edge of the bed, careful not to be too close to her. You were too afraid that moving closer to her might just… be too intimate.  

Just as you started to relax, Alexia’s hand slid over — tentative but deliberate — resting lightly on your waist, before settling flatly on the small of your back.

You jumped slightly at the sensation, but she didn’t let go. Instead, her fingers curled gently, tugging you closer until your body was flush against hers. 

“You were about to fall off,” she murmured, her voice low but teasing. “Relax, Monjita. I won’t bite.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t find the words to protest. Alexia adjusted, slipping an arm under your neck and pulling you into her chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her steady heartbeat thrummed against your ear, and though it should’ve calmed you, it only made your own race faster.

Even if you and Alexia had become close, there was a newness, a different feeling to this interaction. It felt intimate and almost like crossing friendship boundaries. 

“You’re so stiff,” she said after a moment, her tone light but edged with amusement. “What’s the big deal? Haven’t you ever hugged a friend before?”

You swallowed. “Not like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia hummed softly in response, her breath warm against your hair. “Well,” she said, her voice dropping just slightly, “there’s a first time for everything.”

You paused, contemplating, before softly whispering again. “Alexia,” You started cautiously. “I never really had a best friend.”

She hummed, her free hand gently brushing through your hair in slow, comforting strokes. “Yeah?” she prompted, her tone curious but tender. “What about Ingrid?”

You shook your head. “I like Ingrid, but she’s not my best friend and I can’t completely open up to her,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever opened up to anyone. I’m always so scared… scared that they’ll hate me or judge me once they really know me. You're the only one I feel like I can open up to.”

Alexia scoffed softly, almost incredulously. “I don’t see how anyone could hate you, monjita,” she said, her voice laced with quiet affection.

You swallowed, your chest tightening. “I think some of them already do,” you murmured, the words tasting bitter as you let them out. 

“I’ve always been so devoted to the Church, and sometimes… I think they see me as too pious, too preachy. I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” you added quickly, almost defensively. “But it’s made me someone they can’t trust. Like I’m just an extension of the nuns — someone they’ll never see as a real friend.”

Alexia chuckled warmly. “An extension of the nuns?”

You nodded. “Even you call me monjita.”

Alexia shook her head. “Well, yes,” she explained. “But not because I see you as an extension of the nuns. I just think you’d look so cute and adorable in those gigantic nun costumes they wear, and well, you’re as nice as a nun.”

You chuckled a bit but shook your head. “Still, people don’t see me beyond being the good girl, the praepostor… the person the nuns send them to whenever they have doubts about their faith.” You whispered. “Sometimes, I even forget who I am beyond that. Sometimes, I just let myself be who they think I am.”

Alexia’s hand didn’t falter as she hummed thoughtfully, her touch steady and grounding. “You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” she said simply, but there was something fierce in her voice, a quiet insistence that you weren’t sure how to process. “They can perceive you and they can judge you from just that but you shouldn’t let their perception define you.”

You hummed in thought, as you rested your hand on her chest, feeling her steady heartbeat. “It’s not just that,” you continued, the words spilling out now as though Alexia’s warmth had unlocked something deep inside you. “Even if they could see past that, I don’t think they’d like me once they really knew me, once they knew who I am beyond being the praepostor or the nun’s favorite.”

Her hand paused briefly, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, more cautious. “What do you mean?”

You stared blankly at the wall, the weight of her question pressing on you. “I mean that I have my own doubts,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That I give advice, telling people to trust God and follow His word, that all your problems will wash away when you believe and pray but deep down, I… I’m not sure I believe it myself. Sometimes, I feel so trapped… like I’m living this life for everyone else, not for me.”

“Hmm?” Alexia said as if to signal for you to continue.

You bit your lip, hesitant to share your own feelings with Alexia. “I’ve lived my whole life here in the Institute. This is all I’ve known and I know a lot of the sisters went through the same thing and learned to love it…” You trailed off.

Alexia prodded. “But?”

You felt tears form in your eyes but you tried to stop yourself from letting yourself get even more emotional. “I want to see what life is like… beyond this.” You shared softly, almost too soft for anyone to hear. “Just see what I’m missing out on.”

You continued, “I want to laugh freely. I want to watch movies that just make me laugh or make me cry — movies not necessarily made to have a moral or a lesson or be about a biblical character. I want to eat junk food and indulge in sweets without feeling like I’ve turned into a massive glutton. I don’t want to feel guilty for wanting a third pancake.”

Alexia chuckled softly at that, her mind flashing back to mornings in the dining hall when she’d see you dutifully pick at bland green beans, leaving the pancakes untouched for the younger girls.

“I want to do things other normal people our age do,” You continued. “I want to go drink recreationally and dance with people I don’t know. I wanna know what I’d look like with lots of makeup and those big lashes. I want to swim in a tiny swimsuit, even if it feels weird riding up your—”

Alexia laughed out loud at that, the sound warm and unguarded, and you couldn’t help but smile. Her amusement encouraged you, made you feel safe enough to keep going.

Taking a deep breath, you continued, “I want to fall in love,” you said, the words trembling on your lips. “Really fall in love. I want to go on a date, get flowers, share drinks. I want to kiss someone… not a polite little peck on the cheek. I mean really kiss, feel something. I want to know what it’s like to be loved and love beyond… beyond religious devotion.”

Suddenly, you fell silent, gulping as you allowed yourself to calm down again. Alexia hummed lowly as she continued to brush your hair. You stayed silent, waiting for Alexia to speak but she didn't, simply continuing to brush the pads of her fingers against you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. “You must think I’m a hypocrite,” you said, preempting her, your voice brittle with doubt.

“No, no, of course not, cariño.” She said immediately with a tender but firm voice. “I think what you’re feeling is natural.”

Another pause. You nuzzled closer to her instinctively, seeking comfort in the steady warmth of her touch. Alexia sighed softly, her breath ruffling your hair. “Having doubts, wanting these things… it doesn’t make you bad,” she murmured. “It makes you human. We all want love. And that’s okay, monjita.”

Her words settled over you, comforting but unfamiliar, as though you weren’t sure you deserved to hear them. You turned your head slightly, meeting her gaze. There was no judgment in her beautiful, hazel eyes — just patience, warmth, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“But what if it’s more than just doubts?” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear. “What if… what if I can’t actually be what they expect me to be? What if I just break?”

Alexia’s free hand moved to your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then maybe it’s time to stop living for their expectations,” she said, her voice firm yet impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be what they want. You only have one life and you deserve to live for yourself, angel.”

Your eyes locked together and you started feeling the weight in your heart be replaced by something new. You felt the energy between you two shift into an unfamiliar feeling you couldn’t put a finger on. There was a warmth between you two — a growing comfort and familiarity — but there was also the feeling of something ominous unraveling. You couldn’t tell what it was; it was something you’ve never known before.

And as soon as you felt your eyes flicker to Alexia’s lips — pink and lush, parted slightly as she stuck her tongue out to wet them, how they were impossibly close — you knew.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT III. We Can’t Really Help Who We Are

After that night cuddling with Alexia, you lied and said you preferred sleeping in your own bed, even if truthfully you’ve never slept better than you had wrapped around in her arms.

You’ve also let her hands awkwardly hang between you, brushing against yours to signal for you to take them. Instead of locking hands like you usually did, you’d cross them across your chest and avert your gaze.

When she’d try to wrap you in a back hug from behind, you’d find some excuse to slip away. “I need to re-fold my clothes,” you’d mumble, or, “I should check with Sister Catherine about something in the dormitory,” leaving her standing there, arms left empty.

More recently, you’d taken to pretending to be asleep, tucked into bed as early as nine in the evening, just to avoid those late-night conversations with her — the ones where it felt like the world disappeared and it was just the two of you.

Ever since you realized that you might have a crush on Alexia, you have avoided spending alone time with her. You dodged all her physical affection and even moved seats in class, making an excuse that your eyesight has been faulty lately which made no sense because you simply moved horizontally as you two had already been sitting up front.

To anyone else, your sudden change in behavior would have been confusing, even hurtful. But Alexia wasn’t just anyone. She understood what you were going through, even if you hadn’t said a word. She saw through your avoidance, knew why you flinched away from her touch or made excuses to leave.

So she decided to give you space. She’d let you sort through your feelings, trusting that you’d come to terms with them when you were ready. There was no rush, no pressure — not from her. The least she could do was add to the pressure you were already feeling from everyone and yourself.

But to you, Alexia’s calm and unbothered demeanor meant something entirely different.

You convinced yourself that her behavior wasn’t born from understanding but indifference. You figured she hadn’t noticed your growing feelings at all, or worse, that she had — and didn’t feel the same.

Her casual way of brushing off your sudden distance only solidified the idea in your mind: Alexia only saw you as a friend.

Every hug, every handhold, every quiet moment together — it was nothing more than friendship to her. That realization made everything harder. It made every excuse you gave, every inch of space you put between you, feel more necessary.

Certainly, it wasn’t the truth but to you, it felt like it was and that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every so often, some of the sisters that oversee dorm functions would gather everyone for some prayer activity, to exercise different manners of prayer. With the older sisters, they usually preferred teaching worship songs or learning prayers in different languages. The younger sisters were often more imaginative and fun. Sometimes, they’d make board games based on Biblical lessons or it would be a rosary-making session.

Today, Sister Catherine decided that a “Stretching with God” exercise would be fun. So, all the girls from your dorm building were gathered in your modest sweatpants and shirts as you attempted to follow Sister Catherine’s instructions. Some of the moves made sense like raising arms to reach towards the heavens or doing child’s pose to symbolize humility. But some of it… were questionable. 

She had everyone rolling their arms back to “emulate angel’s wings.” She had you lifting your legs back and forth in a swinging motion “to kick away all the evil that surrounds you.” After the “punching away demons” move, you looked around and noticed that everyone seemed to be enjoying it — some genuinely enjoying it and others just finding the silliness of it all amusing.

Though, you didn’t bother looking over to Alexia, who was standing beside you. You’ve been avoiding her gaze ever since she found it was so funny for her to lift her shirt up so slightly to wipe the imaginary beads of sweat from her forehead after every stretch.

To you, it seemed like an innocent gesture that your twisted brain was just corrupting but Alexia actually intended to do it ever since she’s caught you frequently glancing at her abdomen, especially after her football training.

“Okay, girls, to close off our Stretching With God session,” Sister Catherine instructed, a little bit winded from leading the session. “We’ll form a circle to have a small prayer.”

Sister Cathy turned off the radio that was playing instrumentals and soon, the dorm fell quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional shuffle of feet as everyone gathered into a circle. 

You had carefully chosen your spot, slipping beside Ingrid and moving away from Alexia. It seemed like the safest option at the time — distant enough from Alexia to make avoiding her easier. But now, as you settled in, you realized the mistake.  

From where you stood, you had a clear line of sight to Alexia. You did move far away from her side but that landed you almost directly in front of her in the circle. You clenched your hands, trying to focus on the prayer circle instead of the way her hazel eyes lingered, even when they weren’t looking at you directly.  

The prayer exercise began. “Okay, girls, we’ll be doing the typical ACTS prayer structure.” Sister Catherine started. “Can anyone remind us of what the ACTS prayer is like?”

Instinctively, all eyes darted to you. You nodded and spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear. “A for Adoration — you give worship to God and adore him for who he is. Typically, you can say ‘Almighty God’ or just ‘God the Father’... or whatever you feel is fitting.”

“Next, C stands for asking for confession when you let God know of and apologize for all your sins and misgivings.” Suddenly, your eyes drifted to Alexia who had a small smile on her face. You stumbled with your words. “Uh, uhm…”

“Thanks,” Ingrid whispered surreptitiously to you, thinking you'd forgotten it. 

You nodded. “T for Thanksgiving wherein we thank Him for all He has done. Lastly, S for supplication.”

Sister Catherine nodded at you thankfully. “And supplication is just asking humbly for what you want,” She looked over to you again. “For what you desire in your heart.”

You nodded, trying to keep your eyes on the nun instead of letting it drift towards Alexia. Soon, the nun started instructing the group on the movements that accompanied each part of the prayer.

For the adoration part, you all raised your hands high, the weight of silence heavy as you thought of words to praise Him. "All-knowing and all-seeing God," you whispered suddenly. The phrase came unbidden. You bit your lip, feeling guilt rush over you suddenly as you reached your fingertips to the sky. 

When it was time to give thanks, everyone was instructed to place their right hand over their heart. You murmured a quiet prayer of gratitude, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. "Thank you for self-control," you said softly, though it felt like a lie. Every day you spent avoiding Alexia made you feel like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. 

Then came the moment for forgiveness. You were to put both hands over your heart now, one over the other as you closed your eyes and bowed your head to symbolize humility and regret for your actions. You could practically feel your heartbeat inside your hands as you struggled to even formulate a coherent thought.

You knew somehow that your feelings for Alexia were wrong but you couldn’t piece together a statement asking for forgiveness because you couldn’t reconcile with yourself what sin you committed exactly. You clutched your chest as you breathed heavily, settling with a different apology. “I’m sorry I cannot recognize my own sins.” You thought silently.

Finally, it was time to ask for your desires. 

“Everyone, keep your heads low. This is to show humility, that you are a mere human asking God for something. Not demanding or expecting already, but just asking kindly with all the humility in our heart.” The nun instructed as she lowered her own head. You followed suit.

“Next, hold your hands, let it serve as a reminder that you are not alone and that your peers have their own desires and aspirations. As we hold hands, this is our way of praying that they also attain all their aspirations.” You locked hands with Ingrid and Maria who were both beside you.

“Finally, tell God your desire.” Sister Catherine said. “You can whisper it, say it out, or keep it in your heart and heed for Him to hear.”

Heads bowed low, hands clasped tightly, the circle seemed to shrink in on itself as whispers of prayers filled the room. Girls murmured quietly, voices blending into a soft hum of hope and longing. You lowered your head like the rest, but your mind was blank.  

What did you desire most?  

Nothing came to mind at first, only the familiar wave of guilt and confusion. But then, as if pulled by a force you couldn’t resist, you lifted your head. And that’s when you saw her.  

Alexia was already staring at you. Her head was not lowered like everyone else, her hazel eyes locked on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. In the middle of all the whispered prayers, the bowed heads, and the holy reverence, it was just the two of you, caught in a moment that felt impossibly loud in its silence.  

You didn’t look away.  

And in her gaze, you saw it. 

The same thing that burned in your chest — the unspoken desire, the longing you’d tried to bury — reflected back at you. It was an understanding, a silent confession shared without words.  

Your breath hitched, and your hands trembled as you tried to remain composed. Around you, the prayer continued, a soft chorus of whispered hopes filling the air. But at that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the guilt, not the fear — just her.  

Alexia’s lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, her eyes softened, her expression shifting into something both tender and devastating.  

The prayer ended, the murmurs quieting as hands released and the circle broke apart. But you remained frozen, still locked in the echo of what had just passed between you.  

You hadn’t spoken a word, but somehow, you knew. You both desired the same thing.

You were violently shaken awake. You blinked your eyes open to see the familiar dark-haired Norwegian sitting on your bed, trying to get you to wake up. 

You blinked your eyes, drowsy and disoriented. Ingrid looked relieved to see you awake. She sighed. “Sister Superior is summoning you to her office. She says there’s a matter of your concern.” She said with a frantic but firm voice.

You sat up and instinctively looked over to Alexia’s bed which was empty. However, this time, it was undone and not fixed which was uncharacteristic of the Catalan who often did her bed as soon as she woke up.

Ingrid noticed. “Alexia’s there too.” She clarified. “You need to get dressed immediately. Sister superior does not seem happy.”

Suddenly, your heart pounded against your chest. No one in the school knows what you were feeling for Alexia and yet, that was the first thing that came into your mind. Could you have been figured out?

No, it couldn’t be. You thought. But… we have been affectionate a lot and have been holding hands prior. Could that be the reason? But girls here often hold hands.

Or… maybe it’s all those nights sneaking out? Were you caught? Did they hear you say all those things about your apprehensions and your conflicted feelings.

You gulped as your hands grew clammy. Ingrid sat back on the bed with you and clasped your hand in hers. “Hey, hey,” Her voice said in a comforting manner but there was a tone of doubt. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It might just be a dormitory concern.”

You nodded, doubting her words. “Yeah… maybe.” You whispered. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Ingrid shook her head. “No, but it seems… urgent.” She answered. “Just get dressed and I’ll take you there immediately to not anger the sister.”

You immediately threw on your clothes and joined Ingrid as you briskly walked to the office at the opposite building. You were both quiet at first, the tension heavy between the two of you until Ingrid spoke up.

“Do you have a clue what this meeting could be about?” She asked cautiously. “Did Alexia do something?”

You bit your lip and looked at your friend’s icy blue eyes, contemplating whether or not you wanted to even answer.  Ingrid lowered her voice to a whisper. “I promise to God I won’t tell if you know anything.”

You looked away briefly, assessing if anyone was within earshot. You linked arms with Ingrid to move closer to her as you walked. “I think… it might be because Alexia and I snuck out once or twice before.”

Ingrid’s eyes widened, shocked not by the act of sneaking out but that it was you who did it. She knew several girls who snuck out before but you were the last person she expected to do so. “W-what? To where? Were you the ones who took the bus?”

You blinked cluelessly. “Bus? No, no, we often went to the prayer garden at night.”

Ingrid let out a sigh of relief, realizing that you two had very different concepts of sneaking out. 

“I… I don’t think that’s a big deal honestly.” She cautiously said, not wanting you to find out some people were actually sneaking out. “I doubt the sisters would be that mad about that. Just say you two wanted to pray. They can’t get mad at that.”

You hesitated. You looked over to your friend who you’ve known all these years. There were times you’d chat about personal things, sad moments, and doubts but you never really discussed anything too personal. But Ingrid… she was the only other person here you could fully trust to open up to — well, aside from Alexia. 

“There’s something else.” You started.

“What is it?” Ingrid looked at you quizzically.

You hesitated. “I… I’m starting to get…” Your voice trailed off.

Ingrid squeezed your hand. “I won’t judge. I promise and I swear to God.”

You sighed deeply before whispering. “I think I have feeli—” 

“Ingrid! There you two are!” You both jumped at the sound of Sister Jude suddenly appearing from the end of the hallway. The plump sister waved her hands to summon you two. “Please make haste, we don’t have all day.” 

You looked at Ingrid who had a curious, wide-eye look on her face but you decided against continuing your statement. Instead, you just gently tugged at her to gesture for her to jog to the sister’s office.

Having not had enough exercise, you were a bit winded by the time you got to the office while Ingrid was breathing normally, the athlete that she was.

As soon as you opened the door, you were met by the sight of Alexia’s familiar back, turned and standing with her hands clasped behind her back to face the Sister Superior who was sitting behind her desk with a sour expression. 

When the heavy wooden door opened further, you saw an unfamiliar person.

A tall, dark-haired girl wearing a black shirt and pants was sitting on the side opposite Alexia. She turned around to look at you as you entered. She had a strained and frustrated expression but it was undeniable that she was pretty.

You looked behind to Ingrid who comfortably nodded at you, gesturing for you to go on as she waited outside the office.

As soon as the door shut behind you, the sister superior began talking again. You moved closer to stand by Alexia, who glanced up at you briefly before looking back down. You stood quietly, trying to figure out what was happening.

Alexia’s demeanor was noticeably different. The confidence and the aura that she typically exuded suddenly gone, replaced by a heavy energy. You turned your attention to the sister who seemed frustrated.

Sister Philomena’s voice broke the silence, her tone sharp. “Alexia was sent here to heal from her past and seek redemption,” she said, pointing a finger at the dark-haired girl. “You cannot just walk into our sacred institution and tempt her back into your sinful lifestyle.”

The unfamiliar girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t see the problem, sister.” She responded, voice dripping with animosity. “Is Alexia a prisoner? Hell, even prisoners have more rights. Why can’t her friends visit her?”

The nun slammed her hand flat on the table. “This is precisely the problem. You think Alexia is a prisoner when she is here to grow and learn.” Her voice rang through the office. “And you did not come here to visit her. You trespass into our premises, asking her to run away and leave. This is not a visitation.”

You flinched at the harshness of the nun’s words. Sister Philomena turned toward you. “Tell this girl how visitation works here, so she understands.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and repeated the rules as best as you could. “When friends or family want to visit, they fill out a visitation form—”

“Precisely,” Sister Philomena interrupted. “But you didn’t come here to visit. You came to seduce Alexia and drag her away from God.”

“Seduced?” you whispered, your mind reeling at the accusation. Alexia must have taken notice because she quickly shook her head. 

“I’m not some demonic temptress like you’re making me out to be,” The girl chided with a mocking laugh. “You are all acting like I’m some evil person for wanting to see Alexia after everyone took her away from me! God forbid I want to see my girlfriend after she’s disappeared for months.”

Your heart stopped beating. Girlfriend?

You glanced over at Alexia then to the girl. Even with the girl being sat down on the chair, you could tell she was perhaps as tall as Alexia. She exuded the same confident aura. Even if Alexia never opened up about crushes, you never would have thought she’d actually be in a relationship, which felt like betrayal. Why wouldn’t she tell me she had a girlfriend? And… why would she act like that with me if she had one?

Your train of thought was suddenly broken when the nun’s voice loudly echoed through the room. Sister Philomena’s voice grew louder, more forceful with every word. “Homosexuality is a sin, plain and simple,” she said, her eyes blazing with what she surely believed was righteous indignation. “It is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, a corruption of His holy design. And you, girl, are no better than the serpent in the garden, seeking to lead Alexia down a path of damnation.”

You clutched your heart subconsciously, feeling affected and shaken by her words. You could feel your hands quiver as the scene unfolded. Sister Philomena had always been intimidating but you’ve never seen her this frustrated and intense. It was frightening. Not to mention what she was saying was starting to get to you, digging into your own guilt.

The sister stood up from her chair, still standing quite tall despite her seniority. “Her grandparents sent her here, to this sacred institution, to be healed, to be purified. They entrusted us with their beloved granddaughter, hoping that we could erase the darkness that had consumed her heart. This place is meant to protect her from the evil influences of the world, to bring her back to the fold, back to the love and grace of the Lord.”

Suddenly, Sister Philomen’s eyes darted to you. “We surround her with kind people, righteous people like her.” She pointed at you. The dark-haired girl’s glare shifted to you, making you feel even more nervous. “She is the type of company Alexia needs to heal and to repent. Her friends and peers in this institute have been working tirelessly to guide Alexia to the righteous path.”

You looked down on your shoes, unsure of what to feel with the Sister’s words. This wasn’t the first time that you had to stand in a room with the nun and another student being admonished. You quickly learned your role in all of this — the ideal student to be made an example to the wrongdoer. After this session, you were expected to confide in the students, pray with them, and tell them more gently how they can improve.

It was never easy for you, having to assume that role. But now, it felt less like a challenge and more like a heavy cross to bear on your back.

Turning her attention back to the dark-haired girl, Sister Philomena’s expression hardened, her voice dripping with venom. “Your very presence here, your words, your actions, are a poison to her soul. You are the temptation, the forbidden fruit. You are what lures her into the darkness, and she has no hope of finding salvation with you by her side. What kind of life is it that you offer her? A life of sin, of shame, of eternal separation from God. That is the future you are promising her.”

The nun put a hand on her temples, starting to feel nauseous from the anger. The younger nuns in the room urged her to sit back down, patting her back to calm her down. She took a deep breath, looking at some of the documents scattered on her desk, mindlessly organizing them to calm herself down.

Her voice softened only slightly as she looked up again at the girl. “You are not a savior. You are a predator, preying on a fragile soul, and you will not be allowed to continue poisoning Alexia’s spirit. We will not allow it. She will live a better life without you. We will make sure of it.”

The dark-haired, tattooed girl let out a smug chuckle. “What kind of life is it where you’re called a sinner for being who you are?” she spat, her voice not loud but firm. “She’s not living here. She’s suffering here. Clearly.”

Sister Philomena shook her head. “Enough.” She ordered. “If you don’t want us to call the police for trespassing and damaging personal property, you need to leave. Now.”

The girl clenched her jaw before shaking her head. As a last resort, she turned to Alexia who was still unmoving, head held down. “Alexia, please. You don’t belong here. Come with me. We can leave this place together.” She turned to the sisters. “You’re old enough to just leave this place and live your truth. Come on, you can decide for yourself.” 

Alexia stood still, her gaze fixed on the floor. She didn’t move, didn’t react. You watched in silent disbelief as the younger nuns approached the tall girl, putting hands on her shoulders. “Alexia, please.” She said as she tried to reach for Alexia’s hands. This time, the nuns firmly held her so that she couldn’t move towards Alexia. “Do you really want to stay here?”

Alexia stood, unmoving. The girl scoffed and shrugged the hands on her shoulders away. “I can go on my own.” She barked out. “Fine, if you wanna stay here and get converted into some bible thumper then live your life, Alexia.” 

She looked one last time at Alexia, then at you. “These people don’t actually love you, just remember that.”

It felt targeted somehow — the way she looked at you as she spat those words out. You knew she had no idea of what you meant to Alexia and what you felt for her but you still can’t help but feel it was a personal dig at you.

The door slammed behind the girl as she left, The weight of the revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, and you stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway. The silence hung for a moment before Sister Philomena cleared her throat. “Alexia,” She called out in a firm but not angry voice.

Finally, Alexia raised her head. That’s when you noticed that her face was tear-stained and her eyes bloodshot despite the firm, un-emoting look on her face. “Yes, sister?”

“Did you make any contact with Jennifer Hermoso prior to this?” She asked sternly.

“No, sister.” She responded firmly.

“Do you wish to continue your stay in this institute?” The sister asked quizzically. 

Alexia’s eyes flickered to you for a moment before quickly returning to the senior sister. “Y-yes, sister.”

The nun hummed, rubbing her temples. “And do you understand why you’re here? Why it is in your best interest to be her?” 

No hesitation came from Alexia. “Yes, sister.”

The nun seemed satisfied, nodding her head. “Okay, seeing this incident is not your fault,” She started. “Let it serve as a test of your faith and your strength. I will not admonish you but I will simply remind you to pray over your situation diligently.”

Alexia nodded. 

“I will have the junior sisters talk to you later but for now, you two return to your dorm room.” Sister Philomena ordered. She then pointed her pen at you. “I trust you two will have a fruitful conversation together as well. Hence, I’ll have you both excused for morning classes. Understood?”

You nodded at the nun, confirming with her that you got her silent instruction to do what you always did — force the troublemaker back into the rightful path. 

This time, though, you feel like you’ve also been led astray. Blind leading the blind.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ACT IV. Damned to the End From the Start

You and Alexia were joined by Ingrid as you made your way back to the dorm buildings. Ingrid kept glancing at you, her expression a mix of concern and silent questions, as if willing to speak up and explain what had happened. You raised a hand in a subtle gesture, signaling her to wait. The tension hung heavy between the three of you, amplified by Alexia’s silence. She walked alongside you, her arms folded, her gaze fixed ahead. Not once did she look at you or reach for your hand. The distance, both physical and emotional, was unsettling.

Once you got to your dorm, Alexia slipped inside without a word, leaving you in the hallway with Ingrid. Ingrid turned to you, her wide eyes filled with disbelief. “I can’t believe how harsh she was to Alexia,” she whispered, her voice tinged with anger and sadness.

You bit your lip, partially surprised by Ingrid’s sympathy. You had always assumed people defended the sisters’ stances without question — you certainly had in the past. But this time was different. This time, the weight of their words had hit too close to home, and Ingrid’s reaction was a small but meaningful relief.

Before you could think about your actions, you just pulled Ingrid into a hug, startling the taller girl. “Thank you for being with us, Ingrid.” You murmured, voice soft but sincere. “Really. Thank you.”

Ingrid blinked, clearly surprised by your affection. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, darling,” she said with a gentle laugh, her tone warm despite her confusion. “But I’m glad my presence meant something to you.”

When you pulled back, she rested her hands on your shoulders, her touch steady and reassuring. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You sighed and nodded, thinking about whether or not you should open up to her at that moment. You still weren’t sure what to feel. For now, you just excused yourself. “Thank you,” you said again, offering her a small smile. “But I need to check on Alexia first. She needs me.”

Ingrid nodded, her expression understanding. “Of course,” she said, stepping back to give you space. “Take care of her. And yourself.”

With a final nod, you turned and entered your dorm room, closing the door softly behind you. You could immediately see Alexia curled up on her bed, facing the wall. The sight of an upset Alexia was something new. In the past months, you’ve seen all versions of Alexia – happy after you say something that made her laugh, sad over a movie, pissed off after a bad football training session, teasing almost all the time. But this devastated, silent Alexia… it was not a thing you’ve ever thought you’d encounter.

You stepped cautiously, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Alexia…” Your voice trailed off. “Look, what Sister said… I’m sure she… Well…” You kept losing confidence in what you were saying. Even you felt lost in the situation, deeply conflicted by the situation.

“Not in the mood for a sermon,” Alexia grunted out, burying her head in her pillow.

You felt a pang in your heart. “Alexia…” You started again cautiously. “I-I’m sorry that that happened. None of it was your fault. Sister Philomena just takes student safety seriously and y’know, a trespasser…”

“You know that’s not what I’m upset about,” Alexia interrupted, her voice sharper now, though it trembled with emotion.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “I know,” you admitted quietly, sighing as the words you wanted to say slipped further away. After a beat of silence, you asked gently, “Do you want to leave?”

At that, Alexia shifted slightly, her hand brushing against her cheek as she wiped her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, fragile. “I don’t want to leave, monjita.” The words came out in a croak, and she sniffled as though holding back more tears.

Your hands itched to reach for her, to wipe away her tears and pull her into your arms. But something held you back — maybe fear of overstepping, maybe the invisible walls Alexia seemed to have built around herself at that moment. So you stayed where you were, your voice gentle as you replied, “I’m glad you’re staying. I… I like having you here, Alexia.”

A pause. “Even after you learned why I’m here?” 

“Yes, of course, Alexia.” You comforted her immediately. “Nothing changed for me. Your girlfriend… whatever happened between you two is in the past. It’s none of my business.”

“Ex,” She corrected. “Ex-girlfriend.”

You nodded, weirdly comforted by the way she corrected you. Silence befell the dorm room again, disturbed only by the sound of sniffling. You wanted to say so much but there was not a single coherent thought.

“Monjita,” Alexia whispered, her voice trembling and soft, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Your heart warmed at the use of her endearment with a gentle tone. She glanced at you carefully. “Do you think I’m… wrong for who I am? Do you hate me?”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. The mere thought that Alexia, who carried so much strength and warmth, could believe you might judge or reject her for something as intrinsic as her identity made your throat tighten. Your eyes began to sting, tears threatening to spill. Without a second thought, you leaned over to Alexia. You got a closer look of her reddened, tear-stained face. 

You used your hand to wipe her tears and the hair that stuck to her face. “Alexia, you’re not wrong for who you are.” You whispered. “And, I could never hate you.”

Her glassy eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering within them. “Yeah?” she asked hesitantly, as though daring to hope you truly meant it. Her hazel eyes flickered as tears threatened to spill again. “Then why haven’t you been talking to me?”

You gulped, looking away for a moment before looking back at her. “Alexia,” you started. “I promise you it was all on me. I was struggling with being close to someone. You know me… I haven’t had a best friend since I was a kid. It’s been hard for me to adjust… to being close to someone.” You paused, struggling to find the words.

Alexia lifted your head up by placing a hand on your chin. “Does it have to do with me being…” She trailed off.

“No, no,” You shook your head and gave her a small, reassuring smile. You hesitated for just a moment before leaning in, pressing a tender kiss to her moist cheek. “I promise, you haven’t done anything to drive me away.” You whispered, your voice filled with conviction.

Something in her expression softened, and then she shifted, turning fully to face you. Without warning, she sat up and pulled you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you as though she was trying to hold herself together. You returned the hug, feeling the weight of her emotions as her face pressed into your shoulder. The world outside seemed to fade as the two of you sat there, wrapped in a moment that felt achingly fragile and impossibly intimate

When Alexia pulled back, her hands slid up to cradle your face. Her thumbs lightly brushed your cheeks, and you could feel the warmth of her palms against your skin. The intensity in her eyes made your breath hitch. Her gaze flickered between your own, and then down to your lips. She brushed over your cheek again with her thumb, gentle against your own skin. As Alexia moved closer, you felt your own eyes flutter nervously.

Just as Alexia was about to move closer, the door creaked open, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. Both of you jumped, your hearts racing as though you’d been caught doing something forbidden. 

Ingrid popped in, standing in the doorway, equally surprised to see you both wide-eyed and surprised. “Oh, sorry, was I…” She trailed off.  “Was I… interrupting something?”

You quickly shook your head, your face burning. “No, it’s fine,” you managed, your voice higher than usual.

Ingrid lingered awkwardly for a moment before clearing her throat. “Sister Catherine sent me to call Alexia over,” she said, her tone careful, as if trying not to pry.

Alexia straightened, wiping her face hurriedly with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh… uh… of course,” she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion. She glanced back at you as she stepped toward the door, her eyes apologetic and heavy with unspoken words. 

As the door clicked shut, the silence filled the room and the only sound you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. You stared at the space Alexia had just vacated, your thoughts spinning.

Did we almost…

The guilt hit at the thought you were not even able to finish as the horrible feeling drowned you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something wrong. You liked Alexia… you cared for her and not much changed for what you feel for her. But, the guilt you had already took root in your gut. It was something that you’ve lived with all your life. Even if you wanted to shake off the feeling, it felt incredibly difficult.

You laid on Alexia’s bed, staring at the ceiling as all the emotions filled you.

Alexia had to sit through multiple sessions with the sisters, which was tiring, to say the least. She hated being lectured by the older nuns the most; one can only listen to 'being gay is a sin' so many times. The more junior nuns were more tolerable but it still wasn’t any fun. They may not have condemned Alexia for being gay but they did say that she shouldn’t 'act on her homosexuality.'

It was just tiring and by the time they were done with Alexia, it was already dinner time.

She was too nervous to eat around the sisters so she hadn’t eaten all day, leaving her with a rumbling stomach. She trudged along to the cafeteria, heading to her usual table. However, this time, something seemed off.

Alexia set down her plate of potatoes and beef as she looked around. “Where’s monjita?” She asked, using your nickname which she used so often that others have already associated it with you.

“She said she wasn’t hungry,” Ingrid responded as she picked at her potatoes. “She’s skipping dinner.”

Maria chewed on her food, gesturing that she was about to say something. As soon as she swallowed her mouthful of undercooked potatoes, she added, “I think she might be praying though. She said something about it when I saw her in the hallway”

“Oh,” Alexia said before sitting down, wondering why you would skip dinner when you typically were not the type to miss meals. She absentmindedly ate her food, mind still fixated on her.

Ingrid must have noticed the vacant expression in the Catalan’s eyes. “You good?” She asked carefully.

Alexia shook out of her catatonic state. “Yeah, yeah, just tired.” She responded. “Uh… did she explain why she’s missing dinner?”

Ingrid exhaled. “No, but she kinda looked upset when I last saw her.” She said. “She didn’t even want to talk to me.”

Alexia hummed as she nodded in response. After taking a nibble out of her food, she decided that she couldn’t sit there without knowing what was going on with you. She took a big gulp of water before standing up from the table, food barely touched. “Uh, I gotta go.”

“Oh,” Her teammates looked at each other cautiously. Ingrid carefully asked, “Alexia, are you sure you’re okay?”

Alexia gave a tight-lipped smile before nodding. “Yeah, just… not hungry.”

Ingrid, who had heard Alexia’s stomach rumble a while ago, didn’t believe her one bit but figured it would be best for Alexia to go on and find you. “Oh okay,” She said. “If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

Alexia gave a thankful look before leaving the cafeteria. The hallways were quite empty save for a few students returning back to their dorms. Alexia figured the best place to find you was back in your dorm room but as soon as she opened the door to your room, it was dark and empty. 

She sighed, walking aimlessly through the dorm building and the common rooms. She grew even more weary once she got to the library and found no trace of you. 

Fuck, where could she even be?

She paused. Suddenly, a familiar freshman passed by. She knew the girl from all the times she’d knock on your dorm room, asking to talk to you for some spiritual guidance. Alexia briskly walked towards the girl. “Anna.” 

The freshman turned around. She seemed shocked. “Oh, Alexia.” She said. “You scared me.”

Alexia looked at her apologetically. Perhaps, it wasn’t such a good idea to startle the kid in the middle of a dark hallway but she needed to find you as soon as she could. “Uh, have you seen Y/N anywhere? She skipped dinner.”

Anna nodded. “I came over to your room to ask advice about something but she said she had to go pray. Maybe in the chapel?”

Alexia peered out the windows, seeing that it was raining outside. “The chapel? Across the field?” She asked as if there was any other chapel. 

The freshman nodded. “Yeah… or the prayer room?” 

Alexia shook her head. “I was just there and she’s not there.” She bit her lip. “Okay, thank you, Anna.”

Alexia grew increasingly worried as she heard the thunderstorm worsen outside the dorm windows. Her heart started beating harder against her chest when she reached your shared room to find you’ve left behind your umbrella. Oh no, she must be stranded there.

Alexia didn’t hesitate to rush to you, growing increasingly worried about your wellbeing.

Little did she know, Anna’s hunch was right and you were praying at the chapel. However, you weren’t there because you were stranded. You’ve been staying there for hours, trying to avoid everyone and trying to seek for answers.

Answers for what? You didn’t even know. You just knew you were lost and that you needed guidance.

The dim flicker of candles cast long shadows across the chapel walls as you exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, your hands clasped tightly in prayer, your head bowed low. You had been kneeling for so long that your legs had gone numb.

“God…” You prayed out, losing track of things you’ve already prayed for previously. Your voice was soft but it felt amplified by the heavy silence in the dark and empty chapel. “I need you to send me a sign. Anything. I just need you to tell me you don’t hate me for who I am.”

Then, as if on cue, a deafening crack of lightning split the air outside, shaking the stained glass windows. You flinched, your heart racing as you lifted your tear-streaked face to glance toward the altar.

You sighed. “Is that the sign?” The words slipped out, dripping with doubt and hesitation. You felt ridiculous asking for clarification for a sign that might have seemed like an obvious disapproval. 

A lot of the sisters have told you that when you pray enough, God speaks to you with clarity, and at times, it did feel that way. But now, he just seemed… so far away and so silent.

Another thunderous clap echoed through the night, louder this time, shaking you to your core.

“If that is really your sign…” Your voice trailed off, trembling. “Then cleanse all the sin away. Cleanse all wrongful desires and replace it with something more pure.”

You paused as you felt the lump in your throat return for the nth time that night and felt your vision become blurry. “I-if you think what I feel for her is a sin… if I’m beyond saving…” You whispered before wiping your tears away, and speaking more firmly. “Then… the least you can do is take it all away. Wipe her from my mind. Take all of it — every memory, every feeling.”

As you said it, you could feel your heart break at the thought of forgetting Alexia. You could feel the sob you’ve been suppressing bubble up to the surface as you fall to pieces. Your body crumpled, collapsing from a kneeling position to sitting back on your legs. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly, your cries muffled by the storm outside.

You couldn’t speak up anymore, feeling like each thunderclap was God’s way of admonishing you. The still statues of the saints seemed to tower over your crumpled posture, signifying just how low you’ve fallen.

“Please, God,” You cried out one last time. “Just… be here.”

At the moment, you felt so empty and alone in the chapel. However, unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone in the past few minutes. You’ve grown consumed by your sobs and your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed that Alexia had been lurking at the back of the chapel, carefully walking towards you.

She hadn’t heard much but she heard enough to conclude that you were here because of her. 

She stepped closer to you, her closed umbrella dripping on to the cold marble. The wind continued to rattle the stained glass windows, making the atmosphere feel even more tense. 

As you let out another sob, Alexia finally spoke up. “Are you praying that God will heal me?” Her voice cracked as she said it.

You nearly jumped at the voice cutting through the silence of the chapel. As you turned, your eyes locked with Alexia, standing a few pews back. It was dim — her face illuminated by the faint light of the lamps and candles — but her expression was clearly pained. Her hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted and quivering as if wanting to stay something but unable to. 

“D-do you think I’m a sin for liking women too?” she asked, her voice faltering. She was trying to sound firm and composed, but the cracks in her tone betrayed her.

You stood up from your kneeling position, walking towards the taller girl. “Alexia,” you said. “No, no — I wasn’t…”

“I thought you—” Alexia’s voice cracked. She looked down, shaking her head, before looking back up at you. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Alexia, please.” You reached for her hands, clasping them tightly in your own. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t praying for that.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, defensive and desperate, as though you could will her to understand.

Alexia took her hand away from you. “Then what was all of that ‘erase all memory of her’ I was hearing?” Her voice quivered, blinking rapidly as a few drops of tears trailed down her face. “I thought… I thought you liked me.”

You reached over to her again, trying to touch her face but she backed away. You bit your lip, pained by the sight of her. She looked hurt. “Alexia, you’re misunderstanding…”

“How else can I interpret that?” Her voice was suddenly sharp, tinged with anger and pain. “What else could you mean? How am I supposed to feel when you’re in here begging God to erase me from your life?”

The emotions that bubbled inside of you made it harder for you to formulate a coherent sentence to explain to her just what you were praying about. “Alexia, I really…” You paused. “I was just asking Him for a sign.”

Alexia released a dry, hollow chuckle, obviously pained. “A sign that what? You should distance yourself from me? Because I’m some filthy homosexual dragging you to hell, isn’t that right?” You winced at Alexia’s tone as it cracked through the heavy air. 

“Alexia, stop—please!”

“No, you stop!” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger and grief. “You’re praying to forget me so you can go back to being perfect little monjita, right? So you can live your pure, saintly life without people like me ruining it?” Her lips curled in a bitter smile, her eyes glassy. “Because your god says I’m disgusting, doesn’t he? That people like me don’t deserve to exist?”

“Go ahead, fuck it,” She cursed, not letting you interject with her voice sharp and pointed. “I’ll stay away from you. I won’t bother you anymore just so you can be the perfect angel everyone thought you were again. I’ll stay away so your life can finally be cleansed from—”

Without even thinking twice, you stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Alexia’s waist, burying your head in her chest as you felt the sobs bubble up again. You clutched her tightly as your body shook. 

Startled, Alexia lost her train of thought and kept her hands to her sides, unmoving. When you looked up, she locked eyes with you and saw so much pain in your face. The tears continued to rush down your face with no sign of stopping. Your eyes were filled with a devastating expression that made her heart pang. 

“Alexia, I’m praying because…” Your voice cracked as you struggled to speak through the tears. “I think I like you… and that terrifies me.”

Alexia’s breath hitched, and her arms moved almost involuntarily, wrapping around you in a hesitant but protective embrace. She held you close, her mind racing as conflicting emotions surged through her. She felt confused as to how to feel because here you were, confessing your feelings just after she heard you pray that you forget about her.

Her hazel eyes searched yours as she pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. You could see the confusion and pain warring within her. “You were asking him to help you forget me,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “How am I supposed to believe you now?”

You stepped back, your hands trembling as you wiped at your tear-stained face. “Alexia, I…” You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “I was saying things out of fear — out of confusion. This… this is all I’ve ever known,” you began, your voice cracking. “The church, my faith, my beliefs… they were my whole world.”

“And it was fine.” You said before looking up to Alexia, meeting her hazel eyes once again. “Until you came along.”

Alexia looked away from the eye contact, feeling it was too much for her to handle with the fear of dissolving into tears. You bit your lip and continued. “Then now, when I look back, everything that was… it felt wrong.” 

“You… you showed me,” You said, stepping again towards Alexia to touch her hand. “You showed me that I could be happy. Truly happy. Not just because I was told to be happy or because I felt like I had to be.”

Alexia looked up to you again, locking eyes with you again. But, this time, all the frustration was replaced with something else — her eyes misty and her expression soft. “Then why are you here?” She asked. “Why do you want to get rid of what we have… if I make you happy?”

You looked down, carefully holding on to Alexia’s hesitant fingertips. “I’m still afraid… what if…” You tried to choose your words carefully. “What if my feelings for you are wrong? What if we make that mistake and… we suffer…”

You couldn’t say it more tactfully or more carefully but Alexia could finally understand your internal conflict better. She puts a careful hand under your chin, lifting your head up to look up at her as she moved closer to you.

“Why would this be wrong?” she asked, her voice low but steady, her eyes burning with emotion. “Why would loving you — purely, wholly, completely — be a sin?”

You looked up at Alexia, feeling your breath hitch. Your eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes.

God, you said silently in your head. If this is a sin, strike me with lightning now.

The air between you and the Catalan grew heavier as you both breathed. The silence filled the air with only the sound of the wind howling and the rain pouring on the roof.

You took a deep breath, eyes finding their way back to Alexia’s parted and anticipating lips. 

A pause. A breath held.

Then, suddenly, you were kissing her. Your lips crashed into hers with a fervor that felt almost primal, a hunger that had been building for far too long. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, as though letting go would send her slipping through your fingers, like sand in an hourglass.

Hwr hands found their way around your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss. Her lips pressed against yours, soft and sweet, yet insistent. She parted your lips slightly, her tongue teasing yours with a delicious mix of restraint and desire. The way your body molded against hers left her yearning for more, craving every piece of you. 

She’s kissed other girls before but nothing quite like this. Sure, it had the same passion and intensity. But kissing you went beyond passion. It was transcendence. 

Kissing you felt like kissing heaven.

You shared the same unspoken sentiment but to you, Alexia tasted like freedom. Her lips against yours just managed to melt away all your worries, all your doubts. With every careful yet firm touch on your waist and hips, it felt like your chains were being detached link-by-link and you were finally able to move unconstrained. 

Suddenly, you felt free.

As you became breathless, you pulled away from the taller girl, trying to catch your breath. You looked up at her, searching her own eyes for a response.

Alexia just smiled at you, letting you catch your breath, before taking your face again — her hands gentle but insistent. She leaned in and captured your lips with hers, kissing you in a way that left your face warm and your mind hazy.

It felt right: kissing her, holding her, being hers. Even for a stolen moment. 

There were still a lot of things for you two to worry about. For one, you still resided within the confines of this institution that would condemn you. But you couldn’t think of that at the moment. All you knew was you were kissing Alexia… and that was all that mattered now.

Inside that cold, unyielding chapel, kissing Alexia felt like soaring towards the sun — a forbidden warmth that melted away all the frigid pain inside you. It was a kind of warmth you’ve never felt in your life. It was the kind of warmth you’ve always craved to feel, without even knowing it.

But even Icarus — who sought to feel that same sensation of the satisfying heat — was undone when he flew too close to the sun. Before he could even realize it, his wax had melted and his wings had unraveled.

And came his devastating descent. 

chapter 2 🕊

a/n: let me know your thoughts. comments motivate me a lot <3

[nimuraz]

WORD COUNT — 2.3K

WARNINGS — have you ever tried this one? fingering, pet name usage, sub!jake, hand jobs, cum eating, sex toys (let me know if i missed anything)

NOTES — hii guys thank u for the support on just for now, i will be splitting juno up into 2 parts so stay tuned for the next part! at the end of the fic i did include the pics of the lingerie that u can imagine wearing hehe~

jake was the sweetest man alive. always bringing you flowers, buying you food, being the shoulder you cry on, yes everything about him was so so sweet. even in bed he was so gentle and sweet, you didn’t hate it by any means but you were starting to get bored.

“jakey… can we talk for a sec?” the hesitation in your voice is unmistakable—how on earth are you supposed to tell your sweet, caring boyfriend that you want to go at it like rabbits?

“yea, pretty. what’s up?” he says enthusiastically. somehow that’s making it harder for you.

both of you are on the couch, your legs pulled up to your chest while he sits normally, his hand resting on your knee. as you call out to him once more, the touch makes it even harder for you to find the words.

“in the most normal way possible… do you have anything you’re into? like… i don’t know… any kinks?” you try saying this sweetly. his eyes widen and a soft chuckle escapes his lips.

“mm… i dunno really…” he trails off into thought and to be honest now that he thinks of it he does wanna try some things out.

“i wouldn’t consider them kinks but probably more of like… things i would be down to try?” he says before laughing again softly. his hand on ur knee trailing down to squeeze your thigh.

“let’s hear it!” you say laughing shortly after. his hand on your thigh ignites a fire beneath your skin. ‘this is gonna be a long night’* you think, before offering him a reassuring smile.

“maybe you on top?” he suggests, biting his bottom lip with a smug grin spreading across his face. “want you to be a little rough with me too… tug on my hair, yank me around here and there.” he squeezes your thigh a bit tighter. your glossy eyes meet his, you nod your head softly, encouraging him to continue.

“make me feel good, but also use me, princess.” he whispered before scooting closer to you, his hand now in your inner thigh.

“use you…?” you whisper back. your breath was caught in your chest.

“mhm… do whatever you need to get yourself off, worry about me after.” his voice barely above a whisper. you look at him and smile before putting your legs back down, your feet hitting the floor.

you thought about what jake had said and ever since then you hate to admit it but you were so so needy and per usual, you texted jake.

you: jakeyyy

jake: yes baby?

you: can you come over? pretty pleaseeee

jake: give me like an hour

is that okay?

‘more than okay…’ you thought to yourself. it felt like a lightbulb went off in your head.

you: yea that’s perf muah see u then

jake: see you my love

you hop in the shower and somehow manage to shave everything. once you’re out, you head to your closet, searching for something to wear. yes you wanted to sleep with him, but you definitely didn’t need him struggling to pull down a pair of blue jeans to make it happen.

you sift through all your clothes until you remember—the baby pink lace lingerie you bought a few days ago, still sitting in its packaging. squatting down, you search through the shoe boxes, hoping to find it, and finally, you do.

you unpackaged it and smile to yourself before putting it on. glancing in the mirror your smile widens. you continue getting ready, doing your usual makeup routine and fluffing out your hair.

after what feels like forever, an hour passes, and you finally hear a knock at the door. you quickly put a robe on and walk over to the front door of your apartment.

“jakey!” you say softly before wrapping your around around his shoulders.

“someone’s in a good mood,” he teases, giving you a gentle squeeze in the hug. of course you were in a good mood. you pepper soft kisses all over his face as he closes the door behind him.

he lets out the cutest giggle you’ve ever heard come out of him.

“just missed you…” you say sweetly before dragging him to the couch with you. the quiet background noise of the tv playing a random channel plays as you focus on jake.

“so what’d you wanna do hm?” he says softly as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. his other hand running slowly up and down your thigh.

“anything… everything…” you mutter before looking up to him sweetly. you shift, draping your legs over his thighs, so close to settling onto his lap.

the bottom of the robe rides up, bunching up on the top of your thighs, of course this doesn’t go unnoticed by your sweet boyfriend who’s trying so hard to not look.

“mm… wanna watch a movie?” he murmurs softly, his breath catching as you move your free hand to untie your robe, letting it fall open without fully taking it off just yet.

“we can… or we can do something else…” you whisper against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his back.

unbeknownst to both of you, the tv starts cycling through various pop star performances. this hour’s feature is sabrina carpenter, her playful voice and melodies perfectly complementing the atmosphere.

jake runs his slender fingers through your fluffed out hair. “yeah?” he whispers, his eyes locked on your glossy gaze. with one swift move, he pulls you onto his lap, you let out a tiny yelp causing the both of you to laugh softly. he thumbs at your outer thigh gently.

“what do you wanna do, pretty girl…?” he whispers before grazing your neck with his lips. he starts kissing so softly the way he always does. a soft huff escapes your lips before you speak again.

“wanna make you feel good…” your voice barely above a whisper. “wanna have fun with you.” you let out a louder moan as he starts sucking on the skin of your neck. his free hand moves to your shoulders, gently sliding the robe off.

you let him remove the article of clothing, it soon falling to the arm of the couch behind you.

“oh…” he gasps lightly as he looks down at you. the pink lace top lingerie covering just above your soft buds. “you look so pretty… not that you don’t always do just-“

you cut him off, kiss harsh and demanding. an unusual feel to what you both usually do with each other. his eyes flutter open at the sensation before he cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. his eyes slowly start closing again. he lets out a soft hum as you bite his bottom lip.

you pull away and peck his lips before shifting over to straddle him.

“better…” you whisper before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and dipping back down to kiss him again. his hands running up and down your sides gently.

“do you like it…?” you mumble against his lips.

“what? the surprise of you in this skimpy little outfit?” his tone playful. you smile against his lips before kissing him again. he takes this opportunity to rub your hips gently, this sparks an idea in your head too.

you start shifting your hips back and forth gently, a quiet groan tries to release from his lips but they were muffled by your sweet kisses. his grip on your hips tightens before he starts moving you himself, grinding you harder against his aching core.

“bed…” he mumbles against your lips before swiftly lifting the both of you up from the couch. he lays you down on the bed gently before putting his hands back on you.

“so pretty… my perfect girl…” he says in between kisses. you clench around nothing. “s’tied on the sides? how cute…” he starts toying with the ribbons on the side of the lace panties before undoing the knots on one side.

“i wanna try what we talked about.” your words come out in soft pants.

“only if you’re comfortable, angel…” here he goes being the sweetest person alive.

“but i want you to be rough with me too.” you pant once again.

“are you sure?” he gazes up at you. fluffy strands of hair framing his face as he dips down to get closer a better look of you. you nod quickly.

“i also have… toys, we can use.” you hesitantly say. his ears perk up. he nods slowly, taking in what you just said. you tug him back down by his neck, eager for more kisses, and fuck, he can feel you everywhere—your lips on his, your hands digging into his chest, clawing at his shirt, your legs pressing against his. a sweet whimper was all he could let out when you pull away from the kiss.

he pulls you closer by the waist, squeezing the skin that laid on your bones so perfectly, he thought to himself. he leans his body down to suck on your neck, his tongue licking stripes up and down the skin earning a soft moan from you.

“more jae…” jae. it’s what you seemed to only call him during times like this or when you’re sobbing after a long day and he’s there to hold you.

“i’ve got you, baby doll.” and that’s what he calls you.

the soft music from the living room tv drifts into your room as the tension rises. what a coincidence—your favorite sabrina carpenter song, juno, is playing.

he continues his kisses down your neck before untying the other side of the lace panties, his kisses get harsher and hotter. his tongue licking softly at your bottom lip. you instinctively open your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in, all he could think of was inhaling you. your scent, your taste, the feel of you. he needed it all so deep inside of him. he takes the hand he used to undo the knot and slips the lace covering your bare core to the side before rubbing your clit in soft circles.

you moan into the kiss before trailing your hands up to his nape, tugging on the soft strands just like he told you too. he moans, but not like the moans you’re usually used to. he sounded so spent and needy and all you’ve done was kiss.

he starts rubbing your sensitive bud faster before dipping his fingers down to your soaking hole just to play with your arousal, smearing it back up to your clit.

“baby…” he babbles as you keep tugging on the strands, his fingers working faster against you. you buck your hips up seeking more friction, it just wasn’t enough. he chuckles softly against your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

“just like that jae— mmh…” you moan out.

“you feel so soft… so perfect…” he murmurs into your lips, craving the warmth, the sounds, the touch—desperate to be consumed by it all.

“check- nngh jae- check the box under my bed…” you manage to whisper out. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he stops his motions.

he dips down next to the bed and reaches for the box, sliding the pink plastic box towards him then up onto the bed.

you smile hazily at him. “open it…” so he does.

dildos, vibrators, a cock ring, and… fuzzy pink handcuffs?

“ooo…” jake playfully says, earning a soft giggle from you. he takes the hand cuffs out and dangles them in front of your face. “so who goes first?”

“you’re asking as if you aren’t dying to go first…” you roll your eyes playfully before sitting up on your elbows to get a better view of him.

“you caught me!” he jokes as he puts his hands up in surrender, a stupid smile on both your faces.

‘this feels so fun…’ you thought to yourself before immediately gasping when his lips meet your collarbones. he nips and nips, your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. never has he ever even thought about leaving hickeys on you, god he always treated you like a porcelain doll during your intimate moments.

he sucks, and nips, and licks, all causing you to grip onto his biceps. he pulls back and looking at the small bruises forming. “pretty.”

you smile softly before sitting upright and taking the cuffs from his hands. you slowly guide him down the bed so he’s laying next to you before you kiss his lips again, the taste of mint and was that mango?* lingering on his tongue.

“off. everything.” you mutter, he wastes no time in removing everything but his boxers. “these too.” you say softly. he nods rapidly before taking his boxers off leaving him completely bare in front of you. you look down at his half hard cock and grin. “lay back.” and again he follows, without hesitation.

you loop the hand cuffs around your bed frame, the clanks of the metals clashing arousing jake up even more, his cock twitching.

“arms up.” you speak firmly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. he glances up at you with those endearing eyes, knowing full well that you can't resist him when he looks at you that way. you finally lock the hand cuffs and smile sweetly at him. “just hold still jakey…”

it didn’t take long for you to have jake trembling under you. your hand stroking his aching cock as your lips left marks all over his abs.

“s’too much y/n please-“ a strangled moan leaves his mouth, only motivating you more. you wrap your lips around his red tip, leaking precum and twitching while his veins protrude. it almost looked painful. you chuckle softly around his head, earning a loud groan from him.

“think you can keep being a good boy for me…?” you tease before kissing down his shaft. he pathetically nods his head.

“anything for you please i’ll do anything…” he breathes out, his voice cracking in the process. you release his length and move to the side of the bed, leaning over to get something from your nightstand.

“just relax for me jakey… just wanna make you feel good…” you say reassuringly before lubing up your fingers. “deep breaths baby…”

the sweet whimper that leaves his lips at the feel of you in his walls has you shaking. “y/n holy fuck-“

you start pumping your middle finger in and out of him in a more steady pace before using your other hand to stroke his leaking cock again. he squirms and whimpers beneath you, you gaze up to look at his face— it was enough to have you dripping in your own arousal.

you tighten your fist on his dick and start picking up the pace of both hands. he’s shaking and almost yelling at this point. the hand cuffs creating red marks around his delicate wrists.

“you wanted this jakey didn’t you… you wanted me to play with you and be rough right?” you speak in a gentle tone, a harsh contrast to your actions as you add another finger. he can’t form a response, the words lodged in his throat, refusing to come out.

“s’good…” he babbled. “gonna cum… please i’m so close y/n…” and then he breaks, strings of his release landing on his flexed abs and your soft hand.

you gently remove your fingers from inside him and look up at him before licking up his release that dripped down the side of his waist.

yea this was gonna be a long night.