#& even if it was it's none of your business

[norrizzandpia]

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris edit #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfiction #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff #ln4 x you

[chrisevansonly]

Lando’s Ballerina (lando x poppy au)

lando norris x female reader

summary: poppy absolutely loves ballet, and finally her daddy has time to watch her dance

warnings: none very fluffy <3

a/n: i was missing lando and poppy so here we are, i just thought of this idea now🥺

Poppy absolutely loved all things pink, bows, dresses, tutu’s, ballet shoes and stockings you name it, so it was no surprise that she asked you and Lando to take ballet as soon as she was old enough. Of course you both agreed and she had fell in love with it, always excited for her classes, and eager to show you all her moves, there was just one thing wrong.

Lando had yet to see her dance.

He hasn’t intentionally been missing classes, they just always fell on a date he was busy, but today, his schedule was wide open, so he sat happily next to you on the side of the room.

“She’s going to be so happy you’re here my love…”

You squeezed his hand gently as he nodded eagerly, pressing a kiss to your cheek

“I can’t wait to see her dance…can’t believe my little petal is getting so old”

“Lan she’s only 5 baby…”

Sighing dramatically he dropped his head to your shoulder, a small laugh escaping your lips

“That’s so old…”

Rubbing his back soothingly you rolled your eyes in a joking matter

“Well in 7 months we’ll have another little one to be excited about won’t we?”

Sitting up Lando smiled, knowing you’d both just found out you were expecting baby number two, and Poppy was so excited to be a big sister.

“Daddy!!!”

Poppy yelled excitedly seeing her dad, taking off and jumping into his arms, Lando holding her tightly and pressing kisses to her cheek

“Hi my angel, you look so beautiful!!”

She smiled looking at him happily

“You came to see me dance!”

“Of course petal, I’m so excited…”

He put her down and she hugged you tightly, before clapping her hands together

“Daddy i’m wearing all pink look!!” she pointed out, twirling for him while Lando took photos of his precious little girl

“Yes you are Pop! You look perfect”

“Thank you Daddy!!!”

Before she could say anything else, her teacher called her over and she was quick to say bye before running over to where the rest of her class was. When you looked to Lando his eyes were shining and he had a proud smile on his face as he watched his little girl.

He was her biggest fan and he always would be, getting to see Poppy grow and Lando flourish in his role as a father and you never felt luckier. You had the best little family around, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Even if your whole universe was now pink and sparkly.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #rueschats💗 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris fic #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris au #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 drabble #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful. 

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities. 

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence. 

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!” 

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes. 

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries. 

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you. 

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them. 

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties. 

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion. 

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment. 

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?” 

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you. 

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure. 

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable. 

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked. 

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful. 

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling. 

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?” 

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again. 

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it. 

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another. 

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time. 

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll. 

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jake smut #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes #enhypen fic #the doll house

[anothermansjeans]

you know how to ball, i know aristotle

s.r x f!reader

summary: spencer's love feels so high school

warnings: none!

wc: 689 (she's short!)

a/n: inspired by so high school!! i have 50 different fics planned after listening to ttpd.......be prepared

It felt childish in a way. The way Spencer feels his cheeks flush and a chill run down his body whenever she’s near him. The constant butterflies. The shyness he feels when she's around. The high he gets from being near her. It feels like he’s a teenager in love.

Right now, the feeling remains as he watches Y/N and the rest of the team that fills the bullpen play a makeshift game of basketball with a trash bin and crumpled up paper. Whenever she makes a basket, she snaps her head over to him to see if he was looking– of course he was– and his chest fills with pride. Once her turn was over though, his head went right back down to his current read, something about Greek philosophers.

“Pretty Boy!”

His head immediately went back up at the sound of Morgan calling out to him. “Hmm?”

“We need reinforcements. Your girl is kicking our asses over here.”

A red wave flooded his neck, making its way up to his face, and he moved his chair back the tiniest bit, giving a small nod as he tried to hide his shy smile. He felt the way one would if they were asked to play kiss, marry, kill with their crush’s name thrown in there. Honestly, he’d be content if she did all three to him.

From there on, the game went terribly. While Y/N was making shot after shot, Emily was barely making it around the rim, Derek made it every other time, and Spencer was so far off it was pointless in asking him to join (but he knew the ball wasn't weighted properly, and he’d die on that hill). It didn't take long for those who were losing to become uninterested in the game, so everything eventually went back to business.

That was until Spencer felt a pair of hands gently knead into his shoulders.

Normally, he would tense up immediately. He wouldn't want to be touched– he’d be questioning why someone was touching him. But he knew it was Y/N. He’s become accustomed to her delicate touch; the smell of her lotion; the light reflecting off of the promise ring he bought her for their last anniversary. She would massage his shoulders until he was completely relaxed against her, allowing her to lean forward more and wrap her arms around his neck, placing her chin on his shoulder.

“I had a lot of fun earlier. You did well.”

He let out a giddy laugh as he craned his neck in order to look at her. The same giddy feeling a teenager gets when playing spin the bottle and truth or dare spread through his body whenever he’s this close to her, it truly never fails.

“I’m glad. I absolutely embarrassed myself with my lack of skill, but I’m glad at least someone enjoyed it.”

“Hey,” she shifted slightly so that she was directly looking at him all while keeping her chin perched on him. “You didn't embarrass yourself. We all have things we’re good at. Like, look at this.” She lazily gestured to the books scattered across his desk, “I couldn't even begin to describe what you're reading. You’re brilliant, Spence.”

“It’s called The Philosophy of Aristotle. It’s a selection of Aristotle’s works and–” he stopped himself, watching the way Y/N was completely mesmerized by what he had to say.

“Keep going. I've done my reports and I’m sure you've finished yours. We have plenty of time.” She kissed his cheek as a way to get him to start speaking again, and he felt on top of the world.

It was childish, really. The constant buzz he felt when speaking to her. The crinkles he can feel by his eyes from smiling so hard. The childlike wonder at how someone could be so perfect for him. No one’s ever had him like her. He felt as though this is what he would've felt if he had a normal childhood, one where he had a high school sweetheart. And despite it feeling so high school, he loves it. He loves her.

#idk how i feel about this but i tried!! #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more. 

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force. 

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind. 

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off. 

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected. 

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him. 

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.  

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway? 

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.   

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.  

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace. 

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways. 

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis. 

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet. 

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted. 

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips. 

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself. 

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon. 

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest. 

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs. 

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face. 

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him. 

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.” 

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork. 

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.  

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.  

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.   

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon. 

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.” 

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed. 

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling. 

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold. 

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race. 

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.  

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base. 

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office. 

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?” 

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze. 

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?” 

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.  

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart. 

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said. 

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.  

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known. 

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you. 

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight. 

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably. 

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible. 

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured. 

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before. 

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think. 

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another. 

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time. 

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same. 

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen. 

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way. 

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours. 

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern. 

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head. 

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?” 

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness. 

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had. 

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.   

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today. 

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go. 

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.  

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.” 

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…” 

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant. 

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?” 

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else. 

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…” 

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid. 

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?” 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.” 

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg. 

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.   

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.   

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets. 

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it. 

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?  

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this. 

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

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[lcvclywon]

─── ⋆ HE WAS A JOCK, AND SHE DID BALLET

playlist

where...

Jake sim was a loser. Frat boy persona and charismatic antics aside, the moment Jake was alone with a girl he would freeze. Which explains his track record of having only slept with one girl all throughout college. That was until, you came in: Decelis' top ballerina and prized possession. Following a drunken one night stand and some (shitty) advice from his friends, Jake hopes you could help him out.

pairing ── jake x female reader

genre ── strangers to lovers, fwb (no smut tho!), college au, obvious x oblivious, denied feelings, veryyy lengthy fic

wc ── 16.6k

featuring ── jay, heeseung and sunghoon of enhypen, kazuha and yunjin of lesserafim, yuna and ryujin of itzy, seunghan of riize, soobin of txt, karina and winter of aespa, jisung and hyunjin of stray kids

warnings ── mentions of sex and hooking up, implied sex, suggestive at some parts, cursing, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of family issues, yn is kinda mean and bitchy (i tried to base her off of jo yi seo so!), mentions of crying and breaking down, mentions of blood and periods, kms jokes used, mentions of food, mentions of kissing, use of the word whore once i think, jake and yn arguing a lot

DISCLAIMERS! i'm not trying to sexualize jake nor any other idols, this is a work of fiction

Beep beep beep!

Groggily you startled open rubbing your eyes trying to locate where the hell that blaring alarm sound was coming from. Finally finding the small slim black clock atop the nightstand you muttered a string of curses below your breath, slamming your hand down on it putting a stop to the shrieking rings. You immediately closed your eyes and attempted to lull yourself back to sleep pulling your black comforter over your head, arm grabbing for the pillow beneath you then- wait, you don’t own black comforters? 

Neither did you own a black alarm clock (not to be rude but who the hell even owned alarm clocks in this day and age?). Slowly you realised, you didn’t own any of this…fuck. 

Looking around trying to collect your thoughts you scanned the room to try and get a clue of which dude your drunken self managed to have a one-night stand with this time. Noticing a sleek leather wallet on the nightstand next to the alarm clock, you immediately grabbed it trying to see if there was a student ID, driver's licence, hell anything. Imagine your surprise when the first thing you saw was none other than a Decelis student ID laminated and shining with the name Jake Sim printed on it. Oh shit.

You muttered strings of curses under your breath, did you seriously have a one-night stand with Jake Sim? The proclaimed loser of the Decelis Soccer Frat? The same dude who had the reputation of trying (and failing) to let alone hold a proper conversation with the girl's gymnastic team? That Jake Sim? You scoffed under your breath, god you couldn’t believe this. Fuck you seriously needed to get a hold of your drinking problem. 

“Oh, you’re up” oh great. You were too busy trying to figure out how you got yourself into this problem that you failed to notice that said problem was standing there leaning against the bathroom door frame right in front of you. 

Whipping your head up you were greeted with the sight of Jake Sim, toothbrush in mouth, dishevelled mess, awkwardly smiling right at you. “Uh, Hi Jake.” you looked around awkwardly trying not to stare at him since he was practically half naked “Could you um, put on a shirt?” 

“Yeah, you’re kinda wearing it though…” 

You glanced down to see that you were indeed wearing his shirt, the large oversized plain black tee was so big it hung over you like a dress. 

“Right.” you said in an exasperated sigh walking past Jake into the bathroom with your clothes in hand to change

“Uh do you want breakfast? Tylenol? Are you hungover?” He was only met with the door shut in his face. 

“Yeah uh” you called out, muffled and in between grunts trying to change into your clothes as fast as possible, “No, not really! I kinda, you know, have to get back to my dorm.” 

“Oh yeah totally,” Jake replied awkwardly fuck how do you even talk to someone you just had a one-night stand with? Jesus, how did Heeseung do this shit. “Here.” you said opening the door to hand him his shirt. 

“Ah, thanks” Jake said quietly as he draped the shirt over his body. He stood there still brushing his teeth as he watched you pack your things up, shooting your head back to ask “Are the other guys still here?” 

“Nah, they all left to practise earlier” he replied watching you let out a slightly relieved sigh as you stood in front of his mirror tying your hair into a loose ponytail and touching up your makeup slightly “So…” he attempted to start before being cut off by you.

“Yeah um, thanks for whatever last night was Jake. Can’t really remember most of it, I’m sure it was good,” briskly lacing up your shoes you mentally cursed yourself for deciding to wear docs last night, “but maybe let’s not bring this up like, ever.” Finishing off with a tight knot and immediately pouncing up to only be met with Jake’s lost eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“Anyways! I really need to get going now so I’ll see you around ‘kay?” You walked backwards until your hand reached the door handle and turned it. The moment you stepped out you practically ran down the steps, cheeks and ears red, still muttering curses quietly, and regretting all the decisions you made last night. 

And there Jake Sim stood, hopeless as ever, watching the second woman he’d ever had a one-night stand with leave running. Fun. 

Not to be full of yourself but you kinda had a reputation in Decelis, top ballerina, rich mother, the whole shebang. 

And well Jake on the other hand,

Me 

I think I just slept with Jake Sim

Kazuha Nakamura

EXCUSE ME 

Me

Yeah hahaha.. LISTEN I WAS DRUNK IDEK WHY I DID IT

Kazuha Nakamura 

SOCCER PLAYER JAKE SIM? THE FRAT BOY JAKE SIM? THE APPOINTED LOSER OF DECELIS SOCCER TEAM? ARE WE THINKING ABOUT THE SAME JAKE SIM HERE.

Me 

STOP YES THAT JAKE SIM. I KNOW i’m gonna kms 

Kazuha Nakamura 

Okay but was it good at least?

You paused, well it was good, but you shook your head remembering who you were talking about here. I mean it’s not like you and Jake were complete strangers, you went to high school with him, so yeah you knew Jake. But imagine the whiplash you got entering college realising you now attended the same school as Jake Sim the scrawny physics nerd, except now he was Jake Sim, star soccer player who grew up and gained some charisma. However, all you could see was teenage prepubescent Jake who used to rant about Einstein’s law of relativity. 

Yeah, not happening, you thought to yourself closing your phone as you headed into practise desperately hoping to drown out your memories of this morning with endless classical music and exercises. 

Jake however, was still sprawled out on his bed even though it had been hours since you left. Face buried into one of his hands while the other scrolled through your Instagram profile, occasionally letting out annoyed sighs before groaning into his hand. How the hell did he even manage to screw this up.

“Jake, get up. I’m starting to actually feel bad for you” Jay let out at the sight of his friend curled up in agony, watching him with a mixture of sympathy and disappointment painted on his face.

“Dude you don’t get it, she RAN.” Jake cried out loudly sinking even deeper into his bed 

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Maybe she just was startled, and like seriously you couldn’t have been that horri-”

“The one-night stand isn't the problem, the problem is that it was YN!” 

From what Jake could remember you, L/N Y/N, were basically untouchable in high school. I mean head of the dance club, straight A student, and not to mention you were one of the prettier girls that attended school with him; you were practically on a pedestal. The one chance he had to interact with you when he was 1. Not drunk 2. Not surrounded by his friends giving him an extra boost of confidence, he blew it. 

“Okay, so it was YN? So what man, I think you’re overthinking this” Sunghoon chimed in from the back 

“Hey I mean, I think you’re judging the situation way too early dude. If I were you I would see this as an opportunity!” Heeseung declared as he pranced into Jake's room

Briefly looking up from his phone, Jake shot Heeseung a judgemental glare before asking with a scoff “Okay well, since you’re the self-proclaimed expert here, mind letting me in on what you mean by ‘opportunity’”

“Okay listen,” Heeseung said while sitting on the edge of Jake’s bed “Here's what you’re gonna do: you’re gonna go up to her, start small talk, then you’re gonna ask her if you guys wanna do something casual-”

“Are you seriously suggesting I ask a girl to be friends with benefits after she RAN out on me” Jake screeched throwing his pillow at Heeseung (who thankfully caught it) 

“Hey let me finish!” He replied tucking the pillow under his arms “Yeah ask for something casual, and if she was so embarrassed and humiliated as you claim she’d reject you outright, but if not you get a casual fling with a cool girl. What’s not to love?” 

“Maybe the part where this whole thing is stupid, ” Jake grumbled, adjusting himself to sit upright to face Heeseung “, and why would I listen to you exactly?”

“Because a) as you said I am the expert,” Heeseung said before tossing the pillow under his arms back at Jake “and b) you genuinely need to gain some experience talking to girls. And this gives: you said experience, no strings attached!”

Jake leaned back on his headboard sighing to look up at the ceiling. God this was stupid, Heeseung seriously just wanted to make a fool out of him. How much experience did Jake seriously need, couldn’t he do that without this whole thing? I mean he had plenty of other girls to talk to right? Well…wrong. I mean, you couldn’t be that embarrassed, could you? What other chances did he have, hell this was the second person he’d ever slept with since entering college (an astounding fact even to Jake). Was it worth a shot? 

“Fine.” Jake replied with a sigh. Fuck he was really doing this.

Closing the door behind you, your hands fiddled through your bag trying to find your pastel pink airpods, ready to blast music in your ears after a long chemistry exam. Putting them on, finger hovering over the play button, you were suddenly interrupted by a small tap on your shoulder. Turning around to see the one person you were trying to avoid all week, Jake fucking Sim.

“Oh Jake, I didn’t know you took chem?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t, well last year I didn’t…but I had to bump up my GPA a bit so I thought chem would be easy enough. But it’s,” Jake replied looking up and recalling the questions of that harrowing exam he just took “Yeah it’s ass.”

You let out a slight chuckle, well he’s funny at least. “Yeah, that test was not my best work…”  

Jake grinned at your comment, speeding up a bit to match your pace. “Hey wanna go grab some coffee?” His words laced with nervousness “I’ll pay! Well, I was the one who suggested it so I really should be paying, shouldn’t I… Anyway, my treat.”

And that’s how you found yourself seated across from Jake sipping an iced americano, legs crossed, looking around awkwardly, in dead silence. 

Jake had tried to start some small talk but was met with nothing but concise and quick answers from you. Fuck you Lee Heeseung, he mentally cursed. “So..” he awkwardly started “How was your weekend?” 

“I think you know how my weekend went Jake” you said in between sips 

“Oh, right.” Jake said remembering how it was just this Sunday when you booked it out of his apartment. “Uh about that-”

He could barely finish his sentence before you rushed to reply “I thought we weren’t going to bring that up”

“Yeah but-” 

“Listen, Jake” you let out with a sigh, placing your drink down on the table in front of you “You’re like, a nice guy and all. But I just really really can’t do relationships right now, like I’ve got a lot going on with ballet- seriously my mom is on my fucking ass about recitals…”

You realised you were rambling and looked down after briefly pausing “Anyway, you’re seriously great. I’m just not looking for anything serious right now an-”

“Me neither” Jake cut in nonchalantly while nodding diplomatically and taking a sip of his drink

“Yeah, an- wait what?”

“I mean, I’m not looking for anything at the moment either. That night was nice, I had fun” Jake explained while fiddling with the paper wrapper of his straw “And if you haven’t noticed I kinda don’t have a lot going on with me right now” 

You took a moment to register what he just said before deadpanning “Are you trying to use me for sex.” 

“What no!” Jake exclaimed a bit louder than he realised, making a few heads turn “Um, no I’m not. Seriously. I’m not a douche, I’m just…I don’t know how to really- talk. To women at least… I was hoping, well I was told, having casual hookups would fix that. Like, exposure therapy, I guess?” 

This man seriously did not just describe hooking up with you as exposure therapy. 

“You can totally decline! I was just suggesting it because a friend told me to, oh wait fuck you didn’t want anyone to know. Sorry, Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon know…I seriously didn’t mean to tell them it just slipped out and- yeah sorry. Uh well, Heeseung suggested it so…” Jake rambled on with his hand absently reaching for the nape of his neck, only to be met with your blank expression, mouth slightly agape, and iced americano in hand. God your face was practically a human adaptation of the Windows error screen. 

“Ummm” you trailed off playing around with the straw in your drink. Well nobody’s ever asked you to be friends with benefits, so your brain was admittedly still buffering. “Don’t you think it’s a little…weird? I mean we’ve known each other since high school, like granted we didn’t talk but- yeah you know? And like I’ve just, never done this before. Like ever.” 

“I mean I haven’t either,” Jake paused to put down his drink “Worth a shot though right?” 

Jesus Christ were you seriously going to be friends with benefits with the physics nerd? You mentally weighed out the pros and cons of his little proposal. It wasn’t like the last time was bad or anything, you just couldn't shake off the image of sixteen-year-old him at the back of the physics classroom playing with the Newton’s cradle while your teacher lectured on about waves. Recalling this you looked up at Jake sitting in front of you right now, he still had the same face but his features matured, his body was more built (probably all the training) and you couldn’t deny that even with him nervously picking at his fingernails…he definitely did grow up well. 

“I’ll-” you said with a slight sigh “I’ll get back to you on it Jake.”

“You’ll get back to him on it?! What is this a corporate meeting?” Your roommate Zuha said in between handfuls of chips.

Eyes shifting to the side to snap a dirty glare at her, you sighed in frustration before joining her atop your lofted bed. Kazuha and you were complete opposites: she was arguably way more bold than you and had an impressive list of friends spanning across the three different universities that neighboured Decelis. To be honest meeting her when you were six at ballet lessons might have been the sole reason you were able to get through university with a thankfully active social life. Truly you didn’t think your bond over Ever After High dolls would take you so far; but there you were in your second year of university, lounged across your mattress while she berated you for your lacking conversational skills.

“Hey! I was trying to be polite for your information,” you defended whilst burying your head into your pillows 

“I mean why not?” Zuha asked with indifference 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because we went to high school together, he was and still is a huge dork, and he’s Jake Sim. Yeah just a thought.” you snapped back while digging your hands deeper into Kazuha’s bag of chips

“Well to me those all sound like pros.” she had reached in to grab a fistful of chips before munching on them between sentences, “Plus what’s the big deal, you hooked up once why can’t you do it again” she asked, tugging away the bag from you as it reached near emptiness. 

God you wished it was that easy. You sometimes envied how little she thought of things. 

“Yeah, I guess…” your hands reach for the ends of your hair, twisting them around your fingertips. “Okay but how do I even get back to him on it?” 

“Yeah well your first mistake was responding with that, but like just text him? We’re not living in the fucking 19th century, sms exists.”

“Yeah okay, am I just supposed to send ‘Hi Jake! So after much consideration, I am now getting back to you on it! And yes I would totally love casually fucking you xoxo yn!!’” you replied sarcastically 

“Okay, you know that’s not what I mean. If you’ve got the general premise down, just send it. Not like you’re opposed to it so…” Zuha said handing you your phone with her Calbee chip dust-covered fingers. 

Taking the phone and wiping the grime off, you opened your chat with Jake. Typing and retyping over and over again trying to form the perfect message your finger hovered over the send button while you battled your internal warfare. 

Too immersed in the constant back and forth fogging your mind you failed to stop Zuha from taking the phone from your grasp and sending the message for you.

“KAZUHA NAKAMURA. UNSEND THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW” you frantically cried out ripping the phone from her hands, you scrambled for the unsend button but were disappointingly greeted with a notification at the top of your screen. 

Jake Sim (Hookup)

Cool! So this Friday?

What the hell did you just get yourself into

Sure enough, Friday came and you found yourself stretched across Jake Sim’s bed dressed in one of his oversized shirts. God, you didn’t think you would be here again. Mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while Jake pulled a grey hoodie over his body before adjusting himself next to you, subtly inviting you to lay your head on his shoulder. (Obviously, you didn’t get the hint)

Putting down your phone to the side, your hands reached to fidget with the seams of his sleeves. 

“Do you-” you were cut off by the embarrassingly loud rumble of your stomach.

“Oh, are you hungry?” Jake glanced down, eyes widened and head slightly cocked to the left. 

“Um, kinda..” you responded, god wasn’t he supposed to be the awkward one. 

“Do you want some ramen?” He said propping himself a bit more before mentally cussing at himself realising the implication of his words “I mean, not in like- that way. Well I guess kinda in that way, we did just-”

“Ramen sounds great!” you quickly cut in before he could finish his sentence, ripping the comforters off your bodies already heading towards the door. 

To your surprise, Jake Sim was a pretty good cook. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration considering it was just Chapaguri and steak, but hell was that one good bowl of Chapaguri. Spooning the noodles into your mouth, Jake placed a cut of steak onto your plate. Weird. That was, thoughtful. Probably a force of habit you reasoned to yourself. 

“So um can I ask,” you paused to wipe your mouth “Am I seriously the only other girl you’ve slept with, or is you sleeping with only 1 person before me just a rumour?”

Jake’s arm stretched towards the nape of his neck while the other placed another piece of steak onto your plate before answering. “Uh, I mean in college, yeah. I haven’t had much luck seeing too many people. Kinda the reason you’re here” 

“Well I guess that’s not too surprising” 

“Oh yeah?” Jake asked tauntingly leaning back into his chair “What’s that supposed to mean hm?”

“I’m just saying I’m not surprised that the dude who spent his free periods researching Quantum mechanics can’t pull.” you teased back with a sly smile 

“Uh-huh,” he replied putting another piece of food onto your plate “Well I’ll have you know I managed to hook up with at least like- 2 people in high school” 

“Yeah and I don’t do ballet.” you came back snarkily 

“Hey! I can even list them for you if you don’t believe me.” Jake chuckled slightly while adjusting the collar of his hoodie

“Yeah, and I bet it was real hard remembering that list of 2 people” Laughing in response Jake reached for a can of coke before opening it and placing it in front of you.

Again, weird. As you got talking you realised Jake Sim maybe wasn’t as awkward or dorkish as everyone claimed him to be. Okay well partly your fault for believing assumptions and jumping to conclusions, but after the initial nerves wore down he was pretty chill. Which led you to wonder, “Hey why don’t you talk to girls? I mean you’re pretty much a natural at this.” 

“Oh.” Jake replied a bit flattered, “Well, I don’t think I’m a natural, like when I tried to talk with Minyoung after we hooked up it was a mess.” hands now fiddling with the skin at his fingertips, “I guess with you it’s sorta, comfortable?” 

Your actions came to an instant halt, comfortable? You shook it off thinking it was because you guys knew each other beforehand, yeah definitely that. 

“So you did manage to get with one of the gymnastic girls.” you said trying to divert the topic

“Well not really, she kinda ghosted me after that..” Jake answered looking down at the marble countertop

“Why?” 

“Well as you said, I can’t really pull” you giggled in response while still forking down mouthfuls of chapaguri 

“Hey, don’t laugh with your mouth full.” Jake scolded before taking his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, an action you once again brushed off to be a force of habit. Still, you couldn’t deny, if you actually did like Jake in that way you would’ve folded instantly.

He smiled slightly and ruffled your hair before taking your empty bowl and beginning to wash it, weird.

Hooking up with Jake became more natural and common as time went on, it somewhat integrated itself into your routine:

Hook up, go eat, then go about your separate ways. 

Over time you got to know Jake more and more, past his initially dorky interests you learned a few things about him: 

He was a huge dog lover - similarly to you - and had a golden retriever named Layla 

He was surprisingly funny, if he got comfortable with you at least 

Despite being awkward as fuck, he was way more extroverted than you. He just needed to be around one of his friends for that to shine through.

He wasn’t called a star soccer player for nothing, you’d initially never expected scraggly little Jake Sim to win so many medals and trophies in high school. No wonder he got in with a scholarship.

It wasn’t like Jake told you these things outwardly, but you never failed to catch onto how his eyes had a slight glimmer within them when describing his ‘best friend’ who you later found out to be his childhood pet. Or how whenever there was a short silence between you two he took it as an opportunity to crack a small joke. And you knew on a surface level that Jake was a pretty friendly guy, but you just never realised how long his social battery truly lasted; that man had a motor mouth. The soccer thing however was something you always had a slight clue about, in high school most of his lunch breaks and evenings after school would be spent in the field with Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon. Back then you assumed he didn’t have anything better to do, so the numerous medals that spanned across the walls of his room were a bit of a shock to you. 

But it’s not like you cared about Jake like that, you were just…observant. 

Jake was nice, it was fun being his friend but you didn’t go out of your way to try and hang out with Jake in real life. Really, it’s not like you guys were close like that. Neither of you bothered to try and cross that boundary, that was until today at least.

“Hey.” Jake said, smiling as he sat down in front of you. Your eyes faltered from their usual unbothered gaze, your pupils dilating a bit in shock. Hell, there are around 200 other seats in the athlete’s dining hall, yet he had to sit in front of you.

Maybe your pastel pink Lululemon jacket was the drawing point, probably so bright it made you the first person he noticed making him sit with you out of convenience, at least you would like to tell yourself that. “Oh, hi Jake. Uh- don’t you have practice? I mean usually I never see you at the dining hall when I come to eat” You slowly realised how stalker-ish that sounded “not like. I’m tracking your schedule or anything like that. don’t get the wrong idea”

Jake let out a breathy laugh in hopes of breaking the awkward tension surrounding the table (he remained unsuccessful) “Yeah, uh practice got cancelled. So I’m here earlier than expected.”

“Cool cool” you let out nonchalantly. And there you were back to square one, the same awkward tension overwhelming the atmosphere. God how could you be this awkward with a guy you basically had a bi-weekly fuck schedule with. “So uh, you going to Soobin’s party this weekend? the whole soccer team is gonna be there, including me” he said the last part in almost a whisper.

“Oh uh, I haven’t really thought about it. Kazuha is going, so I’ll probably go with” You replied still staring down at your measly plate of japchae, barely touched. “Uh I think I should go study-” you frantically said in an exasperated sigh in hopes to remove herself from any more unwanted conversation starters you would have to pull out of her ass.

“But you haven’t even touched your food?” Jake said clearly not getting the hint. But also he was genuinely worried, I mean yeah typically soccer players and ballerinas' diets are obviously different with their portion sizes, but he still took health very seriously. “I’m not that hungry anyway.” you said slowly getting up to leave

“Wait, do you do this often? skip meals?” Jake asked, his eyes glazed over with a concerned expression, one you hadn’t seen before.

“Oh I mean, most times it's not intentional, I get busy with practice”

“Hold on” Jake muttered before getting up and heading outside. Leaving you haphazardly standing up holding your plate of food. You sat down again poking at the unfinished scraps of carrots, “This man cannot take a hint” you muttered. 

Jake then returned pocky and Pocari sweat in hand. “Uh here, it’s good for electrolytes” he said while handing you the bottle “Oh and, eat this after practice or something, you need carbs and sugar”. Slightly taken aback you slowly took both items in hand, a slight warmth forming in the pits of your stomach. “oh you didn’t really have to-”

“I wanted to.” Jake replied cutting you off, suddenly embarrassed at his boldness he absently reached to the nape of his neck (a habit you noticed he did when he was flustered) “Uh anyways, I’ve gotta go to office hours now. But try not to skip meals, it’s not that good for you, you’re an athlete so..” he trailed off mumbling the last bits to himself, all while looking down to the floor. The weird tension in the air was still there but, somehow it was a little more bearable, well for you at least. “Thanks, uh I’ll pay you back-”

“Don’t bother!” he scrambled to say shooting his head up, pushing your approaching hand back. Fuck that reply was way too quick. “Uh, it’s on me! Don’t worry about it really.” slowly backing away he failed to notice how his legs seemed to trample over each other almost knocking himself down. He (thankfully) regained his balance “Bye YN!”

Blinking in what you think is a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and confusion you managed to mutter out a small “Thank you”

Safe to say that interaction left you both pretty embarrassed.

Most times you went to Jake's house it usually ended in lighthearted conversations over a plate of food. However, some nights were just spent as the two of you lay in his bed looking up at his ceiling talking about everything and anything; these were the nights you found yourself enjoying the most. Tonight luckily happened to be one of them. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jake said before settling down next to you “Have you seriously never had a friend with benefits before?” 

“Hm? Why do you ask?” you said before moving to lay between Jake’s legs, head resting upon his thigh. 

“Ah you know, Just curious” He replied looking down at you with a slight smile. Did his eyes always look that pretty?

“No actually, I wasn’t really one for keeping a casual relationship with one person for a long time. I got bored too quickly, not that I’m bored of you. I did have a lot of hookups though, those were a bit more fun” you replied; a small smile formed across your face while recalling nostalgic high school memories. 

“That’s interesting…” you noticed a slight hesitation lingering in his words. 

“Why d’you sound so confused huh” Gently nudging his thigh you laughed. 

“Nothing nothing! I just, you know, didn’t really expect that from you. I don’t know in high school you were kinda- perfect? Like the captain of the dance team, student council secretary, and straight-A student; not to mention you were practically already on the road to Decelis with a scholarship. I didn’t really expect you to…”

“What, be a whore?” you butted in jokingly 

Jake’s hand reached out to run through your hair, grinning softly before responding “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Chuckling in response your hands reached to fiddle with the ends of your hair. “Kidding, I get what you mean though. I - well my mom - tried hard to keep up the good girl act. But I was a teenager with the whole house to myself and a huge lack of self-discipline so…yeah”

“Was your mom never really there or…” Jake asked looping your hair around his fingers, shit was that too invasive?

Thankfully you responded whilst twiddling with the hem of your (well his) t-shirt. “Uh, no not really, I guess. Well, she was there, but just always working” Jesus why were you telling him this shit, not like you wanted to it was all just kinda- spilling out. “I mean I don’t hold it against her, it’s literally the reason I got to do ballet and attend this school in the first place”

“But?” Jake asked expectantly. Fuck why was he asking you this shit? Did he seriously think trauma dumping would fill the void of intimacy you two shared? 

“No I mean there isn’t really a but- well there kinda is. I don't know, it gets kinda lonely…only child and all. But I know she did it all for my own good, she knows what's best for me” the last part coming out a bit strained, “I just was kinda on my own for a while I guess… that’s probably why she signed me up for ballet classes when I was younger”

“Oh, she was the one who signed you up?”

“Yeah, she was, actually!” voice slightly perking up as you recalled fond memories of six year old you lacing up your first ballet flats, “When I was younger I loved dancing so ballet kinda came naturally to me I guess, but yeah ballet was really fun” 

“Was?” Jake inquired curiously, his head tilting down to meet his glossy eyes with yours. 

“Oh well, I guess it is still kinda fun- but like as I got better at it there seemed to be more expectations from people. It gets kinda stressful you know” you replied with a slight chuckle, hands picking at the skin on your fingers. “It’s partly my fault for not wanting to practise so much anymore, but sometimes it's hard not to notice every little mistake I make when dancing.”

“Well,” Jake began before taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together “, I think you’re doing just fine. Trust me I’ve never seen a better dancer than you, like you’re seriously amazing”

You giggled slightly while staring at his hand intertwined with yours. Funny, you didn’t think he’d notice that.

“You sure you’re not lying about the whole bitchless thing? Because this,” you said while gesturing to his hand holding yours “, totally not bitchless behaviour” 

“Hey, I never said I was bitchless! Just no girlfriend you know.” Jake laughed nervously , becoming all too aware of his actions. He slowly lets go of your hand. A slight blush formed across his face before he cleared his throat to ask “So what about you, no boyfriend?” 

“Well, I did have one or two. But as I said, I get bored easily” you answered, still twiddling the hem of your shirt “I dumped both of them, not like there was anything wrong with the relationship- I just kinda have this bad habit of running from things when I notice something just slightly goes wrong. Yeah, it’s stupid really I don’t know why I do it.” Trailing off you slowly became aware that you were crossing the imaginary line you established between you and Jake. Wait, what the fuck were you saying? Why were you telling him this? You didn’t tell anyone this shit. No way Jake Sim, the dude who you were casually hooking up with, was going to be the first person you let in on your issues. Nah, not happening. 

“Um anyway! Maybe I should get going now, you have practice anyways.” you sighed, frantically getting up and grabbing your clothes. 

“Oh uh, yeah sure…” Jake said slightly startled, his hand reaching for the back of his neck and scratching it while he tried to look the other way as you changed in front of him (not like his head was in between your thighs a few seconds ago)

He walked you out to the doorway of his apartment, keeping a somewhat awkward distance between you guys as he waved while watching you walk out. 

“Bye!” he called out delayed, giving you a slight jump. 

“Oh, bye!” you said awkwardly facing him, immediately turning back around to  speed walk down the hallway.

For some reason even though you had already left he couldn’t get rid of this slight buzz in his stomach, his heart racing ever so slightly while he felt his cheeks heat up. Fuck I’m an idiot, Jake sighed to himself.

“What do you think? Too much?” you asked Kazuha whilst standing in front of her to show off your outfit. You were trying to dress out of your comfort zone by switching up your usual white tank and low-waisted jeans combo to a black tube top paired with a leather miniskirt. 

“You look the same YN.” your roommate replied stoically “And what are you so nervous for anyways? What, is it because Jake is picking you up?” she added between snickers. 

“What no!” you rushed to respond “And might I remind you that the only reason he’s picking me up is because you ditched on me last minute.” 

“Heyyy, I told you I was sorry! But Yunjin won’t be in Korea for much longer and I promised to have a sleepover with her before she leaves!” Kazuha whined in a pout “Promise, next time I get invited to a party you’re number 1 on my waitlist. I swear” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one on that waitlist right now.” you muttered before reaching for your phone after noticing a notification popping up on your screen. 

Jake Sim (Hookup)

Hey I’m waiting outside btw! Also, I brought a jacket just in case you were cold but I realised you might bring your own so uh

Jake Sim (Hookup)

don’t bring a jacket lmao

You smiled to yourself slightly after reading that, to which your roommate seemed to catch.

“Oh lover boy here already hm?” she teased in a playful tone. “Ew god don’t call him that.” you deadpanned before heading out the door. 

Now in all honesty you were perfectly fine with going to the party yourself, Soobin’s apartment happened to be a 15-minute walk away from campus and it’s not like the area was relatively unsafe. However, Jake insisted that he pick you up and drop you off, saying something along the lines of it weighing down on his conscience. You can’t say you weren’t thankful to see him jacket in hand and waiting for you in front of the doors to your dorm after you were unpleasantly greeted by the bitter wind blowing in your face. Totally just grateful for the jacket, no other reason. 

The walk there was filled with the usual lighthearted jokes and updates on your days, nothing new. You grew to truly enjoy these moments with just you and him, it somewhat felt like it was just the two of you and time stopped. It was nice, you never had someone to listen to you the way he did. However, the peaceful moment shared between you two vanished the minute you stepped into Soobin’s apartment. For a while you forgot that Jake Sim, though being called a dork by half the campus, was still a frat boy and admittedly pretty popular. So imagine the whiplash you got when he was immediately dragged away by Jay, Yuna, and Soobin before he could even say goodbye to you. Not like you cared though, you had plenty of other friends.

A couple of hours had passed and the ‘other friends’ in question seemed to disappear one by one as the night went on. Which is how you winded up in Soobin’s living room on the couch, beer in hand whilst scrolling through TikTok. That was before you heard someone clear their throat. Looking up you were met with Lee Heeseung standing in front of you, head cocked slightly to the side. 

“Hey YN, mind if I sit?” he didn’t really wait for your response before plopping himself right next to you.

“Oh, hey Heeseung” you muttered, eyes not leaving your phone. You had talked to Heeseung a couple of times before when you went to meet up with Jake, but you wouldn’t really consider yourself besties with the guy who was the sole reason Jake had even offered to hook up with you. 

“What’s up, are you bored? I assume you didn’t come here to scroll TikTok alone.” He joked with a quick chuckle. 

“Yeah well I would leave but Jake insisted on taking me back home so it feels kinda rude to leave without him. And he’s obviously very,” you shot your head up to glare at the sight of Jake chatting it up with Jay, Yuna, and Ryujin. What happened to the whole ‘bad at talking to girls’ thing now huh? You scoffed before completing your sentence with a grimace “Preoccupied.”

Heeseung seemed to catch onto your change of tone as the next thing he said was, “Don’t worry Jake’s normally just chatty like this when he’s got one of us around, he really really can’t talk to girls otherwise. Well, obviously not you though, actually he can’t shut up about you.” 

Your head perked up at Heeseung's comment “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, the guy can’t stop talking about you even when you’re gone. Like telling us about how cool your recitals looked, your favourite foods, what you guys did that day, hell he brings you into practically anything it’s kinda annoying. ‘Oh YN loves that drink’ ‘Oh can you buy one for YN too?’ ‘Hey, this is YN’s favourite song!’ ‘Hey don’t touch that, it's for YN’” Heeseung said in a mocking tone, his hands coming up to mimic small puppets pretending to be Jake.

“Really? You’re probably exaggerating, me and Jake aren’t even that close.” you commented

“Trust me YN, you don’t live with that guy. I feel like I’m even in on your whole friends-with-benefits situation by how much I know about you. Seriously I think he's obsessed-” 

“What’cha guys talking about!” you were too engrossed in your conversation you hadn’t noticed that Jake had left Jay and his friends to come join you. 

You shot a glare at him before tilting your head down at your drink “Oh you know, just keeping myself entertained” you replied before whipping your head up “Since you were obviously, pretty busy.”

Before Jake could defend himself, Soobin drunkenly called out from the kitchen “Hey guys! Who wants to play spin the bottle!” his words slurred as he held up an empty beer can. 

Great, drunk college students and spin the bottle, what could go wrong? 

Hesitantly you and Jake made your way to the circle formed on the floor sitting across from each other while everyone else gathered in.

“Okay, so the rules are: you kiss or you drink. Three shots worth of soju may I mention! Who wants to go first?” Soobin asked gesturing to the bottle

“Oooh me me me!” Yuna replied eagerly before placing the bottle down and spinning it, landing on Jisung. One after the other everyone took turns spinning the bottle whilst the rest of the crowd let out shouts and claps of encouragement. You frankly thought this whole thing was stupid. I mean, spin the bottle? What was this a cheesy highschool movie? The bottle eventually reached Karina, she took it in hand and spun it vigorously.

Karina, god how could you even begin to describe Karina? Yoo Karina was top of her class in rhythmic gymnastics, led the student body org, and not to mention was absolutely drop. dead. gorgeous. You concluded in your mind that anyone who got to kiss that woman would be the luckiest person on earth, but that was before the bottle landed on Jake. 

“Well pucker up loser” Karina said before moving towards Jake to grab his face and press her lips onto his. You tried to cheer and clap with the rest of the group but you couldn’t ignore the dreadful feeling of your heart dropping to the floor. Pulling away from Karina, you couldn’t brush off how Jake’s eyes immediately came into contact with yours causing your pupils to dilate slightly before you shot your head down to the ground. 

Why the hell did you even care this much, wake up YN! It’s Jake, so he kissed another girl, who cares? You guys aren’t even exclusive, pull yourself together! You quickly shook off the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach and joined in with the others chanting “Spin, spin, spin!” as Jake whirled the bottle around with a quick flick of the wrist.

The bottle seemed to spin in slow motion before coming to a reaching its delayed halt and pointing directly at you. Oh fuck. 

You braced yourself for the awkward aftermath of the kiss you were bound to face later tonight, god how were you even supposed to face Jake after this? I mean yeah you guys had sex, but you would argue kissing is far more intimate. Your gaze lingered on jake and you watched how his eyes widened in anticipation, his hand again reaching to the nape of his neck absently while the other grabbed the red solo cup and-

Wait what, Jake was taking the drink?

Let it be known that Jake Sim had an infamous reputation of never drinking at parties, for a while people thought he was heavily religious; until it was revealed by sunghoon that in highschool Jake was unexpectedly a huge party animal and no one could possibly keep him away from a beer. Getting into college, he apparently tried to drop the heavy drinking and decided to take his athlete career more seriously. If you were to take Jake's drink at a party you would find either 1 of 3 things: coke zero, a mixture of random fruit juices from a punch bowl that 80% of the party did not touch, or kombucha (surprising to say the least). Yet there he was, drinking about 3 shots worth of soju all in one go. All to avoid kissing you. great.

A pit formed in your stomach as the loud chants seemed to die down, somehow this made you feel like the world's biggest loser. Was kissing you that bad? Hell he was in between your thighs half the time but he would rather drink than kiss you? Why didn’t he kiss you? Why did you want him to kiss you?

Jake let out a slight groan after downing the drink whole, the circle erupted into laughs and whoas but he could only focus on the one person who hadn’t said anything, the one person who was staring straight at him in what Jake could only assume was a mixture of disbelief and anger. Fuck, this totally did not go to plan. Why was she mad? I mean you didn’t say you were mad, but the look in your eyes somewhat gave it away. Jake thought the last thing you wanted to do was kiss him, I mean this whole time you would preach about how you guys were strictly casual and how you wanted nothing to do with him romantically. Jake thought he would save you the trouble, and partly save himself from the prolonged silences on the walk back to your dorm. It’s not like he didn’t benefit from this too I mean, Jake totally could go without kissing you. It’s not like it was a piece of intimacy your “relationship” lacked, not like it was the one thing he’d been longing for. Yep, totally not. 

You broke the gaze abruptly when you soon realised how long you’d been staring. Fuck did he notice? He definitely did. Your eyes now fixated on the floor while he stared off awkwardly to the side.

“Your turn YN!” Yuna cheerfully said handing her the bottle, her breath reeked of alcohol it was making you dizzy.

“Uh I think I’ll skip, I’ve had enough drinks for tonight” you replied, accompanied by a nervous chuckle. God, why was the room suddenly spinning? “As a matter of fact,” you quickly got up from your position slowly moving away from the circle, “I think I need to use the bathroom, I’ll sit out this round, you guys can continue though”

“Okay!” Yuna responded, obviously she was too wasted to notice the hesitation lingering in your voice.

You quickly stole a glance at the group behind, more so at the man you were sitting across from a minute ago. Lo and behold, Jake was laughing hazily and chanting encouragements with the others as Ryujin and Hyunjin messily made out. His eyes had a shine which was all too familiar to you, his grin was one you recognised countless times before, and to your dismay: he was completely unaffected by the whole situation.

Great, so he couldn’t give less of a fuck. You thought to yourself. Normally this would be a relief to you, I mean you said yourself you wanted something casual, but if that was the case why did you feel so embarrassingly hollow and empty inside?

You groggily stumbled away from the corner of the room and headed over to the kitchen, maybe a drink would drown out the noises of them chanting “Kiss kiss kiss” Pft, what are they grade schoolers? You snatched a red solo cup and started pouring whatever alcohol was closest in reach, vodka, tequila, soju, beer, you did not give a fuck. You downed the drink whole, slightly gasping for air as you polished it off. Grabbing for another bottle, your hands seemed to meet another. Looking up to see who had a shared interest in… absolut vodka? God you hated that shit, but well right now it seemed tolerable, however you were greeted by the disappointing sight of none other than: Seunghan.

God what was Seunghan doing here, he didn’t even fucking go here. To give some context, Seunghan happened to be your last boyfriend; a senior you used to date who at the time was a huge ego boost to you since you were a year younger. But you inevitably broke up with him before he left for university, even though you promised you would try and make things work long distance. Hell who were you kidding, staying with a highschool senior as a college freshman? Who would want to do that? The last excuse you could spit back at his pathetic face while ending things was “You aren’t even a good fuck” safe to say that bruised his ego a bit.

“Hey YN” he looked at you with an expression you can only make out as: egoistic. You wanted to smack that smug grin off his face, but you weren’t really the one with the upper hand here. I mean who wouldn’t smirk at the sight of their highschool ex absolutely fucking hammered at a college party.

“Hi” you replied coldly, his grip on the alcohol bottle slightly loosened, which you took as an opportunity to snatch out of his hand and pour yourself another drink (probably double of what you were originally planning to pour)

“So,” He paused for a second waiting for you to finish drinking “How's it going, what are you doing here?”

“I kinda go here.” you said in between sips “and shouldn’t I be asking you that, you don’t even go to Decelis.”

“Well someone’s hostile” he let out a chuckle, face still smug “Ah yeah, my friend Soobin, actually invited me. Swim team captain, ring a bell?”

“That's nice Seunghan” your face obviously painted that you didn’t really think so. You started to slowly make your way to the bathroom, not knowing how much longer you could stand being in the same proximity of this asshole.

“Is that it?” Seunghan called out expectantly. What the hell did this man want jesus. You could feel your anger just about boiling over, that and the 4 cups of alcohol in your system just about tipped you over the edge”

“What the hell do you want, Seunghan? An apology? You see me after what 2 years and expect to coax an apology out of me? Yeah not happening. I don’t even know what you’re doing here because clearly last time I checked you didn’t go to Decelis. So yeah, I don’t really know what you want from me but if it's an apology or something, sorry to disappoint.”

“Woah woah, calm down there” Seunghan said, arms up seeming to gesture he meant no harm, the smirk on his face displayed otherwise.

You were ready to spit out another insult at him, maybe add a punch into the mixture, until a pair of hands gently grabbed your shoulder. You whipped your head backwards to see Jake smiling awkwardly at Seunghan and scratching the back of his head nervously. “Sorry about that, she's kinda drunk right now so I think we’ll get going!”

You want to retort back that you aren't, but before doing so Seunghan cuts you off “who are you again.” 

Instead of the smug grin that adorned his face earlier, a weirdly serious expression was now plastered across him. Weird. Was he trying to assert dominance or something? You giggled to yourself a bit at the idea, slowly looking up at Jake to see what his response was. Maybe they would have a standoff, battle it out like in the movies. Instead a grin was still shining on his face, except something was off. His gaze looked harsher, juxtaposing the warm smile on the lower half of his face. Something behind his eyes signalled that he wasn’t going to take any bullshit, funny you thought. You weren't used to seeing this side of Jake, it was an amusing sight to say the least.

“Jake her,” he hesitated for a second “boyfriend. But I don’t think that matters really, I've gotta get YN home now” He quickly grabbed your wrist to lead you away and out the door, seemingly a bit too quick that it had you stumbling over your steps, or maybe that was the alcohol talking.

“Woww, look at that you can actually stick up for yourself! You know that was kinda funny, what were you trying to assert dominance or something? Thanks for saying you were my boyfriend though, god I don’t think he would be able to leave me alone otherwise” you said in between chuckles whilst shutting the door behind you, but jake remained silent. Weird, was he just drunk too? 

It’s not like you weren't used to the silence, hell it’s what took up most of your conversations (well lack of conversation more like). You remained quiet until the both of you got back to your dorm, you were weirdly too intimidated to say anything. Not intimidated by him, god no. More so the situation, you’d been used to the awkward silence, the post sex silences, the comfortable silences, but this was a different silence, one you weren’t really sure how to react towards. Once in your dorm, Jake finally said something to break the tension.

“Who was that guy?” he asked, gaze averted down to the floor and hand absently reaching for the nape of his neck, there he goes again you think. ”Seunghan,” you said while pulling over your tube top to change into an oversized shirt, which you realised was one you stole from Jake a while back “, just some ass I dated in highschool, doesn’t really matter.”

Jake's gaze was still stuck on the dorm carpet, his hand now picking at his cuticles. “Was he bothering you? I mean I couldn’t really tell but you looked uncomfortable, so like…yeah I don’t know”

You chuckled, cute you think. Wait fuck did you really just find what he did cute. Did you just fucking giggle. A flustered blush seems to form across your face whilst thinking of your actions. Get a grip YN it’s jake fucking sim, hes an awkward mess, an awkward mess you’re casually fucking. You can’t be doing this.

“Uh, I mean kinda. I was going to punch him so you probably saved me the collateral. Thanks though, it was nice” you said, tucking away your boots still facing away from him; embarrassed at the thought of you being the least bit flustered over his actions.

“Ah…” Jake trailed off. Fuck what was he meant to say now, well he knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask if it was weird that he called himself her boyfriend, but you didn’t seem to care so it would be weird if he brought it up now. I mean, not like he cared. a little white lie to save you some trouble, no biggie.

“Are you down to..” you asked nonchalantly, turning your head around to face him. He adorned his typical lost expression, god he was really clueless.

“You know, fuck.” you assumed it was the alcohol in your system talking, you were clearly very tipsy, that plus your pent up frustration from tonight was the perfect mixture for a good hookup. Or maybe you were just plain old horny, probably the case you thought to yourself. Definitely wasn’t the way Jake's hair was a perfect fluffy mess, or how his face seemed to have a slight glow to it (probably the drinks), or his eyes that were weirdly more iridescent than usual, yeah totally not that.

Jake's eyes widened a bit, taken aback by the request but definitely not surprised. “YN you’re drunk,” he said with a sigh, grabbing your shoulders and sitting you down on the edge of your mattress, “I'd love to but, maybe next time?” he said with a gentle grin, his dimples slightly poking out.

fuck was he leaving already? Before he could go any further you quickly grabbed his wrist. Jake, startled, looked back at you like a deer in headlights. Only to be met with an equally as shocked gaze, shit all this alcohol was making your body move before you could even think.

“Uh, can you just…” you wince a bit at the thought of what would come out next, “stay. Just until I fall asleep, I feel kinda…lonely?” The end came out in a mumble as your eyes laid fixated on the floor. A blush formed across Jake's face, but he quickly snapped himself out of whatever haze he was in. She’s drunk jake. It doesn't mean anything.

He plastered on the gentle grin that adorned his face earlier, smiling at her with endearment. “Alright, uhm just scoot over a bit”

Moving awkwardly to the side to make room for Jake on the bed he shortly joined you, adjusting himself next to you moving your head to atop his arm while the other pulled you in closer allowing him to rest his chin on top of your hair. Everything about this moment felt much too intimate to be shared between two people who were just casually fucking. You could feel your heartbeat slightly quicken and your breath hitching in your throat. However as time passed on you began to feel yourself slowly relax into Jake’s touch, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his hand combing through your hair whilst the other reached to trace circles along the small of your back. His warmth next to you felt all too natural, like this was meant to be. Like you weren’t just two strangers who decided to hook up, like you two were everything and more.

“Sometimes I wish this was real” you sighed out, clearly letting the liquor in your system do the talking

“Don’t know how hammered you got but you’re definitely not dreaming right now YN.” Jake said in a low chuckle. Fuck you could listen to his laugh for ages. 

“Not this, I mean us.” 

“Oh.” Jake could feel his body go stiff as heat rushed up to his cheeks. He knew you were drunk, but some part of him hoped this was sober you. 

“You’re too sweet for me sometimes you know? Makes me wish you weren’t my friend and my boyfriend instead, then again don’t think I’m ready for that either. Well sometimes you make me feel like I’m ready, I don’t know, it's weird. Being with you feels so…natural? Like I’ve known you since we were kids- I guess we kinda have known each other for a while, makes me regret not talking to you enough in highschool. You were always pretty cute despite being a dork” rambling on you nuzzled your head closer to his chest. Fuck Jake was practically begging you couldn’t hear the intense racing of his heart. 

“How much did you drink YN?” he stuttered out

“Oh you know, just enough to make me forget everything about that party. Stupid Seunghan ruined my night. You know when you called yourself my boyfriend, yeah I really liked that, some part of me hoped you meant it. I guess I like you a little more than I expected, super stupid right…” you said trailing off as you fell further into your slumber; words slurred as a mixture of drunkenness and exhaustion took over your body.

“You like me?” Jake asked stunned, after garnering no response he tilted his head down slightly to face you. Your face looked so peaceful sleeping he didn’t have the heart to wake you up. How cute, he thought to himself.

“Goodnight YN.” he whispered before pulling you closer to him and dozing off himself. 

As the sun rose, beams of light made its way through the curtains to shine brightly on your face rudely waking you up. You slowly opened your heavy eyelids before stretching out your arms, only to be met with the shocking sight of Jake passed out next to you. 

Jolting up immediately, you had to do a double take to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Unfortunately this wasn’t a dream and you really did wake up next to Jake Sim, this being the second time you’ve done this with no recollection of what happened the night before. Frantically you tried to recall all the events that happened after Seunghan approached you; slowly but surely everything from last night rushed back to you in an instant, including your drunken confession to Jake. 

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. What the hell was your issue? Why would you say all that? Jesus you seriously needed to stop drinking, you always ended up in Jake’s bed hungover. God could he have remembered anything that happened last night, he couldn't have right? He was probably drunk too, fuck you hoped he was drunk. 

“YN, you’re up already?” Jake said as his hand groggily rubbed his eyes, the other reaching over to your wrist. 

“Oh uh yeah!” you replied, face flushed with embarrassment before you quickly snapped your hand away from his touch “Hey this is weird but did I happen to say anything weird last night, I was like really drunk.” You winced expecting him to answer with a harsh reminder of your drunken words but instead he only uttered a small “Nope, not anything out of the ordinary”

Sighing in relief you let out a small thank god before getting up to go get dressed, Jake shortly following you like a lost puppy. Still yawning out and half asleep he groaned out a small “Hey, what time is it, by the way?” 

“Oh um,” you quickly grabbed your phone to check “9:30.”

Jakes seemed to immediately wake up, shouting “Oh fuck, I’m late!” He quickly grabbed his belongings before rushing out the door, before haphazardly rushing back in quickly to tell you “Uhm if you need Tylenol let me know I’ll go pick it up for you, bye YN gotta go!” 

Despite being in a rush, Jake was always so attentive towards you, something you were always grateful for; another habit you grew to love about him. 

“He's so sweet” you whispered under your breath to yourself before snapping your head up to face yourself in the mirror. Splashing water on yourself you pointed at your reflection before reminding yourself how badly this would end if you kept going on with this little crush. 

You do not like Jake Sim. You will not like Jake Sim. 

Days passed and after that night it was safe to say things got pretty awkward between you and Jake. You were in desperate hopes of avoiding him any chance you got, that of course was a lost cause as you guys still were hooking up every other week. However, you made it your mission to not interact with him outside of his apartment, not in classes, not in the gym, not at parties, nowhere. This seemed to be your brain's deluded way of trying to help you get over your crush on him. 

Jake on the other hand had a sense of why you were avoiding him, the whole drunken confession probably didn’t sit right with you. Jake didn’t really want to push it and force his way into your life if you weren’t comfortable, even though he desperately missed the days you spent every second together like best friends, he knew he wasn’t in a position to be complaining. But as time went on your missing presence began to eat away at Jake’s mind, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Which is how he ended up rushing to move seats over to sit next to you when you entered the chemistry classroom. 

“Hey YN.”

“Oh, Jake hi…”

“You ready for today’s presentation?” he asked after noticing you diligently reading over your flashcards.

“Oh god no, I’m cooked.” you replied with a nervous laugh. 

“Don’t worry I’m sure you’ll do great, you always do.” Jake reassured with a warm smile. How did he always manage to say the right things? 

You flashed him a quick smile before whispering “Thank you.”

Sure enough a few minutes later you found yourself in front of the three hundred students in that lecture room trying not to stumble over your words as you presented about Electrochemistry. Everything was going fine at first, not to toot your own horn but you were pretty much guaranteed an easy A for this project. That was all until it came crumbling down. You stopped dead in your tracks as you felt a familiar warm feeling gathering between your thighs. Fuck, did you just get your period? 

“And u-uh, as I was saying…” you tried to continue the presentation and ignore the fact that your period was looming over you like the grim reaper, threatening to drip down your legs and publicly embarrass yourself in front of the whole class. 

The easy A you were so sure about now seemed out of reach as a lump formed in your throat while you stuttered with tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Quickly finishing up your half assed paragraph on Faraday’s law you bolted out the classroom the moment you were excused back to your seat. 

Rushing down the hall into the bathroom to clean yourself up, you were frustratingly met with the sight of blood stained jeans. Trying to pull down your shirt to hastily cover up the stain was no use, god out of all days to not bring an extra pad. Why did it have to be today? 

Sighing in agony you decided it would be a good idea to just head home instead of returning to class, hell you’d embarrassed yourself enough after that how could you even walk back into the lecture hall after that mess? 

Leaving the backroom with your head down and hand searching your bag hoping a spare pad would manage to appear out of thin air, you failed to notice Jake standing right in front of you (well that was until you bumped into him).

“YN, you okay?” his eyes graced with concern, oh so he’s still attentive as ever it seems. “Was it your presentation? I thought it was great-”

“I got my period.” you blurt out in a rush at the same time, eyes still stuck on the ground as you didn’t have the guts to face him right now “and like, yeah it's a mess so…I kinda just want to get home and change.” you finished with a frustrated sigh. 

“Ah I see” Jake replied before looking down to notice the dark patch on your jeans. 

Before you could go any further he wordlessly stripped off his hoodie before wrapping it around your waist. No words were spoken between you two but the tension arguably spoke much louder than words ever could. 

“I’ll come get it back later okay? Don’t worry about it” he said before knotting it a final time around your waist to secure it in place. 

“Oh, thank you Jake…” you mumbled 

“Hey YN.” he started, making you finally whip your head up to meet his eyes. His face detailed with hesitation, mouth slightly agape, eyes glossed over with doubt and hand again reaching for the nape of his neck nervously, “um, sorry it’s nothing actually- just uh, don’t be a stranger you know?” he continued with a slight shrug. So he did notice you distancing yourself. 

“Oh,” you stuttered, not really sure of what to reply with “alright…”

And with that you made your way back to the dorm, uncertainty lingering in the air around you following its way back to your dorm. Sprawling across your mattress you stared up at the ceiling lost in thought. This wasn’t going to end well. 

“YN you keep doing this!” your dance teacher snapped before banging a ruler on the metal bar in front of her. You flinched slightly as the loud bang rang through your ears before going to pause the music. 

“How many times do I have to remind you?” she let out in an exasperated sigh, fingers reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, “your legs aren’t straight and your feet aren’t pointed either! These are basic things even beginners could get, I expect more from you! What would your mother think, hm? She invested all this money in you just for you to fall short of your abilities. You’re my top student, you cannot be performing like this when the recital is just a few months away! Pull yourself together before I choose another person to take your place, lesson dismissed.” she bellowed out before storming out the classroom. Leaving you collapsed on the ground, face flushed with disappointment as you stared at your dishevelled reflection in the mirror. 

Fuck she was right, what were you doing? You should be better than this, why weren’t you improving? God your mom spent so much time and money on this and you were just letting her down, you couldn’t do anything right. You were becoming a bigger failure than you realised and you didn’t know how to stop it. How were you meant to be the perfect ballerina when you didn’t even know how to be the perfect daughter? You knew you were better than this but why couldn’t you live up to it. Why did you keep messing up?

Slowly tears began pouring out your eyes before the practice room was practically engulfed in your sobs. You however stopped your crying when you noticed the door crack open. 

“YN?” Jake murmured out with a worried look painted across his face, “what happened, what’s wrong?” he asked while rushing over to your side. 

“Oh Jake, god please don’t look I’m a mess right now” quickly you tried to wipe your tears and nervously laugh before Jake stopped you and took your hands in his. 

“YN, honestly I couldn’t care less about how you look right now. What’s wrong? Why are you crying hm?” His face had the same serious gaze from the party when he confronted Seunghan, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Hearing that you finally broke down sobbing as he pulled you in closer to his chest, hand running through your hair while whispering small words of comfort. “Jake I can’t do this anymore, I keep messing up in everything I do! I don’t know why I can’t just be the person everyone wants me to be, I’m a failure.” you cried out between sobs.

“Hey hey don’t say that, look at me.” he gently took your face in his hands before tilting it up to meet his gaze, “Okay so maybe you’re not the person everyone wants you to be, and hey maybe you aren’t perfect-”

“Not helping.” you deadpanned 

“Yeah well, I wasn’t done. Point is you’re not that but, you're YN. You’re exactly who you need to be right now, and you’re doing your best. Maybe that isn’t perfect but hey nobody’s perfect, you just keep such high standards for yourself you can never get a chance to breathe. It’s okay to make a few mistakes here and there, we all do, we’re only human. If it means anything, in my eyes you’re doing everything right. You’re perfect, okay YN?” 

This only made you sob harder into his chest. Jake wasn’t complaining though, he only brought you closer and tightened his grip around you. Hands still running through your hair to lull you back into a relaxed state. 

After finally calming down you wiped the remnants of tears on your face before loosening yourself from Jake’s embrace. Awkwardly laughing before asking “Uhm, why did you come here in the first place again?”

“Oh right that. I needed to get my hoodie back and Zuha said you’d be here, didn’t really expect to see you crying all alone though” he commented with a quick chuckle 

“Oh shit yeah,” you said before reaching over to your bag to try and find his hoodie, Jake however grabbed your wrist to stop you, “Never mind that okay YN? You had a pretty rough day, let’s just get you back to your dorm alright?” 

“But your hoodie-”

“And up we go!” he exclaimed before lifting you up by the arms and pushing you to get out of that practice room. 

The walk back to your dorm was filled with Jake endlessly checking up on you, asking “Are you sure you’re okay” every five minutes. You reassured him time after time that you seriously were fine before finally losing patience and snapping “Jake Sim. If you don’t stop, I will actually not be okay.” 

“Okay okay! Just checking!” he said before whipping his arms up to feign in defeat. 

Reaching your dorm, you awkwardly stood at the doorway waiting for Jake to leave and bid you goodbye but instead he just sorta awkwardly stood there staring at you.

“Yes?”

“Oh um just- call me? If you ever need someone to talk to, you know?”

“Thanks Jake, but I’m not really looking to make my friend my pseudo therapist right now.” you joked. 

“I know I know, just reminding you. You’ve got me, ‘kay?” Jesus, you could never get over how warm his smile made you feel. 

“Alright, thanks Jake” You sighed out before slowly closing your door. After shutting it you immediately dropped to the floor, head buried into your knees. You hated this. You hated how without fail, no matter how long you avoided him, Jake Sim always managed to make butterflies spawn in your stomach and your heart to beat out of your chest. He always knew the right things to say and how to make you feel like the world stopped and purely revolved around the two of you. You hated how badly you’ve fallen for Jake Sim.

To give some preface, the only times Jake and you had kissed were: 

The first time you’d two ever hooked up when you were drunk out of your mind and too blacked out to remember a thing

The second time you’d hooked up; which technically wasn’t even a kiss because you stopped him as his lips ghosted over yours, almost connecting. You argued that it would be weird for you two to kiss since you only agreed on hooking up with each other, which you added did not involve kissing. 

You two mutually agreed that your relationship would involve no kissing between the two of you. This however did not stop the fact that Jake refusing to kiss you at the party bugged you more than it should have, leading you to blurt out on a random Wednesday afternoon: 

“You didn’t kiss me.”

Jake stopped midway through unbuckling his belt. “What?”

“I mean, at Soobin’s party, you didn’t do it” your eyes glued down to the bed sheets while your hands came up to fiddle with the ends of your hair “I mean you kissed Karina, why not me?”

“I mean…I can kiss you now if you want?”

“Yeah but then you’d only be kissing me because I asked you to do it.” you grunted out in annoyance “But when you were told to kiss me in front of others you didn’t, but you could kiss Karina so easily”

“I thought you didn’t want me to kiss you?” Jake countered, his tone becoming more argumentative. 

“When did I ever say that?” you tried to say nonchalantly, but instead your words spat out like an accusation. Fuck what were you doing? 

“Yeah okay well, kissing her meant nothing” Jake said in a bit of an exasperated sigh, his brows slightly furrowing together. Well Jake knew it wasn’t just that, but hell who was he to bring that up right now

“Yeah well, we’ve been fucking for 6 months, not like that means anything” For some reason this stung a bit for Jake, god he hated that it did.

“YN why does it matter.” he retorted back, the question coming out sharper than he intended

“Technically I’m saying it doesn't.” you let out a slightly stifled breathy laugh in an attempt to break the tension, obviously it doesn’t work “What do you not want to kiss me or something?”

No. God no it was the complete opposite. That was practically the only thing he’d thought about for the past month. But Jake couldn’t admit this now, first off to save him from looking like some desperate loser, and second: you just went on to elaborate on how kissing him meant virtually nothing to you. That them kissing was nothing. Jesus, how could he tell you only now that to him, it was something.

The silence filling the room meant one of the two things you concluded: Jake was either mustering up the courage to give you the best kiss of your life or he did not want to be anywhere near your lips. You opted for the latter.

“I’ll take that as a no.”, you swiftly got up from your previous straddled position to grab your designated ‘walk of shame’ hoodie and collect your things. Clearly, this wasn’t going anywhere. “It's fine Jake really. Just forget I ever asked. It was stupid, and uh, I’ve got practice so I think i’ll get going” you said absently while touching up your makeup

Jake hastily buckled his jeans back up and pulled his grey crewneck over his head. But you were practically out the door before he could finish. “Wait, YN…” he called out stumbling behind you trying to catch up

“Jake, seriously just drop it. It was stupid okay. And I’ve actually got a lot of stretching to do today, so I’ve gotta get going.” You attempted to make the end sound cheery and like you totally didn’t have a lump forming in the depth of your throat. To your dismay, emotions ended up getting the better of you and the words left your tongue stung with bitterness.

“YN I’m sor-” he attempted to stutter out, but you were obviously not hearing him through. “Bye Jake.” 

God, she couldn’t even look at me when leaving.

“Bye.” Jake let out defeatedly, only to be met with the slam of a door in his face.

“fuck…” you both thought.

“YN come on you’ve been cooped up in the dorm for weeks! Let’s go out tonight, I doubt Jake will even be at the party. Besides you were on my ass about not going with you last time, now the invitation is practically handed to you on a silver platter and you don’t even accept it?!” Zuha said as she rolled next to your curled up body that laid like a corpse on your bed. She was right though, you spent the next few weeks skipping all your classes and only going out to eat and go to practice that the colour from your face was practically drained. You looked like a total zombie to put it lightly. 

“Yeah I won’t, I’m not in the mood to go out tonight” 

“You’re never in the mood! Come on, what good is it to stay stuck in your room pitying yourself while bingeing K-dramas? That’s never gonna help you get over it, a couple of drinks is what you need!” you partly blamed Kazuha for your excessive drinking, she always managed to help you get out of a heartbreak by getting you blackout drunk. 

“Ugh Zuha, who's even going to be at this party anyways? Isn’t it the same old people?” you argued before pulling the covers over your head in hopes it would magically make you disappear from sight. 

“No actually it’s not, a couple of people from SM are hosting. You know, the uni Minjeong goes to? I heard SM parties are like, next level. And besides you can meet some new people, don’t you think that’s the perfect way to help you get over this loser?”

“Hey, he isn’t a loser!”, you quickly argued, springing up from your previously snuggled position, “just like- yeah anyways not the point. I guess, maybe…it would help?”

Before you could even finish your thought Zuha immediately pulled you up and sprung into action. “Okay, perfect. Here, wear this.” she said before tossing pieces of clothing at your face. 

Holding them up you weren’t even sure if she gave you a proper shirt, it was way more revealing than you were used to. “Did you cut this shirt up or something?”

“No, I didn’t you prude. And besides, don't you wanna look cute? Those SM guys won’t know what’s hit them. Trust me.” she said while absently applying lip gloss. 

Hesitantly you wiggled into the outfit before checking yourself out in the mirror. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t even convince yourself that you felt confident. Maybe some makeup would help. Propping yourself on the bathroom counter you began to cake on layers of foundation, blush, and eyeshadow. Finishing it off with a muted pink lip. 

This is good, you’re fine! You’re going to have fun tonight. You muttered under your breath, repeating it like a mantra. God you hoped you could have fun tonight. 

Entering the apartment you were immediately hit with a wave of loud music blaring through your ears, god you couldn’t even hear what Zuha was saying right next to you. She was right, SM parties are next level. You could see a couple people gathered round a table playing beer pong, seeing Minjeong and a few other familiar faces. You decided to join them, and despite being the worst one there you had to admit it was really fun. Now that a few drinks were in your system you seemed to loosen up, completely forgetting about the worries that had plagued your mind this morning. You grabbed a drink and made your way over to the kitchen where you spotted Zuha and Heeseung talking. Hold on, Heeseung? If he’s here then… 

You scanned the apartment, eyes wandering to the living room where numerous people seemed to be chatting away enthusiastically. Moving further into the area your eyes darted across each face trying to spot your target, and that was when you saw him. There he was, red solo cup in hand, looking directly at you. 

Shit, you were gonna kill Zuha, what was Jake doing here? You scrambled to try and get away from him after making eye contact, but before you could slip away you felt a hand grab your wrist. God damn it. 

“YN, can we talk?” Jake begged with pleading eyes, fuck you’d never seen him this desperate, “please.” 

You nodded your head slightly before he dragged you to an empty room.

“Okay you said you wanted to talk, so talk.” you demanded, still slightly buzzed. Your confidence fueled with alcohol and sheer pettiness

“Listen,” Jake said before pausing to collect his thoughts, “I’m sorry for, well yeah all of it. I shouldn’t have kissed Karina that night, it’s just we aren’t exclusive or anything so I figured-” 

“Yeah we weren’t, but honestly Jake I couldn’t give less of a fuck” a bold-faced lie. Jake scoffed, he was trying to patch things up and you were seriously giving him this attitude? 

“Yeah sure sounds like it” 

“Yeah I don’t, I just think it’s messed up that you don’t kiss me and then proceed to call yourself my boyfriend” 

“Please, that was because Seunghan was bothering you! What was I supposed to do just let a creep keep harassing you? Do you even remember what happened that night YN?” 

“No and as I said I couldn’t give a fuck” 

“Well, I do. You can’t just tell me you like me and pretend it was nothing” fuck so he did remember

“Okay well,” You stuttered out, anger simmering within you “I was drunk. I wasn’t in my right mind that night, so yeah it was nothing. Why does it even matter if I like you or not, you said from the start that what we had was casual.” 

God were you serious right now? Jake could feel his heart hurt a little and his previously confident stance faltering, “Yeah well we obviously haven’t been acting very ‘casual’ as of late.” 

“Why does that even fucking matter Jake, I don’t know why you care so much!” 

“Obviously because I fucking caught feelings!” Jake’s mouth seemed to work faster than his mind. Shit did he seriously just admit that. 

Everything stopped, and your gaze softened for a split second. What. He likes me? He likes me. Fuck, why would you even say all that shit in the first place? You couldn’t even sustain a casual relationship how the fuck were you meant to maintain a real one? This is stupid.

“This is stupid.” you blurt out finally “I can’t handle a relationship right now Jake, hell I couldn’t even handle a casual one. No way we could ever be a real thing.” 

“I thought you liked me.” Jake muttered

“So what if I do Jake? Look at us right now, I can’t even confess to you without running away from it. I’m not good for you Jake. I wouldn’t be able to make us work and-”

“Are you not even willing to try!?” Jake interrupted, tears slowly brimming in his eyes. Fuck, you couldn’t bear seeing him cry.

“Not if I’ll just hurt you in the process!” you shouted meeting his glossy eyes with your own “I’m sorry Jake.” And with that, you stormed past him out the room, out the door, down the stairs, and booked it back to your dorm.

Much like the first time you met, Jake Sim stood there watching you run out on him, again. Fuck.

Ice cream, americanos, and 2521.

This was how you would spend your days now that you and Jake were officially over. Well it’s not like you didn’t hangout with your other friends as well, you tried really, but even with them you couldn’t get rid of the sickeningly hollow feeling that brewed in the pit of your stomach. You felt much more content alone in your dorm room accompanied by Nam Joo Hyuk and Kim Tae Ri. Or maybe you were just trying to ignore the empty feeling in your chest for as long as you could before heading to sleep. Whether it be escapism or satisfaction, you’d become accustomed to your new little routine. That was until one fateful Saturday afternoon. 

You begrudgingly got up from your comfortable position after hearing a couple of knocks on your dorm room door. Hair a mess and wearing a 2 week old set of pyjamas, you honestly couldn’t care less who was at your door. Expecting to see Kazuha you unlocked it without thinking too much, however you were only greeted with Park Jongseong staring straight at you. 

“Oh Jay! Hey,” you exclaimed suddenly, becoming all too aware of your unkempt appearance. “What are you doing here? Were you looking for Kazuha or something because she just left for practice an-”

“Actually I’m here for you.” Jay cut in, “Could I come in?” his lips pressed together in a thin line and his hands were tucked away in his pockets.

“Oh, um” taken aback slightly by the question you stumbled over your words as he watched you expectantly “...yeah yeah sure, it’s sorta a mess though.” you admitted before moving aside to let him in. 

“So, what’s up?” you exhaled before returning to your position leaning back on your headboard

“Have you um, talked to Jake at all recently?” 

And there it was. Fuck you knew he would ask about Jake. “No, actually.” “Ah yeah, I figured.” his eyes still awkwardly scanning the room “He’s been kinda out of it too, not really going to out with us anymo-”

“If you’re just here to tell me about how badly I hurt him, you can save it.”

“Wait wait no I wasn’t! Just, okay- hear me out” he reasoned before grabbing a chair to sit in front of you 

“I know you guys had that whole argument before. And I don’t blame you, I probably would've been pissed too. But as I said, Jake is an absolute mess. And in no way am I here to make you feel bad for him, or anything! Just like- YN I’ll be straight with you. Jake has never liked a girl this much. Like, ever.”

Feeling your heartbeat flutter more ever so slightly, you glanced up to make eye contact with Jay. “Ah…”

“Yeah and, considering the fact I had to basically nurse him through his first breakup in highschool where he claimed his life was over. I think I’m a pretty reliable source right now. Point is, Jake was like head over heels over you. Still is. Despite being really tired from practice he would always try and run to the convenience store to stock up on your favourite foods. And even before you guys started this whole thing, the day you ran out of his dorm room, I swear that man was an inconsolable mess. Every moment not spent with you, he spent with us talking about how much fun he had with you.” he paused briefly to let you soak in all the things he had just admitted

“And I know I don’t know you as well as he does, nor am I close with you like, at all. But from the look in your eyes you had whenever you were with him, I think you liked him a lot too. And just saying, I don’t think Jake is totally opposed to the idea of you guys dating even after that whole incident at the party. He’s still willing to try…” he trailed off before getting up from his previously sat position, “He’s playing in tonight’s game so, think about it?” he concluded with a slight shrug

Quite honestly you were at a loss for words here, I mean you knew Jake liked you but you didn’t truly know the extent of it. You were obviously still scared about meeting Jake again but a small part of you had hope he was still as forgiving as Jay claimed.

“Thanks Jay, I’ll see.”

This was a bad idea. 

You couldn’t believe Jay Park had convinced you to dress up all pretty just to sit through an insufferable game of soccer where you had no idea what was going on. Well, he didn’t really tell you to do all that, but you reasoned to yourself passing the blame would probably make you feel better about the fact that this was how you were spending your Saturday night. 

Legs crossed over each other and eyes shooting across the field, you couldn’t really make out anything that was happening. Despite going to a university for sports you sadly had no interest in anything that involved throwing, kicking, or hitting balls around a large empty space. 

You were internally debating whether any of this was worth it in the first place, the game was almost over there was so there was really no harm in leaving now anyways. That was until your eyes locked with an awfully familiar face. There he was, clad in a navy blue jersey, sweat making his skin glisten and a few strands of hair stick to his forehead, running across the field chasing after the ball. And just like that, you felt like you fell for Jake Sim all over again. 

You could deny that even if you had no interest in the sport, Jake made it look infinitely exhilarating. Suddenly drawn in you found yourself at the edge of your seat the entirety of the last half of the game, cheering and clapping whenever Decelis scored a point. It was the final few minutes and Decelis and SM were neck and neck, both scoring a total of 10 points each. 

The ball spiralled across the field before landing in front of Jake. Steps fueled with determination he dribbled the ball further and further across the court with speed and intensity you’ve never witnessed before. Fire blazing with every step he took, he skillfully planted his foot on the ball before striking it in the opposing team's goal post. 

“And a score from Jake Sim! Ladies and gentlemen with only 20 seconds remaining of the game we may have our winners!” The commentator's voice echoed across the stadium, the crowd erupting into shouts and cheers. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the referee finally blew the whistle to announce the end of the second half, crowning Decelis the official winners of this match. The team rushed towards Jake before engulfing him in hugs and showering him with compliments. Jake let out a wide grin in response, his smile beaming brightly across the field. You missed seeing that side of him.

Making your way down the stadium steps, you rushed over to the field in hopes to catch him before his team swept him away. Unfortunately, around 20 other people seemed to have the same idea as you. Being drowned out by the crowd gathered around Jake Sim you somewhat lost hope in any chances of you speaking to him tonight. It’s fine, right? You had plenty of other chances to talk to Jake. However, whether it be fate working in mysterious ways or the glint of your silver hair clip, Jake's eyes caught sight of someone tucked away behind the crowd. 

Recognising you instantly, his heart began to palpitate ever so quickly and the confidence he adorned earlier vanished in an instant. Not wanting to ignore the other people surrounding him he mouthed a quick “Wait” before politely finishing up his conversation with the rest of his team. 

Pushing slightly through the slowly diminishing crowd Jake made his way towards you and tried to ignore the way his hands instantly became clammy while his heart was beating out his chest. Mustering every bit of courage he had left of him he let out a strained “Hey YN.”

“Hi Jake,” you started awkwardly, “Could we um, talk for a bit?”

“Yeah sure but-” he reached to the nape of his neck beginning to look around, “maybe not here? We could go back to my apartment if you want, the guys are going to the afterparty and I’m not really interested.”

“Oh uh,” your heart jumped a bit at his sudden request but after calming yourself down you responded, “yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

The walk back to his place was admittedly one of your more awkward ones, silence filling the atmosphere as you two were both obviously too scared to start any conversation before reaching his apartment. Said silence remained as you made your way into his building, following him around while your eyes layed fixed to the floor. 

Clearing his throat as he shut the door, he decided he should be the one to break the awkward tension between you two. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” 

“Oh right. Um about the other night, I’m really sorry I just…” all the lines you had practised earlier in the shower now had completely slipped your mind, leaving you to run short of things to say, standing there after an uncomfortably long pause. 

“YN it’s fine, I totally understand you not wanting anything between us anymore I get it really-”

“NO THAT’S NOT IT!” hands reaching up in front of your chest before you noticed how disastrously frantic you sounded, “What I was going to say was-” you started before letting out a deep breath. God you really had to get a hold of your nerves.

“What I wanted to say was, well what I’ve been planning to say- is that I was wrong. And I’m sorry for saying all that shit that night, I was scared shitless if I’m gonna be honest. Also admittedly, really buzzed. That obviously doesn’t really make up for it, but, yeah. Anyways– I’m getting side tracked.” you mumbled before shaking your head to snap yourself back into it.

“I told you before, but I have a very big problem with running away from anything that doesn’t have a solid 100% success rate. And relationships kinda are a big part of that? I think I’m seriously out of my mind for saying this, and hell all of this seems incredibly crazy to me. But I just…have to get it out. I’m willing to bet on, maybe not a 100% percent success rate for you Jake. I don’t care if it’s 10, 20, 30 or in the negatives. I’m willing to take that risk for you Jake.”

One beat passed, then two, then another. You stood there in agony waiting for Jake to respond with anything. A yes, a no, a laugh in your face, god you just wanted him to speak. 

“Please say something” you winced. 

“Sorry I’m just- I just- well I’ve never really had anyone ask me out before? So, I kinda am at a loss for words right now, you know?” Jake paused to look up at your hopelessly distraught image, “You are asking me out… right?”

“Yes…I think so and I’ve truthfully never done this either.” you replied sheepishly, eyes still stuck on the hardwood flooring. 

“Well YN,” his hand reached for your chin to lift your head upwards so you were eye level with him, “I would love to go out with you.” he said with a gentle smile. The same smile that had you weak in the knees everytime. 

“Oh thank fuck.” you sighed out in relief. Jake couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of all tension leaving your body. He moved his body closer to you to corner you against the kitchen countertop before moving in to whisper, “Can I do this now?”

“Do what?”

“This.” and with that he slowly closed the distance between you two to press his lips gently on top of yours before his hand reached over to cup the back of your head. It took a moment for you to register what he was fully doing, but as if he had full control over your body you melted into the kiss like butter. Lips moving feverishly against his, your hands reached over to grab his arm and pull him even closer towards you. There was barely breathing room between the two of you, your bodies moving perfectly in sync. Sighing into the kiss as his mouth parted against yours; you swore you weren’t religious but if this was what heaven felt like, you were willing to rethink your choices. 

Slowly parting from him, his lips seemed to still chase after yours as if it was attached to your mouth with a string. You let out a small giggle, redirecting your gaze at his eyes. They were glistening with a warmth you’d seen countless times before, except this time you truly knew it was meant for you. You moved your arms over to loop around his neck whilst cocking your head to the side in amusement. 

“Guess people can’t call you a loser now?” 

“You know damn well I never was,” he chuckled out, tone still low and hushed, “C’mere” he exhaled before kissing you again with even more passion and intensity than before. You smiled into the kiss allowing him to manipulate your body like butter. 

Who knew the physics nerd had it in him huh?

thoughts frm yuya 💭 hai everyone! omg this is finally out 😭 i think i grinded this fic out in like a week so i do apologize if it's bad 🙏 anyways i hope you guys enjoy it since it's my first really long fic ^^ i said this before but i'll prob go on a short hiatus since i've got my finals coming up, maybe coming back by the end of may or middle of june? nonetheless I will still try and be active on here, just no posting or new works, but i might try to queue some works up so TT hope you guys enjoyed the fic >< feedback and reblogs appreciated !

taglist ─── ⋆ @yerisrev, @nwjws, @jlheon, @k1ttylvr @iiaweirdo @mokangelic @jvjsssnaa @ms-no1kpopstan @caeqey @saursoob @shinrjj @m3chigo @eneiyri @shnnzsworld @heelariously @felixslove @vixensss @laurradoesloveu @atrirose @anormieee @jaklvbub @leep0ems @river-demon-slayer @minniejenseo @thing89 @ineedsomezzz @riksaes @iheartjayke @jinnibug @kookify @roastandtoast @fakeuwus  @junityy  @ak-aaa-li @letwiiparkjay @kashuannn @floweryang @bywons @dimplewonie @ginakam @hearts4itoshi @nctislifue @chaeyunloveeee (if ur name is bold that means i unfortunately couldn’t tag u TT)

#yuya writes! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ #he was a jock she did ballet ୭˚. ᵎᵎ #enhypen x reader #enhypen #jake x y/n #jake imagines #jake x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen au #enhypen fics #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x yn #enhypen imagines #enhypen social media au #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen fake texts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #jake sim #jake drabble #jake scenarios #jake fic

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 & sexy clothes

Gaz absolutely supports you wearing whatever you feel sexy in. however, in his heart of hearts, he believes the sexiest thing you can wear around him is your pjs, your ratty old tees, your sleep shirts, your big hoodies, your slouchy garbage clothes. he just wants to know you're comfortable. not to mention the idea of you letting him see you the way nobody else gets to... letting yourself be totally vulnerable around him... that lights up a certain (slightly needy) (slightly possessive) part of his brain. interesting how easily his hands can slide past the hem of your clothes when they're bigger and slouchier, too.

Ghost loves lingerie, though. like wrapping a present just for him. it's less about the lace (or the bows, or the straps, or the leather, whatever you prefer) and more about the time and attention you're expending to make yourself look all sexy. all this work? for him? even if his usual compulsion is to act aloof and pretend it's no big deal, he can't hide the greedy way his eyes devour you--for me? don't mind if i do. it's a toss-up whether he decides to unwrap you completely or just push his calloused hands into your lil outfit and muss you up until it's not covering anything anymore. or maybe he'll just leave the wrapping on so he can keep admiring all your hard work while he pumps into you.

Price says he loves you in lingerie, and he does. he doesn't tell you how fucking crazy you drive him when you're dressed for business. that might mean the clothes you wear into the office every day; it might mean fatigues; it might mean a particular uniform; it might be sportswear. he's big into seeing you focused and in your element--your competence is sexy--while also knowing there are so few layers he'd need to peel off before he could have you completely forgetting yourself if he wanted. and hey! if the lace at the top of your thigh-highs happens to be peeking out from under your pencil skirt, or if your ass fills out your uniform just right? that's just fine with him. you do you. (for now. he'll do you later.)

Soap's preferences are simple. he likes access. skirts. dresses. obviously, if he could convince you to be naked 100% of the time, he would. sundresses are pretty, though. so are your studded black skirts if you're gothy. or your sharp, practical, form-fitting pencil skirts if you're professional. you can even wear a kilt if you'd like. his kilt. he doesn't mind. (he only asks that you wear it as it's meant to be worn--without a thing underneath.) on days you do wear a dress or skirt, you're lucky to make it out of the house without him darting after you, pulling the hem up your thighs, and wondering aloud how you managed to find any undergarments at all; he'd swear he hid every last pair. he peels your underwear off--don't protest, hen; you know how this works--and after that, your chances of getting out the door are slim to none.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

#mine #snippet #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #cod smut #poly!141 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #simon ghost riley #john price #captain price #captain john price #price cod #ghost #ghost cod #soap cod #simon riley #ghost riley #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #johnny mactavish x reader

[lmao-liz]

long distance video calls with soap

my first time writing anything and it’s smut ish. i’m usually a reader and recommender but god do I love this concept

cw: phone sex, mutual masterbation, vibrator use, voyeurism. (let me know if I missed anything)

you and johnny are in a new relationship. it’s your first relationship where the guys got an actual career. he’s someone important, he can’t tell you the details just that it’s demanding and can be dangerous at times.

you embrace the long distance phone calls and rare video chats. it’s worth it because when he’s home it's unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you know he’s military or something along those lines, the time differences and crazy schedules make it obvious.

after a few months together he opens up. tells you about the team, his cap, gaz, and of course simon. how the long hours and being away all the time gets to the team, he’s pissed none of them ever talk about it.

him having someone to come home to, it changed his mindset, he feels bad for them. it’s empathy, a bit of pity. he’s having such a good time with you, it’s not new for him to want to share the things he loves with his teammates.

the team just got settled into bed, working for almost two days straight in some random country, everyone was out as soon as they hit their pillows, deployment’s running too long. it feels like an eternity since he’s seen you, felt you. he knows he has to keep external contact as low as possible, but the thought of seeing you. it’s his forbidden fruit.

he’s a catholic, in hindsight not a great one, he kills, does unspeakable things for his job. so what’s another tally? one that he knows he deserves, because he’s been working so hard, it would be worth it.

the video call only rings twice before you pick up.

5:33 am.

he should be sorry for waking you up, but he needs you. you answer in the darkness of your room face illuminated by your phone screen. the lights are off in the barracks but you can see him in his bunk, shirtless, an arm tucked behind his head.

he looks like the product of a wet dream. one of which you’ve had too many of to be relaxed seeing him like this. he asks you what you’re wearing, tells you he needs you. he’s desperate, working long hours, going through all kinds of shitty situations. he says he’ll return the favour once he’s home. you know he will, he always does.

you don’t resist when he asks you to lift your shirt. you know he’s been working so hard, it’s the least you could do. he tells you to grab the vibrator he got you just before he left. knows how sometimes you need it quick and strong, not afraid of you liking it more than him, he knows how desperate you get while he’s gone for long periods of time.

he’s whispering praise to you, you can see the movement of his arm behind the screen. the laptop propped up on his drool worthy abs. it’s quick, the vibrator hitting in just the right spot, johnnys not the only desperate one. you haven’t seen him in months.

johnny knows he should turn his volume down. the sounds of your pleasure are bouncing off the walls of the small barracks. he just can’t help himself, too focused on your contorted face, your sounds, the quiet hum of your vibrator.

it should be embarrassing how fast he comes, but seeing you, even through a screen, it's more than he’s had, his imagination can’t compare to seeing the real thing. his grunts and heavy breathing are enough to push you over the edge. you both writhe in pleasure, thousands of miles between you too, but it’s not enough to keep you apart. you’re even more tired, a good orgasm and seeing johnny, you know he can’t stay on the line longer, but you want nothing more than to actually get a chance to talk.

he tells you he’ll be home soon, make up for him being gone longer than he said he would be. he wishes you a good night saying he's got another busy day tomorrow. you blow him a kiss goodbye, making him promise to come home safe.

“alweys dae lass”

the call ends, you set the vibrator and your phone back on your nightstand, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland.

johnny sets the laptop to his side, wondering how he’s going to clean himself up without waking everyone up. just when he’s about to say fuck it and sacrifice his boxers, a box of tissues hits his shoulder. he catches it before it hits the ground and looks to the bunk across the small room, he can see the outline of the infamous skull mask staring back at him.

“didn't know you had such a pretty bird waiting for you back home johnny”

he swears he sees simon adjusting himself beneath his blankets. but it’s dark, he hasn’t slept in almost 40 hours. it’s just his mind playing tricks on him right?

is this actually good? I like it but it’s a word vomit of my thoughts so i’m insanely biased. do I continue writing or stick to recommendations…

#soap x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish smut #john mactavish #simon riley #cod 141 #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #poly 141 #poly!141 x reader #possible gaz and price inclusion #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #soap x ghost

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #ghost x reader #cod #ghoap x reader #ghoap #ghostsoap #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #slow burn #reader has pots #soapghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #I’m so pumped for the next chapter you have no fucking clue babes

[hgfictionwriter]

Sickness

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's just about to make her big debut with the Thorns and she insists on taking care of you even if it means she may get sick.

Warnings: None

A/N: In response to this request. I completely agree - Jessie would revel in taking care of her partner.

You winced as your alarm rang in your ears. You blindly pawed along the nightstand looking for your phone and turned off the grating sound with relief. You laid out on your back and frowned deeper. Your head was pounding. You inhaled deeply and quickly realized you were congested.

"Oh no."

You opened your eyes and saw light filtering in through the crack in the doorway to your ensuite bathroom; you heard the shower running. Jessie must've gone for a run already.

You forced yourself to sit up in bed and involuntarily winced once more as a sharp pang shot through your head at the movement. This wasn't good.

You cleared your throat, nearly coughing at how inflamed you discovered your throat to be. You got out of bed and made your way to the entryway of the new apartment you and Jessie shared. You'd taken possession a couple of days ago, and though a few boxes remained, you'd mostly unpacked and settled in. Neither of you being particularly materialistic made moving a much easier ordeal than it may have been otherwise.

You looked in the mirror that was freshly hung up and a low grumble emanated painfully from your throat. Though you looked okay for the most part, the bags under your eyes told a different story.

Your ears perked up as you heard the shower turn off and you rushed over to the kitchen, your mind scrambling to remember where you'd decided to store meds. You quickly found the bottle of painkillers and poured yourself a glass of water and hurriedly downed a couple of pills before tucking the bottle away to hide the evidence. You ignored how the pills went down like a couple of razor blades.

You were pouring more water when you heard Jessie pad into the hallway.

"Hey babe," she greeted.

You glanced up, working to rid yourself of the panicked feeling that still lingered. You smiled at her - a very easy feat when your eyes fell upon her in her sweats and a baggy t-shirt as she towel-dried her curly, wet hair. You cleared your throat as subtly as you could.

"Morning." To your relief, your voice sounded alright. For now.

"Did you sleep okay?" She asked as she crossed over to you with a hint of a frown on her face. "You were tossing and turning a lot."

"I'm sorry," you told her and she gave you a laugh.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry if you didn't sleep well," she said and wrapped her arms around you and leaned in to give you a kiss. You turned your head and her lips connected with your cheek. She pulled back with a discerning look.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's all good," you told her lightly as you removed yourself from her embrace and wandered over to the living room. You didn't know what you were doing, you just wanted to put as much space between you and her as possible. Her first day of training with the Thorns was tomorrow and the very last thing you wanted was for her to get sick.

You were reticent to tell her you were sick, too. Jessie was exceptionally thoughtful and caring, so if she knew you were sick, she would care for you even if it meant she'd get sick. You didn't want that in any case, but especially not with her being brand new on the team.

A mildly frustrated huff escaped you as you heard Jessie following you into the living room. You pointedly kept your back to her as you busied yourself studying one of your plants. You toyed with the leaves for a while and subtly shifted your gaze to the side, trying to peer at her as discretely as possible when you felt her hovering and not saying anything.

"I can book you a flight back home for a bit." Her voice was small, her words immediately pulling a deep frown out of you. You glanced over your shoulder at her in scrutiny, a low pang in your chest forming as you saw her standing somewhat dejected in the middle of the room.

"I know you came here just for me," she went on, her voice low as she tucked her hands into her pockets and looked up at you, her head hung slightly. "You left a lot behind. I don't take that for granted. I want to do whatever I can to make sure you're happy here. If you need to go back home more often or if I need to fly your friends or family out, I'm all for it. Whatever you need. I want you to be happy."

You turned around fully to face her. Sweet Jessie. Your beautiful, sweet, thoughtful Jessie. This is exactly why she was worth moving halfway around the world for. Your shoulders slumped as guilt crashed over you. You took in her sad, dark eyes and gave her a soft smile.

"Baby, I'm sorry. This," you gestured between here and the kitchen, "has nothing to do with any of that. I don't regret anything - I promise you. And I'm happy here with you. I know it won't always be easy, but we are solid - please know that." Her forehead was still creased in concern and you let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "I'm just being weird because I think I'm sick. I woke up with a pounding headache and my head's all congested, my throat hurts. And I do not want to get you sick."

You could visibly see the relief go through Jessie's body and she immediately took a couple large strides over to you. You immediately held up your hands and pressed against her chest as she tried to close the space between you.

"Babe! What did I just say?" You protested.

"I'll be fine!" She assured you as she pushed back and your half-hearted effort ceased. She held you tight and kissed your cheek. You indulged momentarily, wrapping your arms around her and leaning your head against hers. It always felt so warm and comforting in her arms.

You took a step back, putting your hands against her chest once more and gently pushing her back with a pointed look.

"That's all you get," you told her and she reluctantly let you push her back a couple of steps, her eyes not leaving yours.

"I'm going to take care of you," she told you in defiance and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Why? Because I love my girlfriend and want to take care of her when she's sick? Well pardon me," she said dryly.

"Jessie," you pleaded, your voice rising in pitch. "This is serious. You're brand new on the team. You can't be sick right now."

She huffed and straightened her postured as she cocked her head at you. She contemplated her words for a few seconds before speaking.

"I understand what you're trying to do. But it's not necessary. I'm on a contract - I'm here for three years. People get sick - that's normal. I have lots of time to earn my place and make my mark here. If I did get sick - which I won't - it's not the end of the world if I miss a session or two."

You tutted in disapproval at her stubbornness. If you weren't so concerned for her, you'd be able to appreciate her sentiment more. Jessie - who was beyond dedicated to her sport, was actually willing to risk missing practice or even a game for you.

"I'm serious, Jess. Stay away. I'm going to sanitize things, and you keep to yourself and I'll do the same. I will be perfectly fine. I don't need you to take care of me."

She frowned at you, looking almost insulted.

"Well, I want to take care of you," came her rebuttal.

"Well I'm refusing," you countered, crossing your arms.

Jessie shook her head and mimicked your body language, folding her arms across her chest as well. When she spoke, her tone was unwavering.

"Listen, I know you're very independent. I know you're capable of taking care of yourself. But you're my girlfriend, my partner, love of my life, and I am taking care of you - end of story. So you are going to sit down on that couch," she pointed to it, but kept her eyes locked on you, "I am going to tuck you in, bring you food and drinks, we are going to watch movies all day and you are going to nap and get as much rest as you can. Understood?"

Any argument you had been formulating died on your lips. Jessie was rarely like this. She was such a good sport, always going with your ideas and whims and her family and friends made fun of her all the time - affectionately, of course - for it. You believe you heard the phrase, "You're so whipped" come up a few times.

You chewed the inside of your lip for a few seconds, refusing to break eye contact with her until you finally relented with a light scoff and roll of your eyes.

"Fine," you pouted. "But when you get in shit from your coach, don't tell me I didn't warn you."

Jessie simply grinned brightly at you and ushered you to the couch, setting you up with pillows right away. Soon she was ferrying items to and from before finally settling in with you. She pulled you against her so your head was resting on her chest as you watched TV together.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't love it.

-----

The next day, despite Jessie's efforts, you were feeling infinitely worse. She set you up on the couch in the morning and kneeled down in front of you, concern clear on her face.

"I don't want to leave you," she said, passively seeking your permission to stay with you.

"Go," you said, your voice now thick and hoarse. You turned your head into the couch and coughed. She immediately began rubbing your back.

"I can't leave you like this," she pouted.

"Go," you repeated, this time more adamant before continuing softly. "I want you to. Go blow them away. I'll be here when you get back."

She hummed deep in her throat, studying you for several moments before giving up with a light huff. She leaned in and kissed your forehead, bringing her hand up to cup your cheek and caress your cheekbone.

"I'll be home before you know it." She frowned at you before adding firmly, "Call me if anything comes up." You would normally roll your eyes at how overly attentive she was being - as much as you loved it - but you were so drained all you could do was close your eyes and nod.

"My baby," she said as she continued to caress your cheek. "I hate that I can't make you feel better."

You heard her get up and after a while you felt something being pushed into your hands. You slowly opened your eyes to see the little koala plushie she'd brought home for you from Australia.

"You hold him until I get home, okay?"

You whined against your will and clutched the plushie close to you, tucking your chin against it. You looked up and her lips were turned down in a sad smile as she watched you.

"I love you so much," she told you and leaned down to kiss you on the temple. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"No," you whined further. "Do what you need to do. Don't rush home for me."

"I always rush home to you," she countered with an easy grin. You moaned in mild complaint.

"Why are you so good to me?" You pouted.

"Because I love you. And you deserve it," she told you readily as she swung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Mmm. I want cuddles when you get back," you continued to pout. She laughed.

"I'm going to bring you snacks and treats and then you'll get all the cuddles you want."

"Mmm," you whined again. "I'll miss you." She leaned down to lay one more kiss on your head.

"I'll miss you too. Now, get some rest. I'll be home soon."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #canwnt #woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #portland thorns #canwnt x reader

[nina-ya]

Hey! It's my birthday and I was wondering if you write for Shanks? If you do, could you do a Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"? thanks

Ways That Shanks Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU NONNIE <3<3 I hope your birthday went well!! Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Shanks x reader CW: None. WC: 1.4k

Shanks had a talent for picking up on the smallest of details, especially when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you wanted, even before you had a chance to verbalize it. It was one of the many things that made being with him so special– his ability to read you like an open book.

One day, you two would be wandering through a market on a smaller island. The stalls are filled with various goods and trinkets, each one tempting you in their own way. You walked besides Shanks, taking in the atmosphere of the market. 

As you passed a stall filled with jewelry, a particular piece caught your eye. The craftsmanship was absolutely perfect and you just couldn’t help but admire it. You did not say anything, however, and you moved on from the stall to browse the other vendors. Shanks, though, stayed behind for just a moment, seemingly engrossed in the jewelry himself. Later, the sun began to set, and the market started to close. Shanks led you two back to the ship, and as you were settling down in your cabin, he pulled out a box, handing it to you.

“Got you something,” Shanks said, holding the box out to you with a grin. “Thought you might like it.” You opened the box and found the very piece of jewelry that you’d been eyeing earlier. The piece glimmered against the light, painting soft reflections of the room's light against the walls. You were taken aback, surprised that Shanks had gotten the very thing that you had shown interest in. 

“Shanks, you didn’t have to–” you began, but he interrupted your thoughts with a gentle laugh. 

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I saw the way you were looking at that thing earlier, and I couldn’t resist. Besides, if you really feel bad, I can think of a few ways that you could pay me back.” He said with a playful wink at the last comment. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, feeling lucky that you fell for someone as amazing as Shanks. He always had a way of making you feel special, spoiling you in the most thoughtful ways. You know Shanks loves you when he pays attention to all your wants and needs. - - -

It’s common for the crew to always seek out some sort of tavern when they make landfall. It’s a fun way to down booze while also getting to try the island's local cuisine. You sat at the bar, watching the red haired man on the other side of the bar as he chatted with the other crew members. He naturally stood out amongst the bunch, his voice projecting across the building. You could practically feel the charisma dripping from his words. It’s one of the reasons you fell for him. 

Shanks approached you with a grin, ordering a round of drinks for everyone. He leaned against the counter, elbows propped up casually, turning to you. “Thirsty?” he asked, his voice projecting over the noise of the tavern. 

You nodded, and he motioned for the bartender to bring some drinks over to you two. Shanks picked up the drinks and motioned for you to follow him. He led you to a table in the corner, the seats being somewhat secluded from the rest of the tavern. While the crew was busy celebrating, Shanks was more than happy to hang out with you away from the rest of them

He slid your drink over to you and tapped the two glasses with a satisfying clink that rang throughout the room. While the others in the crew were being rowdy and singing sea shanties, Shanks sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. He keeps you engaged in a conversation, pointing out small things around the tavern and telling you interesting places he wants to visit while you guys are visiting the island. He had a way of making everything sound exciting, even if they are the most mundane things.

He would laugh at your jokes, eyes sparkling with amusement, and he would slightly lean closer to you as the noise grew louder to make sure he did not miss a word you said. It was as if you two were in your own bubble. You know Shanks loves you when he values spending alone time with you. - - - Shanks’ lap is always the best seat in the house during all the parties you two found yourselves in. His arm seemed to always find itself wrapped firmly around you, holding you close. You held a mug of rum, sharing sips with him, because he’d much rather use his one arm to hold you and keep you securely against him. Even when he is telling stories or engaging in conversation with others, his grip never loosens and you often could feel his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Tonight, the crew is gathered around a bonfire on the beach, the hot amber flames flickering, giving light to the celebration and filling the air with the sound of the occasional crackle and pop of the firewood. Shanks is right at home, reciting stories, full body boisterous laughter spilling from his lips. Even when his focus is not on you, you know that you are constantly lingering in his mind with the way he pulls you in just a little closer, whispering an inside joke that has you reeling over in laughter. As always you are the carrier of food and drinks, offering it to him every so often.  As the party winds down, Shanks stands, helping you to your feet, his arm still attached to you. It’s as if the world would crumble if he let go. Even as he guides you back to your shared quarters and into your bed, he still cannot seem to let go of you. There is just something about being in Shanks’ embrace that makes you feel so safe and so loved. As you drift off to sleep every night with his strong embrace cradling you to his chest, you know he will be right beside you when you wake up. You know Shanks loves you when he never lets go.

#Nina Writes~✦ #Nina Responds~✦ #one piece #one piece x reader #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #x reader

[maplesyrupsainz]

6 w daniel ricciardo ples teehehehehehe im giggling and twirling round and i love uu btw maddie

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem y/n reader (she/her)

genre: blurb

warnings: none just fluff

prompt: six [driver] is overly protective of you after someone flirts with you

a/n: EEEEKKK ILYSM

my masterlist | my 1k celebration

it's summer. january, actually, but you’re in australia so everything is backwards. not in a rude way; you’re just british.

the sun's rays beat down on your sunkissed skin, a tan you’ve been working on in solitude since you arrived in the country. your boyfriend, daniel, is busy as usual; you try not to let it bother you too much.

“hey,” the deep but unfamiliar voice of a man sounds from above you, snapping you out of your half asleep daze.

“hello?” you question him, shielding your eyes with your hand as you glance up at him, not yet willing to sit up and compromise your comfort.

“i’ve seen you around here a lot this week, alone. wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me sometime.” the man seemed a little nervous, but clearly not nervous enough to read the room; you did not want to be disturbed.

you are about to churn out the generic rejection you use on all men who hit on you when a familiar and comforting voice reaches your ears before you can make even a slight sound. “you alright, mate? sorry to interrupt, just came over to steal my girlfriend away from you.”

you roll your eyes under your sunglasses, not able to help the grin breaking out onto your lips. that's my man, you thought.

“perfect timing.” you smile and hop up from your sunbathing position, stretching your stiff limbs. you feel daniel's eyes on your body with this motion, as well as the man who just tried and failed at hitting on you. “sorry. boyfriend,” you gesture towards daniel, offering the man an apologetic smile. he nods before going on his way.

“alright baby,” you smile at the familiar greeting and turn to face your boyfriend, your arms automatically snaking around his neck as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

“i missed you.” you hum softly before planting a kiss to his lips.

“how much? enough to go on a date with a stranger?” daniel's eyebrows wiggle at you as you shake your head in disbelief at his silly question.

“if you carry on this way i might!”

#f1 smau #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 blurb #blurb #dr3 #daniel ricciardo #dr3 smau #dr3 x yn #dr3 fluff #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #dr3 blurb #imagine #maddie's fanfics

[just-jordie-things]

Can you do megumi dating y/n and one day they are at gojo/megumi house and they are at his room kissing the gojo walking in his student and ‘son’ he didn’t know they were dating headcanon 🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏼

okey dokey <3

it's not like gojo had walked in on anything all that scandalous. this wasn't a soap opera. but it was the gojo-fushiguro household... and as the head of the household he sure did enjoy stirring the pot.

so when he opened megumi's door after two respectful knocks and found you both perched on the end of the bed sharing a kiss, the only logical reaction was to gasp and smack his hands over his face in shock. he even lifted his blindfold just to be sure his six eyes weren't betraying him, and you were really there, and you were really kissing megumi.

megumi's crush on you had been a poorly kept secret in the house. it barely took any interrogating on gojo's part to get to the bottom of his strange behavior. but seeing that crush reciprocated?? gojo was going to have a heart attack.

because first of all... he witnessed the boy's attempts at wooing you. and let's just say he wasn't impressed. megumi was a wreck at worst and a mess at best. he wasn't necessarily shy- but he was extremely private- so any attempts at opening up to you were a new and awkward experience for him. the second hand embarrassment that it gave gojo was almost enough for him to stop spying on you. almost.

and second of all, it didn't seem like he was really getting anywhere. megumi only hung out with you in group settings, with your other friends. gojo had never seen the two of you alone for too long. itadori or kugisaki were always joining the mix at some point. so when the hell did this development take place?

and that was precisely his first question.

"when the hell did this little development take place?"

your reaction is to shy away. you move away from megumi to a respectful distance, feigning interest in his walls in order to distract yourself from your sensei's prying gaze.

megumi is less bashful. his brows are furrowed as he glares at his guardian, silently trying to tell him to leave. gojo picks up on the message, he just ignores it.

"are you two a thing now?" the white haired schmuck is leaning against the doorway far too casually for megumi's liking. his eyes shift back and forth between the two guilty parties (well, you feel guilty, megumi only feels irritation)

"none of your business?"

"yes"

your head swivels back towards megumi as you both deliver different answers. he looks worried, like you just said the wrong thing, and naturally that makes you anxious because, well, aren't you boyfriend and girlfriend?

but the mood shifts when gojo squeals and he invites himself to jump onto megumi's bed, congratulating you both as though you've just announced an engagement (you've gone on two and a half dates) and now you understand why megumi is wincing.

his guardian is just a tad bit overbearing. but you can handle that just fine, and you prove it when gojo asks you to stay for "family dinner"

it's megumi that can't keep himself from blushing at every question gojo asks.

#gojo can't wait to be a papa and he eagerly tells you that at your first sit down dinner together </3 #megumi brainrot #megumi x reader

[taintandviolent]

Like Right Now? ; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Part 2 of this fic! Peter waited as long as he could - which wasn't very long. He wants round 2 and you do too. Like.... right now.

word count: 3.3K words!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, couch sex, sex while parent is in the same vicinity dry humping, kissing, neck kissing.

a/n: not beta-read. by popular request... aaaah I'm still as nervous as I was posting the first part of this! anyway, I hope it's good and satisfies the peter craving! as always, sorry for any clunky weirdo writing!!!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

With a contented sigh, you opened the door to the house you shared with your mother. Even though you were technically an adult now, you had decided to stay with her, helping her around the house. A child of divorce, you’d always been a little overprotective of her, and couldn’t imagine her alone. 

“Did you have a good skate, honey?” Your mother asked, watching from the living room as you hung your skates on the hook by the door. With your thumb, you furiously rubbed off a scuff mark off the shiny surface and nodded. Boy, did you. Best skate you’d ever had. Using your heels to slip your sneakers off, and kicking them towards the rest of the shoes, you laughed. “Yeah, I went real fast tonight and–” 

The phone interrupted your next words, ringing shrilly. You practically stumbled towards it, reaching out for it like a parched man reaches for water. Your insides wound themselves in knots, just knowing that it was Peter on the other end. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hey cutie.” He’d waited. As long as he could without losin’ his ever loving mind. Which, he wondered if he already had, considering how bad he was aching to hear your voice again. Maybe he’d already lost it. 

“Hi,” you hummed, turning away from your mother. You brought your tone lower, hushed. 

“Did you just get home?” 

“Yeah, Peter, I did.” 

“Dang, slow poke. I’ve been home for a while.” 

“Okay, well,” you laughed. “That’s not fair.”

“When do we get to uh… hang out again? Huh? I’m already jonesin’ to see you again. With or without skates.” Peter adjusted the phone against his ear, waiting. 

You peeked around the corner. Your mother was busy with her program, no longer paying attention to your conversation, likely assuming that it was just one of your girlfriends. How wrong she was… 

“Hang out? Is that what we did?” 

“Yea’, er… somethin’ like that.” 

“Whenever you want.” 

“Aw, man, don’t say that…” 

“Why not?” You ducked around the corner and plopped down on the third step of the staircase, winding the cord around your fingers. You knew why. You heard the way that Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, even through the phone. 

“Like… now?” 

“...Right now?” You asked back, almost in a teasing tone. “Like right now?”

“Yeah!” His tone was bright and excited, and it sounded like he was already out of breath.

“My house?” The suggestion was brave, but you knew your mom would be going to sleep within the half-hour. If you stayed quiet, she wouldn’t hear you over her bedroom TV. 

“Yeah! I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. Way more casualness was needed - he was acting super lame and way too into you. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t risk it. “Sure. If you want.” 

You began whispering your address, your eyes flitting to the living room. Your mother rose from the chair and went to the kitchen, none the wiser. You continued, knowing Peter had already committed it to memory. Your mother leaned down to cup your face as she went up the stairs and mouthed goodnight, and you covered the receiver with your hand.

“Night, mom. Love you.” 

“Be there in a flash.” You heard him say. 

You wanted to tell him to wait, but the line was already dead. As you moved, your hands shook and fumbled the receiver, dropping it once before getting it back on its cradle. Your mother had hardly gotten up the steps, and he’d be there any second, if he wasn’t already. You heard the door click shut and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Mom?” You said, testingly. She didn’t respond, so you launched your body up the carpeted stairs, running up them like a four-legged animal. Her door was shut, nothing but the dull glow of her bedside table seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. You raced back down the stairs, your socks padding quietly down them, despite the speed.

Your bedroom was down the hall, past the kitchen. You’d never been gladder to be on the bottom floor. You crept into your room, edging the door shut until the latch clicked into place and as it did, paused to laugh at yourself; you were doing everything so sneakily, as though you were a child acting out. You were a grown woman, albeit still in your mom’s house, but the point remained. Pushing aside the curtains, you carefully maneuvered the window up. It was a warm summer evening, there was no reason why you wouldn't open your window - perfectly normal, if your mother heard it. You stuck your head out. No Peter. Surely, he’d have been here by now. You breathed, looking at the base of the tree outside your window. A squirrel skittered up into the branches. Just as you were about to pull your head back inside, Peter’s head comically poked out from the corner of the house. He had clearly been standing by the front door, which horrified you.

“Took so long, I was about to knock – .”

You shushed him, and whispered harshly for him to get inside. He stuck one leg in, climbing in carefully – the last thing he needed was to be a total klutz and eat it on your bedroom floor.

“You’re crazy, you know that? The front door!?” 

“Cool your jets, babe. You didn’t tell me which window was yours. Where’s your mom?” 

“Upstairs, hopefully sleeping.” 

“Good,” he murmured into your lips, suddenly in front of you. He’d caught you off guard with his speed, but like everything he’d done from the moment he’d complimented your skates, he was so frustratingly cute. The kiss was warm and soft, you were in no position to resist it. He kissed you back towards the bed, his hands cupping your breasts, thumb tweaking your nipples over your shirt. Which reminded you… you were still in your skating clothes. There was far too much fabric in between his thumb and your nipple. 

“Lemme’,” you murmured sloppily into his lips, before finally pulling back. “Lemme’ change first, okay? It’ll look less suspicious. Who needs to cool their jets, huh?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Hands up, Peter took a step back, watching you as you sauntered off towards your small closet. Your hips swayed back and forth to a song that wasn’t playing. Probably something you’d heard at the skating rink. You could admit it, you were putting on a bit of a show in hopes of arousing him. 

Still though, you hurried, sliding the doors open and pulling your shirt over your head. You reached around and undid your bra, glancing back at him cheekily. Woah, jackpot… he thought, hoping, that at that point, he wasn’t drooling like a cartoon dog. He was watching you intently, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Neck turned, you held his gaze, daring him to look as you slid your shorts and panties down over the curve of your ass. He looked, but it was so fast of a peek that it was impossible for you to notice. Now finished with your impromptu strip tease, you pulled a sleeping shirt from the shelf and threw it on, spinning on your heels to face him. 

Clad in nothing but the oversized t-shirt, you marched back to Peter, who had taken a seat on the edge of your bed. You climbed behind him, sliding your hands up the round muscle of his shoulders. On your knees, you were just taller than him and decided to take advantage of that by kissing his neck, slowly. You nipped here and there, suckling in other places while your hands explored the front of his shirt, ghosting over the faded print. 

Peter started sweating, and the stiffness between his legs got worse. Much worse. There was no hiding it, or ignoring it and he could’ve sworn that he heard you giggle behind him. His expression was a melange of pain and pleasure, and as your hands neared his crotch, he couldn’t really tolerate much more of your tender kissing… 

“Babe,” In a blur of motion, your back was pressed against your mattress, and he was back to tweaking your nipples again, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The action made you squirm. “Your foreplay is bitchin’, but you’re driving me crazy. Loco. I feel like I’m gonna’ bust.”

“Okay, so now what?” 

“Now what?” He repeated, almost mockingly. “It’s my turn.”  

His hand trailed down from your breasts over the curve of your stomach to the soft mound between your legs. You felt a buzzing directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves and looked down, equal parts confused and aroused. It was his hand, and not a vibrator, but instead of seeing his fingers move back and forth, you saw a flesh-coloured blur. Everything you’d learned about fingering… in the span of a few hours, he’d completely shattered. So, he could finger-fuck you at super-speed, and he could literally vibrate your clit. Of course he could. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, an intoxicating lilt to your words. Peter groaned, and ground his hips against the side of your thigh. His finger dipped down, collecting some of your warm, slithery wetness and pulling it back up, smearing it around your folds.

You clapped your hand over your mouth, legs quivering. The pad of his middle finger continued tapping your clit and you felt the very rapid climb of your orgasm. Without warning from him, Peter’s hand drifted away from your pussy, his slick fingers gripping your thigh. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 

“Wh-what?” Breathless and sweaty, you quirked a brow at him.

“You got a soda or something?” 

“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen. Y-you’re really thirsty right now?” 

Before you could protest, you stood in the kitchen. He had opened the fridge, popped the tab on a can of Coke, guzzled it, and tossed it into the bin. You blinked. “What… Peter…!” You sniggered, covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your own voice. Your mother’s bedroom was right above the living room, and the last thing you wanted was her to wake. 

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait any longer. He’d gotten you downstairs, and now it was time to up the ante. Wrapping his arms around you, Peter zipped to the couch, and could’ve fucked your wet little cunt right there on the sofa. In the span of a few seconds, Peter could’ve drilled his aching cock inside of you, just long enough for you to feel it, just long enough for him to bust inside you and just long enough to make you quiver. Instead, he hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes, chest heaving. 

“What’re you so nervous for, babe? You know that the second I hear footsteps, we’d be back in your room.” 

“Peter, we can’t… my mom is right above us, dude!” 

“You’re no fun, c’mon.” He craned his neck down, pressing a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, babe.”

You whimpered, rolling your lips inward and your eyes upward. For being such a top tier goof ball, he was unnervingly good at making you feel like your entire body was on fire. That electric current that you felt at the roller rink was back, buzzing through you at a high voltage.

“Peter…” you begged, hoping he’d change his mind because the reality was that he’d get his way if he didn’t. You were too turned on and too into him to say no. 

“C’moooon.” Another kiss. Internally, he was ripping stuffing. His confidence was outrageous, where did he get the balls? He wished you were holdin’ his – no. Stop right there. You ran your tongue along your teeth, and Peter watched the wet muscle as it swept across the enamel, glistening. 

“You promise?”  you asked. 

He nodded, too eagerly, his silver hair flopping with the motion. “Scout’s honour, or whatever. She won’t know a thing.” 

With a little huff, you spread your legs, allowing him in. Peter wasted no time in letting that wet, aching monster free, immediately pulling his gray boxers down over his balls. You pressed your hips into the couch cushions, backing away from the heat that met your groin and Peter followed them, pressing his hips right back into you. He groaned breathily, rutting his hips. You were soft and warm underneath him, and felt so soo good. The shaft of his cock met your wet folds, and he immediately found a rhythm, humping you in long, steady thrusts that had you curling your toes. Every time the velvet plush head of his cock bumped into your swollen clit, you whimpered. Ecstasy deluded your senses, eyes rolling back in your head.  

“Peter, oh my god…!” His hand clamped over your mouth, his dark eyes widening in a warning. 

“Shhhhhhh –” 

You nodded underneath his grip, remembering the threat of the situation. Peter kept his hand on your mouth, pressing tightly against your soft lips. He reached down, taking hold of his cock and pumped it in and out of his own fist a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“Ready?” 

With lusty, half-lidded eyes, you nodded. 

Peter pushed his leaking tip inside of you, then with a shaky breath, sunk the rest of the way in. The sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock was indescribable; hot, tight pleasure coursed through your body in waves as Peter found his rhythm. Fast. Fast rhythm. He fucked like a teenage boy, and you liked that – his bunny humps were deep and intentional, like the crimson head was trying to find the deepest point inside of you. Peter pressed his lightning-bolt patterned socks against the armrest of the couch, using it as leverage to push himself inside of you.

His cock made slick by your arousal, his hips moved against yours rapidly, hammering your cunt in a way that you physically thought impossible. In the darkness, you saw Peter smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual below him. Your tits bouncing underneath the shirt with each thrust, your eyes wide and lust-blown. His gaze dropped to them, watching, entranced. With your free hand, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your collarbone and letting your breasts fall free. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered. 

Skates fast. Fucks fast. Cums fast. You thought, watching as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitting together, jaw dropping. His breaths came out in hurried little huffs as he pumped inside of you, filling your cunt with sticky, white heat. 

“Honey?” 

He froze. You froze. Stiffly, you turned your head towards the staircase, looking up into the darkness, petrified. 

“YEAH! YEah, mom, just… getting a drink!” You tried to keep your voice level, but there was something so inherently naughty about having a guy on top of you, his dick inside of you while you spoke to your mother. Your stomach was tight, muscles burning with the contraction. 

“Oh, okay! I thought I heard - I don’t know. I love you!”

“I love you too! Goodnight!”

Once the door clicked shut, and your head snapped back in Peter’s direction, who was still panting on top of you. Slapping his pectoral muscle hard, you mouthed go go go go! Naturally, before you’d finished the last ‘go’, Peter had pulled out and you were back in the safety of your bedroom before a drop of cum had time to leak from your swollen cunt. Back on your bed, your hair splayed out on the satin pillowcases. Peter was at your side, drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your stomach. 

“Did you uh -”

“No… I didn’t have a chance.” 

“Oh, uh… sorry about that. That happens a lot, y’know? Part of the whole speedster thing, I can’t always –” 

“Peter… shhh… it’s cute. It means you like me.” 

He pointed a finger at you, pushing his bottom lip into his top. “That… that is true. Hey. I have an idea.”

In the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the window, you saw Peter sink down to his stomach, resting between your legs. He moved both legs atop his shoulders, pulling you forward.

You felt a hot breath against your thighs, and whimpered. When a warm tongue licked between your wet folds, you moaned out, grinding your head back into the pillow. Peter slipped a single digit into your cunt gently, twirling his tongue around your clit as he did. He pumped it in and out a few times, feeling the way your cunt squeezed around him. Your wetness coated his finger, dripping down the length into his palm. 

You felt your cunt clenching, uncontrollably. Peter did too and withdrew his finger. His tongue flicked at your clit rapidly, the wet, slick sounds filling the quietness of the bedroom. His dark eyes flitted up to yours, watching every minute expression that flashed across your face. 

“S-slow down…” you whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. It was more of a desperate breath in the shape of the words. He didn’t hear you, and even if he had, he was far too busy burying his nose in your cunt, tasting your sweet fluids. His tongue lapped at your entrance and curled back towards his throat, swallowing. He groaned into her, the sound resonating through your core. 

“Peter… Peter!” You whispered harshly, gripping his head on either side. He didn’t budge, and his eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. Moving up to take a fistful of silver hair, you yanked him off your cunt, his reddened lips glistening and open, confused. His inky orbs looked up at you, dazed and desperate. 

“Whaaat?” he asked, a hint of annoyance tainting his usually upbeat voice. 

“Slow… down….” 

“Sorry but that’s not really… my…” He paused, looking at your weeping cunt again. “...thing. She doesn’t really look like she wants me to, either.” He reached forward, sweeping a single digit along the length of your pussy. You jerked, sensitive.   

“I can’t stand it, I’m gonna’ cum too quickly.” 

“Quick is in the name, babe.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if telling you that you were shit out of luck.

He dove back in, and picked up licking her again, from bottom to top. He was slightly slower than before – maybe he’d decided to have mercy on you. Or maybe he was just savouring the feeling of your cunt as it practically fluttered on his tongue, your clit throbbing with the sensitivity. You rocked your hips against his mouth, humping his pretty face with reckless abandon. It was the only control you had, because as soon as you started that, his tongue had returned to the speedy flipping of your clit.

You were going to cum – so fast that you hardly had time to process it. 

“Ffffuck… oh god,” you whimpered. Your cunt pulsed over and over again, and Peter was right there to feel it. He speared two fingers into her. Curled them upwards, feeling the clench of your orgasm as it came. He fucked you with his fingers until the throbbing stopped, and the first hint of overstimulation came – you whined, too loudly. 

Peter grinned, his slick fingers slipping from your pussy. With a mischievous little glimmer in his eyes, he observed them, watching as the thick, clear strands strung apart between his digits. 

You wanted to ask him on a date. He wanted to ask you on one. But neither of you said a thing. Neither of you said a thing, and just watched each other breathing, chests heaving, heavy with lust. Lookin’ cuter than she ever has… Peter thought, watching you in your post-coital state; sweaty and blushing. 

You knew you were going to be obsessed with him – were already obsessed with him. The high that you chased with skating was nothing compared to what you felt being around this silver dork, and all his little quirks.  

“So uh… same bat-time, same bat channel?” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, Peter. Yeah.” 

#Peter Maximoff #Peter Maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x you #Quicksilver x you #Quicksilver x reader #myfics #X-Men Movies

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 11

cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.

WC: ~2.05k

At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”

“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”

“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”

Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.

Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say. 

“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”

“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.

You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.

When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.

“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.

“Let me go,” she hisses.

You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.

“Melissa.”

“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”

“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”

“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”

“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”

“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”

“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”

“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”

“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”

You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.

But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.

You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.

You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you. 

“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.

“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.

You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.

You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.

Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.

But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.

When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.

You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.

There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently. 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.

“You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.

And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way. 

You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.

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[makeyoumine69]

Memory Reboot x2

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [CHAPTER 1].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke;  the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room. 

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean. 

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?”  That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office. 

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up. 

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen. 

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere. 

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity. 

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question? 

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants. 

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head. 

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs. 

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy." 

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

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