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onlyswan · 6 months

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summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

3K notes · View notes

daosies · 1 month

Text

all the wrongs (make a right)

when you ask them to set you up with someone else.

or at least, that's what they interpreted it as.

wanderer, wriothesley, diluc ♡ gn!reader

warnings: diluc may be ooc (but he's funny), yapping

notes: WRIOTHESLEY... THE MAN U ARE...

you like someone else.

wanderer doesn't know how to deal with that fact—because of course you do. why would you ever love someone like him, anyway? who is he to even consider love, when he has none of it to give?

when he was created, love built him fiber by fiber. love constructed his eyes, love blessed him with sight and touch, love allowed him to perceive. because in this world, perception is the basis of love, and when wanderer was allowed to perceive, he was allowed to love.

he had love. lots of it, even. there was so much love in his being that it spilled from his eyes, dancing across the oasis of his irises and manifesting into stars. when the wanderer was created, he was ready to be loved, he was ready to love.

and then he was discarded—with all his love—because he was not enough.

(he wonders what it would take for him to be kept. for someone to cherish him despite his artificial limbs, his heartless chest.)

(he wonders what it would be like if he were cherished, even for just a little bit, by you.)

from across the lecture hall, wanderer stares at your figure. his eyes, which once manifested stars and dripped with love, trace over the bridge of your nose and the curl of your lips. wanderer stares at you, basking in the mundane, romanticizing the ordinary because for some reason, under the lights, you look ethereal.

(he would rather die than admit that outloud.)

he stares and stares, oblivious to the fact that stars have reappeared, that they begin to scatter across his irises like a mosaic of love. because the wanderer is unlike himself when it comes to you—he's enamored, he's taken, he's smitten.

when you blink, his chest throbs, and the nothingness in between his ribs becomes something—something akin to a heart, maybe—because you turn nothingness into everything, and all of a sudden wanderer feels a buzz in his chest. if he stares at you long enough, the buzz begins to sound like this: thump-thump, thump-thump.

suddenly, you turn to look at him.

his breath hitches.

you smile, and his heart aches.

then you look away. as if none of it mattered to you, as if your smile were a simple little thing, as if your eyes and your attention were meaningless.

but none of it is ever meaningless, because when he's in your presence, and when he has just a mere wisp of your existence, the wanderer breathes. he does not need to breathe (like humans do)—but when you look at him, your gaze sweeping over him like a golden light, he becomes human.

his humanity manifests in the form of a stolen breath, stagnating in his synthetic lungs in order to catch you for just a second. to adore you, within him, for but a moment.

when you meet up with him after class, wanderer feels his stomach churn (like humans feel). he feels something crawl up his throat—disgust, probably—when you look at him with those oh-so pretty eyes of yours, and when you talk to him with that oh-so pretty voice of yours.

(what has he been reduced to?)

"sorry to make you do this, wanderer!" you exclaim, bashful. "you really don't have to help me talk to him! just let me know if you don't want to, okay?"

earlier, you had asked him to help set you up with some nobody. something along the lines of, "i need my thesis project approved" or whatever, but wanderer knows mortals.

he knows that they have ulterior motives in everything they do, and the way your gaze averted from his and the way you fiddled nervously with your fingers when asking him for help was enough for him to deduce: you liked the person you were meeting up with.

"i mean—" you suddenly add, trying to fill in the awkward silence that's caused by wanderer's frustration, "he's a really scary guy, so i get it!"

"hah," he replies bitterly. "scary? yeah, right."

because what could be scarier than him? a puppet whose previous incarnations committed deeds of mass destruction, a puppet whose previous incarnations still exist with him in the present.

wanderer's past incarnations come in the form of hatred, and hatred festers all across his bones and makes its way onto his expression as he stares at you with longing. because wanderer wants you—and what would it take for you to want him back? what would he have to do, to have a mere fraction of your existence?

(but the hatred within his being grows larger. it takes over his ribs and his skin, because wanderer is a disgusting product of his previous incarnations, and his previous incarnations would never be satisfied with a mere fraction of you. his previous incarnations—and him—want all of you.)

"he really is, though! everyone in the akademiya fears him 'cause he always rejects their thesis projects—i mean, i'm scared too, but if you're there then maybe it won't be so bad!" you explain, waving your hands around for emphasis. the wanderer latches onto the fact that you need him there, that you want him to be there for the sake of comfort.

he thinks bitterly to himself: you're the only one who'd find comfort in me. and there you go again, your attention leaping beyond him, traveling towards greater heights that he will never, ever be able to catch up with. because one thing about mortals is that they are fickle, they are fleeting and they are dangerous, not to him—never him—but to each other.

one thing about mortals is that, in the face of love, they will do anything. they will look back for a brief second and lose it all, just for a glimpse of what could've been. one thing about mortals is that they'll do anything, everything for the person they love, all because it makes them happy.

as he trails after you, observing the back of your head with all the bitterness he can muster—none, when it comes to you—wanderer sighs.

(what has he been reduced to?)

you lead him towards a large door, and wanderer's chest stutters. he realizes that you're headed straight towards the grand sage's office, where many akademiya students loathe to be. but there are some outliers who want to enter that office, who want to exist inside of it because of the sage himself.

(something along the lines of the grand sage being attractive or whatnot. wanderer doesn't know, and frankly, he doesn't care. unless it comes to you, of course.)

what was his name again? wanderer thinks. but he doesn't have time to mull over the details because he just can't let you go there—wanderer doesn't want you to leave him behind those grand oak doors, left to exist with himself when you're just across from him.

he's always been star-far from you, perpetually longing to reach out and catch even a wisp of your light. and now that opportunity is irrevocably close.

wanderer is going to seize a star; he's going to grasp your radiating atmosphere, let himself get pulled in by your gravity, and he's going to rest there forever and ever.

his hand reaches for your wrist, stopping you just before you reach the doors of doom.

(what has he been reduced to?)

"don't go," wanderer states. although his tone is stern, there's an unmistakable softness to his voice, his fingers clasped around yours as if he's afraid you'll be whisked away by the world, leaving him alone and betraying him once again.

"but my thesis project—"

"don't go," he repeats, "stay here." with me, his mind adds.

something crawls up his throat, his gaze suddenly averting yours as his free hand comes to tilt his hat down, masking his expression with its golden rim.

he holds his breath.

"alright," you respond. "is everything okay, wanderer?"

he doesn't respond. he tugs at your arm and pulls you close to him—so, so close—and chooses to exist in the silence. with you.

after a couple minutes, you hear wanderer mutter quietly to himself: "who even needs a thesis project?"

"uh, everyone who wants to graduate," you reply. wanderer rolls his eyes.

"who would even want to graduate?"

"me?" you respond, confused. wanderer looks away.

"whatever."

"eventually, i have to talk to him anyway—" you start, but wanderer quickly cuts you off.

"no, you don't."

"what?"

"nevermind. you wouldn't get it."

(what has he been reduced to?)

(a human.)

"what?" wriothesley says, almost incredulously. ''you want to know what clorinde's favorite flower is?"

"yeah," you reply. "i'm thinking of mailing it to her soon because i'll be too busy in the underworld to go out."

wriothesley briefly considers dispatching you on a deep sea expedition before realizing that if you're far from clorinde—underground—then you'll also be far from him, and he's not sure if he can handle that.

"well, you know, i don't really know her all that well..." he trails off, lacing his fingers together professionally. "it's a shame, really. maybe you can give her something else?"

"oh, like a box of chocolates?"

he blinks, his mind venturing to the worst scenarios. are you confessing to her? are you trying to court her? what's with all these romantic gifts?

it's unmistakable, the way his heart aches and squirms within his ribs. it's unmistakable, the way he feels something stutter one-too-many times within his chest, the tempo of his heart becoming slower and slower when, in your presence, it typically races.

but wriothesley swallows his envy and opts to relish under your gaze, feigning ignorance to the way his heart constricts a little, his ribs beginning to close in on themselves.

"well, clorinde is fond of anything that comes from your heart," wriothesley says, trying to ease the strain of his voice. "so anything you give her will definitely convey your feelings for her."

you chuckle to yourself, amused at the thought. "yeah, my feelings."

wriothesley doesn't quite know how to explain it, but the way you speak of your feelings for clorinde makes him want to give into the world and forget everything. because your expression is so lighthearted, so cheery, it makes him hate himself for wishing that it belonged to him. for wishing that you would ever, could ever, feel about him the same way you feel about clorinde.

he's selfish. too selfish. and maybe that's why you don't like him, and maybe that's why he doesn't deserve you, not now and not ever.

damn this heart of his.

"so, how long have you been planning this for?" wriothesley asks, forcing his signature grin. but the way his lips twitch a little, and the way his leg bounces up and down gives away everything.

you like someone else. for how long? wriothesley wonders, chuckling bitterly to himself. for how long have you liked clorinde?

how long has he spent, pining helplessly after you, only to realize that it was never going to work out? how could he even begin to perceive the thought of loving you, to even contemplate a time beyond what you've already given him?

he's such a fool.

"a couple of months," you say, fiddling with your fingers. wriothesley's such a fool, because the way he notices your tiny habits and the way he ogles at your embarrassed expression makes him want to continue falling hopelessly in love with you. even though you like someone else. even though you're discussing "someone else" right in front of him—he wants to love you anyway.

because that's just the kind of lovesick, hopeless fool he is.

"oh? a long time, huh?" he replies, hoping you don't notice the way he struggles to speak, the way words fail to leave his mouth the way he should.

wriothesley loves you—but no, love is not enough. he loves you the same way the birds love the sky, reaching into the limitless void, yearning and wanting. he loves you the same way tide loves the shore, ebbing and flowing, wishing for more.

wriothesley loves you in unimaginable ways, but they are not so galactic or as grand as the stars, because the love he has is rooted here on teyvat, within reach, and most fervently, within himself.

"yeah. i've been needing to apologize to her for a while now, actually," you explain, averting your eyes from his. "'cause a while back, i accidentally dropped a whole cake on her. it was a mess. literally and metaphorically."

"what?" wriothesley blinks.

"huh?" you tilt your head.

"apologize? so those gifts are for an apology?"

"yeah," you state, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"oh."

the grin he wears is no longer forced, and when you exit his office, wriothesley buries his face into his hands, unable to contain his smile.

so i have a chance, is all he thinks.

angel's tavern is unusually quiet today.

"is kaeya single?" you suddenly ask.

the glass in diluc's hand nearly shatters, his gaze focused wholly on you as his jaw clenches.

angel's tavern is unusually tense today.

"what?"

you smile awkwardly. "is kaeya single?"

"i heard you the first time."

silence ensues.

"so is he single?"

he looks away.

"i'm not sure."

diluc wonders where it all went wrong; since when were you interested in kaeya, of all people? he doesn't know what's worse: the fact that you don't like him, or the fact that you'd like kaeya over him.

he decides to ignore the way his heart constricts a little, suffocating in between the ribs that are supposed to protect it. but even when his heart gets pierced, skewered onto his bones, he feels warm. so, so warm.

he looks at you.

"you like him?"

"he's okay," you respond nonchalantly, swirling your glass of water as if it were a decadent wine. "i don't know him all that well."

"and you still want to know if he's single?"

"we all start from somewhere."

well, you're starting from the wrong brother, is all diluc thinks.

"huh," he says unenthusiastically, "so you like unreliable men?"

"what?"

"nothing."

diluc doesn't know what to make of himself—he doesn't know where to look or what to do. should he keep polishing this wine glass, or should he confront you right now and tell you about how he's loved you for so, so long?

should he tell you about how he's willing to do anything for you, how he returned to mondstadt all those years ago with only you in mind? should he tell you about how he was ready to leave this life as a ragnvindr behind, to travel teyvat and never look back, but he was more faithful to you than he could've ever imagined? he remembered you, so fervently, that he returned. he returned and he stayed.

there's no point, diluc tells himself. i will wait. he's waited and wanted you for so long, he can withstand this newfound infatuation you have. so what if you like kaeya now? diluc latches onto a slip of hope, a minute chance that maybe, just maybe, you'll notice that it's been him all along.

he's always been here. waiting. (for you.)

you glance at him, your irises enveloping him in a tender embrace, and diluc wonders what it'd be like if you were in love. with him. he wonders how much lovelier that look would be, how warm it'd make him feel, if your pupils would dilate a little, if your expression would soften and your lips would curl into a smile when you did so much as recognize him.

would you notice him then? would you be able to discern the look in his eyes—that look of love—if you felt that way too? would you be able to tell that your existence is sown into his skin, growing and blossoming like a wildflower, persisting 'till the ends of time itself?

your existence blooms all across his being until there is nothing left of him, and everything left of you.

"what do you like about him?" diluc asks, trying to ignore the way his chest throbs. he readjusts his collar, feeling strangely stuffy.

"well, he's attractive. but i don't like him like that."

diluc steals a glance at his reflection in the wine glass. people usually tell him that he's attractive. more than kaeya, though? they haven't specified.

"beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder," he affirms.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"anyway,"—diluc feigns ignorance to your flabbergasted expression—"i wish you luck on your endeavors." he crosses his fingers.

"thanks?"

"and if anything ever happens, i will be here." as i've always been, he thinks.

"right."

"and if he does anything weird, say 'ragnvindr' three times."

"what?"

there's no trace of mirth in diluc's expression, and everything he's stated thus far has been said with a straight face. you shiver a little.

"we are also closing, by the way."

"i thought you guys were open all hours of the day—"

"nope. goodbye, dear customer." diluc pauses a little when saying "dear," for he relishes in the sound, wondering when he'll be able to drop the "customer" part and call you only that. only "dear" and nothing else—with no strings attached, except for a red knot around both of your pinkies.

he cringes at the cheesy thoughts he's having.

"uh, diluc?" you call, getting ushered out of the tavern by his glare alone. "you do realize i'm not trying to get with kaeya, right? i feel like you're misunderstanding things."

"what?" this time, it's diluc's turn to be flabbergasted.

"i'm just asking for a friend. you know donna?"

he wonders if it's possible to disappear off the face of teyvat (again).

(but even then, he'd return to mondstadt for the sake of being with you. for the sake of existing in your presence.)

(because that's just the kind of man diluc is. the kind of man he becomes at the mere thought of you.)

"oh," is all he says.

"did you think i was interested in kaeya?"

"angel's share is open all twenty-four hours of the day," diluc states, ignoring your question.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #diluc x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr #scaramouche #genshin scara

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httpiastri · 3 months

Text

snowy mountains & hot baths – op81

you, oscar, and an empty spa can only lead to one thing.

genre: very short smut 😶

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: uhhh public sex.... unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it yall!!

author's note: happy valentines day :) wish i had oscar here to celebrate with me... anyway. idk about this one guys 🫠🫠 started out alright but then i hated half of it so i deleted it and rewrote it but it just got worse. and i know that if i don't just post it rn, i will likely procrastinate and never end up posting it at all. yay. hope u enjoy anyway! i also have another oscar fic done that's at least a bit better than this lol.

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

a low groan leaves oscar's lips when he dips his feet in the warm water. he instantly turns around, eyes finding you standing by the door you've just walked through to get to this outdoor area of the spa. he holds his hand out towards you, beckoning for you to step closer.

"it feels so good," he promises, gaze following your every move as you let your robe slide down your arms. his eyes widen when you reveal your newly bought bikini – papaya orange, of course – and a shudder passes through his body at the sight of the tiny material trying it's best to cover you up.

he thanks all the gods he can think of that there's no one else around.

goosebumps grow across your skin now that you're exposed to the sub-zero temperatures, toes curling in the short layer of snow on the deck. you stroll over to him, making sure to let your hips sway a little extra with every step because you know he's watching and you know what he's thinking. the sight of him gulping as his eyes wander up and down your body can only mean one thing.

taking his hand in yours, you let him pull you into the water with him, letting out a content sound when the water envelops your legs and brings the temperature of your body up again. oscar gives your hand a squeeze and leans back, his back hitting the water as he submerged into it. you dive in right after him, making a few strokes beneath the surface before coming up for air again. your hands come up to wipe away the water from your face, before brushing over your hair and tying it up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"this is just what i needed," your boyfriend says, drawing out an agreeing hum from you. it's been a long day – a long week, really – filled to the brim with skiing, hot chocolate drinking, skiing, cable car-rides, and then more skiing. oscar doesn't usually get a lot of time off work, and when he does, he wants to make the most of it. and as his partner, he thinks you should be doing the same, and that's why he's woken you up in the early hours every morning this last week, practically bouncing from how much he aches to go out in the swiss alps yet again.

the hot tub is big enough to swim around in, but oscar makes his way to the side and sits down on the built-in seat, arms stretching out and resting on the edge of the pool. you swim over to him, easily slipping onto his lap and letting your hands rest on his shoulders. oscar tenses up when you sit on him, and you're not surprised by the length already poking up at you – he's just a man, after all – but you decide not to do anything to acknowledge it just yet.

"it's really beautiful here, don't you think?" you ask, looking to your side. the sun has only just set, so the little village isn't completely dark yet. the moon above your heads casts a soft hue over the mountains you've spent all week conquering, stars twinkling among the tops.

"not as beautiful as you, though." there's barely any lightning out here other than the little candles scattered across the floor, but you see the fire in oscar's gaze clearly when you look back at him. he's staring at you like you're the most perfect work of art, the most beautiful thing to ever exist – and your expression matches his, because he truly is your favorite thing to look at in the world. your heart flutters at the contrast between how cute he looks with a few locks of his long fringe curling along his forehead, and how incredibly sexy his body looks with the little droplets of water decorating his muscular chest. he's just stunning.

"you really did a great job with planning and booking all of this, you know," you start. "i may have complained quite a bit when you dragged me out of bed at six am, but... it's all been perfect."

your hands find the space just below his jaw, and it takes all of your strength not to blatantly stare at his thick neck when you feel the muscles under your touch.

"well, perfect except for the fact that my legs are so sore right now."

oscar chuckles at this confession, hands leaving the edge of the pool and dipping into the water instead. "let me help you out with that, then..."

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his palms meet your bare thighs, fingers pressing into the skin and stroking you softly. your eyes flutter closed, loving every second of his massage and growing hotter when his hands make their way further and further up. it doesn't take long before oscar can't hold back anymore, reaching up to press his lips against yours.

you sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself further towards him, your crotch brushing against his as a result. the moan he lets out is so hot that you instinctively begin grinding down against him, wanting to hear more.

oscar gets the hint, but finds himself reaching for your shoulders, holding you back as he leans out of the kiss. your lips chase after him, a frown taking over your face when he doesn't give in. you open your eyes to look at him.

"are you sure... that you want to..." oscar's voice is low but genuine; he knows you aren't a fan of exhibitionism, and that these situations usually only make you uncomfortable.

but the look in your eyes is impossible to misinterpret. "there's no one around..."

he looks around the area once more just to make sure. choosing to go to the spa at 8pm, the exact time when the restaurant at the hotel was the most crowded, was oscar's best idea yet.

he doesn't say anything else. he just grabs the back of your neck, pushing you down to his lips yet again. it's more rushed now, messy kisses pressed against your lips and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip hastily. his other hand caresses all the way down your back, gives your butt a quick squeeze, and then moves to your front instead. his fingers trace the edge of your bikini before dipping inside of it, finding your clit with ease.

your upper body is completely leaning onto him by now, little sounds slipping past your lips as he starts drawing circles onto your already sensitive bud. in no time, he's slipped past your clit, one finger sliding into your core and pumping you a couple of times before being joined by another finger. you can't help but clench around him, exhaling into the kiss.

"please, oscar..." you whine against his lips, and oscar nods, pulling out of you and breaking the kiss. he holds your hips away a little to make space for his hand undoing the knot that holds up his swim trunks, before pulling his dick out of them. he lifts you up, fingers pushing your bikini bottoms to the side but pausing when his tip meets your core. he waits for your nod of consent before finally entering you.

the water helps him glide into you, a throaty moan rumbling from his throat when he bottoms you out. he doesn't give you even a second to adjust, hands on your hips pulling you up before sinking you onto him again.

"fuck," he lets out, throwing his head back when you start to roll your hips against his. "you feel so good..."

you lean forward, forehead resting on the bend of his neck as you bounce up and down on him. your hands move to the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his locks, and it doesn't take long before your movements get sloppier. you gasp when oscar begins thrusting up into you, meeting your downward movements in a steady rhythm.

his grip on your hips grows firmer, rough fingers pressing into your skin and surely leaving marks for tomorrow. he's getting closer, too – you can tell by the string of moans he's letting out in between a bunch of swearwords – and you use your last bit of energy to pick up your pace and help him out. your walls contract around him when you come, and you feel him reach his own high not long after, twitching and shooting into you as you ride out your orgasms.

his hands are more gentle now, brushing up and down your back and following the bumps of your spine. when you finally gain the energy to speak, your words vibrate against his skin. "well, we're never coming back to this spa again." you lean back slightly, looking up at him for the first time in a while. "or the town, for that matter."

his blissed-out eyes meet yours, soft and glossy as he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

his flushed cheeks make him look so innocent, but his heaving chest tells another story. "did you not see the cameras?" you question.

"oh, you think we're the first ones to do this here?" you gasp at his wording, splashing some water his way. he laughs. "what, do you really? i reckon this happens here at least once every day. maybe even more."

"oscar!"

999 notes · View notes

ambrozjas · 3 months

Note

Could u do Johnny cuddling hcs? Or all of the gang separately

Anyways I love your writing sm 😭🫶🏼

the gang with cuddling ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry this took so long to come out !! i’ve been absolutely swamped with homework, thank you for this request 🫶 i hope you all enjoy !!

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

let me know if there’s any warnings i need to add !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

you shifted away from DARRY a little bit to gather some of the coldness from the untouched part of the bed.

you hummed in delight as the foreign coldness of the sheets enveloped your body and you were met with a refreshing scent of lavender detergent, probably due to the fact that darry washed his sheets a few hours ago.

your eyes fell shut once again, falling into the euphoric feeling of sleep, before you heard shuffling behind you and felt a strong arm sling itself over your midriff.

you turn your head at an angle to see darry behind you, eyes still closed as he pulls you flush against him.

“y’awake, dare?” you whisper, turning your head as far as it could go so you could look at him.

all he does is nuzzle his face into the back of your hair, and gives you a small noise, signaling that he’s dozing off again.

you shake your head and softly chuckle, turning your head back to a comfortable position as you lay there in darry’s arms, content with just his presence. you know that one of you would get hot and would pull away in the night, but knowing that you’re still next to each is enough comfort on its own, so you didn’t mind all that much. no matter how hot darry was, he’d still have your pinkies locked or a hand against your back, just so he knows you’re there.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you woke up abruptly with a hand landing on your face, looking over to see SODAPOP, mouth partially open as soft snores left his pink lips. he looked so peaceful, unaware of how he just assaulted your face in his slumber.

soda always slept wild. he moved a whole lot, and not always in a good way. ponyboy told you how once, he found sodapop upside down with his foot in pony’s face.

when you turned your head to look at soda some more, you couldn’t help but admire how serene he looked in his sleep. his hair a disheveled mess when it wasn’t greased, flattened against his white pillow, his jawline soft as his chin tucked itself in. you narrowed your eyes at him as you recall how he woke you up once his leg twitches.

you wonder what he’s dreaming about as you flinch away once he jolts in his sleep. his lashes flutter open at the absence of you next to him as his hand comes up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “what’s wrong, darlin’?” his voice is altered from the thick layer of sleep coating it, giving it a gravely tone rather than his usual voice.

you knew that if you told him of how he woke you up, he’d probably feel a tad bit guilty. so instead of saying anything, you just shake your head and lean back down, resting your head on soda’s chest, your head rising with every breath he took.

“i love you.”

“love ya, too.” he says, closing his eyes once again as he shuffled to get comfortable, his arm wrapping around you as he pulls you closer.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“from her french mother, whose parents had felt haiti in the revolution of 1791, had come her slanting eyes, shadowed by inky lashes..” you listened as PONYBOY read his copy of ‘gone with the wind’ to you. resting your head on pony’s shoulders, you tucked yourself into his side. you felt the vibrations of pony’s voice in your position, the feeling almost soothed you as he read.

“y’still awake?” he confirmed, taking a moment to stop reading and look down at you. you met his eyes, finding yourself in a sea of grey hazel, before looking back at the book and giving him a small, ‘mhm’.

“you liar.” he shakes his head, careful to place a bookmark in his book before setting it down on the desk beside his bed.

“i was awake, pony!—“

“you was almost drooling on my shoulder.” he said, shuffling down under the covers to get comfortable. once pony actually lays down, you immediately wriggle your way into the taut comforter next to pony, burrowing into his side.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, pony awkwardly stiff as he feels you nuzzle into him. he opened his mouth to speak, it gaping open and closed like a fish as he considered whether or not to interrupt the quiet.

“why do you like me reading to you? couldn’t you read yourself?” he muttered with caution, trying hard so as to not make you think he didn’t like reading to you because trust me, pony really did like reading to you.

“like your voice.” you croaked, voice muffled in the pillows. you stayed there for a moment, feeling pony’s body heat up with just one comment.

you held back a giggle as you threw an arm around his waist and nuzzled into him until there was no space left, no gap to differentiate the two bodies, instead just one heap of love on pony’s bed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you watched JOHNNY look both ways before stealthily running out of his house, coming through the window as to not interrupt the commotion in the living room. you frowned as you saw the two figures yelling and thrashing about in the window, hearing a multitude of slams and glass breaking inside.

you beckoned johnny over as you perched yourself behind a tree, just in case anybody came out. you caught glimpses of his face when he ran, the moonlight dripping through the worn branches of the trees surrounding the pathway to his house. in those few gaps where you saw his face, although altered with the color of blue from the moon, you didn’t miss the faint tear streaks on his face and the reddening of his eyes and lips.

a curt, “lot?” was all that left your lips before johnny nodded vigorously. you thought, anything was better than, you looked back to the house and even through the curtains you could still see the two figures fighting and shouting so angrily it was almost unintelligible, that.

you held out your hand to johnny, offering at least some form of comfort on the way to the empty lot. he took it, his hand felt cold and calloused. you frowned as you felt some scarring from trying to protect his head when he got jumped by the socs that one time. nonetheless, you both bolted away into the darkness and headed to the lot in a desperate attempt to get away from this place.

“i hate it.” johnny had finally blurted out once you two had reached the lot and caught your breaths. you cradled his head as your heart broke when you felt his shoulders heave, probably trying to put a tough front as he muffled his sobs.

that whole night was spent with endless whispers of promises and assurance. countless mumbles of promising that you two would get enough money to move away from tulsa, to a place where there wasn’t any of this. where you two could be free.

johnny had cried himself out and fallen asleep with his head on your lap. you twirled and played with his hair, rubbing your fingers together at the texture of grease. you were comforted by the sounds of nature around you, owls hooting and crickets chirping filled the silence as your eyes stayed on johnny.

even though you knew your neck would be killing you, you leaned your head on an empty crate and didn’t move a single inch so johnny wouldn’t wake up.

it’s okay, you thought to yourself, one day i’ll take you out of this place.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“stop—!” you whined, swatting DALLAS’ hand away as he kept poking at your cheeks. your eyes were still shut closed as you were trying to doze off, before dally had so rudely interrupted you.

you had gotten used to the stench of cigarettes, it was practically everywhere. in dallas’ room at bucks house, on dal’s clothes, his hair no matter how well he washed it. of course, there were some other undertones to it too. the deodorant dal always wore was musky as it seeped into your nostrils whenever you got close to his chest. it was just like him, strong and overwhelming.

you pouted, hiding your face into his chest so he couldn’t bother your face anymore. but he always had a way around it, so instead of poking your face he settled on flicking your ears with his index finger.

he scoffed in amusement when he realized you had really ignored him and fallen asleep.

dallas looked around the room and sighed, his nostrils blowing out smoke once his chest dropped with the breath.

it was a few thick moments of quiet, the only noise coming from the chirping of the ceiling fan that you would always complain about hoping it would never fall on you due to how worn down it was, before the door swung open only to reveal no other than buck merrill.

he opened his mouth to speak, wide and ready to talk, before he laid eyes on the sight before him.

you, asleep with your head on dally’s chest. and dallas? arm hanging off the side of the bed and his body not moving an inch so as to not disturb you, cigarette dangling out of his mouth as per usual.

“shit.” buck mumbles, watching dally wave his hand, careful not to add motion to the rest of his arm, to tell buck to go scratch. buck simply raised a hand in a surrender type motion and exited in the room. dally tsked as he heard buck walk backwards into something, it creating a loud enough sound to where he looked at you, watching you stir. he tapped out his cigarette and threw it on the desk next to him, bringing a hand to the small of your back as he lolled his head to the side, taking deep breaths in an effort to fall asleep, too.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“geronimo!” yelled TWO-BIT as he jumped onto you, limbs spread out so he could successfully cage you in although careful to put his knees below him so he didn’t bodyslam you entirely.

“no—!” you only had a quick moment to react, tucking your legs in as you braced for impact. you had to admit though, seeing two-bit take the form of a sugar glider above you was hilarious.

his body diving onto yours wasn’t so hilarious, though.

your breath was knocked out of your lungs as you scrambled to escape under your boyfriends body, elbowing him as he doubled over with laughter.

you huffed as you realized he wasn’t budging any soon, dropping your shoulders with nothing else to do. two looked up at you, the corners of his cold blue eyes crinkling as he gave you a cheeky grin. his arms snaked themselves around your waist and squeezed, mumbling nonsense before he pressed his face into your stomach. his voice was muffled in the fabric of your shirt as he muttered quick things, you could’ve sworn you heard a, “beautiful” in there.

“‘s that all you broke my ribs for, mathews? a quick cuddle?” you teased him, your voice quick with your restriction of air support.

there’s a quick pause before two-bit mumbles a quick ‘no’ and turns his face over to the side so you can hear his words.

you twirled the curl that he always greases with your fingers, absentmindedly playing with his hair as he hummed, giving you a small groan when you scratched at his scalp.

two-bit was annoying sometimes, but domestic moments like this always made you forget about it.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“imagine how the boys would react to seein’ you now, STEVE.” that teasing was also meant seriously, because you did wonder. how would the gang react to finding steve on your lap as his head stayed glued to the crook of your neck? it was almost comical.

“ah, shut up.” he grumbled, yet he took no action to move away from you, his words contained lack of any threats.

you hummed in response, patting his back as you listened to his breathing. he started to doze off again, his head getting heavier by the minute as his body relaxed.

you suddenly jolted up, hoping to scare steve out of his slumber, but he was dead asleep. the only noise that was heard were his soft snores leaving his parted mouth.

you pouted. you wish you would’ve moved before having him sit there, only because you couldn’t see his face though.

you rolled your eyes as you heard steve’s snores getting louder as he entered into a deeper sleep, his weight almost unbearable. so instead of just sitting through that torture, you gently leaned back and laid steve down beside you.

just as you were about to shuffle away to give him his space, you heard an arm slap and shift at the couch’s cushion. you turned around, your eyes trailing up the arm, on the tattoo his shoulder adorned, and finally at his face. his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes closed, eyelashes perfectly on display as he attempted to find you.

so you stayed there, having steve cling onto you while he slept. because really, who could deny steve when he was as serene as he was?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ some of them were kinda sleeping related? but it still kinda counts guys trust 🙏

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #johnny cade x reader #dallas winston x reader #two bit mathews x reader #steve randle x reader #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

393 notes · View notes

jakeshands · 7 months

Text

love me like you

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

synopsis: who would’ve thought that a multitude of failed blind dates would lead you to fake dating jake sim? definitely not you. soon, you find out fake dating has its pros and cons. pros; you’re finally in a relationship, you have your own personal chauffeur, and your own personal study buddy. cons; you fall in love. what a mess.

genre: strangers to lovers, blind dating, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff and angst

featuring: enhypen, wonyoung of ive, yunjin of lsfm, ricky of zb1, soobin of txt

warnings: light angst, profanity, mentions of alchohol/consumption of alchohol, lots of kissing, mentions of death

word count: 25k

author’s note: look this got out of hand and idk how that happened. what was supposed to be under 20k turned into this mess. please ignore all the editing mistakes and if the story doesnt flow well/is choppy and some scenes feel out of place….just know i had to cut scenes out to post this fic. i couldnt post the whole 28k word fic for some weird reason so this is the edited version. please enjoy and lmk if u want to read the scenes i had to cut! anyway the reader is korean in this fic, just a heads up. u will see Why. um. thats it. and also if the ending feels rushed, that’s because It Is.

“Are you mansplaining to me?” You ask your date, a frown permanently sharpened onto your face. “Because, for the record, I know what a wage gap is. No need to explain it in a condescending way.”

You were excited about this date -- the fourth one your kind friend, and roommate, Wonyoung had set up for you. She had taken your inexperience in high school very personally and took it upon herself to get you to go on as many dates as possible. In her own words, “you’re at college! Time to let loose, girl!”

So; your first date went well, but it only ended in a friendship. Taehyun Kang was fun to talk to, but when the date came to an end the both of you agreed your relationship wouldn’t ever go further than a friendship, so you exchanged numbers, followed each other on TikTok, and began to send each other random, funny TikToks to each other.

Your second date showed up stoned. Ben was fun to talk to since he was stoned, and his answers to the questions you had to ask ten times were completely off-topic, but you still had an enjoyable time. Though, when the date ended you both went your separate ways. (Ben texted you within the following days. He invited you to a party. You then lost your virginity.)

Your third date was with a girl. Yuri Jo. She was pretty and funny, and she went on this date to make her crush jealous. You willingly helped Yuri out, and a week after your date, Yuri’s crush confessed to her. Yuri and you keep in touch over Instagram -- Yuri’s feed is just her and her girlfriend now, and you think it’s adorable.

This brings us to your fourth date; Soobin Choi. Anime enthusiast, takes Gender Studies as an elective course, and a professional mansplainer. When he showed up to the date, you felt yourself swoon over how handsome he looked. His smile was cute, and dimples were even cuter -- and then Soobin opened his mouth. The first red flag was the fact Soobin said he wasn’t a feminist, but women should be treated just as fairly as men. You told Soobin that was feminism and he shot you down. Then, for the better half of your date, Soobin mansplained many things to you; Anime, Maki Zeinin from Jujutsu Kaisen, and the wage gap.

“And I don’t think men should even be allowed to speak about Maki Zeinin. She is for the women. She is gay.”

Soobin harshly stabs his tiramisu as he listens to you. “Maki is-- Maki is not gay.” Soobin splutters. “Calling a character, whose sexuality hasn’t been explicitly revealed, gay is very --”

Huffing, you push back your chair and glare at Soobin. “Thank you for the date, Soobin but I think it’s time for me to go. I forgot I had fish to feed and a New Girl marathon to finish.”

“Fine,” sniffs Soobin, abandoning his tiramisu. “Let’s go split the payment.”

After splitting the pavement, you step out into the cold December air. Shivering, you draw your coat tighter around your torso and scan the streets around you. Soobin turns to you, and you brace yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to say.

“Would you like a ride home?” Soobin asks.

“No,” you answer without any hesitation.

“Are you sure? How else will you get home, then?”

“I can walk,” you respond coldly.

“Walk,” Soobin repeats, not believing your words. “Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Come on, let me take you home.”

Sighing, you give in. It was quite cold, and you weren’t sure you would be able to walk all the way home in the dark. “Fine.” You follow Soobin to his car, which is a car you expected from a college student; old, and barely working.

It takes a while for hot air to blow through the heaters, so you sit in the cold silence with Soobin for half of the ride back to your place. “How do you even know Wonyoung?” You ask Soobin, looking out the window and watching cars race past.

“I don’t know her, she’s just a friend of a friend,” Soobin answers.

“Why did you even agree to go on this date?”

Soobin shrugs. “Post-grad is lonely.”

Finally, your dorm hall comes into view. You could practically hear New Girl calling to you. “Thank you for the ride home,” you tell Soobin.

“No problem. See you around?”

“Yeah,” you shut the door and immediately sprint into your dorm hall, aching for warmth over the chilly wind blowing violently through the air. Rushing past the kitchen and the common areas, you dash into the elevator that Ricky was holding open for you. You thank the platinum blond and rest against the elevator walls, fanning yourself.

In your pocket, your phone begins to buzz uncontrollably. Stifling your sigh, you pull out your phone and unlock it to see all of your friends active in the group chat.

yoon 💖

[1 video attachment]

WOAHHHHHHHHHH?????

apparently jake gave her chlamydia LMFAO

jiwon loml

throwing a red drink all over his white top..that’s gotta hurt lol

wony 👯

jake has chlamydia???

yoon 💖

idk.

the girl in the video mentions it tho. did u not watch it???

wony 👯

i did!!!!! i’m just surprised jake has chlamydia

baby hikaru

what’s so surprising abt it??

rei 🐥 🐥

jsut spliilt ramen everywhehere :(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((:((((((((((((((((

The elevator door dings open and you step out, walking down the hall to your room. Your and Wonyoung’s names were proudly sketched onto the whiteboard outside of your room. Cats, courtesy of Jiwon, and hearts, courtesy of Rei were added on after you hung the whiteboard outside of the room when you first moved in.

Pushing open the door, Wonyoung lies on her bed, swinging her legs through the air as she smiles bashfully at her phone. “Welcome back, Y/N,” Wonyoung looks up from her phone and wiggles her eyebrows. “So? Did you kiss? Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend? Soobin’s really handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s handsome,” you agree, shrugging off your coat. “But. He’s just not my type.”

Wonyoung groans, rolling onto her back. “No one is your type. What is your type?”

“Someone who doesn’t mansplain the wage gap to me,” you deadpan, crawling under your covers and staring up at the ceiling. “He said he wasn’t a feminist, yet he hopes that one day women can be treated just as fairly as men.”

Wonyoung snorts. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was terrible,” you groan, rolling onto your stomach and suffocating yourself with your pillow.

“Well, I’m out of options,” Wonyoung tells you. “My connections can only get me so far.”

“That’s okay,” you roll back onto your back and look over at Wonyoung. “I’m thinking, you know that section in the school’s magazine? Where they send two people on a blind date and then those two people write about the date for the magazine? I might sign up for that. It looks fun, and who knows, maybe I will find the love of my life! If not, I’ll just join dating apps.”

Wonyoung perks up, her eyes shining. “Oh my god! Yes!” She shifts to the edge of her bed. “You should one-hundred percent do it, Y/N. Apply for it now!” Wonyoung slips off her bed and steps over to her desk, grabbing her Macbook and flopping down onto your bed beside you.

With a pounding heart, you sign up for the blind date program. “I hope I get someone nice,” you tell Wonyoung as you click the apply button. “Someone I can at least have a conversation with.”

“Or someone you can get down and dirty with,” smirks Wonyoung, ignoring your glare. Her phone buzzes and you steal a glance at the notification. You gasp and whack Wonyoung on the shoulder when you see who has just texted her. “Sunghoon Park? Since when did you know Sunghoon Park?”

“I don’t,” Wonyoung says.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t know him,” but the blush spreading across her cheeks as she types back with a stupid smile on her face says otherwise.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone to spill Wonyoung’s Sunghoon Secret to the groupchat. “I totally believe you, Wonyoung.”

—-

It’s been a week since you took a leap of faith and applied for the blind date program run by your university’s magazine. It’s been a week of you non-stop refreshing the top of your school email’s inbox. It’s been a week of Wonyoung constantly asking you if you had scored a blind date. It’s been a week of nothing but stress.

You slowly come to terms with the fact that you weren’t chosen -- it was like you were asking whoever it is that pairs two people together to search for a needle in a stack of needles. What needle were they supposed to be searching for in the first place? It’s all futile.

Though, when your inbox receives a new email on a Wednesday night, you can’t help but squeal. “Wonyoung!” You call out, waving your best friend over as you eagerly squirm on the armchair you were sitting on in the common room of your dormitory.

Congrats! You’ve been chosen…reads the email notification. Wonyoung eagerly badgers you to open the email, and without hesitation you do. A flood of information is revealed to you and Wonyoung -- your date was to happen on a Friday night. 6 PM. At the local restaurant that is an avid sponsor of your college’s football team, you and your date were to be gifted with a one-hundred-dollar voucher to cover the cost of your dinner.

“This is amazing, Y/N!” Wonyoung whispers to you in the dark, hours after you received the email. The time was creeping into the early morning of Thursday when Wonyoung whispered to you, the both of you unable to sleep because of the email you received confirming that you were going on another blind date this Friday.

Friday comes faster than you expected it to, and you were not prepared for what it brings you. As Murphy’s Law states; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And it all starts with you sleeping through your 9 AM alarm. (For the first time ever.) You wake up with ten minutes to get dressed, eat, and race across campus to your first lecture of the day -- even worse, it was raining outside. Torrential rain.

It doesn’t get any better. At your first tutorial of the day, your tutor hands you back the essay you asked her to go over, and it’s covered in red marker with a comment saying this essay is a C. C plus at best. And you feel your knees give out. You race through lunch, grabbing hot chips from your dormitory’s lunch hall and re-reading the red-marked comments on your worst essay to date.

Your following lecture is canceled because your professor is sick, and then your last tutorial of the day is also canceled. You end up joining Wonyoung, Yoon, and Rei in one of the campus cafes, soothing your sorrows with apple juice bought from a vending machine.

“Enhypen’s throwing a party tomorrow,” Yoon says. “Should we go?”

“I’m down,” Rei shrugs. “I need to forget all about the assessments waiting for me back at my dorm.” Then, she nudged Wonyoung. “But I bet Wonyoung is eager to go. Her beau is in that frat.”

Wonyoung blushes hotly and tells Rei to shut the fuck up. You don’t have the energy in you to join in on Rei’s teasing.

When you reach your dorm after spending the rest of the afternoon elbow-deep in assessments in the campus library, you note the time. 5:30 PM. Didn’t you have something to do at 6? Then, you remember. The blind date. Fuck.

You throw open the tiny shared closet and rummage through all the clothes you and Wonyoung were able to stuff in here before investing in a couple of dressers. Every outfit you try on isn’t up to your, or Wonyoung’s standards, and by the time you’re done with your outfit and makeup, the clock reads 5:55 PM. You can’t take the bus now; you’re going to be super fucking late.

Bidding Wonyoung a hurried goodbye, you race into the common room and scout for a familiar face. As usual, Ricky was reclining sideways on one of the many couches, Uno cards in hand, and completely obliterating who he was playing with. (Bahiyyih, Dayeon, and Youngeun.)

“Ricky!” You call out, bounding over to the boy. “Could you drive me somewhere? Please? I’ll pay you!”

“Drive you? Where?” Ricky asks, placing a yellow six on top of the growing pile of Uno cards.

“Just.” You check the time on your phone. 5:57 PM. “Down the street. The Korean BBQ place.”

Ricky huffs. “Alright. Let me finish this game first, though.”

“Ricky --”

With a flourish, Ricky places his remaining red cards on top of the red card Youngeun placed down. The three girls all let scandalous gasps rip from their mouths and Ricky smirks proudly. “I won. I expect to see my essays finished by Friday.”

Ricky slips off the couch and pulls his keys out from his hoodie pocket, swinging them through the air. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

—-

“Thank you!” You shout at Ricky as you shut the car door harshly. You break into a run for the Korean BBQ place, already five minutes late. Your heart pounds insanely fast and it feels like you’re about to explode.

With your mind a mess, you don’t notice the large puddle in front of you until it’s too late. Cold water soaks your left foot, drenching your shoe and sock. Coming to an abrupt halt, you glance down, finally taking notice of the large puddle and you let various loud curses rip.

You don’t have time to figure out how to dry yourself, so you carry on to the barbeque place. Wrenching the door open and listening to the bell jingle harshly, you scan the room of people. You don’t even know who you’re looking for. A waitress appears in front of you, beaming. “Are you here for the blind date?”

You nod your head. “Great, I’ll take you over!” You trail after the waitress, cursing under your breath as your shoe squelches every few steps, and your feet grow colder every second you don’t stop to dry yourself. You bump into the waitress, realizing she has come to a stop. “I’ll return in a bit to take your orders. Enjoy!” And then the waitress disappears.

You see who your date is and it takes everything in you to not turn around and walk out of the restaurant.

Jake Sim sits in front of you, blond hair gleaming beneath the bright white restaurant lights. He glances up at you, holding his menu and you can easily tell he’s not impressed by you turning up to the date seven minutes late.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt, clumsily pulling out your chair and taking a seat opposite him. “I’m so sorry. Today’s been a totally shit day and -- sorry, I shouldn’t cuss. I didn’t mean to arrive late, I was super excited about this date, it’s just that my shit day --- fuck sorry. Sorry. My shit day got in the way of my time management and. I’m just. So sorry. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m sorry for turning up late.”

Jake smiles. It’s a small smile, one that barely reaches his eyes. “It’s okay. We all have our days.”

“Right.”

You both lapse into awkward silence. “I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduce yourself awkwardly, fiddling with the salt packets on the table.

“Jake Sim,” Jake responds, but you already knew that -- you know Jake Sim well. He’s a part of Enhypen. A well-known, incredibly popular frat on your college’s campus. It’s a legacy frat -- sons of college alumni always get into that frat. There have been the odd students that got into Enhypen because of their connections, but it’s usually always legacies that pledge in. Enhypen is known for many things; the hot college students living in the house, the massive parties they throw almost every weekend, and Jay Park. Everyone who goes to your college knows Jay Park. It’s hard to not know Jay Park -- but that’s another story.

Jake Sim is undeniably handsome. Big, round, warm brown eyes, cute nose, full lips, and sharp cheekbones, he has it all. Jake Sim is also undeniably wealthy, and undeniably smart. Everyone knows Jake will graduate with honors and with the top marks in his class. Everyone knows Jake will be one of the best students to graduate from their university, he’s a once-in-a-generation student. His wealth is also very highly looked upon. His father owns many corporate businesses in America, and overseas (mostly South Korea.) And Jake, himself, has a trust fund and rumor has it the trust fund is in the millions. Jake’s father and mother are legacies of your college, so it’s not a surprise Jake got early admission, and also is a part of Enhypen.

“What year are you?” Jake asks.

“I’m a first year student. Majoring in Linguistics.”

Jake hums. “I'm in my third year. Physics major.”

“I always hated anything to do with math or science in high school,” you comment, picking up the menu in front of you. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to do college-level physics.”

“I hated anything to do with English in high school,” Jake responds. “I don’t know how people can do English-related courses in college. Where would a degree in Linguistics even take you?”

“Translating jobs,” you refuse to look at Jake, some sort of frustration boiling in your blood because of Jake’s offhand comment. “Maybe editing. I could also teach English to non-English speakers. What does Physics even offer to you after post-grad?”

“I could become a NASA employee,” Jake responds. “Which I hope to be after post-grad.”

You take a peek at Jake, who is already looking at you. You smile, but it’s not a warm smile nor does it reach your eyes. “I hope you become a NASA employee as well.”

A familiar waitress stops by, ready to take your orders. After she leaves, the awkward silence is overwhelming so you reach forward and take a sip of water from the glass in front of you. “So,” Jake speaks up after a few moments. “What do you do for fun, Y/N? What are your hobbies?”

Going on a date is a way to get to know each other, so you indulge in Jake’s question. “I like to read—a lot. I love going to libraries and spending hours in them, just flipping through books or taking a seat on a beanbag and reading. I also like just staying in and hanging out with my friends, playing board games is always fun. I don’t really like going out that much.”

Jake hums, and reaches for his own drink. It’s some kind of mocktail. “What about you?” You ask Jake. “What do you do for fun?”

You find out Jake’s the complete opposite of you. He likes to go out. He likes to play sports; basketball, football, soccer, rugby, cricket, baseball. He’s probably done every sport there is. He also likes to go fishing, which you find highly unenjoyable. He’s very active, he finds comfort in exercising. And more importantly, he enjoys a good party.

“Do you drink a lot?” You ask Jake.

“Depends on the day,” Jake answers. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug. “I’m just curious. I don’t drink that much. I do enjoy a bit of white wine here and there, though.”

The conversation between you and Jake seems stilted. You can’t find any common ground -- Jake doesn’t watch many TV shows and not a lot of K-dramas. He watches movies every now and then when he finds time in his busy schedule. “I’m busy almost every day of the week,” Jake explains. “I have football practice and debate club practice, and I handle the funds of our frat since I’m the treasurer. I also pick up tutoring jobs most days.” Even his music taste doesn’t match yours. Anything from Justin Bieber to AC/DC is what Jake enjoys. Different from your own taste.

“Do you know Taylor Swift?” You ask Jake.

“I know her song, Love Story,” Jake answers.

You drop the subject of music immediately.

The food arrives, and it’s awful. You take a bite of your food and immediately regret it because the food is chewy. Very chewy and it tastes severely undercooked. While Jake happily eats his food, you’re left with pushing your food around your plate because you don’t want to cause a scene. You don’t want to make some waitress’ day awful because of your complaints about undercooked food.

Jake gives you a look as he notices you haven’t touched your plate of food.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell Jake with a grin you hope placates Jake. He just shrugs and continues on eating. The silence is unbearable and your eyes begin to burn, which leads you to reprimand yourself -- why are you tearing up? You have no right to tear up. (Or maybe you do because this date is going badly. The awkward silence refuses to go away, and the more you talk with Jake, the more you realize how little you have in common with him.)

Jake finishes eating and there’s another five-minute silence. “Wanna go get ice cream?” Jake asks. His eyes beg you to say no and you want to say no, but instead, you say “Sure!”

You follow Jake up to the counter to pay, but of course, something bad just has to happen to you. A waitress passing by trips up and spills the red wine she was carrying all over your top. You stand there, fists clenched and blinking back your tears as the waitress apologizes profusely.

“It’s okay,” you assure the waitress, waving her away. “It’s okay.” (It wasn’t okay.)

“What happened?” Jake asks you after he finishes using the voucher to pay, noticing the large red stain on your white top.

“Red wine spillage. Let’s go get ice cream.” You step out of the restaurant and wait for Jake to lead you down the street to the nearby ice cream parlor.

On the way, you once again, don’t notice a large puddle until you’re stepping in it, completely soaking your right foot -- shoes, socks, and all. You groan loudly and shake your first threateningly up at the sky, wondering what you did to make this happen to you.

“You okay?” Jake asks you, frowning slightly.

“Yeah,” you respond, blushing when you realize Jake had been watching as you cursed at the sky above.

Entering the parlor, you search your pockets for your wallet. Your movements become increasingly frantic when you can’t find it and then it hits you -- you have left your wallet on your bedside table. Jake, increasingly perceptive, notices your troubled expression. “What’s up, Y/N?”

You sigh and hang your head, mumbling, “I forgot my wallet.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“I forgot my wallet,” you repeat louder. The silence that follows is suffocating.

Jake sighs and when you look up, he doesn’t look impressed as he says, “I’ll pay.”

“No -- it’s okay. We don’t have to get ice cream. I don’t want you to pay,” You hold your hands out, your eyes wide and the tears burn your eyes once more.

“I’ll pay,” Jake repeats, more firmly this time. “Pick what flavor you want.”

“Mint chocolate,” you say without hesitation.

Jake makes a face. “You like mint chocolate?”

“It’s the best flavor.”

Jake shudders and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

You step up to the counter, Jake gesturing for you to go first. “Can I have mint chocolate please?”

The girl behind the register smiles politely. “Sorry, we ran out of mint chocolate. Do you have another flavor you would like to try?”

You don’t know why, but that was your breaking point. You break out into sobs and the entire shop quietens, all eyes turning to you as you begin to sob at the mention of the shop having no mint chocolate ice cream. Without bothering to excuse yourself, you exit the store, sobbing louder as you stand outside in the cold with soaking wet feet, and a white top stained red.

You wonder why today of all days, the world decides to be cruel to you. Any other day would’ve been fine, but instead, on the day of your blind date with Jake Sim of all people, the world decides to unleash its fury on you.

The door slams shut behind you and you turn around, finding Jake standing in front of the entrance, a small paper cup full of ice cream in hand. You stare at him, unable to respond. Jake had still gotten ice cream, making sure to take his time, instead of coming out to check on you. Maybe you and Jake weren’t compatible in any way -- he was a T, after all, whereas you were an F.

“Jake, what the fuck--”

He steps closer, holding out the paper cup that had two spoons. You peer into the cup, seeing green ice cream with dots of occasional brown chocolate chips. Jake had gotten mint chocolate ice cream. You look at Jake, floundering for words.

“They had mint chocolate out back,” Jake informs you. “I told them to go get it.”

“You don't -- you don’t like mint chocolate though.”

Jake shrugs. “But you do. Here, you must be cold.” He slips off his jean jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Instantly, you feel warm and the awful feeling that had manifested in your gut disappears. You wipe away your tears and take the unused wooden spoon, scooping up some mint chocolate ice cream and letting it melt in your mouth.

“Thank you, Jake,” you say softly. “How could I ever repay you? You didn’t have to do this.”

“You were having a shitty day,” Jake answers with a small smile -- a small yet genuine smile. His first genuine smile of the date. “It was the least I could do.”

“Well, thank you.” You repeat.

“I know how you can repay me, Y/N,” a mischievous grin spreads across Jake’s face as he takes a step closer. There’s a change of energy in the air and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You can repay me with a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

Jake hums, nodding. “A kiss.” There’s a beat. “You can say no, though.”

“No,” you say, and Jake’s expression changes. He steps back, but instantly you’re yanking him close to you, desperate to correct the misunderstanding. “I mean. No. I don’t want to say no. I want to kiss you, Jake.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat.

Jake’s hand cups your cheek. His eyes hold yours, an intense look in them. He begins to lean in and your heart speeds up, your cheek burning beneath Jake’s touch.

“You don’t have chlamydia, do you?” You ask Jake, your voice breathless.

Jake snorts. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Jake answers with a kiss. Immediately, with your hand that isn’t holding the cup of ice cream, you grip the collar of Jake’s dress shirt. His lips are warm against yours, and he tastes like mint chocolate. You kiss back eagerly, giving in to the warmth of Jake, and the gentle probing of his tongue, sighing loudly.

“Well, well, well,” an unfamiliar voice cuts through the air. “What do we have here, little Jakey?”

Jake pulls away from you, forehead against yours as he catches his breath before turning around, his hand slipping away from your cheek and bringing all of your warmth with it. “Hyunjae,” Jake says, but he doesn’t sound happy to see the stranger.

You drink in the appearance of the stranger. You’ve never seen him in your life. But you can pick out slight similarities between Jake and this stranger -- Hyunjae. Maybe they’re related in some way, and your cheeks begin to burn a deep red.

“Did you finally settle down, Jakey?” Hyunjae remarks, not kindly.

“What’s it to you?” Jake retorts, his voice strained.

Hyunjae holds up his hands. “I’m just curious, you are my baby cousin after all. I’m very protective over you,” his eyes slide over to you and he gives you a smile that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “I’m Hyunjae. Jake’s cousin! We grew up together. How long have you two been dating?”

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjae,” you respond in a small voice. “But we’re not --”

“Don’t answer him, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off, sounding furious. “He’s not worth your time. Go find someone else to bother, Hyunjae. Fuck off.”

Hyunjae holds up his hands like he’s surrendering himself. “No need to get all aggressive, Jakey.” He then winks your way. “I look forward to seeing you around, Y/N.”

Hyunjae walks past you and Jake, sending one last smile over his shoulder. The smile feels like a warning.

You turn to Jake, looking for answers. You find him scuffing his shoe along the ground and mumbling curses under his breath. “Uh, Jake?” You poke his shoulder and he turns to you as if he was only just realizing you were next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Did you drive here?” Jake asks you.

“Uh, no. Ricky dropped me off. Why?”

“Can I take you home?”

You don’t know why your heart drops to your gut. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Great.” Jake takes your hand into his and pulls you in the direction of his car. You quickly dump the melted ice cream into a nearby trash can and try to keep up with Jake’s rapid footsteps. Jake’s car is a car you expected from someone like him; a flashy black Lexus.

When you are in the safety of Jake’s car, Jake turns to face you and inhales sharply. He doesn’t make any move to turn on the car. “That was my cousin, Hyunjae,” Jake says. “He’s the fucking worst. I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone as much as I hate Hyunjae, and it’s just my luck that he stumbles upon us on a date. Look, Y/N, I know we’ve just met, and I know this date went awful, and I probably don’t have the honor of asking this; but do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You stare at Jake, taken aback. A high-pitched, broken, “What?” Escapes your mouth.

“Not -- not a real girlfriend of course, just. Just a fake one. Let’s fake date. I know Hyunjae, and I know he’s already spreading the news about you and me to everyone in my family. And when it comes to my family --” Jake shakes his head. “It’s best if we fake date for a bit.”

You blink rapidly, trying to take everything in. The past few minutes have gone by so fast -- one moment you were crying because of how awful this day was, then you were wrapped up in Jake’s arms, kissing him, and the next you were watching Jake fight with his cousin and now. And now you’re being asked by Jake to fake date him. “What -- what do I get from this?” You respond. “Say I agree. What’s in it for me?”

Jake obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response. It takes a while for him to respond to you. “I’ll do anything you ask,” Jake responds. “If you need to be picked up, I’ll pick you up. If you need to be dropped off somewhere, I’ll drop you off.” You don’t respond, thinking over Jake’s offer, but he takes the silence as your rejection so he adds desperately; “I’ll pay you.”

“You’ll -- you’ll pay me?” You look at Jake, gobsmacked.

“I’ll pay you.” Jake nods.

“Tell me why you need us to date this badly,” you tell Jake.

“Look, my family -- they’re not a normal family. All wealthy families aren’t normal. Mine -- they’re all competitive with each other. If one kid gets a high grade, everyone else’s kids must get a higher grade or else they aren’t worthy of having the last name ‘Sim’.” Jake explains. “Our family is not kind to each other. And when it comes to dating,” Jake sighs. “Breaking up with your significant other is the worst thing you could do. My relatives view breaking up as a sign of incompetence, a sign that you aren’t fit to take over the family business. It’s stupid, I know, and the last time I brought someone home, it ended in a disaster and -- and I want to prove them wrong. I want to show them that I can have a lasting relationship, and finally make my family proud of me.”

“What a fucked up family,” you respond in disbelief. “They really view breaking up that way? What, would they rather you cheat on your significant other while in a relationship?” Jake’s silence is your answer and you stare at Jake with wide eyes. “You’re joking. Right?”

Jake shakes his head.

“Would you -- would you cheat on me if I agreed?” You don’t know why you sound vulnerable.

Jake shakes his head aggressively, reaching for your hands. “No. No. I don’t -- I don’t like cheating. Or cheaters. That’s the lowest thing someone can do.”

“Okay,” you nod your head. “Why do you hate Hyunjae so much? Is it just because of the family rivalry?”

Jake sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. You try to not let that distract you from the situation at hand. “Well, yes. The rivalry doesn’t exactly help me have loving relationships with my family members but -- my previous girlfriend cheated on me with Hyunjae. They’re still dating now, and I always see her at family dinners and I just. I just want to prove to both of them that I can move on -- that I have moved on.”

You let Jake’s explanation simmer for a while. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your girlfriend -- fake girlfriend.”

Jake grins, squeezing your hands. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Silence fills the car and you sigh. “We need to map out the timeline of our relationship, sort out what are the dos and don’ts of this relationship, and how we will deal with the pieces we’re supposed to write about our blind date for the school magazine.”

Jake nods his head.

“I went out on a blind date last week,” you inform Jake. “It was Saturday. Soobin Choi. So we have had to meet after that.”

“Soobin Choi?” Jake gives you a look. “You don’t look like the type of girl to go for Soobin Choi.”

You scowl. “My friend set it up for me. And don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll ever be a Soobin Choi girl.”

“Who knows you went on this blind date?” Jake asks you. “Other than the people who arranged this for us.”

“Wonyoung Jang.”

“Wonyoung? You’re friends with Wonyoung?”

You nod your head and Jake grins. “My friend, Sunghoon Park? Do you know him? Anyway, he has a huge crush on Wonyoung.”

You giggle. “I think Wonyoung likes him back. They’ve been texting a lot recently.”

Jake gasps. “That’s who he’s been texting? That motherfucker wouldn’t tell me who it was.” Jake cracks his neck, “I’m so going to get him when I get home.” He then turns to you. “Only Jay and Sunoo know about the blind date. Do you think Wonyoung can keep quiet about how we actually met?”

You nod your head. “She loves keeping secrets.”

“Great,” Jake nods his head. “We threw a party last week on Saturday. What if you said you stopped by after the date?”

“Soobin dropped me back home, though,” you respond. “And lots of people saw me enter the dorm.”

“What about after?” Jake asks.

“I guess that could work. Wonyoung is a party girl. She could’ve taken me out to party after the date that ended in disaster, and I met you there.”

Jake nods his head. “I think that’s believable.”

“But didn’t you get screamed at by a girl for giving her chlamydia that night?”

Jake grins. “So that’s why you asked if I had chlamydia.”

“Whatever,” you huff.

“We’ll say we comforted each other about our shitty nights and knew then that we had a connection. I asked you out, and you said yes. What did you do Monday night?”

“I had classes until 4 PM.”

Jake nods his head. “I had football practice until five, and then I drove myself around for a few hours. Decompressing after a shit practice. I got McDonalds. You can’t go wrong with McDonalds after working off all the fat gathered up from having too much McDonalds.” Jake shakes his head in amusement at himself. “I could say I took you out then, but we didn’t go to McDonalds.”

“We went to the rollerskating rink,” you suggest. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date there.”

“Okay,” Jake nods his head.

“Hey what if -- what if we admit to dating each other on the pieces we write about our blind date?”

Jake looks at you, confused.

“I applied for the blind date on Saturday. Before I “left” for Enha’s party. And I got the notification that I’d been chosen on Wednesday. After we supposedly began dating. We could say we mentioned that we applied for this blind date thing to each other, and realized we were the two people chosen. Doesn’t that sound believable?”

“That works. I applied for the blind date on Friday.” Jake’s smile slowly grows. “This is all working out!”

“That way, we won’t really be lying about the blind date if someone asks,” you tell Jake.

Jake holds his hand up for a high five. You slap it, sharing an excited grin with Jake. Everything was falling into place. “OK, we have our story settled, now are there any boundaries you want to mention? Though, if we want to keep this believable I have to be able to kiss you. On the lips. A lot.” Jake looks shy as he mentions this. “I’m -- I’m a very affectionate boyfriend. Or hook up. I like to kiss, so we’re gonna have to kiss a lot.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. Kissing Jake on the lips whenever he felt like it? You would be stupid to not agree. “That’s fine,” you hope you come across as calm at the thought of kissing Jake. “I don’t mind. I don’t really have anything to mention-- except when should we break up?”

“Uh.”

“What about my birthday? February 14th. That gives us...A month and a bit of dating.”

“You were born on Valentine's Day?” Jake asks in awe.

You nod your head. “Yeah. Does that sound good?”

Jake nods his head. “For sure.” Then he frowns, biting his lip once again. You’re beginning to hate it when he does that because it only makes you want to kiss him. “Do you…Do you think you could come to every party Enhypen throws?”

“Why?”

“Heeseung’s girlfriend, Yunjin, always comes to our parties even though she’s not a partier herself.”

You shrug, thinking of Wonyoung always telling you to go out and live your life. “Why not?”

“And pet names? Do you like them? Baby? Babe? Pookie Pie?”

You shove Jake. “Pet names are cute. As long as they don’t go overboard, like Pookie Pie, or muffin, or anything relating to food.”

“Okay,” Jake holds out his hand for you to shake. “One last time; are you sure you want to be my fake girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you respond. “I have to tell Wonyoung about this, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine,” Jake says, shaking your hand tightly. “I have to tell Jay and Sunoo anyway. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow? For the party? Wonyoung can come too.”

You agree. “Alright, I’ll take you home now.”

The drive home is filled with Jake’s Justin Bieber playlist. You decide that your first course of action as Jake’s fake girlfriend will be to change his choice in music. You will craft him a playlist to use whenever you’re in the car with him, so you can both listen to tunes you both enjoy.

After exchanging numbers, you hug Jake goodbye and fly up to your dorm, eagerly bursting in and scaring the shit out of Wonyoung.

“Wonyoung,” you exclaim, heaving for air, “you will never believe what just happened.”

—-

jake 🤍

5 mins away :)

After you receive Jake’s text, you send yourself into a frenzy, pacing your small dorm with Wonyoung sitting on her bed, watching. “Oh my god, this is a mistake. I should’ve never agreed to fake date Jake. Fuck.” You look at Wonyoung, halting your pacing. “I fucked up badly and you’re not going to say anything?”

Wonyoung smiles at you. “I think this will be a good thing, Y/N. Think optimistically! Who knows, you could develop lifelong friendships because of this.”

You cuss out Wonyoung and resume your pacing, jumping at every loud sound. You weren’t prepared for tonight -- how were you supposed to act like you were in love with Jake when you literally only met and talked to him yesterday? You weren’t an actor, and you were a terrible liar.

Your phone buzzes. “He’s here,” you tell Wonyoung. “Can’t I tell him I’m feeling sick?”

Wonyoung shakes her head, sliding off her bed and throwing you the leather jacket you took from Youngeun. “No, put that on, and let’s go get fucking wasted!” Wonyoung cheers loudly and you roll your eyes, tugging the leather jacket over your red corset top.

Jake was scrolling through his phone when you walked up to his car. You rap your knuckles against the window and Jake looks up, breaking out into a grin when he sees you. You walk around to the passenger’s side and slide into the car, hearing whispers of Justin Bieber playing in the background.

“Good evening,” Jake greets. “You look nice.”

Your hands fiddle with your short black skirt, trying to stop the blush from heating up your cheeks. “It’s nothing,” you respond, “just something Wonyoung picked out for me.”

At the mention of Wonyoung, Jake turns to look behind him, grinning at Wonyoung. “Hey, I’m Jake. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sunghoon talks about you a lot.”

You watch Wonyoung blush. “I hope it’s good things.”

Jake giggles. “It’s only ever good things about you, don’t worry.” He then settles back down and looks at you. “Are you ready, Y/N? You can back out if you want, there’s always another party you could go to.”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. Let me play some music, though, enough Justin Bieber.”

Jake drives you and Wonyoung back to his frat to the tune of One Direction’s discography. You were surprised to find out Jake knew most of One Direction’s songs. You’d finally found common ground with Jake, and your chest warms at the thought.

The street is packed with cars, and late party-goers walking on the road, but with skilled ease, Jake maneuvers his way to the frat and parks the car up the driveway without a hitch. The music dies along with the car and is replaced with bass-booming music. The whole frat looks like it’s shaking. Jake turns to you and smiles, “I have some things to check up on, so take your time, alright? I’ll get you in a few minutes.” With a wink, he climbs out of his car and races into the frat, dapping up a few guys on the way in.

Immediately, your nerves skyrocket. You began to second-guess yourself, and your fingers returned to fiddle with the edge of your skirt. Noticing your nerves, Wonyoung speaks up, reaching through the gap between the driver and passenger seat for your hand. “You got this, Y/N. You better become an Oscar-winning actress as soon as you step out of this car. Your whole college career depends on this exact moment.”

You scowl at Wonyoung, pinching her wrist. “Some best friend you are,” you huff.

“Tough love,” Wonyoung shrugs.

“Tough love my ass.”

“Look, Y/N, I’ll be by your side the entire night --”

“--Don’t lie, Wony --”

“--For most of the night. But, you’ll be fine. You work well under pressure and remember, if in doubt, just kiss the life out of Jake. Making out is the best way to draw and lose attention simultaneously.”

Jake appears suddenly, knocking on the window and beckoning you out. Wonyoung climbs out first, striking up a conversation with Jake as you work up the nerves to exit Jake’s car. After inhaling and exhaling a few times, you open the car door and step out.

The music is much louder now. The shouting and cheers of already drunk party goers fill the air, and everywhere you look, there is a girl in a short dress, or a short skirt, much like yourself and Wonyoung. “I’ll see you inside, Y/N. In the kitchen, getting a drink.” Wonyoung squeezes your shoulder and walks across the lawn, smiling at a few people whom you’ve never seen interact with Wonyoung in your life.

Next to you, Jake touches your shoulders and turns you to face him. His smile is warm and it soothes your nerves. “Just stay by my side, alright? Stand next to me and look pretty, that’s easy, right?”

You smile. “I suppose.”

“Great,” Jake kisses your forehead and intertwines your hands together. He squeezes once, and then leads you across the lawn, pausing every now and then to talk to unfamiliar faces to you, but familiar faces to him. Eventually, you reach the frat and Jake pauses, looking at you for assurance before pushing forward.

His grip on your hand becomes firmer as he guides you through the large crowd of people filling the frat. Loud voices shout in your ear, and sweaty bodies knock up against your own. You begin to grow hot beneath Youngeun’s leather jacket.

You and Jake reach the kitchen, and you see Wonyoung standing with your friends. Warmth floods you and the nerves dissipate. Jake leads you over to the counter swimming in red cups and assortments of alcoholic drinks, along with some kind of alcoholic punch.

“Jungwon wanted to try making some weird alcoholic punch,” Jake informs you, bending down to shout his words against your ear. “I would suggest avoiding it. What do you want to drink?”

Jake offers his ear to you, still bending slightly so he is able to hear you over the music. “A White Claw. Black cherry flavor.”

Jake nods his head, drawing away. “Got it, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek. “I see your friends eyeing you. Go talk to them while I scavenge for some White Claws.”

You approach your friends, a blush rising to your cheeks as they all give you a knowing look. “Were you just with Jake Sim?” Yoon practically shouts, her cheeks already a bright red, courtesy of the red cup she holds in her hand. “Were you holding hands?”

“He kissed your cheek, Y/N!” Jiwon exclaims, her eyes wide and dimples appearing as she shouts at you. “What the fuck?”

You blush and dip your head. You felt self-conscious for whatever reason. “We’re dating,” you say loudly, avoiding eye contact. All of your friends, bar Wonyoung, gasp loudly and their voices clamber to be heard over the voice of Nicki Minaj rapping in the song Beauty and the Beat.

“When the fuck did this happen?!” Hikaru exclaims.

“Monday,” you respond.

There’s more shouting and you look to Wonyoung for guidance. She gives you an assuring smile and a small bout of confidence surges through your veins. “We met at a party last week,” you continue to explain. “Wonyoung brought me after my failed date with Soobin.”

“I can’t believe you managed to get cuffed -- and by Jake Sim at that,” Yoon explains, astonished.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean, Yoon?”

“Oh! No offense to you!” Yoon says, realizing how awful her words sounded. “It’s just -- ever since he broke up with his last girlfriend, Jake’s been known to just sleep around. He hasn’t been in a committed relationship in a year and a half.” Yoon eyes you carefully, “just. Be careful, Y/N, I don’t want him to break your heart. You’re very precious. Too innocent for his kind of world.”

“I’ll be fine, Yoon,” you say to the girl, breaking out into a smile. “Jake takes care of me well.” You peer over your shoulder, catching sight of Jake leaning against the counter, chatting up a girl who grins, leaning forward to run her hand up his arm. Your heart drops and hurt immediately floods your chest.

You guess you spoke too soon.

Or not.

Jake catches your eye. “Hey, baby!” He shouts, drawing the attention of the girl sliding her hand up his arm, and everyone in the kitchen. “You wanted a black cherry white claw, right?” He holds up the can and winks.

You smile back. “That’s the one I wanted! I knew I could count on you, Jake!” The girl immediately retracts her hand, and the kitchen breaks out into loud voices, all saying the exact same thing -- Jake’s with Y/N?

You excuse yourself from your group of friends, who all grin at you, and bound over to Jake who is waiting for you. Without thinking it through, you rise to your toes, wrap a hand around the back of Jake’s neck, and bring him in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of Jake’s lips against yours.

You grab the white claw from Jake after the kiss, crack it open, and take a long sip. The alcohol cools you down immediately. “What was that for?” Jake asks you, amusement highlighting his face.

You shrug, not sure if your cheeks were hot because of the leather jacket you were wearing, or because you kissed Jake without thinking. “Just felt like it.”

Jake scoffs and leans down, stealing a kiss for himself.

“What was that for?” You ask him, repeating his words.

Jake repeats your own words, coupling it with a shrug as well. “Just felt like it.”

“I’m feeling hot,” you admit to Jake, “Is there anywhere I could put my leather jacket?”

“You could put it in my room.”

You give Jake a look and he snorts. “There was no other intention behind those words. We can just deposit your jacket in my room, and then join the party. Perhaps go dancing? Or we could socialize. It’s up to you, really. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

If you were able to see yourself, you think you would find stars in your eyes as you follow Jake out of the kitchen, his hand tightly gripping your own.

It’s well after one in the morning when you find yourself kissing Jake on one of the many couches in the frat. His arm is wrapped lazily around your waist as he keeps you close, his lips moving against yours in tandem. You explore Jake’s mouth with a vigor you didn’t even know you had, and you happily relish in the taste of the vodka shots Jake had encouraged you to take moments before you pulled him in for a kiss, which led to your fourth makeout session ever.

Someone clears their throat loudly and you and Jake break apart, chests heaving and eyes unable to look away. You’re the first to avert eye contact, looking at the stranger in front of you. The silver hair is immediately recognizable. Sunghoon Park towers over you and Jake, with Wonyoung gripping his bicep tightly, swaying slightly. She looked dazed.

“You’re Y/N?” Sunghoon looks to you for confirmation.

You nod your head, feeling as if you were floating. You’re pretty sure you’re tipsy. “Who’s asking?”

“Wony’s a bit drunk.” The use of Wonyoung’s nickname doesn’t slip past you. Nickname terms, huh? You think to yourself. “I think she should go home.”

“I’ll take them home,” Jake says, draping an arm over your shoulder and pulling you back against him, your body flush against his. “I’m the sober driver for tonight.”

Sunghoon snorts. “I totally believe you.”

Jake scowls. “Scout’s honor! I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol.”

“I’ll believe you. Get Wonyoung home safely.”

“Aye Aye captain,” Jake salutes, and Sunghoon whispers something to Wonyoung, who smiles and nods her head. Jake pushes himself off the couch, and then helps you up, giving you a gentle smile and moving hair out of your eyes.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jake says, “Let’s get you home, Y/N.”

—-

You were still reeling from the party on Saturday. You don’t know what overcame you -- maybe it was the alcohol invading your bloodstream and the fact that all the attention was on you, that made you kiss Jake and cling to him while you danced.

Your phone lights up with another text from Jake. You had texted him throughout Sunday. He checked in a few times on Sunday, making sure you were feeling okay. Jake’s care for you made your heart expand times ten, but you had to remind yourself that this was all fake -- that none of this was real.

jake 🤍

Where are you?

you

library

in one of the study rooms

jake 🤍

What room?

you

third floor, twenty one A

jake 🤍

Ok. See you soon ❤️

Your heart pounds in your throat. You weren’t sure what you were going to do when Jake turns up in your study room with a large smile and hopeful brown eyes. He arrives quicker than you expected, opening the door and grinning at you.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, slipping into the chair beside you.

“Hi,” you greet back quietly, focusing on your laptop in front of you. Silence embraces the room and your leg shakes beneath the table. You didn’t know how to work around Jake. He was an enigma. He was a puzzle -- a one thousand-piece puzzle that would take hours, if not days to figure out. He was a puzzle that came in a blank box with no photo to show you what the puzzle was supposed to look like.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt suddenly, unable to handle the silence. “I’m sorry about Saturday. I don’t know how to handle myself around you. I don’t know how to do relationships because I’ve never been in one, especially a fake one at that. It’s just -- it’s just so hard and confusing and I feel lost and. And. I’m sorry if I did anything weird or wrong or --”

“Y/N,” Jake interrupts your ramble. “You apologize too much.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Jake gives you a look and you avert your eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t do anything wrong on Saturday. You were fine. I guess I’m also at fault for partially pushing you to join me at the party when we really haven’t spent any time together outside of that one blind date.” Jake reaches for your hands. “I’m here to help you, Y/N, we can work out how this fake relationship works together. First, you have to tell me a little bit more about yourself. Like, we should ask each other deep-hitting questions.”

You look at Jake and return his smile. “What are these deep-hitting questions?”

Jake hums in thought. “Like…What’s your favorite color?”

You snicker. “That’s a deep-hitting question?”

Jake nods his head, dead serious. “So? Your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” you respond.

“Alright. Yellow. Any particular reason?”

You shake your head. “It’s a nice color. Warm color. Happy color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” Jake responds. “No particular reason, like you. I just like how it looks. Not bright red, though, a dark deep red. Maroon is a nice color as well.” Jake reaches for another question. “What’s your family like?”

“I have a mom and younger sister. My dad passed away when I was young,” you tell Jake, your voice taking on a gentler tone. “My mom is my biggest inspiration. I look up to her a lot. She raised my sister and I all on her own. I was three when my dad passed, and my younger sister was one. I don’t really have many memories of my father, but I have plenty of my mother never giving up. She’s the reason I’m where I am now. She sacrificed everything for me.”

“She sounds amazing,” Jake responds, his tone matching your gentle one.

“She is. I talk to her and my younger sister every day.”

“How old is your younger sister?”

“She’s fifteen. She’s a freshman. Her name is Myeong.” You tilt your head as you look at Jake. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“My mom and dad are…very pushy and controlling. My dad wants me to graduate and take over the family business, and my mom is very eager for grandkids before she dies. They’re only proud of me when I accomplish something big, and my mom likes -- or well, used to control everything about my life when I was living under her roof.” Jake sighs, “but my older brother, he’s the only person I love in my family. He was always there for me, and always protected me. I love him a lot.”

Jake shifts in his chair and straightens his posture. “Ouch. I just brought the mood down. Sorry. Your mother and sister sound like fun.”

“It’s okay, Jake,” you comfort the older boy. “And yes. They’re very fun to be around. I can’t wait to spend winter break with them.”

“Right, winter break is next week.” Jake hunches back over. “I have to spend Christmas with my family. It’s not gonna be fun, especially since everyone has caught wind of our relationship.”

“You can do this, Jake,” you tell him with an encouraging grin, “If you need to escape though, call me and I’ll pretend to be having a meltdown so you can come over to mine for some reprieve. We usually watch all the Santa Clause movies after our Christmas dinner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jake says, “are you hungry?”

You nod your head. “I was about to ask you if you wanted to take me to get some churros.”

“Right!” Jake stands as you begin to pack up your things. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for your bank details. I need to pay you.”

You look at Jake and frown. “I don’t want your money, Jake, seriously. It’s okay to not pay me.”

Jake shakes his head. “I feel bad for using you like this, though, Y/N. Please let me pay you, it’ll help ease my guilty consciousness for getting you involved in this mess.”

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m moving all the money you give me to a different account and not spending a single dollar.”

“That’s fine, as long as I’m able to pay you.”

After zipping up your bag, you pull out your phone and give Jake your bank details. “Now that that’s finished, I have something to tell you,” You step out of the study room with Jake trailing behind you. You let Jake fall into step beside you, and reach for his hand. “I’m thinking of making you a playlist to play whenever you drive me around because I’m planning on taking advantage of having you at my mercy.”

Jake smiles down at you. There’s a hint of fondness hidden in that smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Y/N. What songs were you thinking of putting on the playlist?”

“I’m keeping Justin Bieber off,” you retort jokingly.

Jake gasps and wretches his hand out of yours. You giggle and pout, reaching for Jake’s hand. “I was joking! You’re such a baby, Jakey poo.” You reach up to pinch his cheeks and Jake bats your hand away, intertwining your hands back together instead.

“It’ll be a surprise,” you tell Jake as the elevator doors open. “But I’m making sure it’s songs that both of us will enjoy because I’m such a great girlfriend.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his fondness. “Of course you are, baby.” His eyes light up as if a light bulb went off above his head. “By the way, happy one week!” He kisses your cheek.

You roll your eyes. “Sap.”

“Only for you,” Jake responds.

—-

A few days later, you’re staring at a large frat. It’s your first time seeing the Enhypen frat up close during the daytime. You wouldn’t even be able to tell Enhypen throws massive raging parties from judging the outside appearance of the frat. The grass is neatly cut, and the bushes growing around the perimeter are groomed to near perfection. Someone obviously has a bit of a green thumb in the frat.

You walk up the porch steps and knock on the bright red door that feels rough beneath your knuckles. It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing Jungwon Yang. You know quite a bit about Jungwon Yang, since Wonyoung grew up with Jungwon and you’re Wonyoung’s best friend. It surprises you how many mutual friends you and Jungwon share, yet you’ve never once spoken to him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jungwon greets, pulling the door open wider to allow you in. “Jake’s in his room.”

“Hey, Jungwon,” you greet back, letting the boy shut the door behind you. You slide off your shoes and straighten up. “Where is Jake’s room?”

“I’ll show you. How are your classes going?” Jungwon makes conversation as he leads you through the spacious frat. It’s clear to you that this is a legacy frat. Everything screams wealth. You feel sorely out of place, but you’ll prefer to keep these thoughts to yourself.

“They’re going good. A lot of work, but I like it. It keeps me busy.”

“I’ve never been this busy,” Jungwon says with a small smile. He climbs the stairs, you following closely behind. “Didn’t you go to Jake’s room during the last party?”

“I don’t remember,” you admit sheepishly. “That whole night feels like a fever dream. I was really nervous the entire time.”

Jungwon nods his head. “You know, from what Won told me about you, I never expected you and Jake to date. You two seem like total opposites. I hope you don’t take offense.”

“None taken,” you tell Jungwon. “And I have to admit, I felt the same way, but somehow the words ring true; opposites do attract. We work well with each other.” You don’t know where this load of bullshit was coming from, but anything to make Jungwon believe what you have with Jake is real.

The door to the bathroom swings open and Sunoo Kim steps out. Your heart pounds in your ears as Sunoo’s sharp eyes latch onto your figure. The older boy genuinely intimidates you. His facial features are incredibly sharp, and his words are even sharper. He holds grudges for a long time, and he’s a known gossiper. Sunoo’s reputation across campus is an intimidating one, but you also know from Wonyoung that he’s one of the nicest, kindest, and cutest boys she knows. “Don’t let his resting bitch face scare you,” Wonyoung advised. “He’s just fiercely loyal and protective of his friends, that’s why he has that reputation.”

“Hello, Y/N,” Sunoo says.

“Hey, Sunoo.” Your hands begin to sweat. God, sorry Wonyoung, you think. But Sunoo scares me.

“Here to see Jake?” Sunoo asks you, not unkindly.

You nod your head. “He invited me over to study. I have a test tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’ll get much studying done with Jake,” Sunoo states, and once again, he wasn’t being mean or judgy. It just seems like a simple observational statement -- he knows Jake better than you, having grown up with the older boy. “Keep the noise down.”

Your cheeks flush and Jungwon snorts. “No need to be so bitchy, Sunoo.”

“Sunghoon used up all my face wash,” Sunoo groans, his face transforming into a pout you’ve never seen the boy wear. He looks extremely soft and squishable and Wonyoung’s words about Sunoo bounce around your head. Maybe you truly don’t have a reason to be so afraid of the older boy.

Immediately, your hand goes for the shoulder bag you were carrying, and you pull out the newly bought face wash that was haphazardly lying about. “Here,” you hold out your face wash. “Take this.”

Sunoo stares at your outstretched hand. “We use the same face wash brand! Do you just carry your face wash around with you everywhere?” Sunoo’s gaze pierces your soul and you immediately flush bright red. You really need to get your blushing situation under control.

“I -- I don’t carry it around with me. I just stopped by the quick mart on the way here to buy it since I had run out of it. But here, you can take it. I’ll just buy another on my way home.”

“Really?” Sunoo asks.

“Yes,” you shake the face wash in the air. “Take it.”

Sunoo’s face splits into a grin, completely transforming all his sharp edges into soft edges. Sunoo’s truly a different person when he smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re very kind.”

“It’s nothing,” you mumble.

A door at the end of the hall is wrenched open and Jake pops his head out, eyes focusing on the group of three standing around the bathroom. “What’s taking you so long?” Jake groans. “I miss my girlfriend. Stop hogging her.”

“Whatever Jake,” Sunoo scoffs. He steps back into the bathroom. “I hope to see you around often, Y/N,” Sunoo tells you with a smile, and then he shuts the bathroom door.

“There’s Jake’s room,” Jungwon tells you, pointing to Jake. “Play some music if you’re going to do something other than studying.” Jungwon leaves you a blushing mess in the middle of the hallway.

“Y/N!” Jake calls, beckoning you over eagerly.

With quick steps, you reach Jake in milliseconds. Jake grins down at you and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Pulling away, you look at Jake with a frown. “What was that for? There’s no one around.”

Jake pulls you into his room in lieu of an answer, shutting the door with a thump. “Was Sunoo nice to you?”

You nod your head and drop your shoulder bag onto Jake’s desk. “I gave him my face wash. I think I scored some points with him for that.”

“You had face wash in your bag?” Jake asks, grabbing his football and leaping onto his bed, beginning to throw the football up into the air and catching it.

“I bought some on the way over. I was running out,” you answer, pulling out the chair at Jake’s desk and taking a seat. “Are you going to study?”

“Eventually,” Jake responds. “Did you finish making that playlist?” He pushes himself into a sitting position, gripping the football tightly and displaying an excited expression on his face.

You can’t help but smile. “I did. Want to see?”

Jake nods his head, his blond hair flopping messily. You pull out your phone, unlock it and pull up the Spotify playlist, handing your phone over to Jake. “You can scroll through as I study,” you tell Jake. “Let me know what you think. I added a lot of songs.”

“Woah. Forty-eight hours,” Jake looks at you. “That is a lot of songs.”

You grin, running a hand through your hair to tie it up. “I guess that means you’re legally obliged to hang out with me for forty-eight hours.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jake grins back.

Silence embraces the room and for once, it’s not awkward. You easily get enraptured in your studying, hearing Jake ooh or ahh or let out a small giggle as he scrolls through the playlist you made solely for Jake to play whenever you’re in the car with him.

After some time, Jake finally speaks up. “I really like the playlist, Y/N.”

You spin around in Jake’s desk chair. “Really?”

Jake nods his head. “I can’t wait to play it.”

“I’m glad. It took me a couple of days to curate. I’m happy you like it.”

“Of course, you made it, Y/N, so that means I’ll like it instantly.”

You groan and fall back into the desk chair. “Shut the fuck up, Jake.” Your tone was clearly teasing, and you’re glad Jake is able to make out the teasing because he laughs loudly.

“Was Jungwon nice to you as well?” Jake asks as he places your phone back on his desk. “Because sometimes he says shit without realizing how harsh it is.”

“He was nice as well, no need to fret, Jake. If they’re your friends I like them immediately.”

As you wait for Jake’s response, a loud banging sound floats through the air, followed by someone shouting a familiar name. “HEESEUNG!” Someone shouts after banging loudly. It’s quiet for a few seconds before the banging and shouting start again.

Jake groans and you leap up to open his door, curious to see who was making a ruckus. You scan the hallway and catch sight of a young boy who was incredibly tall. His blond hair glows brightly and he has a baseball bat and glove tucked beneath the arm that wasn’t doing the knocking.

“Cut it out, Riki,” Jake groans exasperatedly.

“No. He didn’t show up to play baseball with me,” Riki grumbles, continuing to smack the door.

“He spent his entire night revising his thesis with Jeongin and Beomgyu,” Jake responds. “Let him rest.”

Riki finally looks over at Jake, ready to respond, but when he sees you everything seems to pause. Riki stops smacking the door and the words poised at the tip of his tongue slide off. “Woah, is that Y/N? Your girlfriend?” He squints and assesses you. “You could do better than Jake, you know, Y/N.”

“Riki you better shut the fuck up,” Jake threatens.

“You play baseball?” You ask Riki.

“What does it look like?” Riki responds snappily.

“Riki,” hisses Jake.

“Yes,” Riki responds, his tone much nicer albeit exaggerating for Jake’s sake. “I play baseball.”

“That’s cool. Could I play with you?”

“What?” Riki looks bemused like he’d never thought you would offer to play baseball with him.

“Heeseung’s obviously sleeping and you probably shouldn’t disturb him because writing a thesis is hell on earth, so why not play catch with me? I used to play softball for my high school.”

“Softball and baseball are different, though,” Riki deadpans.

“Not really,” you shrug, stepping out of Jake’s room. “The only differences are the gloves, balls, bats, and how you throw the pitches. Other than that, everything is the same. In fact, I used to play baseball with the kids in my neighborhood, and with my cousins whenever I hung out with my family.”

“But you don’t have a glove.”

“I do,” Jake says. “Just play with her, Riki.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs. We’ll head to the baseball pitch.” Riki slinks down the stairs and you pop back into Jake’s room, watching the older boy rummage around for his baseball glove.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Jake tells you.

“I want to,” you reply, “if it gives Heeseung more time to rest and keeps Riki distracted -- by the way who even is Riki?”

Jake finds his baseball glove with a triumphant smile. He chucks it to you as he says, “Some kid we picked up off the street. You better hurry downstairs, Riki doesn’t like to be kept waiting. He’s very impatient.” Then, with a shake of his head, Jake mutters, “Teenagers.”

“Aren’t you gonna come down?” You ask Jake. “It would be nice to have you with us.”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to find my cap.”

“Alright, see ya soon baby,” you salute Jake and walk out of his room, bounding down the stairs and finding Rik waiting for you. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” you tell the boy, hurriedly slipping on your shoes.

Riki shrugs. “It’s fine.”

You step out of the house and walk to the baseball pitch in silence. You find out the baseball pitch is only a few minutes away from the Enhypen frat. It was built next to a park, so there were a few kids playing on the playground.

“You’re Jake’s new girlfriend, huh?” Riki finally says something as you both warm up. You don’t know how you’re going to play baseball with Riki, so you just follow whatever warm-ups he does.

“Yeah,” you respond. “And you’re his friend?”

“Obviously.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned eighteen last week on Friday.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit, Jake and I went out last Friday. Sorry for stealing him from you.”

Riki shrugs. “It’s chill. We hung out before and after his date.” You lapse into silence once more. “I like you better than his previous girlfriend,” Riki takes you by surprise as he grabs his bat and practices swinging a few times. “She was really rude. You’re not rude.”

“Thank you?”

“She never played baseball. Always said it would ruin her manicure.” He glances at your nails. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining your manicure?”

“I’m going to my nail tech next week. I don’t really care. Plus it gets tiring wiping your ass with a manicure sometimes.”

Riki stares at you and you immediately regret saying what you said seconds ago. Riki snorts, “You’re so much better than Francesa. She hated it when we would have farting contests.”

You stare at Riki in disbelief. This kid you think. “You’re still in high school aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” Riki asks.

“You’re still having fart contests.”

Riki scowls.

—-

“Do you have to throw a party for literally every single accomplishment?” You ask Jake, finding yourself back at Enhypen on a Saturday night. Wonyoung was dancing with Sunghoon on the dance floor while you and Jake rested against one of the walls, observing the party.

“Throwing parties is fun, Y/N,” Jake responds. “Especially if you’re celebrating the end of exam week and the start of winter break.”

“I guess celebrating the end of exam week is worth throwing a party.” You sip the alcoholic drink Jake got for you, and watch as Wonyoung laughs over something Sunghoon said. “Wanna go to your room?”

Jake raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes. “You look tired, Jake, and you aren’t engaging in conversations like you usually do at parties. Let’s just go to your room to talk for a bit.”

“Alright,” Jake shrugs, taking your hand and pulling you up the stairs. You ignore the looks that are being thrown your way. Not everything is about getting laid.

Entering Jake’s bedroom, some sense of comfort embraces you and you feel relieved at the sudden change in environment. Everything feels much nicer in Jake’s room, even if you could still hear the music, albeit muffled.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jake asks, as you both peel off your shoes and slip beneath his light blue comforter, legs immediately tangling beneath it.

“Tell me about your childhood,” you answer. “You haven’t really told me anything.”

“Of course. You’ll tell me about yours after?”

“Any questions you have, I’ll answer honestly,” you grin.

“I would say my childhood was like any other, but I was born into a wealthy family with a trust fund already waiting for me when I turned eighteen,” Jake starts off, making you giggle lightly. “I don’t necessarily have a lot of happy memories of my childhood. But the ones I have only mostly involve my older brother, Jaehyun.”

“What’s your happiest memory with him?”

“Probably when I was six and he was ten, our nanny took us down to the beach. I remember staying at the beach for hours at a time whenever we went. There was also this small forest of trees a little bit further down the beach, and my brother and I would always explore in the small forest, picking up sticks and pretending to hunt down aliens that were planning to take over the world. Time always slipped away from us.”

You watch as Jake floats away from you. It’s like he’s in a different dimension as he recites this story to you, a gentle, happy look you’ve never seen appearing on his face.

“And this one time, it started to rain while my brother and I were playing in this forest, and we got lost. My brother found us some shelter under this large tree, and I started freaking out but my brother comforted me. He told me that he was going to take care of me, no matter what. I stopped crying after that and trusted everything my brother told me and we eventually made it out of the forest. My nanny was worried sick about us, and we never went back to that beach.”

Jake is brought back to you and smiles. “We were lost for fifteen minutes, Y/N, and for ten of those minutes, I was genuinely happy because I had my brother with me, guiding me through life. Jaehyun has always wanted the best for me and has always supported me in all of my endeavors. I don’t have a lot of people like him in my life.”

“That’s really sweet, Jake, I’m glad you have someone like that in your life.”

“Anything else you want to know, Y/N?” Jake asks.

“How did you meet the boys in Enhypen? Did you know any of them before coming to college?”

Jake laughs. “Obviously it’ll take us days for me to explain my close relationship with all thirty of us, but I’ll tell you about my closest friends. The ones you’ve met already.”

“I love a good story,” you say eagerly, pulling the comforter up higher.

“I grew up with Jay and Sunghoon. Our families were closely intertwined, so it just made sense for us to grow up together. They’re like my brothers. I met Heeseung and Sunoo in elementary school. I had heard a lot about Heeseung from Jay since they’re like, distantly related or something, and Sunoo was a friend Sunghoon made while learning how to figure skate. I got along well with them as well, so we all began hanging out. I met Jungwon and Riki in middle school. Riki is the son of one of Jay’s dad’s business partners in Japan. He came to Korea during the summer and stayed with Jay. He eventually applied for a transfer program when he was sixteen, so that’s why he’s around now. Jungwon is just some kid Jay latched on to during Taekwondo practice and never let go.”

“That sounds a lot like a found family novel I would find in a library,” you tease. “But it’s really sweet how you all found each other.”

“I guess it is. They’re my lifelong brothers. But, enough about me. What about you, Y/N? What was your childhood like?”

“It was normal,” you reply, teasing Jake who rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, which I was fine with. I liked being left alone. I think I was just scared of making friends because they might leave me like my father did. But, I don’t feel that way anymore. I’ve made a lot of friends since arriving at college.”

“What’s your happiest memory?”

“Right now, my happiest memory is meeting Wonyoung for the first time,” you tell Jake. “I was so scared moving out of home, and I was scared that I wouldn’t…experience the world my mom talked about whenever she brought up her college years, but I met Wonyoung during move-in day, and I think my life has changed.” You nudge Jake’s shoulder, “you know, if I hadn’t met Wonyoung, I don’t think we would’ve met.”

“Crazy how the world works,” Jake says.

“Very crazy,” you agree. “Did you sleep with plushies when you were younger?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, did you?”

A timid smile spreads across your face. “Yeah. I slept with a lot of plushies. I guess I just liked having something to hug and keep me warm while I slept.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jake coos, pinching your nose.

“Fuck off, Jake.”

There’s a long silence before Jake starts to talk again. “You know, we’ve known each other for a week and I’ve told you more about myself than most people close to me know.”

You look at Jake in surprise. “Really?”

Jake nods his head. “It’s...easy talking to you, Y/N.”

“I could say the same about you,” you murmur.

“I guess,” Jake starts slowly, leaning forward, his hand cupping your cheek, “we were meant to meet.” His lips are a whisper away from yours. “It’s our fate.” And then he’s kissing you. It’s a gentle kiss, a kiss unlike any you’ve had before. Jake doesn’t make any move to rush the kiss, and you don’t either. You’re both perfectly content to take your time kissing each other.

Jake breaks away and shifts your positioning so you’re half on top of him. He cups your cheek again, pulling you back in for a soft kiss, while his other arm wraps around your waist. Both of your hands are threaded through Jake’s hair, and all you can hear is Little Mix’s Love Me Like You.

—-

The cold of the ice rink hits you suddenly. A chill zips up your spine, and you grip Jake’s hand tighter. It was the first day of winter break, and you and Jake were on a double date with Yunjin and Heeseung. You’d all agreed to go ice skating for the date.

“When was the last time you went ice skating, Y/N?” Yunjin makes conversation as Jake and Heeseung talk about some Pokemon game they had played recently. Yunjin looked pretty today. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands curling around her face, and her makeup was light. She was wearing cute pink leg warmers that you eyed with envy.

“Probably when I was…fifteen? I think we went ice skating for a school trip,” you respond. “What about you? When was the last time you went ice skating?”

“A couple weeks back,” Yunjin says smiling. “Heeseung likes to ice skate so we often swing by when we have nothing to do.”

“You’re probably really good then.”

Yunjin laughs. “I’m mediocre at best. Heeseung’s really good though. But, then again, Heeseung’s good at everything.”

“Talking shit about Heeseung again, Yunjin?” Jake asks, joining in on the conversation.

“Yes, because that’s all I do, Jake,” Yunjin retorts sardonically.

“Do you know what size skates you wear, baby?” Jake directs his attention on you, his nose a light red already.

“Um, maybe a six?”

“Woah, you have small hands and feet,” Jake exclaims.

“Rude,” you whack Jake’s chest with your free hand.

“No, it’s cute,” Jake says with a small smile. “You’re super cute, Y/N.” He kisses the tip of your nose and lets go of your hand. “I’ll go with Heeseung to get your skates. Go find us a place to sit.”

Yunjin snakes her arm around yours and pulls you away from Jake, laughing loudly at something Heeseung had whispered to her.

“You and Jake are so cute,” Yunjin says when you finally lay claim on a row of chairs. “You’ve only been dating for what? Two weeks? And you’re already this cute?” Yunjin sighs, “The honeymoon phase is the best part of a relationship. Hee and I have been dating for…woah has it been two years already? We’ve been dating for two years and I don’t think we’ve left the honeymoon stage yet.”

“Yeah,” you agree, not really knowing what else to say.

“How did you meet Jake again?”

“Oh, at one of Enhypen’s parties. We both had shitty nights -- I had a failed date and Jake got accused of giving someone chlamydia -- and we comforted each other. Jake likes to say we had an immediate connection, so he wasted no time in asking me out.”

“Aww,” Yunjin coos, “love at first sight! I wish I got to experience that. Heeseung held a grudge against me for the longest time before he ever admitted his feelings to me.”

“Heeseung holds grudges?” You were pleasantly surprised. “He doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges.”

“I was a special case, apparently,” Yunjin jokes. “But really, Heeseung’s the sweetest, most romantic guy I’ve ever dated.” Her eyes dart over your shoulder, and her grin only gets wider. “Jake’s a really good guy too, if you give him a chance.” She looks back at you and reaches out to squeeze your shoulder. “And it looks like you are giving him a chance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this happy.”

You don’t have time to respond, because Jake takes a seat beside you, dumping your skates onto your lap. “Here you go. Do I get a thank you kiss?”

“If you insist,” you grumble, leaning forward to lay a quick peck on Jake’s lips. “Now help me put them on.”

Yunjin and Heeseung head onto the ice first, leaving you alone with Jake as he laces up his skates after helping you. You nudge Jake’s knee with your own, a sly smile slipping onto your face. “We have a love at first sight story, huh? Does this mean you loove me?”

“Damn,” Jake curses, “how did you find out? Was it that easy to tell?” A smile that matches the one you are wearing slips onto Jake’s face. “Jungwon told me I was being too obvious.”

You snicker and wrap your hands around Jake’s bicep, inching forward to rest your head on his shoulder. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous, Jake, because I love you too, my sweet sugar plum.”

“Sweet sugar plum? Where did that come from?”

“You don’t like it?” You ask, pouting slightly.

“I hate it.”

You turn your head to muffle your giggles against Jake’s shoulder.

“Y/N, you know I won’t leave you, right?” Jake asks in a soft tone.

“Hmm? Where did this come from, Jake?” You pull your head away from Jake’s shoulder to look at him.

“I was just thinking about what you told me on Saturday,” Jake admits. “I’m not gonna leave you, Y/N.”

“Even after our break up?” You don’t like how insecure you sound. “We’ll still be friends after our break up?”

Jake nods his head. “Of course.”

You smile, kissing Jake’s cheek. “Great. Let’s go skating now, Jakey, I need an excuse to hold your hand for a few hours.”

Jake lets you pull him up from the chair. “You could just ask to hold my hand, Y/N.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You reply, grinning eagerly.

—-

“Why are we carving pumpkins, again?” You ask your sister. It was Christmas Eve and you were sitting at the dining table with a large pumpkin parked in front of you. Your younger sister was sitting next to you, tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on carving her pumpkin.

“Because you weren’t home for Halloween,” your sister responds, not taking her eyes off her pumpkin.

“Halloween was three months ago, Mye. It’s Christmas Eve, shouldn’t we be helping Mama in the kitchen?”

“We are!” Myeong refutes. “We’re making decorations!”

You throw Myeong a pointed look. “Carving pumpkins? For Christmas decorations?”

Myeong scowls. “No need to be such a grinch, Y/N. Sorry I missed carving pumpkins with you.”

You sigh and place down your scalp. “I missed carving pumpkins with you too, Myeong.”

Your younger sister turns to you, her eyes soft and wide. She reminds you of a baby deer. “Really?”

You nod your head and Myeong breaks out into a grin, throwing her arms around you and hugging you tightly. “It feels so lonely at home without you, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re back home for winter break.”

You hug your sister back tighter. “Me too. I missed you and Mama a lot. Especially her food. I mostly eat ramen and toast.”

Your sister giggles and draws out of the hug and starts to carve her pumpkin again. “What is college like, Y/N? Have you made any friends?’ Myeong wiggles her eyebrows, “Have you gotten a boyfriend?”

You snort. “A boyfriend?” You try to ignore your cheeks heating up. “Are you crazy, Myeong? I have no time for a boyfriend. I did make some friends, though.”

“Oh yes, that Wonyoung Jang girl?”

“How do you know about her?”

“You posted her on your Instagram story a couple of times, Y/N,” your sister deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, right. But yeah, Wonyoung’s my friend. And all her friends are my friends as well.” You don’t know why your chest swells with pride when you mention your friends. “I have a large friend group, Mye.”

Myeong smiles. She looks genuinely happy for you. “I’m glad, Y/N.”

You turn back to your pumpkin and continue to carve in silence. Your mother was in the kitchen, humming away to whatever song was on the radio as she baked some Christmas cookies. The warm cheer of Christmas wraps you up warmly. You were happy to be back home with your mother and sister, carving a pumpkin while your mother made cookies a few feet away. You were afraid leaving for college would change everything, but it had changed nothing.

“But, seriously Y/N,” Myeong breaks the silence, “you have had to at least kiss a guy at one of the parties you went to with Wonyoung!”

“Well, I did,” You drop your voice and lean in closer. “Lose my virginity.”

Myeong gasps loudly, your mother looking up from where she was placing cookie dough on a tray. “Everything okay, girls?”

“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look at Myeong who was staring at you, completely taken by surprise at your confession.

“Really?”

You nod your head.

“What was it like?”

You blush and bury your head in your hands. “Myeong -- why -- why would you ask me that?”

Myeong shrugs. “Curiosity.”

“It was fine,” you grumble. “It was just a hook-up, though, and I haven’t had sex since then.”

Myeong pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m just choosing to be safe. College parties are swarming with STDs.” Your phone begins to ring loudly, cutting off your mother’s humming and Myeong’s words. You steal a glance at who was calling you -- Jake’s contact name fills your screen and you can’t control the large smile that graces your face.

“I’ll be back,” you tell Myeong. “I have to take this.” Grabbing your phone, you exit the dining room and start up the stairs to your room. “Hey,” you greet Jake, pressing your phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

“Y/N, hey,” Jake’s voice is soft as he talks. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good. What about you?”

Jake sighs. “Well, I would like to leave, but I promised my mom and dad that I would stay for their Christmas dinner and I like to keep my promises, so.” If Jake were standing in front of you now, he would end his sentence with a shrug. Instead, he punctuates this sentence with another sigh.

“That sucks,” you murmur, shutting your bedroom door, and resting against it. “What is so awful about this Christmas dinner anyway?”

“It’s not really a Christmas dinner,” Jake explains. “It’s a business dinner, under the guise of a company Christmas dinner. My dad’s investors bring their families to our house for this Christmas dinner, but all they do is talk business while their wives make small talk and the kids sit at the table and eat in silence. Jay used to come, but his father wised up and decided to go on vacation during Christmas, which upset my father for a few years.”

“That is awful.”

“But it’s only for one night,” Jake sounds defeated. “What about you? What do you do for Christmas?”

“Not a lot,” you tell Jake. And it was true -- your family didn’t do a lot for Christmas. You all woke up quite late on Christmas since you and Myeong were no longer kids and the thrill of opening presents was slowly wearing off. Your mother made some pancakes for breakfast, and then the three of you headed down to afternoon mass. You weren’t religious, but your mother liked going so you and your sister accompanied her. You know how often your mother used to pray back when you were younger and she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her family afloat.

After mass, you would stop by a few shops to just pick up extra miscellaneous items. Then your mother would begin Christmas dinner prep and your relatives from your mother’s side would start turning up as soon as it hits 4 PM. They usually stay as late as midnight.

“That sounds….a lot more fun than my Christmas,” Jake laughs softly.

“It is fun,” you reply, laying down on your bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Myeong stuck on your ceiling years ago. “After dessert, we all watch The Santa Clause trilogy.”

“I remember you telling me about that,” Jake hums. “I’ve never seen those movies, what are they about?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything, Jake,” you tease. “We’ll just have to watch them together at some point.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Y/N,” Jake’s tone was just as teasing. “I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I called. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went insane inside this house.”

“Call me whenever Jake. I’ll always pick up.”

“Okay, I will. Talk later, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jake.”

—-

It was a little past eight when Jake calls you again. It’s Christmas, and you’re sitting at the dining table with your relatives. Dinner was served a couple of hours ago, but the conversation at the table was too good for anybody to think about cleaning up the mess displayed in front of you.

Your Uncle and Aunts were still helping themselves to the last bits of your mom’s lasagna. Dessert still had to be served, and your mother was looking for a way out of the conversation she was having with your grandmother.

Your phone cuts through the conversation you were having with your cousin.

“Who’s calling you, Y/N?” Your cousin, Lila, asks, trying to take a peek at your phone.

“Oh, it’s no one. I’ll be right back,” you sneak out of the dining hall and down to your bedroom. “Jake, hey.”

“Y/N, sorry if I disturbed you from your movie watching,” Jake greets.

“No, we’re still eating,” you assure Jake. “What’s up?”

“I-- I was wondering -- ah fuck, I don’t know how to ask this,” Jake admits.

“Just ask,” you encourage. “It’s okay, Jake. It’s just me.”

“Do you think I could come over? To your house?”

“Oh, Jake.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes. I’m sorry for asking, I just can’t be here. I just can’t do it. No one else would pick up. I’m sorry for asking, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Jake. And you’re more than welcome to come over. My mama feeds all my friends that set foot in this house. I’ll send you my address.” Your heart hurts for Jake. You can’t imagine how awful it must be for Jake to be in a house that doesn’t feel like home.

“Thank you, Y/N. Really.”

“Don’t mention it. Just arrive safely, ok? And text me when you’re leaving.”

“Okay. See you soon, Y/N.” The line goes dead before you can respond. You share your location with Jake, and pocket your phone, padding back downstairs to the dining room. Your mother had finally been able to leave the conversation with your grandmother and was now in the kitchen, dumping empty plates in the sink and fixing dessert onto fresh, clean, plates.

“Mama,” you step into the kitchen, keeping your voice low. “My friend from college is coming over. I hope that’s okay, he needed -- he needed to get away from his family for a while.”

“What’s his name?” Your mother asks, looking up from where she was plating the Christmas cookies she had made while you were carving the pumpkins.

“Jake Sim. He’s…my friend.”

“Jake Sim? Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations?”

You smile wanly. “They’re his parents, mama.”

“Then, he’s more than welcome inside my house, Y/N. I went to school with his parents, I know how tough they can be.” Your mother shakes her head. “They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

“You knew them?” You ask, surprised.

“Of course, I know them, Y/N. Everyone knew everybody back then. Should I set out a plate for him at the table?”

You look at the already crowded table. Myeong laughs loudly with one of your aunts. “Do we even have room for another chair?”

“We can make room,” your mother answers with a sly smile. “Do you know if he’s had dinner yet? Because I don’t want to just serve him dessert while he’s here.”

“Uh, I’ll ask him when he gets here.” Your phone dings with a text. You had two unread texts, both from Jake. One was sent eight minutes ago, telling you he’s left. The most recent one was Jake telling you he’d just parked. You wonder how close Jake lived if he was only an eight-minute drive away.

“He’s here,” you tell your mom, just as there’s a knock at the door.

“Go answer, I’ll make some room.”

You nod your head and turn away, eyes widening as Myeong rises from her chair. “I’ll get it!” You shriek, dashing out of the kitchen and down to the door. You throw the door open and your eyes widen at the sight of Jake.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake grins.

“Jake -- your -- your hair.”

It was black. His hair was black. You struggle to organize your thoughts as your eyes drag down the rest of his body. Jake was clearly dressed up for some formal event. He was wearing blue jeans with a white buttoned-up blouse tucked in, accentuating his waist, and a navy blue blazer.

“Decided to go back to black,” Jake answers with a grin. “Maintaining my blonde hair was tiring.” He peers over your shoulder. “Can I come in? Or did your mother --”

You shush Jake and step onto the porch, letting the front door fall shut. “No, you’re welcome in. I just -- I told them we were friends. They don’t know we’re….y’know? It just -- it just gets tiring lying all the time, and I don’t like lying to my mama and Myeong and --”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off. “I think it’ll be nice to not have to act like we’re dating for once.”

“Okay,” you smile relieved. “My mama knew your parents in college.”

“Really?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, she was more than willing to let you spend Christmas with us.”

“I already love your mom.”

“Alright, come on in, Prince Charming. Ready to meet my family?”

Jake adjusts his blazer and you have to pretend like your heart didn’t speed up. “I was born ready,” and for the final kill, he runs a hand through his hair. You almost faint on the spot. Since when was Jake this attractive to you? I mean, obviously, he was handsome, but you’ve never felt your heart palpitate like this before.

You’ve never seen your family so still and silent the moment you step into their line of sight with Jake. “Is that your boyfriend, Y/N?” One of your cousins teases you, earning a couple of snickers from your other cousins.

“Uh, no. This is Jake Sim. He’s my -- my friend from college. His parents are overseas at the moment, so I invited him over for dinner. Sorry he’s late, you know how assessments get during winter break.”

“He’s very handsome, Y/N. Are you sure you’re just friends?” One of your aunts asks, out of pure curiosity.

You flush bright red. “Aunty!”

“It was just an innocent question, dear,” your uncle, and her husband, defends. “Come join us, Jake. Have you had dinner yet?”

Jake smiles politely, taking a seat in the new chair that was beside yours. You steal a glance at your mother who smiles back smugly. “I have had dinner,” Jake responds. “My mom bought me some samgyeopsal before she left.” He plays along with the cover story you made up for him.

“Oh no, samgyeopsal won’t do you any good, honey,” your mother cuts in. “Do you like lasagna?”

“I love lasagna,” Jake responds, his eyes twinkling.

Your mother hpmhs, “You should have some of my lasagna. My lasagna is the best lasagna in all of America.”

“Too bad Aunt Yeeun ate it all,” snickers your cousin, Daisy.

“Too bad, indeed,” your mother says, glaring at her older sister.

Yeeun pokes out her tongue in retaliation, and the whole table dissolves into laughter. You glance at Jake, who stares back and smiles, his foot nudging yours beneath the table. “It’s okay, Mrs. L/N. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Call me Areum, honey,” your mother says, flushing. “And are you sure? I’m sure I could find something that wasn’t eaten by my good-for-nothing siblings.”

Grumbles are heard but your mother pays no attention to them. “If I can’t find anything, then I’ll have to serve you dessert. Will you be okay with eating my Christmas cookies? They won Y/N’s middle school’s Christmas fair baking competition three years in a row. However, when Myeong brought them to the fair, they decided that darn Dana’s cookies were better. I’m pretty sure the judges were being biased. Or racist --”

“I’m hungry,” Myeong interrupts, whining. “Fuss over Jake later! Let’s go serve everyone dessert now!” Myeong leaps out of her chair, sending you a look, before tugging on Areum’s arm. “Come on, mama! Jake can decide for himself if he wants to eat or not.”

Your mother sighs. “Alright. I’ll be back with dessert.”

The table launches into conversations with your mother gone, bombarding Jake with questions to which he answers all with ease. Beside you, Lila nudges you. “Was he the one who called you?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.”

Lila smirks. “Just friends, huh?”

You groan and kick her shin beneath the table. “Shut the fuck up.”

—-

The rest of dinner is spent happily. Jake easily converses with your relatives, and it seems like he gets along well with all of them. You hate the way your heart flutters at that thought. As Jake had said, it was almost like he was born to please your relatives, based on the way they smile whenever Jake responds to them with great enthusiasm.

Even your younger cousins enjoy Jake’s presence. He distracts them as the adults clean up and get ready for the movie marathon with pictures of his dog, Layla. He also plays them a couple of videos which gets your entire family cooing over the dog.

You sit in the corner of the living room, with a slight frown on your face. The older cousins were all hanging out together, thankful someone else was willingly distracting the younger ones. “Why the frown, Y/N?” Myeon asks you, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” you answer, schooling your expression into a neutral one.

“Jake Sim, he’s the son of that one CEO, right? Sim Corporations, or something?” One of your cousins, Daniel, asks.

“Yeah,” you nod your head.

“Damn,” whistles Daniel, “through Jake, you basically have connections to the entire corporate world, Y/N.”

“Good thing I’m not a business major,” you retort.

“But I will be next year,” Daniel responds. “Do you think --”

“If you want to use Jakes’s connections, you have to get buddy-buddy with him, Daniel. I’m not your lapdog.”

Daniel huffs. “Fine, loser.”

You grip the armchair pillow and whack Daniel with it. “I’m not a loser, freak.”

“Alright,” your uncle claps his hands loudly, “let’s get this marathon on the road! Adults, help yourself to some eggnog, minors, there’s some soda and juices for you. And yes, Daniel, we got you your gross dill pickle chips.”

Chaos descends as everyone fights for the best seats, the best drinks, and the best snacks. You’re content with staying in the armchair in the corner of the living room. It didn’t really give you the best view of the television, but you’ve seen these movies hundreds of times. You could practically recite every line of all three movies by heart.

Jake approaches you, holding two glasses of cola.

“Hey,” Jake greets, handing you one glass. “I feel like we haven’t had time to talk.”

“It seems my family is smitten with you, Jake.”

“I do seem to have that effect on everyone I meet,” Jake hums in agreement.

“Come on, let’s cuddle,” you say, pulling Jake onto the chair. “Unless you want to move closer. I know you wanted to watch these movies.”

“It’s okay,” Jake waves you off, “there’s always another Christmas to watch them with you.”

You ignore how your heart explodes, painting your body a lovesick pink.

After a lot of adjustments, you end up with your back pressed against the arm of the armchair, and your legs thrown over Jake’s lap. The first fifteen minutes of the movie had already gone by by the time you and Jake pay attention and instead of trying to catch Jake up, you ask him about his own Christmas dinner.

Jake told you it was the same Christmas dinner he’d been going to for twenty years, but it was the first time his older brother wasn’t there and Jake couldn’t handle not having his brother around, so he left.

“Thank you for having me,” Jake whispers.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you respond.

“How could I not?” Jake’s eyes were wide, “You have a trusting face.”

“Oh, so you’re friends with me for my face?” You scowl.

Jake muffles his giggles. “Yes.”

You huff and look away from Jake to watch Scott and Carol lean in to kiss beneath a mistletoe.

“Y/N,” Jake whispers. “I like you for your face and your heart.”

“Really?”

Jake nods. “Really.”

“Well, I like you for your money and your connections to the corporate world.”

“You don’t even major in business!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Y/N,” Jake gives you a pointed look and you sigh.

“Fine. I don’t like you because of your money or your connections, I like you because of your face and your heart.”

“Would you ever want to get married?”

You stare at Jake, shocked by the sudden change of topic. “What? Where did this come from, Jake?”

“My parents brought up marriage when they talked about our relationship. They said we shouldn’t date if we aren’t thinking about marriage.”

“Well, I mean,” you sigh, “if you ask nicely, then I’ll probably say yes.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Jake coughs loudly. You get stares from your sister and a few of your cousins, but you ignore them. “You -- you would want to marry me?”

“I mean --” you blink, confused. “That’s what we were talking about, right?”

“I was -- I was just asking if you want to get married. In general. Not to me.”

“Oh.” Your face flushes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jake intertwines your hands together and squeezes three times. “You’re cute when you make mistakes.”

“Shut up,” you groan.

Jake laughs softly, his eyes shining with adoration.

—-

“Do you think I could stay the night?” Jake asks you after he finishes saying goodbye to all of your relatives. The goodbyes took longer than usual because everyone was clamoring to talk to Jake. You didn’t understand all the fuss over Jake.

“Stay -- stay the night?”

“Or not. It’s okay, Y/N.”

“No --”

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, sweetheart,” your mother cuts. “You’ll just have to share a bed with Y/N, our guest room is a bit.. preoccupied. I’ve been cleaning out the attic.”

Jake looks over at you. “I’m okay with sharing a bed. Are you? If not, I can sleep on the floor or just go home.”

You eye your mom carefully. She’s never been this open and welcoming to a boy staying the night. In your bed. “Yeah…I’m fine with it.”

“Y/N and Jake sharing a bed!” Myeong sings in a teasing voice as she bounces up the stairs. “I’ll make sure to turn on my white noise!” Both you and Jake flush a deep red while your mother scolds Myeong for her words.

“I’ll go find you some clothes, Jake,” your mother smiles warmly at the boy beside you and disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with Jake.

“Won’t your parents be concerned about your whereabouts?” You ask Jake, leading him into the kitchen.

“I told them I was at Sunghoon’s,” Jake answers, leaning against the counter as you fill two glasses with water. He gratefully takes one of the glasses and drinks it all within seconds. “They won’t really be worried that much. They’ve never been the kind of parents to worry.”

You give Jake a gentle look and take the empty glass from him, rinsing it and making room for it in the dishwasher. “Your family is very fun,” Jake says, “they all…love each other.”

“I guess they’re fun. They can be a bit annoying and frustrating at times.”

“But you love them, though.”

“They loved you tonight, Jake.” You tell him, sensing the underlying tone of Jake’s words. You reach out to take his hand into yours as you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re probably welcome to all family gatherings in the future.”

“Really?” Jake asks in slight disbelief.

“Would I lie to you, Jake? Everyone loved you tonight.”

In the darkness of the living room, standing in silence, you can feel Jake. Jake is all over you. You feel as though you’re one with Jake, and everything you think, Jake is also thinking. You feel and hear every inhale and exhale of Jake’s.

With his other hand, Jake cups your cheek, and you immediately sink into the feeling. “Y/N,” it’s like Jake is feeling the same as you. He doesn’t dare to raise his voice. “I --”

“Jake, would you like to take a shower?” Your mother stands at the top of the stairs.

You rip yourself away from Jake, clenching and unclenching your hand as your mind races. “Oh, yes, that would be nice, Areum.”

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Areum smiles and turns back around, heading for the linen closet.

Jake turns to you. “Y/N --”

“You should go take a shower, Jake.”

Jake hesitates.

“I’ll see you in my room.” You don’t think you’ll be able to handle talking to Jake alone for the rest of the night. You climb the stairs with speed, leaving Jake in the dust. Reaching your room, you pull out your phone and fire a text to Wonyoung, your heart speeding, finally realizing why yourheart races around Jake.

By the time Jake finishes his shower and stands in the doorway of your room, you’re changed and separating the bed in two halves with pillows you stole from your mom. “What are you doing?” Jake asks you, drying his hair with a yellow towel.

“When we’re sleeping, we need to stay to our sides. We can’t cross the pillow line,” you explain to Jake, slipping beneath the covers on your side.

“Why do we need halves all of a sudden?” Jake asks, throwing his towel over your desk chair. “We’ve never had halves like this when we’ve laid in bed together.”

Your face flushes. “That’s -- that’s different.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Is it?”

You scowl. “My house, my bedroom, my rules.”

Jake climbs into bed, making sure to keep to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Jake gives you a sweet smile that disarms you completely.

“Fuck it,” you groan. You grab the pillows -- that had taken a lot of time to set up -- and you throw them to the ground. “I do like to cuddle things when I sleep, Jake. And since I removed my plushies for you to fit, I guess you could be a good substitute.”

Jake grins with a glint in his eyes that tells you he doesn’t believe your bluff. He opens his arms and you immediately curl up to his chest, your ear pressed to his chest, and there, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s beating rapidly and you allow your delusions to take over.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jake says, his voice close to your ear.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you mumble back.

—-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask Jake nervously as you sit in his car. A week after winter break ended, Jake had told you his parents wanted to meet you, and no matter how desperately you wanted to say no, you agreed to join Jake for dinner this weekend. You’re parked outside his parents’ house. It’s tall, and spiraling, and reminds you just how rich Jake was. You’re fretting over your look as if Jake hasn’t already complimented you a thousand times tonight.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” And, as always, Jake’s words of affection make you blush.

“Alright,” you say, “let’s do this.”

Jake nods and squeezes your hand before letting go.

“Remember,” Jake says in a low voice as you walk up to the front door, gravel crunching beneath the uncomfortable high-heels Wonyoung shoved you into, “we can leave. Whenever you want. We don’t have to stick around for the entire night, I’ll make up an excuse if you want to leave, okay?”

You kiss Jake’s cheek in lieu of a response.

Jake doesn’t bother to knock on the door, he just pushes it open. A multitude of shoes sit in the foyer, and you turn to Jake who is helping you take off your coat. “How big is this family dinner, exactly?”

Jake gives you a sheepish smile. “My parents, uncles and aunts, and cousins. I don’t know if Jaehyun will be here though.”

You can’t help but feel sorely underprepared for this. Why didn’t Jake let you know beforehand that you would be meeting his entire family? Your stomach rolls over at the thought, and you feel nausea wash over you. An uncomfortable itch appears in your throat -- no cough or clearing of a throat removes that itch as you walk from the foyer to the dining room where your demise awaits.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” You mumble to Jake, half anxious, half annoyed.

“It slipped my mind,” Jake murmurs back and you withhold a scoff.

You can’t help but feel intimidated as you enter the dining hall, gripping Jake’s hand tightly. His aunts, uncles, cousins, and parents mill about the room, talking and laughing forcefully with each other. The atmosphere doesn’t at all feel comfortable. It’s a weird atmosphere, it feels tense and taut.

Hyunjae is the first to spot Jake. He breaks out into a grin and approaches Jake, a girl with dyed red hair follows behind, her eyes glued to her phone as she frowns. Next to you, Jake inhales sharply and his shoulders roll back like he’s prepared for an attack.

“Jake,” Hyunjae greets, the smile not slipping from his face. He looks at you and his smile only grows. “Y/N. What a pleasure to see you both here.”

“The same can’t be said for you,” Jake responds, his voice tight.

The red-headed girl finally looks up, pocketing her phone and taking a sip of her champagne. “Jake,” her voice is soft, tinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen more perfect eyes, nose, and mouth on someone before. “Who are you?” She asks, out of pure curiosity. Her eyes shine and you try to search for some kind of double meaning.

“Y/N L/N,” you answer, feeling your heart tremble beneath the eyes pinned to your face. “Who are you?”

The girl laughs. It’s high and tinkling, like her voice. “I’m Francesa Choi, nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Jake’s ex-girlfriend.

“Jaeyun?” A voice calls out. You watch as an intimidating woman walks over to the group. Her eyes are piercing, and her hair is black as the night. It doesn’t take much for you to realize this woman is Jake’s mother. Lagging behind her is Jake’s father. Pepper hair, creased lines on his forehead, and a frown. You wonder how Jake is able to be who he is with parents like these.

“This must be the Y/N you talk highly of,” her eyes darted to you, and then back at Jake, like you weren’t worth her time. You try to pry your hand from Jake’s, but he only tightens his grip further. You're sure he’s cutting off blood to your hand.

Jake’s father watches you silently. He doesn’t say anything, remaining behind his wife as she does all the talking; all the commanding.

“Are you going to introduce us to her?”

Jake clears his throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Y/N L/N, Y/N, this is my mom and dad.”

Your mother’s words echo around your head. “Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations? I know how tough they can be. They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

Jake’s mother -- Hana -- gives you a short nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I hope I get to know you well tonight.”

Not I hope we get to know each other well. You learn something about Hana Sim very early on. She’s the authorization figure of the Sim household. She expects you to tell her everything about you, and you get nothing in return.

Dinner is served, and with Jake to your left and his ex-girlfriend to your right, your nerves skyrocket. Jake’s ex-girlfriend is pretty -- she even smells pretty. No wonder Jake dated her. As the conversation is passed around the table, you also learn Francesa Choi is smart. She’s pretty, smart, and confident. It’s clear, by the way Hana praises and smiles at Francesa, that she’s thoroughly beguiled by the girl.

When Hana Sims speaks to you, though, it’s dull. Hana appears to look bored as she decides to make conversation with you, and for the first time that night, the table falls silent. Every Sim wants to know about you, apparently.

“How did you meet my son, Y/N?” Hana asks, picking up her wine glass.

“I told you how we met --”

“I want to hear her talk, Jaeyun,” Hana cuts off her son.

“We meet at a party,” you respond, hands curling on your lap beneath the table. Your nails dig into your palms to keep you grounded. “It was love at first sight.”

Any normal family would coo over love at first sight, but the Sim family only shares looks. Looks that are clearly laced with judgment. Beside you, Jake offers no help. He doesn’t even reach out to rest his hand on your thigh. You feel alone.

“Love at first sight?” Hana muses. “So, you love my son?”

It takes a lot of effort for you to breathe. Your chest feels heavy like there’s something crushing it. You steal a glance at Jake and he doesn’t look back, content with admiring his plate of food in front of him. Your heart pangs.

“Yes,” you say, willing the nerves out of your voice. “I love Jake.”

Hana doesn’t look impressed. “You’ve only been dating for a month.” That’s not a question -- it’s a statement. “How could you fall in love that fast?”

“He’s easy to love,” your response is almost instantaneous, your mouth working faster than your brain. Your response is honest. In a way. And that shocks and scares you.

Hana still doesn’t look impressed. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Y/N. What’s your major?”

“I’m Majoring in Linguistics. This is my first year.” Your nails dig deeper into your palms and Jake continues to offer no support.

“So you’re…eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Eighteen.”

Hana nods, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip. The silence is suffocating. Just how nosey and judgmental was the Sim family?

“And your family?” Hana asks, “Any siblings?”

“I have a younger sister, Myeong.”

“And your parents?”

“My dad passed away when I was three, so it’s just been my mom, me, and Myeong for as long as I can remember.”

Hana’s eyes narrow. You gulp and your heart hammers away in your chest. You feel a bad omen circling the air. Whatever is said next will either be your downfall or finally impress Hana.

“Did your mom ever get remarried?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Words tumble out of Hana’s mouth, and it sounds like Korean. The ground gives out beneath your feet and your heart drops out of your body. You don’t know Korean. Your mother never had the time to teach you, and she slowly lost her mother tongue. Your father died when you were young. You grew up feeling isolated, not really understanding where you fit in; you were Korean, but you didn’t speak Korean, and you’ve never been to Korea. But you had an American citizenship, so you were American, except you didn’t look American.

“I -- I don’t know Korean,” the words tumble out of your mouth -- the words were the bad omen you felt in the air moments ago.

If possible, the silence is louder than before.

“You’re Korean,” Hana states, her voice a foreign emotion.

“My mom and dad were first-generation immigrants,” you answer, your nails beginning to cut into your palm. “But my dad died before he could teach me, and my mom was always busy with work.”

“Have you ever visited Korea?”

“No,” you respond, Hana’s eyes cutting into your bones.

“I pity you,” Hana says, her words sharp like claws. Her eyes dart to Jake, and this time her words sting. “I thought I taught you better.”

Jake’s silence stings even more.

You were able to excuse yourself to the bathroom after dinner. You grip the edge of the sink and squeeze your eyes shut tightly, suddenly longing for the embrace of your mother. Hana’s words, her eyes -- her everything has you a shuddering mess. Who knew someone could make simple words sound so cruel?

The door swings open and Francesa steps in. She smiles and steps up to the sink next to you, pulling out some lip glass from her handbag. You watch her as she applies another layer onto her lips.

“That was a hard conversation to listen to,” Francesa says, her eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

“Yeah,” you mumble, not really in the mood to talk.

“It takes a lot to impress Hana.”

“Clearly.”

Francesa pats your shoulder. “I’m sure you will find something to impress Hana with.” You don’t know why but it sounds so condescending. “But I’m not surprised to see Jake hasn’t changed.” Francesa laughs to herself, finding something funny.

“What are you laughing about?” You ask Francesa.

“When we were dating, I was exactly like you when meeting his family. He threw you in the deep end, didn’t he? Told you were meeting his parents, but actually took you to a family dinner? And when his mother was grilling me, he was silent -- just like tonight.” Francesa sighs, turning to you. “He doesn’t have the guts to talk back to his parents. His older brother did, and that’s why he’s not at family dinners anymore.”

“I just..” Francesa trails off. “I just hoped tonight would be different, you know? You and Jake…you guys look happy and in love and I just thought that this would be the night where Jake finally speaks up and does something about the way his mother treats people.”

Francesa shakes her head, giving you a small smile. “It’s a shame your love couldn’t change that.”

“Why would I need to change Jake?” You ask, frowning.

“Oh, Y/N.” Francesa sighs. “Whenever I would come for a family dinner, Jake would sit in silence and let Hana pick at me, probing me to reveal personal secrets and shame me for them. She wanted to mold me into the perfect wife for Jake. Whatever flaw I had, Hana would take it and cut it up into a thousand more flaws, throw it back at me, and tell me I had to fix them all or else I would never be good enough for her son. Dating Jake made me hate myself, and him, so we broke up.”

“You cheated on him, though.”

“I did,” Francesa agrees easily.

“Why?”

“Hyunjae’s nothing like Jake.”

The drive home is silent. Jake attempts to speak, but after his fifth try, he stops. Your mind was a mess, recounting Hana’s sharp words, and Francesa’s story. Everything was a mess and you felt as if you never really knew Jake.

“Y/N,” Jake tries again.

You’re sitting in his car, outside your dorm. You don’t move to leave the car. You should probably confront the tense air before it gets worse the longer you continue to ignore it. You turn to Jake, trying to keep your emotions under lock.

“Jake,” you respond. “I think we need some space. Just for a few days.”

Jake looks confused. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is filled with rage you didn’t know you had. Watching Jake shift away, regret fills you. “Sorry, Jake. Sorry.” You look away, out the front window, and this time the tears come without warning. When you look back at Jake, you’re crying silently, the hurt inflicted by Hana filling up the space where your heart used to sit.

“If you can’t tell your mother to shut the fuck up and stop prying into my personal life, then we can’t be friends, Jake. Your silence really hurt me tonight.”

Jake’s mouth opens and closes. He doesn’t know what to say, and for some reason, that hurts you.

“You didn’t -- you didn’t even offer support, like a hand on my thigh, or a hand to hold. You left me -- you left me alone tonight, Jake.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, but he doesn’t even look like he means it. He’s still confused.

“Just -- just don’t talk to me for a couple of days. Unless we need to act like a couple for some stupid event.”

“Y/N --”

You smile sadly at Jake. “Jake, you’re meant to be in love with me. Your silence at dinner told a different story.”

You climb out of the car, close the passenger door, and walk away from Jake.

—-

Three days. You haven’t spoken to Jake in three days. You’ve kept yourself distracted by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends and actually completing your assignments before the deadline, and handing them in once the submissions open.

Deciding to give yourself a break, you take this chance to check your phone. Youngeun had sent you something on Instagram, and so you pause the game you were playing with Rei and check Youngeun’s messages. She had sent you someone’s story. Clicking on it, you watch the story and your stomach turns over. It was Jake with Francesa.

Normally, you aren’t one for presumptions and letting miscommunication get in between your relationships with those close to you, but when it comes to Jake, you can’t help but get insecure. He’s rich, he’s popular, he’s handsome. He can have anyone he wants, and yet there you were, faking dating him. And yet, there you were, falling in love with him.

Love. That word strikes you across your face. Love. Since when were you in love with Jake?

You recall the sudden development you felt over Winter break; you like Jake. And not in a fake way. You truly like Jake and it’s messing with your brain. You can’t handle Jake’s gentle touches and kind words, and you can’t handle his kisses and flirtatious remarks. This fake relationship is driving you insane and soon you feel like you’ll snap. You fear what the consequences would be when that day comes.

But when did love come into play?

The overwhelming emotions of love and like terrorize you. You click off the story where Francesa and Jake were sharing giggles and you leave Youngeun on seen. Nausea washes over you. Maybe this temporary space needs to be a permanent space.

You excuse yourself from your group of friends and walk back to your dorm. The chilly wind whips through the air and seeps through your hoodie, chilling you to the bone. Maybe you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, maybe you need to give Jake the chance to explain himself. Maybe you were just overreacting. Yes, Jake had let his mother embarrass you in front of his relatives, but that shouldn’t define who he is as a person. Right? Yes, Jake was hanging out with his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him, but nothing is happening between them. Right?

Your head begins to spin.

You stumble into the dorm and crash into Ricky. “Y/N!” The platinum blond exclaims, “I was just looking for you. Someone is here to see you.”

Immediately, you think of Jake. Has Jake finally realized what he did wrong three nights ago? Has Jake realized he loves you the way you love him? “Really?”

Ricky nods his head. “They’re in the common space.”

“Thanks Ricky,” you brush past the boy and with eager footsteps, you step into the common space -- only to falter.

Jake’s mother stands in the center of the room. Your heart stops and your breath catches.

“Mrs. Sim?”

The raven-haired woman turns at the sound of you calling her. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N,” she steps over to you. “Nice to see you again.” You knew these were false pleasantries. “How is college going?”

“It’s going well,” you respond stiffly. “Jake isn’t with me.”

Mrs. Sim chuckles. “Oh, I’m not here for my son.” Her eyes pin you to the spot. “I’m here to see you, Y/N. I value my son’s partners highly, and I think we should have a talk.” She gestures to the couch behind you. “Shall we sit?”

Hesitantly, you sit on the couch. Mrs. Sim relaxes in the spot next to you, and she pulls a white envelope out of her handbag and passes it over to you. “Y/N, I’ll be honest. I don’t think you’re right for my son.”

“What?” You draw your eyes away from the white envelope you were holding. “I’m not…right?”

“Korean heritage is valued highly in our family --”

“I’m Korean, Mrs. Sim.”

“But you cannot speak Korean.”

“But I can learn!” You refute.

Mrs. Sim raises her hand, silencing you. “There is more, of course. I just simply don’t think you and Jake will last. I am only saving you from heartbreak.”

“Mrs. Sim, I’m sorry but you don’t get to --”

“You feel as though you don’t belong in Jake’s world, Y/N. Am I correct?” Mrs. Sim’s eyes are narrowed as she addresses you, her voice one that commands to be listened to.

That is something you can’t refute. It’s something that had been bubbling up within you ever since that dinner -- ever since you realized just how rich Jake was. He lived and existed in a higher society you will never understand. In a society you can only dream of existing within. You don’t get the rules, and you don’t understand how to present yourself in that rich society Jake is ingrained in. You feel so out of place, and you’ve only attended a family dinner.

“With time, I think I can feel comfortable --”

“Y/N. You are not fit for my son. You should break up with him.”

You scoff. “What makes you think I would break up with Jake? I love him.”

Mrs. Sim sighs. “But does he love you? At dinner, it didn’t seem like he did. My son was more than happy to let you embarrass yourself.”

“Embarrass myself? That was -- that was your fault--”

“In that envelope is money. You should open it.”

You open it. It’s a check. Your eyes widen at the amount of money scrolled on the check. “What--what’s this for?”

“Break up with Jake and that money is yours.”

“I don’t -- I don’t want your money.” You throw the envelope on the ground. “I’m not cheap, Mrs. Sim.”

Mrs. Sim stands from the couch and brushes off her dress. “I have said what I wanted to say. I can only hope you listen to me, Y/N, and realize that you will never be the one for Jake, no matter what he says, or what you tell yourself.”

“Jake is his own person. He is twenty. He can make decisions for himself. Why are you still controlling him?”

Mrs. Sim glances over her shoulder. “My son is still green when it comes to the world. He does not know what is best for him because I sheltered him from the real world growing up.”

“He can make decisions for himself,” you repeat.

Mrs. Sim walks away.

A few hours later, with help of Wonyoung’s stalking skills and social connections, you find yourself back on Greek Row, and outside a frat house that was famous across campus because of their end-of-exams parties. Jake was at this party tonight with the rest of Enhypen.

Wonyoung was already chatting up some older college student and you head inside the frat yourself. It was already packed, horny and sweaty bodies pushing up against each other, and the smell of weed hangs suspended in the air. You start looking for Jake, and you immediately head for the back porch. You don’t find Jake there, however you find Sunghoon and Heeseung setting up a new game of beer pong. “Sunghoon! Heeseung!” You call out, rushing toward them. “Where’s Jake?”

Sunghoon beams at you. “Y/N! Hey! Jake took Sunoo to the bathroom. He’s wasted.”

“Awesome! Thanks!” You dash back into the house and climb the stairs, hoping there was a bathroom on the second floor of this frat. Pushing open every door, you only find bedrooms with two, or three people, making out on the beds. With apology after apology, your search for Jake and Sunoo and a bathroom is futile.

Then, a door at the end of the hall opens and out spills Jake and Sunoo. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s in excitement or nervousness for what’s about to happen. “Jake!” You shout.

Jake perks up hearing your voice, and his lips break out into a massive grin. He abandons Sunoo’s side and rushes up to you, wrapping you in a warm hug. He sloppily kisses your cheek. “Y/N!” He was tipsy. “I missed you so much.” He holds you tighter and nuzzles his face in your neck.

This was going to be hard.

“Jake,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”

—-

You and Jake were sitting at a bus shelter near the frat house throwing the party. Your leg shakes as you work up the courage to end the fake relationship you have with Jake. You don’t know why you were hesitating all of a sudden. Why were you afraid of ending this relationship with Jake?

“Jake,” you start softly. “I think -- I think.” You inhale. You can do this. You can spit it out. “I think we should end the fake relationship.”

“Huh?” Jake tilts his head to the side. He really is a puppy.

“Jake. We need to break up. Or whatever.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Break up? Why?”

This was the hard part. You’ve never dated someone so you’ve never experienced a break up before. How were you supposed to do this? How were you supposed to tell Jake to never contact you again because you don't fit in his world? You don’t fit beside him?

“I’m calling this whole agreement off,” you rephrase. You aren’t sure if this is an actual break up if you were never in a real relationship in the first place.

“Why?” Jake asks, and he looks sober. “We don’t have that much longer left.”

“I just feel like I did what you needed me to do. I stayed your girlfriend long enough to meet your parents. Now, it just feels pointless to keep this whole agreement going. I’ll transfer you back the money, and you can stop driving me around everywhere.”

“Y/N,” Jake says gently. He reaches for your hand and you retract it, dismissing the hurt on his face.

The thing about love; you don’t understand it. You’ve never understood love because you’ve never been in love. It’s confusing and tricky. Why does your heart beat a certain way around Jake, and not anybody else? You love your friends, sure, but it’s a different love to the one you feel with Jake. Love is weird, and confusing, and tricky, and unforgiving. You feel naive at the hands of love because it makes everything you thought you understood, more complex and hard to understand.

You used to know the difference between like and love and now you’re not so sure anymore.

You used to find love confusing, but now it’s complex with more instructions written in the fine print you never read in the first place. When your heart begins to beat a different tune, everything in you changes; how you behave, how you talk, how you dress, and how you look. Love changes you. For better or for worse.

“Jake, I don’t think we should stay friends after,” you admit, standing from the seat. The lamplight next to the bus shelter flickers slightly. A strong wind picks up and whips your hair into your face. Jake doesn’t move an inch, hurt and confusion plastered all over his face. “We’re two different people from two different families. We would’ve never worked out, no matter how badly I wanted this to be real.” The confession slips from your lips without a warning.

Jake looks anguished and he tries to reach for you again. You take a step back and the wind blows more harshly, rattling the bus shelter. “Jake. I don’t fit in with you. Or your family. I don’t fit in the world you’re living in.”

Jake tries to interrupt but you don’t let him. “It hurt me that night, when you offered no support, when you barraged me with your family dinner. I was underprepared, Jake, and I was left humiliated as your mother ripped my life apart in front of your relatives who I really wanted to impress no matter if they don’t hold value in your life.”

“Jake, I really, really like you.” You don’t understand the difference between like and love. Maybe you never will. Maybe you just really like Jake. “But we’d never work if this became real because right now, it’s fake, and I feel…” You shrug, unable to form a coherent sentence. “It’s just messing with me. And the dinner --”

“It was my mom, Y/N,” Jake interrupts, finally finding his voice. “You know how she is.”

“She’s manipulative and controlling. You told me yourself Jake,” you shoot back. “And I’m not looking for a fight Jake, I just think it’s time you actually put actions to your words. She shouldn’t still control your life. You’re twenty. Not sixteen.”

“Y/N --”

“Your mother humiliated me, Jake. She made me feel stupid for not knowing Korean.” Tears well in your eyes. “And you know what’s even stupider? She didn’t even believe for a second that you loved me. Your silence really spoke a thousand words, Jake. And not just for me.”

Jake sighs and glances away and towards the party that was happening behind him. “Is this because of the Instagram story Fran posted of us?”

You shake your head, bitterness spilling across your tongue. “No. I know you don’t like her like that, Jake. I mean, for a moment I was jealous but then I remembered she cheated on you and I know you’re better than that, Jake. And then I remembered, you didn’t tell me what ‘family dinner’ actually meant, and then you let your mother humiliate me in front of, pretty much, your entire family, and you’re still acting like you did nothing wrong when all I wanted was your support. Is that too much to ask for? I really tried to sell this relationship, Jake, but your mother saw right through us because of your silence.”

Jake drops his head, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You huff and the first tear drops. “Your family is really shitty, Jake.”

“I know.”

“And you can be better than them.”

“I know.”

“I really wished I didn’t feel so alone during that dinner.”

Jake raises his head. He looks pitiful. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t contact me, Jake, we’re done.”

Jake physically recoils at your words. “Y/N --”

“I hope I’m able to get over you, Jake. I really hope I am.” You step away from Jake, and above you, lightning crackles through the sky. “I had a nice time with you, Jake.”

Jake lets you go as thunder booms overhead.

—-

“Do you think I was overreacting?” You ask Wonyoung as you lie on your bed. It’s been a week since you last saw or heard from Jake and as much as you wish you didn’t, all you could think about was Jake. How stupid, immature, and hypocritical of you. “Maybe I was. Maybe it wasn’t that deep.”

Wonyoung hums. “No. I think you did good. You know what you want in a relationship, Y/N. You want someone who can stand up for you against his parents. Your reaction was valid.”

You roll over in your bed and face Wonyoung who was probably texting Sunghoon as she lay on her own bed across from you. “I miss him,” you admit softly and then promptly shove your face in your pillow to scream. “But I hate him for what he did -- but I really really miss him.”

“You liked him a lot, Y/N,” Wonyoung says gently. “Of course you’ll miss him.”

You roll onto your back again and stare at the ceiling. “He was nice to me. And kind. And thoughtful, and he was funny and charming and so polite and he made me feel warm and safe and comfortable and --” You look at Wonyoung who was smiling at you, her phone discarded. “I think I almost fell in love with him.”

“I think he almost fell in love with you too,” Wonyoung says.

You shake your head. “I don’t know about that.”

Wonyoung checks the time on her phone and gasps, leaping off her bed. “Fuck. It’s so late. I need to get going for my lecture. Do you want me to buy anything when I’m walking back?”

“Chocolate milk?” You ask Wonyoung. “I think I need chocolate milk.”

Wonyoung smiles and pats your shoulder. “Of course.”

You lie in bed for the rest of the day, thinking over your relationship with Jake. You hate to admit it, but to you, for the most part, the relationship felt real -- especially when Jake joined your family during Christmas. Nothing felt more real than you curled up on Jake’s lap, sharing laughter and trading jokes.

“Hey Wonyoung,” you ask a few hours later, after she’s returned with your chocolate milk. (The bottle is now empty as it lies at the foot of your bed.) “Do you think I was a bit too naive in the relationship? Sure, we’re only two years apart, but our maturity is probably ten years apart. Was I asking for too much?”

Wonyoung shakes her head. “You weren’t asking for too much. Jake was just giving too little. He wasn’t providing you with the emotional support a relationship needs.”

“But when we were alone,” you say quietly, “he did. He comforted me. He told me reassuring words and made me feel wanted. I don’t know why he did what he did at dinner. Clearly that’s a can I’ll never have the privilege of popping open or asking about.” Sighing, you squeeze your stuffed toy dog closer to your chest. “But I do think I was naive. I fell too fast for Jake. I am only eighteen, after all.”

“You fell first but he fell harder,” Wonyoung says.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

You shut your eyes and sigh again. “When I think of Jake, I think of him spending Christmas with me and my family. He’s just…so happy. So fucking happy. And it makes me feel happy. See? I fell too fast, and too deep, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.”

Wonyoung laughs softly. “And why do you think he felt happy, Y/N?”

A light blush tints your cheeks. “I like to imagine he felt happy because he was with me.”

—-

Exam season creeps up on you fast, and to deal with your stress you start going out on runs -- like right now. With loud Olivia Rodrigo blasting through your airpods, you jog down the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street. Since summer is near, the sun burns brighter and sweat easily soaks you.

On this run, you bump into Riki.

“Riki!” You exclaim in surprise when you spot the familiar boy walking towards the nearby park that houses a baseball diamond. He’s carrying his overstuffed baseball bag and has headphones on, but at the sound of your voice, he whirls around and tugs them off.

“Y/N,” he responds, his voice smooth and neutral. “Wanna play baseball?”

So, you find yourself pitching to Riki and retrieving the balls he hits out into the field, deja vu washing over you. He doesn’t speak to you until the end. Concern that you’ve angered him washes over you as you watch him take a long sip of water from his water bottle.

“I’m not mad at you,” Riki says, wiping his forehead with a towel. “So can you stop looking at me like that?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, blushing.

“If anything, I’m glad you broke up with Jake.”

You gape at the younger boy and watch him back up his stuff. “What?”

“He needed this wake up call. He has so much personal shit going on in his life that he never had the balls to face, and I guess whatever you said to him when you broke up with him really slapped him awake. I’ve never seen Jake this happy, or appear this light, y’know? Like before, it felt like he was dragging this dead weight around with him but ever since he cut off his family and dealt with personal issues, it’s like that dead weight is gone.” Riki harshly shoves his baseball glove into his overflowing bag.

“I mean, you know Jake is emotionally constipated in a way.”

You snort. “Ain’t that the truth. We would only brush the surface level of his…childhood trauma. He would tell me measly things -- like how his parents never had time for him, and how his mother was extremely controlling and his father was demanding, but that’s all. We never, like, actually talked about his feelings.”

Riki nods his head, picking up his bat and swinging it through the air. “Jake’s actually talking about his feelings now, by the way. He’s been talking to his brother more recently and finally caved into Jay’s nagging and booked a therapy appointment.”

“Oh wow,” your eyes widened. “Therapy?”

Riki nods his head. “He wants to get better.” The look Riki gives you says everything.

Running back home, your steps feel lighter. You’re able to study with a clear mind and when you exit the exam halls you feel as if you just aced all those tests. You don’t know why, but knowing that Jake is working towards a better self, makes you feel happy. You’re glad Jake is working on himself, and has support all around him. You feel the urge to reach out to him, but you fight it away by keeping yourself occupied by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends.

You occasionally run into Riki and Heeseung while out on your runs. They keep you updated on Jake, letting you know how he’s doing and what he’s doing. It’s nice to still be in touch with Jake’s friends, it’s nice to see that they don’t resent you for breaking up with Jake. Jay reaches out to you once, inviting you to his birthday party. You turn down the invitation and Jay says he understands. Then, he thanks you for taking care of Jake.

Your pride holds you back from unblocking Jake on Instagram so you create a burner account solely to keep yourself updated on Jake’s whereabouts during summer break. He takes Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki back to Milan, Italy where they shop at Prada, eat tons of pasta and pizza, and get drunk on Italian wine. Based on the stories they post, the Milan trip was quite eventful.

The start of your second year approaches quickly and you still haven’t reached out to Jake yet. You’ve unblocked his number and drafted up a few text messages asking Jake if he wants to talk, or meet up, but you’ve never had the guts to send them. You’re afraid of the outcome, you’re afraid of finding out that Jake never wants to see you again, but you’d understand if Jake requests that.

It’s the last day before you move back into the dormitory. You’re lounging on the couch with Myeong who is watching Crazy Rich Asians while she paints her toes. You’re laser focused on your phone, struggling to come up with a text to send to Jake. You really want to see him again.

Someone knocks on your door.

“I’ll get it,” you tell Myeong, gladly distracting yourself from the daunting task you assigned yourself. Dressed in old, short, denim shorts, and a ratty old t-shirt that boasts Disneyland’s 50th Anniversary, you open the door. “Hi--”

Jake stands on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses. His hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a white blouse that’s been paired with black slacks. He looks breathtaking. Literally. You can’t breathe.

“Y/N,” Jake smiles gently, and holds out the bouquet for you to take. “You look beautiful.”

You snort, still unable to move.

“Don't leave me hanging, Y/N,” Jake says.

“What are you doing here, Jake?” You finally find your voice, and your arm reaches out to take hold of the rose bouquet.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Jake admits. “And a lot of that thinking has been about you.”

You stare at Jake, wide-eyed, and if you were able to see yourself, there’s probably stars in your eyes. You grip the rose bouquet tighter. “You’ve been thinking? About me?”

Jake nods his head. “About you. And our time together. And I realized that if we had spent more time together, I would have fallen in love with you.”

You feel faint. “Oh, wow.” Your mouth feels dry, and it’s hard to breathe.

“You’re very lovable, Y/N,” Jake’s smile is just as bright as the sun, and his eyes hold galaxies that are far prettier than the one you’re existing in. “And I’m sorry for making you feel alone. Friends or dating, I should never let someone feel like that. I’m sorry for not standing up for you.”

“It’s okay, Jake,” you laugh off the insanity you’re feeling. “I’m over it. Really.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Y/N.”

You smile softly, raising the roses to your nose. “It’s okay, Jake.”

Jake nods his head. “Alright. Cool. I’m -- I’m glad.” He looks up at the sky, with tense shoulders, and closes his eyes. He looks unsure of himself and you let out a small, amused giggle. Jake glances back at you, and everything in him relaxes. He inhales deeply. “So, I was wondering, Y/N, if you’d like to go out with me. Tonight. On a real date.”

It’s silent for a long time.

“You can say no --”

“You’re a very hard person to get over, Jake,” you admit.

“I am?”

You nod your head. “I think it’s stupid how you still occupy my heart.”

“It’s stupid?”

You smile. “Very stupid. But that’s okay, because it makes me stupidly in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. Myeong’s watching Crazy Rich Asians, so you can keep her company while I get changed and --”

Jake cuts you off with a kiss. His lips are warm against yours. When he draws away, his eyes are like molten honey. It’s like he’s melting right in front of you, love oozing from every inch of skin that you can see. “Sorry,” Jake flushes. “I couldn’t help myself. You look really cute, Y/N.”

You draw Jake back in for another kiss.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen jake #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #sim jaeyun #sim jake #love me like you #jake sim #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n

1K notes · View notes

words-4u · 7 months

Text

don’t shut me out

pairing: jordan li x f!reader

wc: 750

a/n: i combined the two requests bc they felt kinda similar but i hope you guys enjoy <3

(NOTE: your super power is the ability to transform into any animal you want)

you stared at the last message you sent jordan.

to j 💗 i miss u. text me when u see this pls

you had sent that text at 8 pm last night and it was almost noon the next day and you still hadn't heard back from them. sighing deeply, you locked your phone, stuffing it in to your backpack.

is it me? did i do something? you thought.

it might seem over the top reacting this way but jordan is so communicative especially at night so it was off brand for them to go ghost like this. you were going through the different possibilities in your head as walked the god u campus to get to your next class, you had almost missed your friend calling your name.

“hey, y/n!”

you looked up and saw cate beckoning you over to a table she’s at with andre.

“hey guys,” you said with no excitement which the blonde found weird.

“did your cat die or something? what’s up?” she asked patting the seat in between her and andre.

you huffed and set your bag on the table and your head on andre’s shoulder.

“okay this is gonna sound so stupid but i’ve been texting jordan all night and all morning today and i haven’t heard so much as a peep from them. i know the messages are going through, i just don't know why they're ignoring me”

“oh y/n. you haven’t heard,” andre begins. ”jordan’s parents are in town. we don’t know much about them but we know they are jordan’s least favourite topic.”

“i mean they’ve told me the basics but…” you trail off.

if their parents are in town then that explain why they’ve been so hard to reach. jordan's parents have never understood them and always made them feel ashamed of their powers which is ridiculous because they are ones who’ve injected their kid with compound V.

"guys i’ve got to go,” you said grabbing your bags and transforming into an eagle, flying off to jordan's student accommodation.

you knock rapidly on your partner’s door, once you arrived. “jordan, open up!”

silence.

you grabbed your vphone out of your bag and checked the “find my” app. “i can literally see that you’re in there so either you open this door and let me in or i turn into a snake and slither in… your choice.”

you hear some metal clanging and something unlocked and in a second you were faced with your gorgeous significant other who looked like they have been crying their eyes out.

no words needed to be said between you before you dropped your bag and pulled them into your arms, rocking them side to side.

you let a few moments pass before you spoke. “why didn't you just tell me?”

“i’m sorry,” they said pulling away. “i fall into this pit of self hatred when my parents come around.”

you guided them to the bed and played with their fingers as you shared your thoughts. “you know i thought you were ignoring cause i might've done something to piss you off or something…”

“no, baby” they whispered. “it’s not you. like at all. it’s them. they… they’ve never accepted my full powers. the girl version anyway. to my parents, i’m their golden boy and nothing else. i came to god u and swore that i would never feel ashamed of myself and would never be forced to choose one gender like my parents desperately want.”

“that’s a lot to carry by yourself, jord,” you move their short black bob out of their face and tuck it behind their ear. “i’m here if you ever need to talk. about any of it.”

“i know,” they smiled softly.

“and for what it’s worth i like…all of you,” you confessed which made jordan put on their sexy grin that you fell for.

“is that right? and which parts of me do you like?” they asked switching to their male form and placing you on their lap.

“hmm now that i think about it, i actually can’t remember,” you stroked your chin jokingly.

“how about i make you remember?” they replied, capturing your lips in an over due kiss. you breathe them in as you run your hands through their short hair.

you pulled away still holding their face in your hands. “promise to tell me when things bother you, big or small okay? i don’t want you to shut me out.”

jordan nodded, whispering, “i promise,” before kissing you once more.

#gen v #gen v imagines #jordan li #jordan li imagines #jordan li x reader #london thor #derek luh #the boys #cate dunlap #andre anderson #gen v prime #gen v fanfiction #gen v amazon

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teencopandthesourwolf · 2 months

Text

“Please.”

Stiles stands there, chewing on his pretty crimson lips, pleading.

Derek isn't fully clued in yet, but honestly, the kid is kind of vaguely breaking his heart.

“Please, Derek, I'm really sorry about this, but please just—just don't say anything, okay? And just—let me?”

Stiles had texted Derek earlier, at 3.17am, presumably just before he’d set off from his house to drive his jeep to the loft.

Derek had been lying awake in bed, unable to sleep.

His messages had read:

> dude, i rlly need to come over. that ok?

And:

> ill let myself in if thats cool?

And after a few moments, in quick succession one after the other and before Derek had a chance to respond:

> and i rlly need u to just like. not get out of bed. presuming yr already in bed

> all shall be revealed

> lol i don't know why i put that

> and obvs tell me if any of this is not ok. ok?

> as if you wouldn't lol

> #sourwolf

> and yeah i know im being a weirdo but thats why you like me

And then, a few seconds later:

> right?

Derek had stared at the flurry of messages for a minute or so, then texted back:

Okay, weirdo <

About ten minutes later, Stiles had let himself into the building. Derek listened to the kid muttering away to himself as he rode the old service elevator—except it wasn't really himself he was talking to.

“God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Like, I think we're close enough now for it not to be weird. I mean, at least I hope we are. I'm just so fucking tired, man, and have got to get me some sleep. Anyways, just—don't get up, okay? Or, like, can you get into bed if you're not already in bed? Sorry, I know I texted you this already, I just really need you to trust me. You do know you can trust me… Right, big guy?”

Derek's trust of Stiles was implicit.

When the steel door had unlocked and slid open, Derek smelled fresh, mostly unscented shower gel over the base notes of Stiles's own cinnamon scent, mixed with the very definite chemo-signals that indicated fear, restlessness, apprehension—and also, the strongest of them all; hope.

Let me.

Here, now, Derek still doesn't know what the kid needs.

Let him what?

Derek doesn't have any more time to wonder, though, because Stiles is taking off his sneakers and pants and is slowly, very slowly—as if giving Derek the chance to protest—climbing into bed next to him.

Stiles is now in Derek's loft in the small hours, in Derek's bed, fully under Derek's covers, with Derek wearing only his grey tank and black boxer-briefs and a probably terrified look on his face.

He silently thanks the universe for the cover of night.

“Like, you should obviously say something if this is completely heinous or whatever, but otherwise just—let me do this?”

And all Derek can think is shit, he's freezing, at the same time he is going into a some sort of dumbstruck shock because Stiles is now wrapping his entire sinewy, beautiful body around the entirety of Derek's.

“This okay?” Stiles asks, the air around them spiking with the smell of his anxiety as he Big-Spoons Derek like some human-shaped octopus, skinny but strong limbs astonishingly everywhere.

And he sounds so unsure, and so small, and Derek can't bear it.

Not giving the stoic part of his brain any opportunity to talk him out of doing this, Derek takes ahold of Stiles's wrist from where the kid had draped one of his long arms around Derek's midriff, and hangs on as firmly but gently as he can, manoeuvring them both around in the bed so that Stiles is now the Little Spoon.

“This okay?” he asks gingerly, mirroring Stiles because his own words are failing him.

Stiles says, “Yeah. Even better,” and his anxiety is melting away into something much more pleasing; something like relief.

Derek breathes out the word, “Good,” and feels a little dizzy and a lot amazed, and kind of like his heart is beating wildly in his throat.

The only reason he knows it isn't, is because Stiles says, “I can feel your heart thumping away in your chest, man. But, uh, I don't have wolfy senses, so… I can't tell if it's good thumping or bad thumping.”

Then he promptly stops breathing.

Derek resists the desperate, learnt urge to run away from this. He mentally shakes himself and figures: After so many years fighting monsters together, maybe he and Stiles can fight this one together, too?

He gives himself a moment to ride out the panic, then screws his eyes shut and, praying to nobody in particular, whispers, “Good thumping,” into the shell of Stiles's ear.

Stiles shivers and breathes again, but doesn't say anything else. For once, he doesn't need to. He just needs to sleep.

As the kid settles into Derek's bed and Derek's embrace and, hopefully, Derek's life, he smells like a mix of serene and content and promise—and also, wonderfully, of Derek, now.

Derek is a strange combination of relaxed and freaking-the-fuck-out because that's just the way he's made. His brain won't stop whirring at a speed of a million miles an hour, worrying about everything and nothing, all at once, and before he can bite into his lip to stop himself, he blurts out, “Cora says I sometimes dream-talk about Cajun Gumbo recipes.”

Stiles's only sighs, then hums quietly, his breathing already evening out almost to the point of sleep.

Just when Derek thinks he's not going to get any sort of real answer, Stiles mumbles, “Okay, weirdo,” on an exhale, and then he's drifting off into unconsciousness.

Derek settles then, and smiles into the nighttime thinking that maybe, finally, he might get a good night's sleep, too.

for @shealynn88, the bestest of friends. i love you and miss you always... <3 (unedited btw—forgive me!)

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 months

Note

Hello I am going on a holiday to Eryri next month & I like to read up about an area before going there... do u have any reading or documentary or podcast recs? I'm particularly interested in the ecology & minority language activism & like. Peoples history & rural lives! I know this is stuff u know about in Wales but idk if north Wales is ur region! Míle buiochas ón Eireann!

Fáilte go dtí an Bhreatain Bheag! Or croeso i Gymru. Exciting! Keep an eye on the notes for others chiming in with good recs for documentaries and the like, I'm going to just give a super quick guide

Okay, pronunciation guide for place names and that is here in written form and here in video form. I cannot recommend strongly enough that you try to use the Welsh place names rather than the English translations. Duolingo is flawed but serviceable if you want to hear and learn some basic phrases. If you can at least throw out a 'bore da' to people you pass/shopkeepers, you'll be very well liked. You don't need to be fluent by any means, but Making An Effort is seen as, like, the nicest and politest and most wonderful thing in Wales, and particularly in regions like Eryri.

Because! It's one of the biggest remaining Welsh language strongholds. If you look at language maps over time in Wales, a pattern emerges:

And the current (2021) figures show this:

And you are going to this bit:

So you're heading into the Welshest bit in all of Wales! And the bit with the strongest and longest history of Welsh, too.

Which also means there's a lot of activism-related stuff in that area. It's probably worth you reading up on the history of Tryweryn (which was a bit further east, but sets the scene well); there was also a BIG thing a couple of decades ago where activists would burn down English-owned holiday homes (while they were empty in winter, not, like, with the English in them). This is because, in addition to the usual issues with the social impacts of holiday homes (driving up prices meaning locals can't live there, eroding communities, etc), holiday homes in Welsh language heartlands are a significant and tangible threat to the language. Even today, the issue of holiday homes is an extremely touchy subject, as is the issue of (mostly-English) people moving into the area because "It's so pretty!!!" and then not learning the language.

(Yet another reason they will love you if you Make An Effort)

Historically speaking, you'll be in a chunk of the country that was the ancestral seat of the last kings of Wales (Gwynedd). The final one, Llywelyn ein Llyw Olaf, was ambushed and murdered in 1282, which was the beginning of the end for fighting off English rule. In fact, Owain Glyndŵr later crowned himself king of Wales for about two years, but weirdly, no one acknowledges this as real kingship for some reason - if you google his name, he's always listed as a soldier or military commander, which really opens up a whole "Who gets to say when someone is royalty" debate, but he did actually claim descent from the House of Aberffraw anyway, so ultimately it still links back to Llywelyn.

Ecology! Temperate alpine. There actually isn't a global scientific distinction between hill and mountain, but most countries set an arbitrary height standard. This means it varies from country to country depending on how tall their topology is. Wales, however, bucks this trend, and instead decides based on what is formally referred to as 'land use' and colloquially referred to as 'Vibes'. If it's a hill, it's tamed - if it's a mountain, it's wild. This means Eryri is fairly short by the standards of tedious foreigners who regard mountains as a sort of geological dick waving competition, but it's in fact a whole mountain range; it's also older than Saturn's rings. And, crucially, it's very much sufficiently above sea level to have an alpine ecosystem.

There are three endemic (i.e. not occurring anywhere else in the world) species in Eryri, to whit:

The Snowdon lily. A small and delicate flower growing in protected and inaccessible spots on yr Wyddfa (formally known as Snowdon). Excessively vulnerable to trampling, so the national park keeps sections where it grows fenced off.

The Snowdon beetle. RAINBOW BEETLE.

The gwyniad. A sub-species of whitefish until recently exclusively found in Llyn Tegid (Bala Lake), trapped there after the ice age and now developing its own genetic profile distinct from other whitefish. Some dickhead in the 80s introduced the ruffe to the lake for fishing, and the ruffe eats the gwyniad's eggs, so they've now transplanted eggs to Llyn Arenig Fawr nearby as a conservation measure.

There's also feral goats. And Welsh mountain ponies. Ooh, and, red kites - in the UK red kites were so heavily persecuted they eventually fell to just 7 breeding pairs in Wales. We established a protected zone and hired Nepalese Gurkhas to guard the nests and thus saved it from extirpation so successfully they later translocated Welsh birds to other spots in the UK. It's a big conservation success story, and now red kites are considered to be the national bird of Wales. They have a very distinctive silhouette, too, look for the forked tail.

Oh, and, we have a unique habitat type called ffridd, which you see a lot of in Eryri.

Final wildlife pictures to close:

Anyway - have a great time! Enjoy muchly.

#asks #wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #long post

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fatescaprice · 3 months

Note

hello my favourite argenti kisser. it is i. your supreme overlord ^_^ i am here to, very politely, ask for aventurine and robin dating hcs. shambles away miserably. you know who i am. goot bye <3

dating aventurine and robin

content warnings: none

note: hello supreme overlord!!! you can shamble all u want . i will remember . anyways i had a lot of fun writing this :) please accept my humble offering . i hope u enjoy 🫡

Despite his seemingly friendly exterior, AVENTURINE isn’t as easy to get to know as some might assume. He teases, and befriends, and invites, but always keeps people at an arm’s length — for many years this is how he’s lived, and he was wholly under the pretence that he would continue on like this until he died.

Early on in your relationship, it might not feel like you’re even dating at all. He invites you to his fancy IPC parties as a plus one, but gives you about the same amount of attention as everybody else. He asks you about your day, but never talks about himself. It takes him a while to warm up to you — maybe he ends up enchanted watching the way you talk about your passions, or maybe he’s awestruck by the smile you throw his way as you thank him for a gift he got for you. Either way, he falls hard, like a meteor crashing down to earth.

Aventurine’s love language seems like it would be gift-giving, but it’s far too easy to buy you things, he thinks. His time is far more scarce, and therefore far more precious to him. He’ll text you after he clocks out with a dinner invitation to somewhere he knows you like — he’s already made the reservation, so what do you say? He’ll watch you drone about your day with some smitten look on his face until his food goes cold.

Without his usual suave bravado he feels a little too vulnerable than what he’s used to — sometimes, when he looks at you, he feels like he’s looking straight into the sun for the first time, blinding and comforting all at once.

His love is genuine, if a little clumsy, too. You might get calls from him throughout the day while he’s at work: nothing’s wrong, he’s quick to say, he just wanted to hear your voice. His hand reaches out for yours in the same smooth, practiced motion as always, but the way his fingers curl around yours, his thumb brushes over your knuckles is new, almost shy — and if you’re able to catch the look on his face before he glances away, you’ll be able to see the gentle upturn of his lips, a delicate little arc, brighter than any gem he could ever present to you.

ROBIN's love for you is something akin to the feeling of walking into a well-lived room: warm, familiar, safe. No matter how long you’ve actually been together, she always feels some sense of innocent puppy-love for you — always enamoured by the way you speak, and smile, and laugh, and…

It’s quite likely that you’re her first romantic relationship. She’s had fans in the past that might’ve liked the idea of her more than her actual self, but with you she feels seen in all the best ways. She doesn’t feel the need to play any role, or keep her hair neat and voice soft and back straight. In your company she feels she can let herself be, let herself hold your hand across the table or wipe a little bit of food off the corner of your lips. Would you be so kind as to let her? She hopes so — the feeling of your warmth next to hers is more exhilarating than the cheers of any crowd.

Robin’s preferred kind of dates are the more lowkey kind: maybe you just want to have a home-cooked dinner, or to watch a movie in the living room? She’ll help you set up the kitchen or help decide on a movie. It’s not uncommon for her to encounter reporters or paparazzi while out and about, and while she might be used to it, she doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. It’s like a breath of fresh air for her, too — everything is so much less stifling when it’s just the two of you.

She seems like the type to express her love in little ways, too. She’ll order your coffee in the way that you like without even having to ask, or she’ll adjust your collar if it’s crooked before you go out together. The thought of you permeates all her thoughts and actions, too — in a crowd of people she’ll find herself singing only to you, and as you walk hand-in-hand through the late-night streets of the Golden Hour, not even the brightest lights will be able to tear her eyes away from you, the sweetest dream she could ever hope to have.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #robin x reader #✎... writing.

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taintedcigs · 4 months

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: MADE YOUR MARK ON ME

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which you and eddie try to navigate the aftermath of the kiss (wc: 5.8k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF n then angst oops, a little bit of argument but v tiny, uhmmm smut, p in v, unprotected sx (wrap it up irl), lots of praises, kinda rough. body worshipping? idk. eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — @andvys my angel thank u for all ur love & help💗🙏🏻 not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. i honestly have a love-hate relationship w this chapter BUT ENJOY!!. also like... ily all for all the love on the last chapter omg?

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series, pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

series masterlist | series playlist

Minutes.

But it felt like hours.

And you didn’t want it to be over.

Judging by the hold he had on you, calloused hands grabbing onto your flesh like a man-starved, neither did he.

This was all he ever wanted. Ever since the day you flagged him over when your car broke down. Even when you were a bitch to him. Even when you rolled your pretty eyes at him. Even when you left him. All he fucking wanted was you.

Always just out of his grasp, close but never close enough. And this? This was a dream come true. Fucking explosions and butterflies in your stomach type of shit that Eddie always mocked, that you always mocked.

That scar in his heart that scabbed at the mention of you. Healed. All gone. One kiss from you and it was all back to normal.

“Eddie!” A booming yell echoed in everyone else’s ears but you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I swear I’m gonna kill him, Eddie where the fuck are you?”

Was that… Gareth?

If Gareth fucking ruined this for him, he was going to hang him by his balls, up on the wall, make sure he could never fucking—

“Eddie!”

And you pulled away, first, Eddie was going to fucking kill him now. A vivid torture method flashed across his mind. Even the adorable flustered look on your face as you drew a breath wasn’t enough to calm him down.

“I—I think your set is about to-”

“Fuck the set,” Eddie spat, his veins still pumping with the need for you. Brain hazy, he was never going to get enough of you, was he? A hunger that was never going to be sated.

The lingering gaze was interrupted by Gareth, scoffing while he dragged Eddie away, ignoring the threats and the cusses that left his lips, the same gentle ones that were just stuck on yours, the sweetest taste, from the filthiest mouth.

You really needed to shut your goddamn brain up. But how could you?

His body was turned toward you, shirt stretched out—you did have a tight hold on him. Pale lips now a bit shiny from your candy gloss, stretched into the widest grin, eyes glinting with something you’ve never seen in him before. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

But it was beautiful. He was pretty. Tempting.

You could barely comprehend Eddie’s words when his gaze on you was that striking. “We’re Corroded Coffin, thank you and goodnight.” Slipped past your ears, you didn’t care, you needed him.

What happens now?

Lingered in your mind, you wanted him to rush to you like you’re in a fucking rom-com, lock your lips in a dizzying kiss, again, you didn’t fucking care. You wanted more. You needed more.

You could feel the eyes of everyone, including Steve’s impatient nail-biting, dying to know what the fuck happened between the two of you. Yet they didn’t dare to ask you until Jonathan and Nancy had left since the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow. And ever since they were gone, Robin and Steve had been teasing you nonstop, trying to make you crack.

Clearly, something had gone down, and the co-dependent idiots had to know.

“He looks like he’s going to eat you.” Steve hummed, making you roll your eyes at him.

You were about to give him a smart-ass answer, but of course, he didn’t let you. “I bet if I laid one hand on you, he’d end up here in seconds.” Steve barked out a laugh, Robin joining him as you threw them a dead-set glare.

“It’s not like that—we haven’t—he won’t.” Your frustration was interrupted by a grinning Steve.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve teased, his hand quick to brush away the strand of hair away from your face, fingertips gently brushing against your cheeks, making heat flutter to your cheeks.

“Steve!” you protested, your gaze widening as you chided him, while Robin playfully counted down from ten by your other side.

Steve ignored your protests, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a side hug. You attempted to push him off with a scoff, but he was relentless.

“Three… Two…” Robin's counting came to a halt, and your childish squabble with Steve ceased as a deep voice interrupted.

“Mind if I borrow her for a bit?” The metalhead’s gravelly voice cut through the air, his gaze shooting daggers at Steve, who only smirked, much to Eddie's obvious dismay.

“Eight seconds,” Steve murmured in your ear, you could almost feel his stupid smirk forming on your ear shell, prompting a huff from you.

“She’s all yours, man,” Steve chuckled, releasing his hold and retreating with Robin, leaving the two of you alone. Eddie scoffed at Steve's retreating figure before turning his attention to you.

“What’s their damage?” His brows scrunched together as he watched Steve and Robin walk away, engrossed in their hushed gossip.

“Do you have all day?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, earning a chuckle from him.

He liked this, he loved this, he missed this. Easy banter, shared laughter.

“So… you goin’ home?” Eddie asked, nonchalant, like his heart wasn’t thumping in his chest each time you stole a glance at him.

You nodded, keeping it simple, almost avoiding his gaze. His exaggerated reaction, a spat-out “What?” made you giggle. A melody he could never have enough of.

“Well, the night’s almost over, so…”

“Come with me,” He muttered, amber gaze like silk as it connected with yours.

“Where?”

“Mi casa es yours or whatever the saying goes.” He grinned.

With a huff, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you muttered.

“Why?”

“You know why.” You enunciated.

He raised a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“I—It’s late.”

“So? That never stopped us before.” He shrugged, seemingly unfazed.

“Oh, c’mon Pinky,” he coaxed, “we never end nights this early, at least not until we’re a couple more joints in, smushed on the couch, putting on some old horror movie… I thought we were revisiting the past.” He hummed, puppy dog eyes staring at your soul. Shit.

You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.

“Are you really gonna say no to gettin’ high with me, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

A nickname you had heard so many times before. Yet, it was different, the way it rolled off his lips making you almost jump in place.

“Okay,” you gulped, physically. Fuck.

He grinned, taking you by hand, fuck all, while you waved a shy goodbye to Robin and Steve, who watched it all with an all-knowing grin.

“Pay up,” Steve turned to Robin with his palm in front of her.

Robin snorted, “No fucking way.”

“Trust the process, Robin. Trust the fucking process.” Steve huffed, watching the two of you leave hand-in-hand.

As the two of you entered the familiar house, the sight of it brought enough memories that made you feel light-headed, a repository of memories flooded in your mind.

“Is Wayne around?” you inquired, breaking the silence that clung to the space. Eddie, leading the way, answered nonchalantly, “Nah. At his girlfriend’s.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait what? Wayne has a girlfriend?” You exclaimed.

“Uh-huh, Hannah.”

“Oh! That’s great!”

“Yeah, he’s having sleepovers with her like a fucking teenager, I told him to ask her to move in, but he’s too chicken shit,” he scoffed.

“Oh, come on.” You elbowed him playfully, “Be nice to him, he deserves this,” you said with a smile.

He nodded in agreement, “He does.” Then turned to you. “You want anything to drink?” You shook your head.

You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know how, but a shyness appeared within you, propping up your elbows as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him intently.

With a shrug, he opened the fridge, taking out a Schlitz, gaze on you dangerous when he popped it open with his teeth, barking a chuckle when you squirmed at the sudden, sharp sound.

“Fidgety much?” He grinned, that damn dimple taking its place on the corner of his mouth, making all sorts of warmth flush to your cheeks, making you feel so timid under his gaze.

You could sense the cockiness radiating off of him, it was addicting, and it was making you feel more and more shy under him. Because both of you knew why you were here, at two fucking A.M., dismissing everyone else, flirting and bickering all the way home.

Yet, since you entered the familiar trailer, you had been silent. Because you knew, you fucking knew that kiss changed everything. But this would seal it. Another step forward. A territory the two of you had never crossed before.

And your mind was not being kind to you, screaming at you to stop, to run, to not fucking do this, because you’d end up hurt, because someway somehow he’d end up hurting too, but Eddie wasn’t having any of it.

Your silence made him cockier and cockier, drawing you in more and more. And if he kept it up, you knew even your idiotic abandonment issues wouldn’t be enough to stop you from jumping on him.

You wanted this, all your mind could replay was his fingers on that damn guitar, the way his mouth popped open that damn can of beer, the way his stupid plushy lips curled into a smirk. Shaggy bangs fell onto his forehead when he leaned on the counter, arms flexing with it.

Stop fucking thinking about it.

“You gonna answer me or what, sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“Jesus, you okay?” He asked, concerned, cornering you in the kitchen with his soft hazel eyes.

Fuck.

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

“You don’t seem okay.”

“‘M f-fine!” You answered too quickly and meekly for that to be the truth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad at me.”

Yes. No. Yes. No. I think I crave you more than I’m mad at you, but I can’t let you know that, your thoughts swirled.

“I thought—”

You interrupted all quippily, “Thought what? That kissing me would suddenly undo everything?”

“No…” He sighed, “I thought I proved myself to you.”

“You did, but that doesn’t undo it.”

“Well, I forgave you.”

You scoffed. “You know forgiving me doesn’t mean shit if you bring it up every time I tell you you did something wrong, right?”

Crossing his arms against his chest, “Can you blame me?” He muttered, almost defeated.

“What would you do? If I up and left, would you just forgive me? Would you just trust me and act like it was all okay?” He tensed, words spilling out of his mouth like venom.

And you narrowed your gaze, returning it back to him. “What would you do if I kissed Jason? I asked you that, yet you never answered. Would you still kiss me? Would you still write notes for me, knowing that Jason’s slimy lips were brushing—“

He was quick to wave his hands in front of your face, grimacing just at the thought. “Stop! Just fucking stop!”

“What, too much for you?” You spat.

“Of course, it’s too much for me! T—the thought of him, anyone, being with you… makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Good, then I think we’re even!” You suggested.

“Even?” He scoffed, “Is that all you fuckin’ care about?” He retorted, making you huff, once again.

“God, no! I just—I just mean we both did fucked up shit and from this point on we either move on, or we never talk to each other again, which we can’t seem to do!” You snapped, that anger from before had disappeared though, the kiss had softened things. Softened you.

“Okay, then let’s just move on!” He took a step toward you, getting close again. So fucking close.

You took a step back, your back hitting the marble counter, yet you remained on your angry stance. “Fine by me!” You retorted, all hastily.

“That’s fine by me too!” He agreed, towering over you, trying to one-up you.

“Good!” And, of fucking course you returned the energy. Stubbornness is exactly what defined the two of you, babbling like a bunch of kids over nothing.

Eddie didn’t hesitate to take another step toward you, this time, both his hands on the marble kitchen counter, fully cornering you, as he grinned. “Great!”

And you were about to answer, about to one-up him, like he did with you… but then you looked at him, really looked at him.

Looked at how fucking close he was to you, and you shuddered a deep breath, getting caught up in your throat when it reminded you of the kiss.

And that’s when Eddie realized it.

You weren’t really mad at him.

At least not really, not since the kiss.

You were nervous… because he was standing this close to you.

A piece of dangerous information for Eddie—someone who had been in love with you since you were teens, to acquire, because it’d turn him into an arrogant fuck in a matter of seconds—even more so than he ever was.

“Oh.” The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, he was grinning like a devil now.

“What?” You furrowed your brows, trying to have that annoyed stance from before, but it wasn’t working.

“Why are you looking at me like—”

He was quick to interrupt, face inches away from yours. “You’re not mad, at least not that much, you’re… nervous.” He grinned.

“N—nervous? Why would I be nervous?”

“Because of me.” That stupid smirk on his lips returned

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“What happened to that Pinky who refused to talk to me today? Who told me we couldn’t do this? Did one kiss soften you up this much?” He quipped, making you scoff.

“You know what? You’re an asshole.” You sneered.

“There she is.”

“When did you become this cocky, Munson?” You narrowed your gaze.

“I was always an arrogant fuck, sweetheart. But I’d say the kiss helped, like a fuck ton, and you squirming now, too.” He shrugged, like what he just said was no big deal, like how close he was to you didn’t make you gulp nervously.

You almost gasped, offended, like it wasn’t the truth. “I’m not fucking squirming—”

“Look at you… shuddering a breath just because I’m this close to you.” He barked out a chuckle, gaze dangerous, dare you say… lustful.

“Fuck you,” You spat, feeling small under his bashful gaze, cheeks heating.

“Well, I’m trying sweetheart,” He was quick, you had to give him that, making heat grow everywhere in your body, but especially within your thighs now, fuck, he was smooth.

And you weren’t willing to put up a fight, or a front, you wanted—needed him. You couldn’t deny yourself him any longer, not even your commitment issues were enough to hold you off.

“You’re s—such a little shit,” You stuttered, embarrassingly so.

God, you wanted to wipe his smirk off by kissing him, you wanted to feel his honey-flavored lips on yours again, you wanted to feel his lips twitch against yours instead of the air.

And he was close again, all in your face, all you had to do was lean a little bit and his lips would be on yours.

“And you’re an absolute pain in my—”

Fuck it.

You fisted his stupid shirt, crashing your lips down to his, dizzying, just as magnetic as before, but needier. His lips still tasted the sweetest, yet mixed with the bitter taste of the beer on his tongue made you grow weak in the knees.

You were about to open your mouth fully, to feel his greedy tongue on yours, but much to your surprise, Eddie pulled away, making you whine.

“Wait—” He faltered.

“What?”

“Do you want this?” He asked

“Yes!” Your voice raised an octave.

“Tell me you want this.” His gaze was serious.

“I do,” you breathed.

He scoffed. “No, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Eddie—”

“I wanna hear you, or we can just pretend like none of it happened, I can forget the kiss we can just sit around here and—”

I want to know if you’re in this as much as I am, is what he meant.

“Jesus you’re so fucking—” You scoffed, but he actually backed away, your eyes widening at him.

“W—wait!” You pleaded.

An awaiting grin sat on his lips and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Of course I want this, Eddie. I’ve wanted you for five fucking years, I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you—okay wait maybe that’s a lie because you really were annoying the first time we met but I wanted, no, I want you—”

His mouth crashed against yours, interrupting you in the best fucking way. His lips felt warm, hot almost. Skin burning everywhere where he touched you, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“So eager, princess, already begging for me, hmm?” He taunted, making you roll your eyes in an instant.

“Just shut up you, asshole.” He grinned, mouth crashing down on yours once again. Much more gentle this time, but rough enough to have your chests pressed together.

His lips only left yours to be reattached to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from your chin to your cheekbone. “‘M sorry, sweetheart, I just can help myself you’re so—” He mumbled, voice muffled by your skin.

He lifted you up, strong hands meeting behind your waist in one harsh move, making you yelp before you wrapped your legs around him, he kissed you like he never had before, all teeth, and no mercy, passionate yet still gentle in somefucking way.

He pivoted while trying to get to his bedroom, making you chuckle into the kiss, pining you against the wall, and it was all so desperate and messy. And just so you.

You wanted to discard your dress but he wanted to rip it off, wanted to grab onto your flesh, and feel you, completely. Drink you in.

He stumbled inside his room, knocking over a few boxes, and sending them over to the other side of his room. Not that either of you cared enough to break the kiss, at least until Eddie plopped you down on the bed, a grin overtaking his lips at the sight of you.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking beautiful and just—” He took a deep breath, words were failing him, his entire being captivated by you.

His mind was spiraling, cheeks almost a salmon pink. Eddie had sex countless times before, but none of them meant anything. None of them left him this speechless, none of them made him nervous. It was like his first time, the way his breath got caught in his throat, cock stirring at how pretty you looked, stomach fluttering at how he was on top of you.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this. How long I’ve wanted you… How perfect you really are.” He towered above you, and your breaths mingled, bodies tied, chests pressed against one another.

You wanted to joke around and tease him like he did with you, but you couldn’t help the flutters in your stomach. All you cared about was whether he thought if all of that was. Did he really see you like that?

“You mean that?” You asked, almost shy, wanting to hide your face, but he just gave you a scoff, like it was the most unbelievable thing ever.

It was to him.

“‘Course I do, Jesus, Pinky I basically worshipped—” He placed a soft kiss on your lips. “The ground you walked on.”

You drew in a breath, “I—I wanted you just as much.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“Don’t say things like that,” he warned, shaking his head. Did you not know the hold you had on him? Even still? He was wrapped around your finger, always has been. Always would be.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Then, don’t, please, Eddie, I want you, more than anything.”

That was all he needed, low grunts escaped his lips. He attacked your lips hungrily, desperately, twirling his tongue with yours, needy and passionate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed, hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your dress, and you helped him get rid of his clothes, your fingers fiddling as they struggled to take his shirt over his head.

It was all messy, stupidly impatient, making both of you giggle while you struggled to get rid of the clothes that were keeping both of your bodies away from each other.

“So impatient,” you mocked with a chuckle, enjoying the way his eyes boggled your body, it wasn’t disrespectful, you didn’t feel the intrusion as you did with every other fucking guy you’ve been with. Just pure appreciation and your stomach flipped with excitement.

Fuck, what was he doing to you?

He drew in a breath when your chest rose up and down, he felt like he was watching a ping-pong match, eyes darting over to every part of your body, he wanted to engrave it in his mind. Have you there forever.

He could barely comprehend it, you, stark naked, on his bed. Telling him you wanted him, more than anything. And you looked perfect. Fucking perfect. More than he could ever imagine. All those years he spent thinking about you.

The girls he fucked were always a spitting image of you. It wasn’t a fucking coincidence. He couldn’t get his mind off of you. You made him feel out of his head, and fucking finally, it was happening.

Cold rings ghosted over your chest, making you gasp. “So—” His head dove into your breasts, latching his tongue on one nipple. “Fucking—” His hand dove down to your panties, discarding them without care before he ghosted over your slit, still waiting for some approval from you. “Perfect—” He hummed, against your nipples, making you mewl.

“P—please, Eddie,” you muttered, pathetically.

His eyes shot up at you, amber gaze dark, wanting, needing you to tell him exactly what you needed. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Baby,” he rasped, jaw almost hung open with how forward you were being. His cock was trapped in his boxers, needing room with the way words fell like silk from your lips. The nicknames were new, especially something like ‘baby’ but it felt so familiar, like the two of you had always been like this. Like the last five years didn’t exist.

This was all the confirmation he needed, his ringed finger met your entrance, and you whimpered at the slight sensation, your entire body burned with need at his one touch.

His soft lips trailed down from your chest to your belly button, tongue leaving nice strokes on his way to your pussy, making you arch your back in desperation.

“Need more, Eddie,” you whined, a pout apparent on your cheeks.

“That desperate, huh?” He grinned, pad of his thumb still toying with your clit, earning gasps out of you. “Haven’t even done much, yet you’re soakin’ my fingers, baby,” he added, that taunting tone making you roll your eyes.

“Arrogant fuck,” your voice came out as a squeak, making him let out a greedy chuckle.

He inserted a finger inside of you, enjoying the gasps he earned. “You know, I always thought that attitude of yours needed a fix?” He hissed, ringed finger curling inside of you, making you squirm at the coldness as you bucked your hips for more.

You didn’t know what took over you, or him. The dirty talk just rolled out of your lips like it was natural like the two of you had been together for the longest time.

It was all the pining, anticipation, and the pent-up desire. And it was making both of you needier by the second.

“Then do it, fuck it out of me.” A low groan echoed in the bedroom, followed by a string of curses, Eddie’s entire body shuddering with it.

His fingers left your clit, hands working their way to slip out of his boxers, a rough expulsion of moan released from his lips when his cock plopped against his stomach, making your mouth water at the sight.

Shit, fuck, shit.

You gulped, jaw almost wide open, making him cockier if that was even possible. His hands jerked at his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum collected at his hot tip. “Gonna give this to you, is that what you want, sweetheart?” He taunted.

With a nod, you licked your lips, making his cock twitch in his hands. “I’ll fuck the brat out of you, don’t worry, honey.” His hand was about to stroke his cock again, but you were quick to shake your head.

“Let me help,” you hummed, your smile and attitude all disappearing, a glazed look washed over your features as your soft hands fisted his length.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he groaned roughly when your fingers stroked his rock-hard cock, until he couldn’t take it anymore and pushed you down on the bed and taking you by surprise before his lips re-attached to yours, hands slightly parted your thighs, teeth clashed together, and nibbling on each other's lips, before he finally, finally guided his cock against your entrance.

Then, he stopped, making you furrow your brows when he reached for his bedside table, and you, unable to wait, were quick to stop him. “No!” His attention snapped back to you.

“Please… I wanna feel you, ‘m on the pill,” you murmured, pupils blown wide, making Eddie curse once again before he blabbed, nervousness spilling out of him.

“O—okay,” He hummed, turning to you with a nervous look, “and just so you know I haven’t had—” Shit, he was going to ruin this.

“I was tested not too long ago and me and Chr—”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to god, I will leave, Munson,” you warned, gaze narrowed and jealousy bitter in your veins.

He scoffed, “I was going to say we haven’t done a—anything, you lunatic,” he wanted to joke, but words rolled out of his lips like a quick ramble. He couldn’t fucking ruin this. But, he had to let you know. You had to know that they didn’t sleep together.

And much to his surprise, with a grin on your lips, “Oh? I don’t know if I can say the same with me and Jame—” your joke was quickly shut up by a dizzying kiss, and his groan turned into a growl, filled with jealousy, making you giggle into the kiss.

Both of you were idiots. Total fucking idiots. Insane. Crazy. But, fuck, did it feel right, like dominos falling into place, this is what it should’ve been.

He dragged you more toward the edge of the bed with his rough hands, finally guiding his cock to your entrance, wiping off that grin from your face, hunger taking over fully.

“You think you’re funny?” He spat, and you nodded all sassily, “Laugh it up, doll. But once I’m done with you, you won’t even remember the names of those other douchebags, I’ll fuckin’ make sure of it.” His arrogance was back, and that smirk played on his lips, shutting you up once again.

He pushed into you without a warning, making you cry out while your eyes squeezed shut at how good he felt. Your pussy wrapped his cock nicely, so warm and tight that Eddie had no fucking idea how he didn’t cum right then and there on the spot, a low groan escaped his lips.

He dropped his head to your shoulder, frantic breathing escaped through his nose as he tried to adjust to how tight you were.

Jesus, fucking Christ.

He had to hold himself off.

Your hands clawed at his back, enjoying the stretch while Eddie pushed himself inside of you at a slow pace, reveling in the way you mewled for him.

Eyes already squeezed shut, mouth slightly open, lashes fluttering the more he drove his cock into you. You looked so beautiful. Ethereal.

He was struggling to comprehend if this was all real. This entire fucking night. From the fight to the kiss to now.

It was always back and forth between the two of you, but more real than anything he ever had.

Pinky.

His Pinky.

He loved you, so so much, that his heart was about to explode, his body felt hot from everywhere you were touching him.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart,” he hissed, pace picking up once you finally accommodated his size, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Feels s—so good, Eds,” you whimpered. He caught your chin in his hands, tilting your face toward him, making your fuzzy gaze focus on him. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You, wanted you for so long, shit, honey.”

“Tell me…” He muttered, licking the trail to your boobs, sucking on it with a growl. “Tell me that this changes everything. Tell me that we’ll never go back, and I’ll fuck you like you deserve it.”

“E—Eddie,” you stuttered, still struggling to comprehend it when his cock was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed.

“I…” You sucked in a deep breath, mind feeling mushy before Eddie groaned, tucking his hips back, pulling out of your warm pussy as you gasped at the feeling, just as you were about to whine, beg, he rammed himself deep inside of you, again. A grin appeared on his lips when you cried out in pleasure.

Yet, his movements halted, as if he was giving you a taste of what might happen, and you wanted to cuss him out, tell him to never fucking stop again, cry out, beg for him to continue. Your body felt woozy with how much you needed him to fuck you, how much you desperately needed to cum.

“Everything!” You cried out frantically, “E—Eddie, fuck, I d—don’t ever wanna go back, please…”

That was all he needed to hear. And he simply couldn’t wait any longer, deprive his body of you any fucking longer. His movements picked up with a low grunt, fucking into you roughly and fast, all animalistic as he held onto your hips, leaving bruises all over while he worked on your neck, sucking, marking you.

Pleasure bursted through your body as Eddie’s thick cock dragged along your walls. Both of your eyes locked, emotions gathering in them. Panting as your foreheads connected, thinking the same thing.

Those three little words begged to roll out of both of your plushy lips, yet too scared to ever utter them. His lips crashed down on you again, this time, just so that those three words didn’t escape his mouth, kissing you with such passion that your head grew light.

“Pretty girl,” he breathed into your neck, “my pretty girl,” he growled. His cock was driven by a primal need to make you his, every touch meant something, every time he thrust himself into you, it was deliberate, rough, but gentle in some fucking way.

Shallow breaths escaped your mouths in puffs, as you watched him drive his cock all the way into you, and you tightened up almost immediately, your pussy pulsing around him.

He groaned at the sight of you, mouth hung open, tits bouncing up and down, mewls coming out for him. You looked fucking beautiful, babbling to him about how you were going to cum soon.

He pressed his middle finger to your clit, drawing quick circles as you whined for him, he was fucking good, and you could feel your walls swelling as you yelled out his name.

Your screams were muffled by Eddie’s lips as a wave of pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks and the second you came undone on his cock, he fucking lost it. His groans grew guttural as he spilled his load inside of you, falling on top of you with a contented sigh as he made sure every drop of him was stuffed into your walls.

Ragged breaths filled the room as Eddie slumped next to you, and you stared at the walls, a smile curved on your lips when the drawings you gave him were still there.

“You still have that?”

“Of course.” His fingertips traced a delicate path along the canvas of your skin, gentle, and warm, pulling away that strand of hair that was hiding your pretty features, a smile formed on his lips, his gaze on you so soft that you almost melted into him. “I told you… your art matters, it’s the very reason, I am where I am.”

As his words hung in the air, you looked up at him, and he gazed down at you. In that shared gaze, both of you knew. No words were exchanged, yet the depth of your connection bridged any gap.

Three words. Eight letters.

You should say it, you should tell him first. Let him know, that you love him, always have, always will. Your lips, poised in anticipation, hovered let him now, to utter those words.

But he interrupted, a subtle pull drawing you closer into the cocoon of his embrace. “W—We should go to sleep… hell of a day ahead of us.” He cleared his throat, fingertips weaved through the strands of your hair, caressing it.

A day ahead of us. Us. Us. Us.

It’s promising, so fucking promising. Peaceful. Everything you asked for. Yet, it scared you, because it was good. All of it was almost too good to be true.

But you wanted to shut that part of your brain off. No, because you weren’t going to ruin this for yourself again, you weren’t.

You hummed into his chest agreeingly, the vibrations resonating into his chest, his scent enveloped you, fully, completely.

And each gentle stroke of his fingertips through your hair was like a lullaby, making you give yourself into the security of his presence. It only took a handful of caresses for you to give into the sweet desire of sleep, nestled against his warmth.

You woke up next to a void spot in the bed. The morning sun burst through the lazily taped windows of Eddie's room, forcing you to squint against its intrusive rays.

A languid groan escaped your lips as you reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, lazily throwing on one of Eddie’s shirts as it hung well over your knees, making your way to the kitchen as you called out for him.

Silence greeted you.

You checked the fridge, hoping for a note, a hastily scribbled message, anything that might explain why he was gone.

But nothing.

At this point, your mind hadn't erupted into full-blown panic; there was no reason for it, or let your intrusive thoughts kick in, no, they were wrong, they had to be wrong.

There was no way he’d leave you, he wanted this himself. He invited you over.

And the two of you were supposed to go to the rehearsal dinner early. To help Jonathan and Nancy out. There was no way he’d just leave you like this.

Right?

Or maybe he regretted all of it and left in a panic.

You kept telling yourself the same lie until seconds melted into minutes, and eventually into hours.

And then, it finally dawned on you.

Eddie didn’t leave a note because he didn’t want to see you.

He regretted everything.

That's why he left you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #getaway car series

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ventismacchiato · 9 months

Text

42 behind the lens — curtain call !

epilogue

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

It’s at the times between recording scenes where you really get a glimpse at your lover.

His sweat stained hair and tear stained cheeks from a rather intense scene never get old. You were feeling rather fond as he made his way over to you, falling into your director’s chair and heaving a heavy breath. The only one other than you allowed to sit in it.

For a mere moment, you both simply look at each other. You guys were on break so a few conversation topics come to mind, it wasn’t often you guys got to speak as lovers rather than coworkers during work. And while they’re all things you’d like to talk to Scaramouche about, you realize you don’t need to force conversation with him.

There’s a hue of weariness that shows in Scara’s eyes, but you can tell that he’s happy. He’s doing what he’s been striving to do for all his years at university, so of course he is.

You search his dark eyes for his thoughts, too. When your eyes meet Scara’s he let’s out a tired smile.

“I missed you,” he easily says. The words come out easier than they would’ve years ago.

Your heart skips a beat, even years later.

“How? We’ve been working together all day,” you say.

“Do I need a reason to miss the person I love?” Scara scoffs, looking away from you to study the script he brought with him.

It isn’t the first time Scaramouche had told you that he loves you, but it’s never stopped holding the same weight it did the first time he’d ever said it.

It’s a rare type of love. The kind that exists so rarely for people in this industry and that lead lives similar to your guys’.

His loves makes you feel alive everyday. And Scara should know it, you should tell him more often—even if it’s rather dramatic for midday on set for their most recent project. It’s something you’d bring up at night that you two could laugh about in bed. Even if it catches Scara off guard.

But Scaramouche’s love caught you off guard, too, and every second you got the privilege to spend with him was a gift.

And as you stare at him, fiddling with the sleeves of his costume and eyebrows scrunched as he mouths his lines, you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow heavy.

“I suppose you don’t,” you reply, a minute too late, but Scara still chuckles at your response as he tosses the script aside.

“What? You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, “And I thought I was the emotionally constipated one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, hitting him on the shoulder, “I love you, too. I guess.”

“Archons, you’re worse than me.”

“No, you were much worse when we were younger!”

“It was hot and mysterious when I did it.”

“Uh huh, just go back to set I’m sick of you.”

“Weird way to say you agree but okay.”

“Go!”

୨⎯ THE END ⎯୧

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev

author’s notes — and that’s a wrap folks! hope the ending wasn’t awkward i just wanted it to be short and sweet. anyway, thank u to everyone who read and kept up with this fic, means a lot to me that this blew up as it was smth i wrote for myself. if ur rereading this or are a reader in the future ty to you too! i appreciate the silent readers, anons, and ppl who left me sm cute comments and reblogs. u guys made writing it more fun and easier to ignore the not so nice ppl. i cant reply to everyone but just know i do read every ask and comment i get! i do hope to see u guys in my notifs in the future even if i don’t write for genshin anymore, but if not then i’m glad you gave my writing a chance <3 have a great day/night byebye

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @courtneydefender @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

#behind the lens smau #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin smau #genshin scaramouche

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 9 months

Text

A Perfect Score - Chapter 1 - Ice Cold | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The opportunity of a lifetime presents itself | Word Count: 5.8k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: language, mentions of injury

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Welcome to A Perfect Score, I hope you like the first chapter! It's a lot of set-up here but I am hoping it's not too boring.

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

Halting in the middle of the rink, you lean down, tugging the strings of your skates back through their holes even tighter. Damn things are always too big. You make a mental note to text Rhaenys later to get rid of them and invest in some more that actually fit well enough to practise in.

The sound of blades tearing through the ice is beginning to grate now, so you think it’s been long enough. You’ve been practising perfecting the Fankick to Illusion move for at least an hour now and your thighs are starting to scream for reprieve.

Another lesson you feel you’ve learned over the years is to listen to your body when it needs rest. Pushing yourself so hard in the past has never turned out with good results. So now all you can think about is going home, icing your muscles and eating something a bit gratifying, even if it means cheating on your strict diet.

It’s only when you stand up that you realise your core kills, and you wince slightly once you push yourself on your skates towards the edge of the rink.

And as if it couldn’t possibly get worse, a wide-stupid grin is plastered all over Jace Velaryon’s face as he skates up to you. His wild curly brown hair is sat unruly at chin length, and he wears entirely grey sportswear, paired with black skates.

“Fancy seeing you here” he muses, as he circles you on the ice.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Actually I was just leaving”

Jace feigns disappointment, his lips turning down into a playful child-like frown, “Shame. Was hoping we could practise together”

You huff, skating backwards away from him, “In your dreams, Velaryon”

“Your loss!”

"You not pestered Luke to get into it then?" You call, amused.

Jace rolls his brown eyes in the back of his head, almost losing balance as he does, "Nah, he's terrified. Won't come near it!"

"Shame, it'd be like watching Bambi-On-Ice" you joke with a grin. He pulls a fake-amused expression, sticking two fingers up at you in retaliation before skating off himself.

You swivel round on the ice, to be greeted with a bright, smiling face as Ellyn Baratheon waits there at the side-lines waving at you.

“Hey El” you say, all puffed out as you walk on your skates to the nearest bench, your muscles screaming now that you’re off your feet.

She smirks, raising an eyebrow, “Jace trying to chat you up again?”

“Trying for sure”

Ellyn hands you a hand towel which you take graciously to dab the back of your neck, “I don’t know how you do this everyday” she says, shaking her head, “Floris not here?”

“No, I haven’t seen her” you shrug, “Why are you here anyway. You Joe Goldberg-ing me?” you smirk at her, undoing the laces to your skates and rubbing the sensitive skin at the ankle.

Ellyn raised her eyebrows, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder, “It’s hardly Joe Goldberg-ing when I know you, idiot” she jokes.

Taking a long sip from your water bottle, you furrow your brows, “What’s up with you? It’s not like you to be worrying after Floris”

“No it’s not that” she argues, “Dad said she was having a tough time with training and I thought she’d be here so…”

You shrug, “She’s not come to train here in ages”

Ellyn hums looking around, looking back at you with wide eyes, “Don’t look, but him in the stands, he's been staring at you the whole time I’ve been here and he totally just caught me looking”

“Well now I just have to look, don’t I?” you smirk, looking around her.

She is indeed right.

High in the stands, arms tightly behind his back, wearing a long dark green coat, is Otto Hightower. He has a stern face beneath the greying beard on his face, eyes constantly set into a frown. Once he sees he has been noticed, he pretends to observe the other skaters, but it’s blatantly obvious he was staring at you, and has been doing so for the past few weeks.

“Oh, him? He’s always here” you say to Ellyn, pulling a face, “Some sort of - I don’t know - talent scouting or something?”

Ellyn passes you your trainers, “Does he always stare like that?”

“Yeah but he’s harmless. It’s Lars, Larry…fuck I don’t remember his name, but it’s him you should feel weird about”

“Gods, yeah! Floris told me!” Ellyn gasps, looking around to make sure the guy isn’t around, “Is it true he was found in the women’s locker room?”

You nod, amused, tying up the laces to your shoes.

Ellyn chuckles, “Jesus, the stuff you guys put up with. Makes me glad I never got involved in this business” she gestures with her hands to the ice rink.

“Hm” you hum, “Anyway, are you going to take me out to eat or what”

She links arms with you, “Charming”

You spare a look over your shoulder at the man in the stands, who looks cagier by the second as he turns, eyes trained entirely on you and stalks off out of booths, his long coat brushing against the seats. He walks away with a purpose only Hightowers seem to possess.

Ellyn, in her true Baratheon nature, takes you to Storm’s End, a popular brunch spot that sells cocktails in the early afternoon. Partly because she genuinely enjoys the food, but also because her dad owns the place. Suppose special treatment works sometimes.

Also in her true nature, she orders two mimosas, indicating that even if it’s not your cheat day, sometimes you just have to live a little, she says. Ellyn harps on about a guy she’s been texting who she matched with on Tinder, who turned out to be a Class A twat when she found out that he’d also matched with every single one of her sisters and tried to chat them up as well.

But as much as she is trying to mask how concerned she is, you can see it. After being her flatmate for so long, it’s difficult to not see.

“Why are you so concerned about Floris?”

Ellyn sighs, “I don’t know. I know I shouldn’t. She’s an adult and she can take care of herself and all but she’s just being really secretive. I just don’t like thinking that she’s keeping her troubles to herself. Even Cass has no idea what’s going on and you know what she’s like”

Your eyes widen in agreement, biting back a grin.

“Control Freak”

You both say in unison with a giggle.

You stab at your lunch with your fork, “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m in ‘the business’ and I don’t know what’s going on with her” you say, “I’m sure she’ll come around. Like you say, she’s a big girl”

“I just think with all these championships coming up, it’s going to her head”

You hum in agreement. But before you can say any more, both you and Ellyn stare at one another in shock when both of your phones light up at the same time, with different Caller IDs. Hers with ‘Dad’. And yours with ‘Rhaenys - Manager’.

Giving one another a weird look, Ellyn senses the urgency in hers and scrambles to her feet, urging her phone to her ear. You accept the call putting it to yours,

“Rhaenys?”

“Where are you right now?” she asks, urgency in her tone.

“Uh…Storm’s End, why?” you ask, “Has something happened?”

“Are you with anyone?”

“Yeah, Ellyn, but she’s on the phone to her Dad - Rhaenys, what’s going on?”

You hear her sigh over the phone, her usually calm demeanour is somewhat hurried.

“Floris has injured herself quite badly. A broken ankle. She won’t be able to compete in the Championships”

With the phone still pressed to your ear, you look up at Ellyn, who is practically tearing her hair out across the room, half-shouting nervously down the phone, receiving the same news as you are right now.

“How do you know this?”

“I have my ways”

“No but, why are you telling me this?”

Rhaenys sighs again and you feel the panic winding its way up your throat, sending every hair on edge. You’re annoyed and flustered in equal measure that you can’t see her face, and wished she would just tell you what the hell was going on.

“Otto Hightower has approached me, asking for you”

What. The. Fuck.

Okay, that’s not what you expected to hear.

“Otto Hightower. You’re kidding right?”

“I wish I was” she answers in a flat tone.

“Well - uh - why not Baela or Rhaena?”

“He doesn’t want them, they only do Singles. Now that Floris is injured they need another skater to join their team”

Your mind feels like it's whirring a million miles an hour.

“Wait, Otto Hightower wants me for Pair Skating?” you ask, confused, “Rhaenys I’ve never done Pairs either!”

“You think I don’t know that!” she retorts, her volume increasing and cracking down the phone, “If Otto wants you, you have a shot at going to the Olympics. With the Targaryens”

The Targaryens.

A figure skating family powerhouse. Combined with the Hightower management, they’re quite the force to be reckoned with. You’d heard of them, being involved in figure skating for most of your life, as they always represented the Crownlands, but they were like a myth, only spoken about but never seen. And as well as that, they’re steeped in layers of controversy. It’s the only thing that is ever so slightly colouring your judgement.

“Rhaenys, I don’t know about this…I’ve got Ellyn right here-”

“There’s a schmoozing event tomorrow night. They’ll all be there. Just go and see how you feel and then we can talk about it, okay?” she offers, her tone more gentle now, “At least give it a chance”

Your gaze is brought back to Ellyn, who looks significantly less stressed out than a moment ago, but still with the phone pressed hard to her ear, talking under her breath. You swallow anxiously and wonder how Ellyn would take it if you so quickly snapped up the opportunity that was presented only because her sister was injured. It feels like the room is spinning, with no sign of stopping and the feeling is making the blood in your veins feel like jelly.

The Olympics.

Was there really a chance that could ever happen?

With a strained, quiet voice, you finally speak, “I’ll think about it”

Rhaenys makes a noise down the phone like the tension is leaving her body, “I’ll text you the details”

As quickly as either of you are able, you accompany her to the hospital to see Floris. And when you see her, it takes every ounce of self-control inside you when Floris shows a photo of her injury not to outright gag. Rhaenys wasn’t fucking kidding, broken ankle your arse. It was facing in the most unnatural direction. Whatever move she was trying to do clearly had gone buttfuck wrong and all her weight had completely snapped her foot.

You manage to sneak in some snacks for her, before leaving Ellyn alone with her to chat amongst themselves while the rest of the Baratheons arrive.

It leaves you to think finally, in quiet, in the comfort of your flat with the kettle boiling softly about what Rhaenys had suggested.

It could never have happened on your own. The Targaryens were well known in the Figure Skating industry, and not always necessarily for the right reasons.

You were too young to remember fully, but after becoming a skater, you began to hear rumours of Alicent Hightower. Some in judgement and some in sympathy. Even the details, you couldn’t tell if they were biased or not.

Alicent Hightower was a brilliant figure skater. The Sweetheart of Oldtown, they called her. She was graceful, professional and had all the makings of being Olympics worthy. And she was only in her early twenties when she did make it, although that didn’t come without the berating and hounding of her father, Otto Hightower, who was and still is her manager, except now he manages her Targaryen children as well. It was always in the press, Otto would be caught berating Alicent in restaurants and outside of championships, he was so desperate for his daughter to make it big. You count the blessings and thank the gods that your parents were never like that.

When she did make it to the Olympics, it had come out that she was having a secret relationship with a judge on the panel, Viserys Targaryen, without disclosing it. In the conflict of interest, and when she was found to be pregnant, she was disqualified and banned from competing professionally altogether. It devastated her noticeably, as the press loved to point out, shoving their cameras in her face wherever she went.

Something about it had always rung tragic to you though. She was only in her early twenties, and Viserys was much older and had already been widowed, with a child around the same age as Alicent as well. A fact you couldn’t help but find gross now that you’re older. But not only that, Viserys was extremely close with Otto, and the whole ordeal reeked of his involvement. An act that in the end, destroyed her career.

The controversy lasted years, as Viserys was also fired from his job on the board, but with his severance he was at least able to raise the family he’d made with Alicent, going on to have a further three children with her. And you didn’t doubt that she was probably happy now, with her four children all grown, but there was something about the entire thing that made you incredibly sad for her.

Ping.

Your phone screen lights up just as you pop some leftover pasta into the microwave.

Jace was always sweet. You’d known him a while and he always seemingly had a thing for you, something he desperately cannot keep to himself even if he tried. He’d even asked you on a few dates, once upon a time, but you’d always said you see him as a friend. And gods, you felt like a bitch but you couldn't help how you felt. He was sweet, but a bit too sweet. Like brother sweet. And it would just be too weird.

That didn’t stop him from shooting his shot though.

You hear the jingle of keys as Ellyn shuffles through the door, sinking into the sofa with a sigh having been on her feet all day. She doesn't need to ask for a drink, you already have two mugs ready.

"Pasta?" You ask,

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. Dad took us out"

“How is she?” you ask after a beat, pulling the pasta out and dishing it up for yourself, leaning against the counter.

“Fine, but devastated, obviously” Ellyn sighs, grabbing a mug of tea you’d made for her, “she was looking forward to the Championships”

“I bet she was, bless her”

Ellyn furrows her brows, “She said she couldn’t tell me much…about anything”

You pull a face, “Why not?”

“She said she had to sign an NDA”

You scoff a laugh, "What the fuck? An NDA? Fucking hell, trust Otto to keep her quiet"

“Yeah well, she can’t tell anyone anything, not even her family” Ellyn tuts, burning her tongue slightly on her tea, “She told me Otto reached out to Rhaenys though”

Your face blanches and you look over at your flatmate, “Oh yeah?” you say shakily, “Yeah, um, Rhaenys called me at Storm’s End…telling me about Floris”

“She roping you into it?” she asks with a nod,

“Something like that”

Silence falls and the only sound is you tapping your fingers nervously on the bowl you're holding.

“I won’t do it”

Ellyn frowns, “Why?”

“Because I would feel shitty going for it knowing that it was literally going be Flor-ow!” she pinches your arm, “What was that for!”

“For being dumb” she says smirking, “listen I don’t care. Floris injured herself. It’s not like you’ve stolen her place or anything”

“That’s what it feels like though” you pout, rubbing the spot where she'd pinched you, "trim your fucking nails as well, that hurt"

She pinches you again, albeit not as hard “That’s for being dumb again” she says, “Listen, how many people get personally asked for? To compete in Championships. The Olympics!”

You sigh. Still not entirely convinced.

“Don’t give me that. If you want to do it then go for it. What reason do you have not to?" She asks, giving you a pleading look.

"I don't know! I have like imposters syndrome or something! I've never done Pairs, why does he want me?" You reason, stabbing a piece of penne, "The Targs are big, Ellyn. I'm not sure I'm ready for that…"

She scoffs, "Fuck me, who is?"

Your phone pings again with an email from Rhaenys, detailing the information for the schmoozing event tomorrow. You sigh as you read it.

"Who's that?"

"Rhaenys. Says there's an event tomorrow, the Targs will be there with Otto and she said if I wanted the opportunity I should go and meet them…" you explain, scrolling aimlessly through the details on your phone.

"Do it" Ellyn says, giving you a reassuring smile, "I'll hate you if you don't"

"Ok, ouch"

"Do it then!"

You pout, "But that means I have to shave my leeeegs…"

"I swear to all the gods, I will dump that penne pasta all over your dumb little head if you don't"

You'd laugh, if you didn't know Ellyn. But fortunately, you do, and you know she's deadly serious and absolutely would.

She puts on that pouty little look as well, sticking her bottom lip out, dangling her legs as she sits on the arm of the sofa.

You sigh, "Will you help me find a dress?"

She grins, clapping her hands excitedly, "Can I do your hair as well?"

Rhaenys wasn't kidding when she said it would be lavish.

The car will pick you up around 18:30. It's going to be a fairly formal dress event, but nothing too glitzy. Wear something sophisticated.

Yes ma'am.

As promised, Ellyn went the whole nine yards with helping you pick out a dress, deciding ultimately on a mid length black number with spaghetti straps, taking Rhaenys' advice and not wearing anything too much. That paired with heels and some gold accessories, and with Ellyn having done your hair in waves, it looked entirely professional.

But knowing this didn't help your nerves.

You sat nervously in the back of the car the entire time bouncing one leg, feeling the hot whips of panic at the back of your neck.

Am I overdressed? What if you can see my pantyline? What if I shit myself, I've not got a spare pair of underwear. Is this neckline too low? Will a nipple spill out?

"I know that look" Rhaenys' smooth voice snaps you out of your panic, "You won't be convincing anyone when you look like a slapped arse" she grins.

Rhaenys looks gorgeous as always, dressed in a beautiful sea blue with mesh at the top. Her hair is perfectly braided back without a single strand where it shouldn't be. She's always so classy, it's disgusting really.

"Sorry" you sigh, "I'm nervous"

"The only thing we should be nervous about is if there is wine or not" she retorts with a smile, pulling out her compact to check her lipstick hasn't bled.

"When I was your age it was all different. No licking the proverbial arse, shall we say"

You furrow your brows, "I don't want to be thinking about arse licking in front of Otto Hightower, thank you"

Rhaenys laughs, wiping some lipstick from her lip line, "Just relax. I'll talk you through who is there and what they do"

The car stops and you gather your dress as you step out, looking at the grand looking building in front of you. Rhaenys shuts the door softly as she leads you up the stairs, her heels clicking with each purposeful step.

"You do look lovely tonight, I'm sure there's nothing to be nervous about" she says, looking lovingly down at you and brushing a waved lock of hair out your face.

"I don't look overdressed?"

She scoffs, "Trust me, they will be. They like to make an impression"

A member of staff greets you both at the entrance, slipping your coat off your shoulders to hang up, just as another descends upon you two to offer a glass of Prosecco, which you clutch nervously in your grip, following Rhaenys through the foyer to the function room at the back.

"It's not wine, but at least it's alcoholic" Rhaenys muses as she sips a little, wiping her lipstick mark off the rim after she's done.

The function room is wide and grand, decorated top to bottom with lights and decorations that reflect a glimmer off the large chandelier that hangs overbearingly in the middle of the room. There's a softened chatter that fills the space, a hushed one that you think only people of a certain status are able to converse in.

You scan the room briefly, amongst the sea of heads. Some you know as judges who attend the local competitions. Others who you scarcely recognise from TV, who hold high standing as managers of bigger figure skaters.

It screams old money, or just money in general. There's a large table, with a spread of small bites, as well as staff members going around with canopies and refills of beverages.

It's almost overwhelmingly nice. But stiff-backed, formal, without a hint of carefree nature.

Sounds like figure skating alright, you think, sipping your Prosecco anxiously.

You suddenly feel a chill on your bare arms and shoulders. Perhaps spaghetti straps weren't the best idea.

Rhaenys points her ring clad finger in the corner, "There he is. The man himself" she says, a bit of annoyance to her tone.

When you follow her finger, he's already looking at you. Otto Hightower. He's wearing a dark green suit, his tie perfectly underneath his stiffened collar. His eyes are trained between yourself and your manager, as if trying to figure out a puzzle he can't solve. He stands tall as well, towering over most people at the event.

He's talking to (or rather tolerating) none other than that creepy guy, whose name you barely remember. The one who has been caught on more than one occasion in the women's locker room. After realising Otto is no longer listening, his icy gaze also meets yours, his lips turning into an amused smile of sorts that sends a shiver down your spine.

You swear to all the gods you see his gaze flit to your feet. But you must be imagining it.

Otto crosses the room with purpose in long strides, with a self-assured smirk on his face that is visible beneath his beard.

Rhaenys already has her hand stretched when he takes it to politely kiss her knuckles, "Rhaenys. It has been too long" he greets in a quiet, rasp.

She smirks too, pulling her hand away, "Not long enough, I would say"

He at least has the decency to laugh at her 'joke'.

You feel small when he turns to you, taking your hand to do the same as he asks your name.

"A pleasure. Otto Hightower" he bows his head slightly.

I know who you are, you think. And I'm definitely not freaking out.

"Pleasure is all mine. It's very nice to meet you and thank you for inviting us" you reply, as calm as you are able. Rhaenys beams, as if to say you're doing well.

Otto nods, turning his attention to the other side of the room, where a young man with short-ish silver hair has accidentally broken his champagne flute. His brow seems to lower a little.

"Aegon!" He calls, making the young man snap his head up in surprise, shoving whatever he had in his hand into his mouth hurriedly.

Otto pats Aegon's shoulder as he stands next to him, giving the former a chance to excuse himself, but not before whispering something into his ear.

Aegon is tall, but not as tall as Otto, and his platinum hair is in a cropped choppy style above his shoulders. He's wearing such a dark shade of green, it's nearly black, his white shirt has several of the top buttons undone as well. He flashes his white teeth in a wide smile while his eyes roam over your shoulders, one hand coming to shake yours,

"Nice to meet you. I'm Aegon" he muses. You nod with a friendly smile, your gaze briefly caught by Rhaenys moving away and speaking in a hushed manner with Otto in a way that can only mean business.

"You look horrified" he grins, making you snap your gaze back at him, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"Oh, do I?" You rub your neck, "it's just nerve-wracking I suppose"

"I don't blame you. We're not all scary when you get to know us"

You smile, slightly relieved at his casual nature, something you chalk up to him being a similar age, "You included?"

He shrugs, "I'm easy going. All this fluff annoys the fuck out of me"

"Inevitable, for the industry we're in" you smirk around the room, the bubbles dissolving on your tongue.

"In any case, I'm looking forward to working with you"

Aegon furrows his brows, confused, "Huh?"

Panic begins to gnaw at your gut, "Aren't we going to be doing Pairs?"

His smile returns, "Oh no! I do Pairs with my sister, Helaena. She's over there" he points out. The woman he's referring to is on the other side of the room, trying to catch a stray moth that had made its way inside. Her cream dress makes her look positively mythical, coupled with her platinum waves cascading down her back.

"Oh right, so…" you start, "...sorry, Otto mentioned me doing Pairs…"

Aegon pokes his cheek with his tongue, as if amused, "Oh yeah. You're going to be with Aemond. Unfortunately"

"Unfortunately?"

Aegon grins, in no attempt to hide his amusement by pressing the champagne flute in his hand to his lips and taking a large sip.

“My brother is complicated. He’s outside having a smoke, but don’t expect conversation”

You open your mouth to ask more, but Otto’s hand clamps over his shoulder, urging him back. Aegon smiles one last time, mouthing good luck. Rhaenys, now with a fresh drink in her fingers, raises her eyebrows at you.

“I’ve spoken with him” she starts, in a hushed tone, taking your arm and leading you to a quiet corner of the room, “He gave me his terms”

“And?” you ask expectantly.

“I gave him mine as well. He wanted you to be signed to his management, which means living in residence for the duration of your contract. They have facilities. A cook, a private rink for practise, a spare room for you-”

“What about El? I can’t just leave her high and dry without a flatmate”

Rhaenys waves the issue away, “I anticipated that, don’t worry. They will cover the cost of your room. You will also be doing Pairs with Aemond, not sure if it was mentioned to you before”

“No it wasn’t” you reply, almost annoyed. “So will Otto be my new manager?”

“Not exactly. He will be handling your competitions and training, but a certain percentage will still come to me, at my behest. I figured you wouldn’t want a change of hands entirely”

“You figured correct” you smirk at her, “What do you think?”

Rhaenys looks across the room, eyeing Otto, who is now speaking to a woman you can only see the back of. She had long wavy auburn hair tied loosely in a ponytail and wears a slim suit fitted perfectly to her figure.

“I think it’s a good opportunity. Everything is paid for and you’d be in with a good shot”

With your lips caught between your teeth in thought, you trace your finger over the rim of your glass, weighing up the options you’ve been presented with. You’re at least grateful that Rhaenys hasn’t just agreed blindly without asking you first. She is a good manager like that. Something you desperately don’t want to slip.

“Okay” you reply with a sigh, your chest deflating at making such a big life decision in such a short space of time, “I’ll do it”

Rhaenys squeezes your arm lovingly, her lips turning up into a smile, “I’ll confirm with him now then”

You watch as her blue gown billows as she walks away, taking another deep breath to ground yourself. Your skin seems to tingle with anticipation, maybe even excitement, wondering what training and residing alongside the Targaryens will mean. Not only that, but with none other than the Sweetheart of Oldtown herself. You wonder what she’s like in real life now, since she was forced away from the business all those years ago she’s kept herself quiet from the press.

Feeling utterly too hot and stuffy, you cross the room, out of the oak french doors that grace the back of the event, slipping out subtly while Rhaenys speaks to Otto once again, joining the chestnut-haired woman.

The chill of the early evening bites at your skin, but a welcome feeling once you press your back against the cool brick, having a moment’s reprieve from the crowds. You pull out your phone, thumbs working quickly to type a message to Ellyn.

Ping.

Um? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!

“You shouldn’t be out here”

You nearly drop your phone jumping out of your skin. The voice seems to come out of nowhere.

But the smell of cigarette smoke wafts into your face with the dull breeze and when the smoke clears, you see who you previously slipped right past, leaning on the other side of the french doors.

He’s tall. Taller than Otto it feels like. And though he hasn’t introduced himself, it isn’t difficult to guess who he is judging by the long platinum hair pulled back into a messy bun, the sharp features only Targaryens seem to possess and the half-hooded, almost annoyed stony stare. Unlike his brother and Otto, he is wearing entirely black, like he’s attending a funeral. His outfit is fitted perfectly, save for the one top button nestled beneath his tie that is left undone.

Aemond Targaryen.

He hasn’t even turned his head all the way to you, his two fingers coming up to his cigarette, pulling it away to blow the smoke from his pouty lips. He taps the ash to the side with his fingers, raising an aggravated eyebrow when you don’t reply.

You swallow nervously, tapping your fingernails on the glass you’re still holding, willing the dryness out of your throat. You’re not sure anyone would be able to deny, he’s handsome. And it’s unlike you to think any man is beautiful, but he is. He probably knows it as well, hence the annoyingly self-assured way he holds himself.

“Needed some air” is all you’re able to say in return, clicking your phone off.

Even as you turn away, in your periphery you see his tall form push off the wall and stride purposefully towards you. He stops just shy of you, holding out the cigarette he was smoking in his fingers as an offer to calm your nerves. Your blood feels icy when you look up at him, having to properly look all the way to even see him, and finally see the other side of his face.

An angry scar runs jagged through his skin, from his forehead to the middle of his cheek, right through his socket and eyebrow. It’s not quite red, but more a dull colour, probably with age. His left eye doesn’t quite look the same as his other, a slightly different shade of blue. Your gaze briefly flits between the two, taking in his features. He’s got such an angular face, it almost looks as if he’s been carved from stone and could be put on display in those fancy museums. But more than anything, something flutters in your belly at the thought of seeing him on the ice, with you.

Shaking your head, you reply softly, “No thanks. I quit”

He shrugs almost imperceptibly, bringing it back to his lips, turning away from you to blow the smoke into the wind. And for some reason, watching his neck flex, his fingers deftly holding the cigarette and his tall, broad stance, it makes your body go all warm.

He doesn’t look back at you when he says, “It’s a glass eye”

“What?”

His gaze flits down finally to you, “You were looking at my eye”

“I wasn’t”

“You were”

You lick your lips anxiously, hot embarrassment creeping in at the revelation you’d been caught admiring him. But Aemond doesn’t smile, he remains stony-faced and impassive.

“I wasn’t going to ask” you respond, crossing your arms, running your palms over your arms that have now erupted with goosebumps. From the chill of the wind or his presence, you’re not sure. Aemond huffs, as if he doesn’t believe you though.

He gestures inside with a kink of his head, “You should be in there. Making connections”

You furrow your brows, “I’m not interested in that”

An amused smile, similar to the one Aegon had done, makes his lips curl up slightly. Before now you weren’t able to see the resemblance.

“Hm, Sure you’re not” he muses, pushing the cigarette into the brick next to you to stub it out, “Let me guess. You just love to skate. Skating is your life and it’s all just a bit of fun?”

Your lips part in annoyance at his blatant rudeness and the fact he is so openly judging you before bothering to properly get to know you.

“You-”

“You’ll be eaten alive” he muses, with a lazy smirk, walking backwards a few paces, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, “I’m not sure you can handle it”

Before you can even say anything, he gives a low laugh, deep in his chest, as if he’s so pleased with himself at getting a reaction, before striding back inside, back into the hustle and bustle of the event inside.

Irritation eats at your insides. It’s clear he’s only said what he did to draw a reaction and he’d nearly fucking got one. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t want to slap that stupid, self-assured look off his face when he expressed a kind of pride at talking down to you. As handsome as he is, a shitty personality paired with a nepo-baby attitude dulls the warmth in your gut.

I’m not sure you can handle it.

A shuddered, exasperated breath runs through your nose with the anger that builds inside.

“Fucking asshole”

I’ll show him.

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