#EDIT I FORGOT THE CHAIR ONE
Photo
more trigunposting....enjoy!!!
#trigun#trigun stampede#yea im pretty much Only drawing trigun stuff in my free time#three guns#that's the trigun tag on this blog if ur feeling silly#EDIT I FORGOT THE CHAIR ONE
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
cant believe they just let me make women real. thank you o7
#(arakawa cardboard cutout!!! aprox. 40 cm tall <33)#listen im not. saying anything but her head is in fact. the same size as mine o.o#SHES SO CUTE AUGH.#also figured out why my first try (like 3+ months ago) didnt work <3 forgot i had to overlay the seperate pieces lol#she........#also i had to edit. the other guy. out in front of her :/ (“edit” aka. draw some lines. and proceed to cut of most of the edited stuff anyw#sillyposting#loove making carboard cutouts theyre so fun......#i have... 2 mini ones like. 10cm MAX. of nagito and blade. both in a maiddress.#i have a fullbody LIFESIZE shuichi (drV3) that is shamelessely sitting/hidden behind my chair#i have a fullbody 1meter seiko right next to my bed <33#and a bust of seiko and now of arakawa aswell!! both about the same size and on either side of my door <333#YIPPEEE#im a big boxsaver so. gotta use that cardboard for something o7#arakawa is actually made from the box my miss-ems came in so <33#=w=bbb
0 notes
Text
.
#been super creative lately. and its not because of the new year. i know that cuz i forgot it was a new year#but like in the last month ive taken up knitting again#and i learned a bunch of new tecniques and tried new projects#ive been reading more. like i went from almost never reading to reading back to back books#and today i was struck by a shit ton of inspiration and motivation for my clipboard project#(clipboard project: i work at a summer camp. clipboards are useful there. im painting a special one for every area director. office member.#and my own area staff)#i brainstormed good ideas to paint on each of them and reached out to friends of people if i ciuldnt think of something#i have a decent list. and I'm planning on starting to paint them tonight#im really excited for some of them. theres one area director. of the nature area#he loves fish and fishing and is incredibly knowledgeable about it#im going to paint common fishes of our camp's lake in the style of an educational poster. yknow the cream colored ones#yknow. do you see the vision? its a good vision#im so excited. and im getting off of work early so i have even more time to paint#i just need to build my desk chair so i can paint at my desk#im having a great time despite the fact that my parents are visiting and i have to spend all day tomorrow with them#edit: i just realized all of this motivation happened when i started taking my meds again#crazy. i felt less mentally ill once i started taking the anti-mental illness pills
0 notes
Text
a/n hi i have explanation as to why i was gone for so long please don’t sue me. i wrote this after watching saltburn and watching 2037633 felix edits. but i honestly forgot how to write so im getting back into it. don’t judge :P
summary it’s 2006 and you’re an american who recently decided to study overseas in england at oxford and there’s one person who just won’t leave you alone
pairings felix catton x american!reader
warnings smut, orgasm control, begging, foul language, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, slight choking, oral sex, not proofread, smoking cigarettes(not reader), unprotected sex, fluff, angst, name calling, daddy kink, praise, 18+ MINORS DNI
chips or crisps?
“can i just get a vodka martini?” you ask the bartender. he nods and quickly scurries off to make your drink.
england is not what you expect it to me. it’s nice. nicer than america in your opinion but the people were something.
one person you just couldn’t shake stood in all his glory across the pub. “he’s gorgeous right?” a redheaded girl says as she walks from his direction towards you.
“uh no not really” you lie. no one in their right mind could think that felix catton was unattractive. he’s 6’5, has a gorgeous smile, and a very very hot body. the only thing about him that bothered you was how he teased you. m
you didn’t know if it was because you liked him or what. “no one thinks felix is unattractive. felix doesn’t even think felix is unattractive.” the redhead continues saying.
“um do i know you?” you ask as the bartender slides your drink across the bar and you had him 4 pounds. “oou an american. i’m annabel” she says.
“hm.” you say and turn to look in felix’s direction again. hes now looking over at the bar where you and annabel are. first hes staring at annabel and then his eyes wander over to you; catching your gaze. you quickly look away not wanting to hold eye contact but for some reason your eyes wander right back to him.
he’s now smiling at you goofily because you got caught staring.
you roll your eyes and turn back facing the bar. annabel walks away after getting her drinks and now you’re officially by yourself again.
just the way you liked it.
you finish off your drink and quickly get a new one.
times passes and more people start filing into the pub; which calls for more drinks. “chips or crisps?” you hear next to you and you already know who it is.
“what do you want felix?” you groan and throw your head back.
the way your mouth is open and your neck is exposed makes felix feel a way inside. “is it chips or crisps?”
“felix i swear-“ you begin but he cuts you off. “you swear what love?” he begins and you finally look at him, “you’re you’re slap me? you’ve done that before.”
“what is your fascination with me?” you snap and he looks so amused.
“that,” he says a points at me, “what you just did is my fascination with you love.” furrowing your eyebrows he continues, “the way i get you all riled up without even touching you.” he says and his mouth is next to your ear at the point.
the smell of bourbon wraps around your head and into your nose. “you’re drunk.” you say and he chuckles.
“i’m not. lighten up y/n, you know i like teasing you.”
you can’t really tell if he’s lying so you just stop talking hoping he goes away after he gets his drinks.
newsflash: he doesn’t.
“y/n?” he says.
“what could you want now felix?”
“talk to me, love.”
“don’t call me that.. and no.”
“you just spoke to me.”
you don’t speak this time and he chuckles, “this little game we’re playing,” he begins and gestures between the two of you,” is lovely.” his accent warms you inside.
“i’m leaving.” you groan and push off your chair. you quickly gather your purse and coat before walking out; all while not even glancing at felix.
the cold england air hits you like a truck as you step outside. “it’s awfully cold.” felix says.
you jump at the unexpected sound of his voice. “felix what the hell are you doing?”
“don’t be foolish y/n. it’s 10 at night. i’m walking you back to your dorm.”
“i don’t need you to walk me back.” you say and he shrugs, “i didn’t ask you that did i?”
“whatever.” you begin walking and you can hear felix walking behind you.
after about 5 minutes of walking he finally speaks, “so y/n why don’t you like me?”
you ignore him but he won’t take that for an answer, “y/n answer the bloody question.”
you still don’t answer.
“for fucks sake,m y/n.” he says and he sounds upset. “whatever.” is all you hear before a hand wraps around your wrist pulling you between a small alley.
“felix let go.” you groan in annoyance that he won’t just leave you alone. but behind your little act, you want him to bother you; in more ways than others.
“stop acting like i don’t exist.” he begins as he gets close to your ear, “stop acting like i don’t have an effect on you.”
“you don’t.” you whisper and that pisses him off more.
“y/n,” he scoffs and you feel yourself beginning to get wet,”you act the way you do because you know, everything i do makes you feel good.”
if only he knew how true that statement was.
you shake your head, looking up at him. “listen, im not like every other girl who bows down to you. you can’t think i’m just gonna give out.”
“and why wouldn’t you love? i see the effect i have on you. i try to be so nice to you love.. and you push me away.” he begins as his hand slides into your mini skirt. “i bet you’re soaking for me.”
you refuse to make eye contact so you look down at his chest. “look at me love.” you shake your head now causing him to grab you by your jaw. “i said look at me.”
you whimper quietly at the feeling of his hand now touching the wet spot of your panties. felix’s eyes soften at your sound, “do i make you this wet love?”
after a few seconds, you finally give into all the feelings. so you nod your head but this doesn’t satisfy him, “words.”
“yes.”
“good girl. now,” he begins before pulling his hands out of your panties; causing you to whimper again at the lost of touch, “let’s go to my dorm. i’m not taking you in a bloody alley, darling.”
with that, he grabs your hand and begins walking quickly in the direction of the dorms. you can’t help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours.. and how long his legs are. one of his steps is 3 of yours.
after another 30 seconds of walking he stops. “you walk awfully slow love.”
“well sorry i’m not-“ you begin but yelp as your feet leave the ground and felix throws you over his shoulder. “felix put me down!” you groan.
“darling we are like 3 minutes away. just let me carry you.” he says and smacks your butt. the stinging feeling after keeps you quiet.
those three minutes pass so quickly you don’t even realize he’s walked the stair of his dorm and is now unlocking the door.
slowly, felix sets you down and points to the bed. “take your skirt off.”
you hum in response before pulling your skirt down. he’s watching you intently with his arms crossed. his button up shirt is unbuttoned halfway down; revealing his sculpted chest.
“now your,” he begins and points at your panties. as you slide them off the moon shines on your glistening folds and a low groan comes out of him.
as you discard of you panties, felix walks over and stands between your legs. “look at me.” you do as he says, “is this what you want?”
felix begins squatting down slowly. “do you want to be mine y/n?” he ask when he’s parellel with your pussy. his hot breath sends shivers up your spine. “hm y/n? answer me love.”
his hands wrap around your thighs. “yes felix.. that’s what i want.” you moan out as he begins kissing your inner thigh.
“well before we start.. call me daddy.” he lips your pussy in between words, “and you only cum when i say so. understood?”
you whimper lightly, “yes daddy.”
you’d never called a guy daddy before but it got you off more than you expected.
“well then,” with that felix’s mouth attacks your folds and clit causing your back to arch in pleasure.
your hands find his hair as he continues licking up and down your slit; ever so often he’ll hum and the feeling it gives almost pushes you over the edge.
“can i cum please daddy?” you ask and he hums something that sounds like a no. “please, please i want to cum.”
the begging and humming goes on for another minute or so until felix stops. “what happened?” you ask breathlessly.
“you tasted delicious darling, but i don’t want you to cum until i’m in you.”
he quickly pecks you on the lips before rolling you onto your stomach. you can’t see what he’s doing but his shadow cast on the wall as he stands.
you hear his belt being undone and soon his hand cupping your ass. “god, you’re perfect darling” he groans as his hand slides down; his accent is music to your ears.
“thank you..” you moan as he moves his dick between your wet folds. “thank you what?”
his hand wraps around your throat, “say it y/n.” the way your name rolls off his lips makes you feel so good. “thank you daddy.”
“good girl.” with that he slides in. you couldn’t see how big it was but you could definitely feel it. you moan in pleasurable pain as he stretches you.
doggystyle wasn’t always your first choice of positions because after a lot bit it was too much. every thrust would hit your cervix and begin hurting but with felix: it felt good.
“so- damned- tight.” he says and thrust harder in between words. you dig your face into the comforter moaning.
his hand snakes around your body to the front and begins rubbing your clit in small agonizingly pleasing circles. “felix-“
a sharp smack hits your ass, “that’s not my name y/n.”his hips continue to smack into you as he fucks you senselessly. “what’s my name?”
“fuck i need to cum.” you moan and he smacks your ass again, before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you up towards his chest continuing to fuck you. the new position caused him to hit your g spot in more ways than before. “what’s my name?” he ask through gritted teeth.
you’d never felt this kind of pleasure with anyone before. “can i please cum, daddy?”
“that’s what i like to hear.. but no.” his hand continues massage your swollen bud as he breathes heavily on your neck; fucking you maliciously. “god, do you feel god. all wet for me.. letting me fuck you to no avail like daddys slut.”
“please can i come daddy? please.. you feel so good.” you moan,
he pushes you back onto the bed, holding your by the neck; keeping you in place. “please daddy can i cum?” the feeling of release deepens so much and you can’t take it.
“i can’t take it.” you say through pleasured cries. the way he rubs your clit and hits your g spot repeatedly overstimulates you.
“yes you can and you will y/n.” he begins, “you’re mine now. all mine. no one could fuck you like i do. don’t you agree?”
you nod while whimpering out hushed “yes daddy”’s
“good. do you want to cum?”
“yes, yes please.”
“beg. and make sure it’s loud. i want everyone in this dorm to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock.”
“please daddy. please can i come? i want to make you feel good.” you plead and you have to admit: you can be louder.
“that’s not loud enough darling.” he says and stops rubbing your clit. the lost of friction causes you to whimper. “louder.”
“please daddy. i need to come. please, i can’t take it anymore.” you grab the sheets of his bed and grip them tight as an anchor as he fucks you.
“louder y/n, you’re almost there.” he groans. you can tell he’s getting close as well. his grip on your hips has tightened and you can feel his shaft pulsing slightly against your walls.
his fingers touch your clit again and you moan loudly, “oh my gosh, can i please cum daddy? you feel so good in me. i want to cum all on your dick.”
this time you’re so loud he’s even threatened to cover your mouth. “cum love. milk my cock like i know you’ve wanted too since we met”
at the sound of his permission, you release your orgasm. white flashes take over your vision as you release what felix has took his time to build up.
he continues to fuck you through your orgasm causing more pleasure. moaning loudly, you arch your back towards him. “holy hell, you’re so tight around me.”
he groans and pushes your hips into the bed. his thrust begin to slow and become sputtered movements. “you were made for me y/n.. so perfect.” he groans as releases hot white spurts that coat your walls.
the way he talks to you turns you on even more as you come down from your high. he continues to fuck you slowly as his cum drips out of you and onto your clit.
“fuck y/n..” he moans softly as he pulls out slowly. you continue laying down trying to catch your breath as he stands.
you hear things being more behind you but you’re too weak to turn your head and look. after a few seconds, you feel felix straddling you. “roll over.”
you do as he says to reveal he’s holding a cloth. “open your legs for me..”
slowly, you open your legs to reveal your swollen sex. “you did so good love.”
felix squats lowly and begins wiping you up. “thank you.”
smiling at you he continues,”but you know.. you never answered my question.”
“hm?”
“chips or crisps?”
#felix catton#saltburn#felix catton smut#felix catton fic#jacob elordi x reader#felix catton saltburn#felix catton fluff#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x reader#felix catton x you#saltburn x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Days and Nights (M)
Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader
Word count; 2635
Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro
Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.
A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.
after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.
I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.
THIS IS NOT EDITED
Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him.
From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats.
One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even.
“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”
He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were.
He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you.
Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place.
You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-
“Mike!”
Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him.
“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop.
“Did you hear me?”
He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”
Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”
You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying.
“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips.
“I- uh-”
“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.
“What?”
You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear.
“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”
Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly.
He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him.
Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue.
His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.
“Here?”
You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”
“I do- I really do-”
“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear.
“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it.
The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.
In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you.
Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him.
The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him.
His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further.
When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”
He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect.
“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.
Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest.
“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly.
Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again.
There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.
“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin.
“Mike-”
He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”
“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut.
Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”
“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back.
“What is it, baby?”
There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away.
“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red.
He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit.
Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks.
“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer.
When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again.
He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm.
Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.
“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.
He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest.
“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly.
He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back.
There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood.
“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit.
“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”
“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-
His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you.
“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-”
“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him.
He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”
“Mike-”
He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”
“Mike!-”
“I’m gonna cum- fuck-”
Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-”
Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known.
You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside.
“Do you wanna go on a date?”
You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring.
“I think we’re way past going on a date.”
“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”
#fnaf movie#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt smut#five night at freddys movie#five nights at freddys imagine
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much
imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat
well, yes!
cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)
wc: 1.6k
❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋
“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”
brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.
“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.
he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.
you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.
you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.
you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.
you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”
a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.
“beg me for what you want.”
and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.
his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.
“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.
“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.
you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.
“no ma’am.”
you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.
and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.
your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.
the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.
miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.
“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.
“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.
a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.
miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.
“thank you, mistress.”
smug bastard.
#sub miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara drabble#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel atsv#miguel o’hara smut#miguel atsv smut#atsv miguel smut#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#you’ve got mail💌#<nerd!miguel3
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
------------------
Author Masterlist
------------------
Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative
Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t
Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case
------------------
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.
A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?
This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.
Part 2
-----
Spencer's POV
-----
There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.
It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.
And this time, it's Hotch's fault.
Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.
"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."
No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.
But me? I wasn't excited at all.
Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.
Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.
Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.
But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.
"Boy genius! Over here!"
Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.
"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.
"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.
"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.
"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"
Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.
I wince, remembering the incident in question.
Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.
"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.
I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-
"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.
That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.
Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.
Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.
But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.
"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.
"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.
"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.
"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."
Derek rolls his eyes.
"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.
"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.
"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.
"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"
I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.
"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"
I'm screwed.
I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.
As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.
"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."
How the fuck can he do that?!
The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?
That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.
"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.
"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.
And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.
He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.
"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.
Why is she looking at me from head to toe?
Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.
"I'm Spencer," I wave.
Short and precise.
"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.
As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.
"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.
Oh, Lord. Help me.
I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.
"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.
"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.
Ashley's smile suggests it does.
"It is. Are you having fun?"
No.
"Yes! A lot! Are you?"
"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.
Is she flirting with me?
I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.
A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.
"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.
My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.
"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."
Okay. That sounds very straightforward.
I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.
Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.
I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.
"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"
Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.
As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.
Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.
Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.
When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.
As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.
"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."
Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.
"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."
I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.
Fuck. She is choking.
I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.
At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.
Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.
Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.
A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.
Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.
"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"
Ironically, I'm speechless now.
What is wrong with talking about oysters?
"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.
The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.
"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"
She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"
"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.
"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.
I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?
Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.
I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"
The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.
I don't even know how I should feel.
I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.
With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.
"Don't say it," I cut him off.
"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.
Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.
"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.
"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."
I look at him in disbelief.
"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"
"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"
I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.
"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."
It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.
"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.
"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.
Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.
If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.
My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.
I know her. I've seen her before.
Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.
My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.
Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.
After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.
With that in mind, I approach her.
She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.
She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.
It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.
And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.
Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.
My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.
"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.
"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."
She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.
"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."
Now, it's my turn to frown.
"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"
Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.
"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.
"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"
Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.
"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"
She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.
"It's just the right thing to do."
She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.
"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."
Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.
"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "
It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.
"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.
"Spencer," I supply. She hums.
"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.
I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.
Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.
"Uh, well. Thank you again..."
I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.
"(Y/N)," she says.
"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."
With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.
"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.
"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."
Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.
"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."
I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.
"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.
"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."
A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."
I chuckle at her choice of words.
Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.
"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.
"Uh, are you from Quantico?"
"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."
I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"
"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.
"Wow. The one and only BAU."
"You know us?"
"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."
She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.
"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."
(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.
"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.
"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."
"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."
She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.
"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.
Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.
"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"
"Sure."
"Why are you here tonight?"
My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?
"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.
"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."
If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.
She assumes my awe as discomfort.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."
"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.
"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.
"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"
An amused laugh leaves her lips.
"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.
I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question."
I didn't, although the answer is simple.
"My boss made me."
(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.
"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"
Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.
"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."
I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.
She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.
"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.
"That's why are you here tonight, too?"
My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.
"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"
(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.
"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."
Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.
"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.
"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."
I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.
"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."
I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.
"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.
"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.
"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.
"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."
"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.
"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.
"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."
Spencer Reid. Is that you?
I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.
"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.
"I won't. I promise."
-
Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.
The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.
She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.
Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.
It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.
We sit on a bench facing each other.
A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.
"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.
"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."
I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.
"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.
"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"
Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.
"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"
I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.
"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"
She chuckles, nodding.
"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.
(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.
That's how she met her boyfriend.
"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."
I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.
"What happened?"
"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."
A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.
"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."
(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.
"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."
(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.
"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.
"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.
"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."
Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.
"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.
"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."
"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.
"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."
Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.
She bitterly chuckles.
"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."
Spencer, do something.
"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."
And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.
"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.
"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.
"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.
"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.
I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.
"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.
"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.
"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."
I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.
Thank you, BAU.
"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.
"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.
"Non yet," I grin.
Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.
The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.
I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.
When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.
"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.
"Of course. It's the less I could do."
And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.
"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.
I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.
"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.
"You are welcome."
I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.
"See you around?"
(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.
"Yeah, sure. Why not."
I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.
"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.
"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.
I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.
-------------
Next -> Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t
-------------
A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!
-------------
Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid#amanda perry williams#aperrywilliams#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot
750 notes
·
View notes
Text
Summary: Reader gives Colby the cold shoulder for something that happened years ago, only to come to terms with what they want to do about it.
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, reader is kind of snippy with Colby, alcohol consumption, slight name calling, use of pet names, hair pulling, choking, oral (f rec), unprotected slightly intoxicated sex, just filth
This honestly did go the way I wanted it to, so might rewrite it later on or something. I don’t know, but there's going do be a point in this one shot to where I add more warnings. You'll understand when you come to it. Enjoy! 🖤
Word count: 6.3 | not edited
╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
"You rented out a club?" You raise your brows, "Wow, you really do plan on celebrating." You put the straw of your iced coffee between your lips.
"Yeah, well this is a big thing to be celebrating." Sam laughs, "I just.. I know you and Colby don't really get along.. so I just-"
You put your hand up, "I can tolerate him for you, Sam. So, no worries. It's just when he-"
"Well, well, well, look who we have here."
You roll your eyes, pointing behind you, "That."
"Hey." Sam says leaning back into the couch, "Where were you?" Colby sits down on the arm of your chair, knowing that it will bug the shit out of you, "I went down to the club, talked to the owner."
"Without me?" Sam tilts his head, "I figured, since you and Princess here-" he nods towards you and you roll your eyes, "-were busy planning this, I would take the liberty of going down and paying the down payment."
"Oh shit." Sam looks at you and you nod, "I totally forgot."
"See. Don't worry. I'm not just worried about partying." He winks at you and you slowly look towards Sam, "Can I strangle him now?"
Sam laughs, "Can you wait until after the party's over?"
You nod, "I guess I can strangle him with a streamer or something."
Colby laughs, "Don't threaten me with a good time." You scoff, standing up, "I'm going shopping. I need a dress for tomorrow night."
"Oh, can I come, too? I need to find a nice shirt." Sam leans forward and you nod, "You can. But he can't."
"What did I do to be punished by staying home?" Colby raises his hands and you laugh, "By Colby being Colby."
You were actually surprised when Colby didn't follow you guys out the door.
"So what's your deal with Colby, really? You never really filled me in on that. All I know is that you just hate him." Sam asks as he buckles up.
You laugh, "I know he's your friend, brother, bestie, whatever, but he just gets on my last nerve. Every single time he's around me."
Sam laughs, "Have you ever thought that maybe he likes you?"
"Did he say he likes me?" You glance over at Sam as you drive and Sam shakes his head, "No. I'm just asking if you ever thought about it."
"Now I'm thinking maybe you should have joined him." You mumble with a laugh, "No, I mean. I guess I never really thought- no. No. I don't. Next subject please."
Sam laughs, shaking his head, "Oh yeah. You guys like each other. You just don't know it yet."
You roll your eyes, "Yeah, tell that to the multiple girls in his phone."
Sam sighs, "Colby isn't what you think. Now, I'm not sticking up for him when he constantly picks on you, but at the same time, he doesn't act the way he acts with you when he's with other people."
"Other girls, you mean." You smirk slightly and sam nods, "Well, yeah."
You sigh, "It's like he knows he annoys me and he just uses that to his advantage at really getting under my skin."
"You let him."
You look at Sam, "No I don't."
"Yes you do."
"Do fucking not."
He laughs, "Do fucking to."
"I'm done talking." You lay your hand over your mouth, "Actually- no. Nevermind."
Sam laughs, "As I said. You guys like each other. You just don't know it yet."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
"I think I'm just going to settle with this mesh romper style looking dress." You hang the other dresses up and Sam tilts his head, "Do you like that one?"
You shrug, "I mean it's com-" your phone ringing catches your attention and you roll your eyes when you see it's Colby.
"Out of me and Sam. You had to call me?" You say as you bring the phone to your ear.
"Yeah, because I knew it would bug you." Colby laughs, "Can you do me a favor?"
"It depends." You look at Sam and he tilts his head, "What's up?"
You shrug, holding up your pointer finger.
"Can you pick me up a shirt? Like a nice button up or something? You know what I like to wear."
"Really. Why didn't you just-"
Colby cuts you off, "Now before you finish that sentence, remember who banished me from coming along. So consider this.." he hums, "I don't know, payback?"
You fight back laughter, "Go to hell, Colby."
"Hell with you sounds like heaven to me. See ya when you get back, Princess."
And with that, Colby hangs up.
You look at Sam, "I guess we have to pick up Colby a shirt for Saturday, too." He laughs and sighs, "I knew that was going to happen."
"And you didn't say anything before?" You say as you walk back over to the dress section. Sam shrugs, "I like to see how things play out."
You roll your eyes, "I hate you sometimes."
Sam slings his arm over your shoulder, "We both know that that isn't true."
You laugh, "Whatever you say." You look through the dresses and gasp slightly when you come across a navy blue dress with chain straps that cross in the back, "Nevermind. I like this one better."
You put the other one on the rack, picking up the blue one, "Alright, now to find you and douche bag a shirt."
"You can be so nice sometimes." Sam laughs and you look at him, "I know, right."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
"Yo Colby. We're back." Sam yells as you walk into the house.
You close the door, looking around to find the house empty, or so you thought.
"Colby?" Sam yells again and you point to the steps, "I'll run up and put his shirt in his room."
You dig through the bag and pull out his shirt. You sling it over your shoulder as you move up the steps.
You let out a sigh as you reach the top, turning to walk down the hall. You twist the knob, pushing the door open and you freeze when you see a shirtless Colby sitting at his computer with his headphones on.
After a few seconds, you blink, breaking your stare and you clear your throat. You throw the shirt at him and he jumps, whipping his head over to look at you.
"Jesus Christ, y/n." He laughs as he pulls his headphones down around his neck. He pulls the shirt off his shoulder and the back of the chair.
"Sam yelled for you twice." You lean against the door frame, "Does that reach your standards?"
Colby holds up the split, two tone skull button up, "I knew I could count on you." He looks back at you and you roll your eyes, "Uh huh. You're welcome."
As you go to close the door, Colby stops you, "Hey, wait a second."
"Yeah?" You blink slowly, looking at him.
"Why don't you hang out with me for a while? I can promise I'm not as bad as you think." He spins towards you and you suck air through your teeth, "Something tells me that sticking my hand in vat of acid would hurt less than being alone with you."
"Um.." he tilts his head, shaking it slightly, "Ouch?" He laughs and raises his hands, "Why do you despise me so much?"
No one knows the real reason, you refuse to tell anyone why. It felt silly, but at the same time.. it felt like it was best to keep it between you and only you.
Younger you, the one that Colby, unknowingly, broke the heart of, was holding a grudge, to say the least.
So you put up a wall.
You made Colby the enemy so you wouldn't fall for him like you did years ago.
"I just.. have better things to do than g-" you stop yourself, "I have plans, dinner plans with friends."
"Yeah? Where at?" Colby smirks and you roll your eyes, "Kris, Celina, and I are going to that new place that opened on Fifth."
"Hmm. I see. Well you three have fun."
You nod, turning around and pulling the door shut, and you mentally curse yourself because Sam was right.
You do, infact, allow him to get under your skin because a part of you, a big part, is still madly in love with him.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
As you walk into your apartment from dinner with friends, your phone chimes in your purse. You let out a sigh, closing the door before setting your purse on the stand and digging out your phone.
You smirk slightly when you see it's a text from Colby, So, how was dinner? Is that place worth going to?
You kick your shoes off, walking over to the couch and plopping down, I mean.. yeah. It was worth it I'd say.
You set your phone down, switching on your tv, but your mind can't focus on what's playing. Instead, it focuses on what Sam said earlier on in the day.
"You two like each other, you just don't know it yet."
You start questioning everything, Was he implying that Colby liked you? Could you be able to open up to him again? Why didn't he seen that you liked him before? Was there something wrong with you back then?
Colby was the first person you ever felt love for. When you seen him with, not just another girl, but with your friend that knew you liked him - it shattered you.
That first heartbreak was the worst, and since you were friends with Sam, it followed you.
Haunted you for all these years.
You phone dings and you blink, looking over at it. You pick it up and laugh weakly as your eyes scan over Colby's texts.
We should drag Sam there before we head to the club on Saturday.
So now I'm getting radio silence?
Come on, Princess. You can't ignore me, we're so in love, remember?
You bring your phone down, resting in your lap as you type, you know that I hate you right?
You start to type out a message, Actually, Colby. I take that back. I don't actually hate you I-
You stop once you see Colby's message pop up, you know, I once heard that enemies make the best lovers.
You delete your half written text, replacing it, oh yeah? Where did you hear that from? The little voice inside of your head.
You laugh slightly and toss your phone down, getting up to go get a drink. By the time you come back, you have two new messages.
Of course from Colby.
Hey, that man is smart. At times. Don't judge me.
Listen, can we hang out? I think we can get along just fine.
You read his message, debating on what you should do. Of course you want to hang out with him, but that little piece of you wants to keep pushing him away.
By the time you start typing out a lie, there's a knock on your door.
You walk over, looking out of the peep hole and sighing as you open the door, "You're relentless, Brock."
"Yet.. you still open the door for me." He smirks as he walks in, "I always forget how small your apartment is."
You close the door, "You know you can leave at any-"
"Relax, princess. I'm joking." He smirks as he shrugs off his black leather jacket, "So whatcha have good for dinner?"
You watch as he walks over to the couch, sitting down, "Um. I just had.. the pasta."
Fight it.
No, tell him. Tell him how you really feel.
No. You have to fight it. He's your enemy. He broke your heart.
He doesn't know that.
You shake your head, huffing as you get the little angel and demon on your shoulders to shut up.
"What did you say?" You tilt your head, "Sorry. I'm just really tired."
"Mhm." Colby hums, "I asked how fancy the place was."
You walk over, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, "Eh, I mean it's more like a business casual type place? I don't know. We just showed up how we all normally dress and no one batted an eye, so I don't really think it matters."
Colby stares at you and you look at him, "What?"
A smile grows on his face a slowly, "That's the nicest you've ever been to be."
"Oh fuck off." You laugh, "What are you doing here anyway?"
Colby leans back against the couch, extending his arm over the back, "I told you I wanted to hang out."
Your eyes scan over his ring covered fingers, "Yeah, I was going to tell you-"
"A lie." He says cutting you off, "yeah. I figured that's why I didn't give you an option." He laugh, "I know I can be hard to deal with sometimes, but I think if we can work whatever your issue is with me, we can be decent friends."
"It's not.." you sigh, "I just.." you struggle to come up with something and Colby calls you out, "It's not.. you just.. what? What?" He laughs, "Do you like me? Are you nervous and you try to cover it up with being mean to me?"
You laugh, "You're ridiculous." You look at him, "Me.. liking you? Please."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" He shrugs, "I mean, honesty is the best policy, right?"
"I thought you came here to hang out, not interrogate me." You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. Colby raises his hands, "Yeah, right. Sorry."
"So this party." You lean back and look at him, "Who all is going to be there?"
"Usually the same ones who are at the others. Me, you. Sam. Jake and Johnnie. Tara. Oh." He snaps, "We got the triplets to come."
You raise your brows, "You guys Nick, Chris, and Matt to come? Wow. Look at you. Moving up in the world." You tease with a laugh, "so I'm sure it'll be fun."
He nods, "I'm hoping."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
A few hours later you wake up, blanket over your body and the end credits to the movie rolling on the tv screen.
You sit up, looking around, but Colby is no where to be found.
You reach for your phone to check the time, but see a message from Colby. You click on it, opening the text to see a picture of you asleep on the couch, you look so pretty when you sleep.
Although it was a sweet gesture, your wall is still up around yourself, you'll look pretty after I stab you.
You set your phone down, standing up to go change into comfier clothes.
As you come back, your phone dings, but it's not who you think.
It's from Sam, So how'd it go?
You instantly respond, Did you tell him to come here?
Sam answers, I'm not telling you anything until you tell me how it went.
You sit back down, laughing, He's alive isn't he.
You go back to Colby's thread and read what he sent, Again, don't threaten me with a good time.
You roll your eyes, laughing slightly as you lay back down to go to sleep.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
It's been, radio silence, all day.
Nothing from Sam.
Nothing from Colby, which is actually kind of surprising.
"Hey." Tara calls out, "I'm here. Where are you?"
"Bedroom." You yell from the comfort of your bed, knowing that that's going to get destroyed once the door opens.
"What are you doing in bed still?" Tara asks walking over, "Come on! Time to get ready to par-tay!" She walks over, opening your curtains and you groan, "Five more minutes."
You roll over but Tara climbs onto you, "Hey."
You look up at her, "What."
She tilts her head, "What's going on with you?" You roll your eyes, shaking your head, "Nothing. I just didn't sleep well last night."
"Why?" Tara whines, shaking your shoulders slightly and you groan, letting out a sigh, "If you get off of me, I'll tell you."
She moves off, sitting next to you and she pushes her glasses up onto her nose, "Okay. Spill."
You sit up, "You can't tell anyone. I haven't ever told anyone this before, not even Sam."
"Yeah, okay whatever. Now tell me."
"You know how.. I've always given Colby the cold shoulder?" You look up at her and she laughs, "Yeah, I think it's funny."
"Well, it's.."
"Come on, spit it out. We're losing daylight here. I still need to try on dresses." Tara pushes your leg and word vomit spills from your mouth in a non stop string.
"Colby broke my heart a few years back and I don't think he knows and ever since then I've been holding a grudge against him. I basically made him my enemy so I didn't get close to him again and it's all because I love him and I really don't want to feel the heartache I felt the first time around."
Tara stares at you, blinking as she processes everything you just spat at her.
"I haven't said anything because it just felt... silly? I don't know. He came over last night and all I wanted to do was keep pushing him away but that other part of me wants to tell him but I just.. can't. Do. It."
"Well.." Tara leans back and you know something bad is going to come out of her mouth, "what."
She purses her lips, "I think this is a bad time to t-"
"Just say it."
"Colby has a date tonight."
You feel your heart sink, but anger rises up quickly.
Mainly at yourself, but some towards Colby for the way he made everything feel different in the course of a day.
It feels like a repeat of what happened years ago.
"Oh." You purse your lips, "Hmm."
"I don't think it's anything serious, I-"
You just Tara off, "No. it's okay." You get up, "I'm fine. Just.." you sigh, "Please don't tell anyone. I'm serious."
She holds her hands up, "I promise. But you.." she points to you, "..missy, you need to handle this yourself."
You nod, "Yeah. I'll just.. let the alcohol do the talking." You laugh, grabbing your things for a shower.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
You hear the music growing louder as you walk closer to the club from the car.
Your heart racing harder the more you anticipate seeing Colby with his hands all over his date.
You smile to the bouncer as you walk in, laughing as Tara dances next to you. You greet people, smiling and saying hey as you make your way around.
"Oh there's Sam!" Tara waves her hand at him, and as people in the crowd move, you see Colby standing next to a brunette at the bar.
Your jaw clenches, "Can you get me a drink?" Tara looks at you, "Yeah, what do you want?"
"Whatever, just make it a double." You watch as she walks away and you move into the corner of the club, sitting down on the chair.
It's not long after that Sam walks up to you, "That doesn't look like the happy face of someone who helped me plan this."
You look up at him as he sits on the small table in front of you, giving him a slight laugh, "No I'm happy about this."
"But you're not happy about.."
You tilt your head, "You were right."
A small smirk grows on Sam's lips, "Do you want to clarify exactly, or.." he laughs as you glare at him, "Sam."
"Yeah, I don't know why he's hanging out with her tonight. We both agreed to just come together."
"Really? Tara told me-"
"Here you go, y/n." Tara hands you or drink and you immediately suck half of it down, "Oh god, I needed that."
You look back up at Tara but she's gone, already dancing with people on the dance floor.
Sam reaches out, punching your knee, "Do you wanna go somewhere and talk?" You put your straw between your lips and nod.
You get up, following Sam to a room on the side and he closes the door.
Little do you know, you have Colby's full attention.
"Alright, gimme the tell all." Sam rubs his hands together and you laugh slightly, "A few years ago.. something happened with Colby and it stuck with me."
Sam's face falls slightly, "What happened?"
"I.. liked Colby. A lot. Like, he was my first love, basically. I thought he liked me too, and then he got with-"
Sam cuts you off, "Stella. I remember that." He nods, "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't think I had to." You blurt out, sucking down the rest of your alcohol, "God. Now I'm mad that I'm out of alcohol."
Sam chuckles, "Alright. Let's go get you more and you just .. enjoy the party you helped me plan, okay?"
You take a deep breath, nodding as you look at him, "I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, "It's fine. Come on." He walks over, opening the door and the loudness floods in. You walk out, heading straight for the bar.
The bartender points to you and you lean in, "Can I get a double captain and coke please." He nods and walks away to make it.
You tap the bar as you wait and you feel someone walk up next to you, "What'd ya order?"
"Double captain." You say, eyes glued to the bottles of alcohol on the shelf across from you.
"Going heavy from the start, huh?" Colby asks leaning down, "Are you okay?"
You look at him, "Yeah. I'm great." You force a smile and look away from him, taking your drink and bringing the straw to your lips.
"Slow down, you'll get-"
You cut Colby off, "Don't you have a date to worry about?"
Colby cocks his jaw, "Mm. I see."
"See what?" You snap and before Colby can answer, you feel a hand around your wrist and you're pulled from the bar.
"Come on, tiger. Now's not the time." Tara says looking back at you. You bring your drink up, sucking as much down as you can before you stop.
"Dance. You need to settle." Tara starts to dance and you can't help but laugh, feeling a bit looser from the first drink settling in quickly.
You force yourself to not look at Colby, keeping your distance because your anger wants to lash out.
You were pissed all over again from him being so oblivious the first time around.
You were pissed about him coming over last night, making things feel like they could be alright.
You were pissed you even thought about letting your guard down.
"Another double captain and Coke." You slide your empty glass on the bar and look behind you as you hear the music die down.
Everyone starts to cheer when Sam walks up on to the small stage, followed by Colby.
"Thank you guys so much for being here." Sam starts out, "You know, I want to say a huge thank you to someone who's here tonight. Without her, we couldn't have planned this party like this. Y/n." Sam pauses, looking around, "Where are ya?"
You raise your hand and Sam starts speaking, "There she is. Everyone please give y/n a hand because she's the one who made this party happen."
You smile, looking around and you take your drink as soon as it's sets down on the bar.
The music starts to play loudly again and Sam makes his way through the crowd, "Hey. You doing okay?"
You laugh, "Oh yeah. Feeling much better."
He laughs, "I think you should talk to Colby." You take a deep breath, "I've moved past it." He raises a brow, "Have you?"
You groan, "No."
Sam leans in, "Tara made that girl leave, per Colby's request."
You turn your head, looking at Sam, "Really?"
Sam nods, "Mhm."
You found yourself wanting to kiss Sam, but you knew that wouldn't be a good thing, "Um.." you lean back, "Yeah.. I.."
Sam tilts his head, "What's up?"
You shake your head, "N-nothing. I think.. after this one.. I'm done.." you laugh, looking down at your full glass.
Sam laughs, "I see. Well, whenever you want to talk to Colby, just text me."
You turn towards Sam, placing your hand on his arm, "Can you be there? Just in case things.. get out of hand?"
He nods, "anything for you." He winks and smiles before he walks away.
You turn to the bar, staring down at the dark wood and now there's even more questions.
Why do you suddenly feel attacked to Sam?
Why did you want to kiss him?
"Fuck." You groan lowly, "What the fuck." You push yourself from the bar and walk to find the bathroom.
You walk in, taking a deep breath as the loudness drowns out, giving you a moment to think.
You pull out your phone, clicking on Sam's name. You try to type out a message, but nothing seems to sound right.
Your head starts to spin as more thoughts roll in and you lean against the wall.
The only way you were going to get any answers to the questions you have, is by talking to them.
You unlock your phone, sending a text to Sam, Okay, where do I have to go?
You hold your phone to your chest as you wait for an answer, which doesn't take long, Meet me by the stage.
You put your phone in your purse and pull open the door, walking down the small steps and around to the stage.
As you're looking around, you run into someone and when you look up, you see Sam smiling down at you, "Hey."
You smile forgetting all of your emotions for a split second, "Hey."
But it's all brought back when Sam nods, "Come on, follow me." You follow him past the bar, in through a door that leads you to a small corridor with three doors on either side.
Sam walks you to the last one, pushing the door open.
You follow him in, the room is lit red and Colby is sitting in a chair, chin rested in his palm, "About time."
"Sorry. I gave her time to be ready." Sam says as he closes the door behind you.
Your eyes stay on Colby and he looks at you, "What's up, Princess?"
You tilt your head, a billion things you want to say first racing through your mind.
You feel hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down, "Just tell him." Sam whispers, "Tell him everything you told me."
If your heart could beat out of your chest, it would be on the floor right now.
"I'm.. so mad at you." You start, "I'm so fucking, unbelievably mad at you for breaking my heart and not even caring that it stuck with me all these years."
Colby nods, allowing you to continue, "You were my first love, and my first heartbreak. How did you not notice that I was head over heels for you?"
You pause, taking a breath, Sam's hands still on your arms, "I built a wall. Treated you like an enemy all because I fucking love you, but you made me too scared to even want to get close to you again."
Colby stands up, walking over to you, "What do you want, princess."
You lean back into Sam, his head resting on the back of yours, "I-I want.." you look up at Colby, "You."
A smirk grows on his lips and he pulls his lower one between his teeth. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, "Just me?"
You stare at him, kind of nervous to tell him about how you felt about Sam just a little bit ago.
Colby tilts his head, "You sure about that? I seen the way you were looking at him at the bar.." his hand travels up and down your bicep, "The way you're leaning into his touch right now."
You think about pulling away from Sam but you don't want to.
"Why do you think you've always been the only girl in my life?" Sam asks as he rests his chin on your shoulder, "Why do you think I'm always asking you to move out of that small ass apartment and into the spare room at our place?"
"Y-You.." you think for a moment, "You both want me?"
Colby nods, "Why do you think Sam was so persistent on getting you to be okay with me?"
"You talk?" You laugh slightly, "of course you do."
"We want you." Sam whispers, lips brushing against your cheek, "Do you want us?"
You bite your lip, eyes staying on Colby's for a few seconds. He leans in, inches away from your face, "What do you say, princess?"
You reach up, pulling Colby in to close the space. Your tongues dance together in a passionate motion before he leans back, "Atta girl."
"Now that we got that out of the way." Sam spins you towards him, cupping your cheeks before he plants his lips onto yours.
Your hands move to the sides of his neck, pushing your body against his. His hands slide down, gripping your waist, "I can wait my turn." He mumbles leaning back, "I wanna watch you and Colby make up."
He spins you around and Colby lifts you off the ground, your legs finding their way around his hips.
"Is that okay?" Colby asks as he walks over to the long couch.
"Is what okay?" You question and Colby chuckles, "That Sam watches me fuck you?"
You nod quickly, "But what about your party?"
Colby shakes his head and lays you down on the couch, "Fuck the party. We're having more fun in here."
You smirk and tilt your head as his lips connect to your neck, biting and marking up your skin with deep, purple marks.
You let out a moan, fluttering your eyes closed as you feel him grind against you through the thin layer of your panties, "Colby." You whimper, "Please."
He lifts his head, "Please what, princess?"
You grip the collar of his shirt, the one you bought for him, "I need you."
"All in good time, my love." He pecks your lips, reaching back to unhook your leg from around him, "I want to see what you've been withholding from me for all these years."
He grabs your hands, pulling you up so your back is now against the back part of the couch. He moves down to his knees, in between yours and his hands slide up your thighs.
You glance over at Sam who's intently watching the scene unfold.
You bite your lip, smirking slightly as you turn your head to look down at Colby. You lift your hips as his fingers hook in between your skin and the band.
He drags them down and you pull your one leg out, letting them hang off your high heel covered foot.
He lifts your legs onto his shoulder and you scoot down slightly, biting your lip as you anticipate his lips on your clit.
You tilt your head back, letting out a moan as he sucks and flicks his tongue over it, groaning against you as he tilts his head down to lick in between your folds.
"Fuck." Sam whispers off to the side.
You reach your arm out, lifting your head to look at him as your breathing quickens and you grip the cushion with your other hand.
Sam moves over, sitting down next to you. His arm goes over the back of the couch, behind your head and he grips your chin to plant his lips on yours.
He swallows your moans that are caused by Colby, "You look fucking beautiful like this."
You smirk against his lips, sliding one hand to the back of Colby's head and the other into Sam's hair.
You and Sam both look down at Colby.
You grip their hair, pulling as you pull Colby closer with your leg, "Fuck, Fuck, fuck." You arch your back, whimpering out as you feel so, so, so close.
Colby leans back, licking his lips before moving up and leaning against your body. His lips attach to yours and you groan at the taste of your pussy on his lips.
You turn your head, connecting your lips to Sam's and he groans, "Fuck, I can't wait to have my way with you."
You smirk, "Good thing I know where you live." He chuckles, nodding as he leans back. He gets up, returning to the place he was sitting in before you called him over.
"Lay on your stomach for me." Colby mumbles as he kisses your neck. You slide over, rolling onto your stomach and you lock eyes with Sam.
You feel Colby push your dress up to pool around your waist and you hear the clinking of Colby's belt being undone.
You look over your shoulder as Colby straddles your legs. His hands caress your ass and he brings one up to drop it down with a hard smack.
You whimper, dropping your head a little as you wait for him to do it to the other.
And he does, leaving matching handprints.
You gasp, whining out as you move your hips side to side, "Colby."
You feel him lean down, one hand on the back of the couch, the other guiding his cock go where you both want it to be most, "I'm getting there, princess."
You hear him chuckle and you bite down on your lip as you feel his cock glide between your folds and into where you both want him to be most.
You let out a moan, eyes rolling closed as you feel his hand slide up and over your shoulder to wrap his fingers around your neck, "That what you wanted baby?"
You nod slightly, opening your eyes, "Y-yes."
Your eyes meet Sam's, moaning from Colby's strokes of his cock, and everything is coming together, quite quickly actually.
You were cursing yourself, wanting to smack yourself around for not realizing how clear the answer to everything really was.
You were so blocked by the walls you built around yourself, and you were consumed by your own thoughts, you left yourself clueless to what they were trying to do.
It was all because I love them both, you think, smirking because you know that it's okay to.
You feel Colby's head rest against yours, his cock thrusting deep into your core, "mine." He groans lowly, "Ours."
"Yours." You breathe out, "So fucking yours."
"Tell him." Colby says lowly, a moan slipping from his lips, "let him hear you, princess."
Colby's grip tightens on your neck as he pulls your head up to look at Sam. Your eyes lock onto his and he tilts his head, "Tell me, baby."
"I'm yours." You whimper and Colby slides his hand around to grip your hair, pulling harshly, "Louder."
"Yours.. I'm.." you swallow, moaning loudly, "Yours!"
"That's our girl." Colby presses his lips to your temple before leaning up to withdrawal his cock from you, "Come here."
You roll over, sitting up and Colby's lips crash onto yours. His hands pull you onto him so you're straddling him.
His hand holds his cock steady and you sink down onto you, allowing him to swallow your moans.
His hands slide down to grip your ass, groaning as you grind your hips into his, "C-Colby." He slides a hand up, gripping the back of your neck as he presses his lips to yours.
Your hands slide up his chest, digging into his clothed shoulders as you moan against his lips, mind racing about what's in store for when you get back to their place.
I love them both, you think over and over again, they love me.
The thought alone was enough to get you off.
Colby's hands slide up to pull the top of your dress down, exposing your boobs. His hands inch up, gripping and kneading as you bounce up and down.
Your head falls back, moans escaping your lips as you're sucked into an orgasmic state.
Your walls squeeze Colby's cock as you lean forward, body melting into his as your hands tangle within his hair and pull to earn a groan.
His hands tighten on your waist and you feel him twitch inside you. He lets out a slight chuckle, "Sorry."
You relax onto him, letting out a sigh, "It's okay." You laugh slightly, "Nothing is stopping it from doing it again."
He slides his hands up your back, "You're right, well.. I mean there's one thing.. we should probably get back out there, people are probably looking for us."
"Is it bad I kind of forgot about that for a second?" You laugh leaning up to move off of him. You stand up, pulling your panties up and he shrugs, "I'd rather be with you, trust me. We both do."
Sam walks up, his arms sliding around to fix the top of your dress, "So does it all make sense now?" He laughs quietly and you look from him to Colby, "oh yeah. It's all crystal clear now."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
I'm sorry if this is all over the place, I've been picking up writing it as much as I could. I've been sick the last couple of days and it's been rough.
As always, let me know how you liked it. Thank you so much for reading! Love you all! 🖤
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#sam and colby#sam and colby one shots#colby brock#sam golbach#smut#dirty one shot#one shot smut#sam and colby smut#colby brock smut#colby brock x reader#colby brock one shots#dirty colby brock#colby brock one shot#colby brock dirty imagines#colby brock fanfic#smut warning#all because I#updates#enemies to lovers#sam golbach fanfic
461 notes
·
View notes
Text
dreams come true
Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Mattheo can't resist each other and have some fun in a tattoo shop.
Warning: Tattoo Artist AU!Mattheo, Dirty talk, Takes place AFTER Hogwarts, Smut (18+), No use of Y/N.
Note: I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to write this but personal Tumblr friends know this was a long time coming. Based on feral thoughts from @finalgirllx tattoo Mattheo edits (Please go check them out if you haven't). @cafekitsune for the banners as always! Hope you enjoy!
Mattheo raised an eyebrow, looking up from his drawing station when the bell of the shop’s door rang. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you. A grin spread across his face.
“Back already, Love?” Mattheo’s sultry voice asked, pulling your attention to him. You tilted your head, a smile curving into your lips. “Missed me, Riddle?” You leaned over his drawing station, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
Mattheo kept his eyes trained on your face. He knew if his eyes wondered, they would go straight to your chest. As much as he loved to flirt with you and found you insanely gorgeous, you were still a client and he needed to be professional.
“More than you know, Princess.” Mattheo stood up, walking around the table to tower over you. “What are you here for now?”
Mattheo had tattooed you last month, so he was shocked that you were already back for another one. You looked up at Mattheo through your lashes, “I have a new tattoo idea.”
“Well, spill the beans.” He leaned against the table, focusing on you. He crossed his arms across his chest, unintentionally flexing his muscles while showing off his ink-covered arms. You wet your lips, dragging your eyes from his arms to his eyes. “A dragon.” You said.
“A dragon?” Mattheo asked, looking at you curiously. You nodded quickly, “Yeah. Specifically, a Hebridean Black dragon, but more colorful.”
Mattheo smirked, walking back around the table, retaking his seat. He picked up his pencil to start a sketch. “I’m assuming you’re picking the Hebridean for its enormous size. This will be a large tattoo, huh?” He asked, eyes focused on the paper in front of him.
“You know me so well, Riddle.” You laughed, “Yes, this will be a large tattoo. I want it to wrap around my whole thigh, the head starting on my hip and the tail ending around the knee area.”
Mattheo nodded slowly, looking at you. “Those are sensitive areas, Princess. Are you sure?”
He knew you would be fine with the areas. He had already tatted your spine, leg, ankle, sternum, and side boob. He was the one who wouldn’t be okay. Mattheo was using every ounce of restraint to stop himself from simply bending you over one of these tables and taking you there.
“Of course, I’ll be okay.” You raised your eyebrow. “Who do you think I am? Some rookie?”
Mattheo chuckled at the question. “Fine. You got it, Princess. You can hang out in my station while I get it drawn up and printed.”
You smiled at him, walking into the familiar room. All the ink and equipment were neatly placed and clean. You sat on the tattoo bench, leaning back as you waited for Mattheo to join you in the room. He didn’t leave you waiting for long. Mattheo entered the room with the printed-out stencil and a pair of smooth, black rubber gloves.
“I forgot to bring a change of pants.” You said, slightly embarrassed, “This was a kind of impulsive decision.”
Mattheo stared at you before shrugging. “I’m comfortable if you just want to do it in your underwear, Princess.”
You smiled, standing up and peeling your jeans off. Mattheo turned on his heels fast to face the wall. His eyes trained on the ceiling as he took a deep breath. You laid back on the table, looking over at him. “I’m ready, Matty.”
Mattheo nodded, clearing his throat. He slid his gloves on as he watched you shift around on the bench in just your underwear and top. He held back his groan and pulled up his chair. He prayed to Merlin that he would make it out of this session with a piece of his dignity.
The beginning of the session was easy. Mattheo focused on the designs while he listened to you rant about how hard school was. It wasn’t until he got to the inner part of your thigh that it got difficult.
To have precise lines on your tattoo, you had to spread your legs with Mattheo nestled in the middle of them. He gripped your thigh, keeping the skin stretched as he worked. He couldn’t focus on what you were talking about or what he was even tattooing. He thanked Merlin for his motor skills because if he was still a rookie, this would end with a lawsuit.
You couldn’t help but notice Mattheo’s heavy breathing so close to your core. It was making you wetter than you ever expected it to. Of course, you were attracted to Mattheo, and with him so close but so far away from fulfilling your fantasies, it was killing you.
The room fell into a comfortable silence as you couldn’t keep your voice leveled anymore and Mattheo kept his mouth closed and his eyes focused on the tattoo. After a few more hours, Mattheo finally finished your tattoo and looked at you proudly.
“It looks good, Princess. I would have never thought to do this if you hadn’t asked.” Mattheo observed it, “I ran out of wrap, so I need to run over to the store to get some. Just give me like 10 minutes, okay?”
You nodded, smiling at him. “Of course, I’ll be here.”
Mattheo winked at you before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him so no one just walked in and scared you. You let out a breath of relief, your hand traveling to your underwear. You hooked your finger around the cloth, pulling it to the side and letting another finger tease your folds. You were soaked.
“How the fuck am I this wet? He didn’t even do anything.” You mutter to yourself. You glanced around the room, sighing softly before dipping two fingers into yourself.
It was probably a terrible idea to finger yourself in Mattheo’s shop and on his tattoo bench, but your desire was stronger than your common sense at that moment.
“F-fuck…” You moaned, keeping up the pace, “Shit, Mattheo.”
You kept going, wanting to reach your climax before Mattheo got back. You picked up the pace of your fingers, now slamming them into yourself. Your moans were loud, and your thoughts were so clouded that all your awareness was thrown out the window.
With your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, and fingers still buried deep in your pussy, you reached your orgasm. You let out a deep breath of relief as you finished.
“That was a nice show to come back to, Princess.”
You jumped to cover yourself, and widened your eyes, looking at the door where Mattheo leaned against the frame. He had his arms crossed, his muscles flexing and his tattoos moving. Your jaw slacked open as you tried to find any excuse for what he had seen.
“I…. Mattheo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. I wasn’t….”
Mattheo sat the wrap down on the table, walking over to you with a smirk plastered on his face. He placed a hand on your leg, moving them apart slowly. You looked between him and his hand, pulling your lip between your teeth.
He bent down to lie between your fully spread legs, groaning at the wetness that he was met with. “Fuck, you wanted me this bad, Princess?”
He took a finger, rubbing it over your clit, adding a small amount of pressure. You let out a whimper, gripping the sides of the bench. “Mattheo….”
“I’ve been wanting to see this pretty pussy for so long. Wanting to hear you moan my name since I’ve heard that beautiful voice of yours.” He looked up at you. “And now you’ve soaked my bench just thinking about me?”
“I didn’t mean to……I just…You were so close that I got turned on.” You whispered, letting out a moan as he dipped his finger into you, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.
“I’m not mad, Princess.” He kissed your thigh. “I want to hear it again.”
Mattheo dipped his head down, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger inside of you, picking up the pace. Your hands flew to his curls, tangling your hands into them, tugging slightly. Mattheo groaned softly at that, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.
“Fuck, Matty, Oh my Gods.” You whimpered out. He slid his fingers out and hooked his hand around your thighs, being careful of your tattoo. Pulling you close, he flicked his tongue up and down your clit, letting it occasionally slip into you. You bucked your hips as you felt another orgasm coming. “Matty, I’m about to, fuck, I’m about to cum.”
“Good. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my tongue, Princess.”
You let out a breathy moan, bucking your hips up to grind out your climax on Mattheo’s face. Mattheo chuckled. Standing up, he sunk his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off his finger.
“Sweet.” Mattheo smirked at you, “Now c’mere.”
He grabbed the wrap off the table, effectively wrapping your tattoo before pulling you off the bench and to the floor so you were on your knees in front of him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide as your hands trailed up his legs and over the growing bulge in his pants. “Go ahead, pretty girl.” Mattheo’s voice came out soft and demanding. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper, eventually popping open to allow you to tug them down.
Mattheo smirk, moving your hands gently and tugging his boxers and pants down quicker, stepping out of them. He let out a small grunt as he pumped himself slowly, precum already dripping from his tip. He reached his hand out, weaving it into your hair and gripping it from the roots as he pulled your head back. Your mouth fell open, in shock and want, causing Mattheo to smirk down at you. “Look at you, such a needy slut. You want my cock that bad?”
“Yes,” You whined softly, squeezing your legs together, “Please, I want it.”
Mattheo stepped closer to you, causing you to widen your legs a bit. “Don’t go trying to pleasure yourself, Princess. Wait for your turn. Now, open your mouth.” You followed his directions quickly, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.
Mattheo groaned at the sight of you being so obedient to him. He slapped his cock against your tongue before pushing his hips forward and jutting his cock into the warmth of your mouth. His body shivered at the moan you released from just having him in your mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? For me to face fuck you in my shop? Am I making all those dirty little fantasies come true?”
Mattheo moved his hips at a faster pace, slamming in and out of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as saliva trailed down your chin and chest. Your mind was dazed as your core got hotter and hotter from the rough actions. Mattheo’s moans were enough to keep you riled up. “You look so fucking pretty, Princess. Choking on my dick, eyes filled with tears from pleasuring me. Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”
Your heart leaped at the praises. To make Mattheo feel good and use you in whichever way he wanted is what you desired this entire time. Your endless wet dreams and daydream fantasies were a reality. You felt Mattheo’s thrusts get sloppier and more reckless as he let out a string of curses. “I’m about to cum. I’m going to cum in this slutty fucking mouth of yours.”
He pulled your head closer to him as he released deep down your throat, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. He groaned softly, pulling out of your mouth to let you relax. He leaned over, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. He gently wiped your tears and pulled you in to meet his lips. The kiss was passionate and feverish as he slipped his tongue past your lips. You moaned into it as you stood up, not breaking the kiss.
Mattheo kept one hand on your jaw as he wrapped his arm around your body to roughly palm your ass. He walked you backwards to the tattoo bench, causing you to instinctively jump up on it. Mattheo pulled only an inch away from your lips, mumbling softly to you, “You better stop me now, Princess. If this is something you don’t want….”
“I want it. I want it so bad, Matty. It’s all I’ve thought about since I’ve met you.” You reassure him, your hand reaching down to jerk him off slowly. “I want you. I need you, Mattheo.”
“Fuck, Princess.” Mattheo groaned, kissing you deeply before pushing you on your back and positioning you on the edge of the bench. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. Grabbing the shaft of his dick, he teased your folds before pushing his tip into you.
Whimpers fell from your mouth as Mattheo teased you with just his tip. “Matty…. please….”
“You’re so fucking hot when you beg for me.” Mattheo said, sinking into you. He groaned at the warmth and tightness. “So, fucking warm, Princess. Tell me when to go, baby.”
“G-go…. You can go.” You moaned, gripping the side of the bench. Mattheo didn’t waste time to thrust. His slow thrusts didn’t last long because, within seconds, he was pounding into you. Your moans drowned the creaks of the tattoo bench out. “Fuck, Mattheo, feels s’good.” You babbled; your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
“You’re taking me so fucking well, Princess. Such a good fucking slut, letting me rail you on my tattoo bench.” Mattheo groaned, his hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boobs. “My pretty little slut, aren’t you?”
The touching, the thrusting, and the dirty talk were making your mind fuzzy. Pleasure taking over your body was making it impossible for your mind to string together any type of words. “I asked you a question, Princess, answer me,” Mattheo grunted, taking his hand from under your shirt and moving it to wrap around your throat while leaning forward to plunge deeper into you. You mewled at the feeling, your hand gripping his sides and clawing up his back.
“Y-yes! I’m…. I’m your p-pretty little slut.” You finally pushed out, “Fuck, Mattheo.”
Mattheo left wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. “I’ve been wanting this for so long. To hear your pretty voice moan my name, to hear you beg for me to fuck you. You’re a fucking dream come true.”
Mattheo moved his hand from your neck to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you. You whimpered at the overstimulation. “I want you to cum all over my dick, Princess. Make a mess all over me and my tattoo bench.”
You moaned, feeling the growing knot in your stomach as you got closer to your climax. One more thrust from Mattheo had you whining and your legs shaking. Tears pricked your eyes once more as Mattheo kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. “I can’t- I can’t take no more, Matty.” You whined, looking up at him.
“Yes, you can. You can take more until I cum, baby girl. I’m almost there, I’m going to cum in this pretty pussy.” Mattheo said, “Gonna let me breed you, Princess? Fill you up with my seed?”
“Yes, please, cum in me. I want it, I want it so bad.” You babbled.
“Good fucking girl,” Mattheo mumbled, groaning as his thrusts became more erratic. He slammed into you once more, burying himself deep into you as he came in you. He pulled out slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you up into his chest. “That was amazing, Princess. You’re amazing.” He whispered into your ear.
“Thank you.” You felt a blush rush to your face. “Guess I should go pay now, huh?”
Mattheo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You think you’re paying after all that?”
“It’s only right that I pay you for your work.” You said, your eyes meeting his.
“Trust me, Princess, you’ve paid me with something way more valuable than money.” Mattheo smirked. “And now that’s all I want. I’ll tattoo anything on you for it.”
You blushed, laughing at him. Your heart raced at all the future possibilities with Mattheo.
Today was truly a dream come true.
#slytherin boys#mattheo riddle#fem reader#mattheoxreader#mattheo smut#slytherin#theodore nott#draco malfoy#blaise zabini#enzo berkshire#smut#mattheo riddle smut#harry potter
528 notes
·
View notes
Note
HELLO?? I LOVE YOUR CLARISSE FANFICS I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! ok ok so i was wonderingggg if you could do dior goodjohn x (actor/singer) reader! their in this interview together just the two of them for percy jackson, the interview makes reader uncomfortable and then clarisse is just like protecting reader! then when they get home they get blasted with edits of them but if you don’t do fanfics of the actors that’s totally ok because i have one for clarisse! clarisse la rue x (athena) reader! the reader and clarisse where friends before clarisse got sent to camp haft blood and so like about 3 years later reader gets sent there too, reader doesn’t recognize clarisse before clarisse says this one things that makes reader remember (you can decide on what she says! would be amazing if their could be like a makeout sesh😋😋) TY IF YIU SEE THIS AND YK MAKE THE FSNFICS AHH LOVE YOUR WRITING
You know where to find me — and I know where to look
Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader
One of your earliest memories was when you were 13. Running around with clarisse in your private catholic boarding school, skipping class and watching as she would constantly get into fights.
You both looked after eachother, clarisses mom was enlisted in the army thus she lived with her grandma who wasn’t the nicest and you.. well your dad seemed to only care about you when he needed something solved.
Forcing clarisse to sit on the schools bathroom sink counter you started to clean a cut on the girls cheek. Not wanting to even think about how you’ll get the blood off her light blue uniform top. “It’s not even my fault!” The young girl yelled. “If Jeremiah thinks ‘slap ass Friday’ is so funny then maybe he should get his ass beat every now and then”
You just nodded following along with what the girl spoke. Moving a frizzy curl out of the girls way you noticed how she scoffed. “I should just cut this off” she grabbed the loose curls shoving them into her messy ponytail. “Don’t do that” you sighed pulling her hands away from her hair. “You Just Need some help to keep your curls nice that’s all”
Clarisses cheeks flushed, she shoved your hands away as she looked to the side. “Whatever”
“Hey!” A teacher aggressively busted into the bathroom. “Skipping class really?! Both of You principal office now!”
Clarisse grabbed your hand pushing past the teacher and down the private schools halls. You laughed as you followed the girl around the school, running down the stairs and past the nuns.
Shoving into a janitors closet and shutting it before the teacher could catch up. You panted while clarisse who Just practically ran a marathon was fine. Turning on the light you plopped down onto a pair of stacked chairs. “How are You able to do that!?”
“Do what?”
“Run like That and not even be tired” you questioned. Clarisse just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know I just am I a guess” she sighed sitting on a shelf.
Finally catching your breath you looked over “Hey clarisse?”
The girl set the tool she had been messing with down. “Yeah?”
“Will we always be best friends?” You quietly asked. Paying attention as clarisse had an annoyed look on her face she soon nodded. “Yeah.. cause you’ll always know where to find me”
You rolled your eyes “well I always know where to look” chuckling you reached out with your pinkie. Clarisse followed suit latching here onto yours. You knew what was between you and clarisse was far away from platonic but what did you know you were just some 13 year old kid.
The next morning clarisse was gone. Not a word not a letter nothing.. she had just left
You promised yourself you would never forget her. At first it started with not remembering how she spoke, then you forgot her face, and soon enough even her name you had completely forgotten.
———
Three years later.
After being chased by a hellhound and a few other angry monsters you found yourself at camp halfblood.
The weeks sorta merged together. However once you were claimed by Athena everything seemed to change, new found siblings. People wanting to be your friends and now finally not feeling like you were alone.
Through out your weeks at camp you had heard about a girl named clarisse. The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it exactly. The fact the mysterious girl avoided you to didn’t help either.
—
Annabeth Open the door agressivly throwing her dagger onto the bed. “What’s wrong?” You asked looking up from your book. “Nothing nothing.. I just got paired to lead a training class with clarisse”
“And what’s the problem?”
“She’s terrible What do you mean ‘what’s the problem’” your sister scoffed crossing her arms.
“I just meant that clarisse hasn’t done anything to me personally.. I don’t think I’ve even met her before” shaking your head you returned to your book.
Annabeth stayed quiet for a moment before grabbing the boom out of your hand. “Fine then, if you’ve never met her before then you should go lead the class with her.. besides it’ll be good for you”
Begrudgingly you accepted. Leaving your cabin you headed towards the arena, dagger strapped at your thigh.
—
The arena was loud and well… sweaty. Joining the kids who were sparring you made your way to a girl who stood crossed arm wearing Greek armor. “Uh hi? Your clarisse right” You stepped up to her. “I’m annabeths sister she wasn’t feeling well so I’m here to help you uh lead the class”
“You have any experience in battle” she rudely spoke not looking at you. “No b—“
“Then get lost I don’t need any dead weight” she scoffed before turning her attention back to the other campers who were sparring. “Hey! Did I not just say to stop stepping out!!”
You looked at the girl with a irritated face. “I’m not dead weight I can help”
Clarisse grabbed her spear before she harshly turned towards you. Just as she was going to say something she stopped. Looking at you for a second clarisse seemed to calm down. “Y/n?” She quietly asked.
Stepping back some you looked around confused. “Uh yeah.. that’s my name” you nodded awkwardly.
She took her helmet off tossing it aside looking at you excitedly. “It’s me? Remember? no fucking way your a demigod to! I should of guessed you were always the top of our class— gods how have you been”
At this point you were weirded out. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you..” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly fustrated. “What do You mean you don’t know me? We were best friends”
You just shrugged your shoulders apologetically. Clarisse nodded taking a moment to think before grabbing your hand, forcing it into a fist with your pinky sticking out. She linked her pinky with yours and gave you a slightly annoyed look. “You know where to find me”
It took you a few seconds to register what she said. After an uncomfortable amount of silence clarisse sighed, before she could pull away however you tightly linked your pinky with hers “and I know where to look” You smiled “oh my god clarisse!” you laughed hugging the girl tightly.
Some of The campers around stopped what they were doing, shocked at the fact clarisse was being hugged by a pretty girl. Quickly returning to what they were doing after receiving a hateful glare from clarisse.
The strong girl hugged you back tightly, allowing you to pull back you continued to grin. “Look at You! Wow you’ve gotten so pretty, and strong to gods” laughing you reached out to touch the girls face before noticing her hair. “And your hair— see what did I say all you needed to do was learn to take care of it properly”
A familiar rush flooded your body. How clarisses hands were now squeezing your hips with her body close to yours- so close you could smell her pine cologne. Your cheeks turned red once you realized you were playing with the girls hair
Clearing your throat you pulled back completely taking a few steps away from her. “Sorry I just uh.. I got to excited”
Clarisse shook her head “don’t worry about it.. anyways uh if you still wanna help with all this just grab a sword from over there ok”
You smiled in response. It had been years since you felt like that, Clarisse for some reason always made you get flustered… but that didn’t mean anything.
———
Over the next week you found yourself spending every free second with clarisse.
It was like a breath of fresh air. You both had changed a-lot from being 13 to 16 but the same spark was still between you both. You found it amusing how she could go from an Absolute bully to a sweet heart towards you.
What didn’t help was how attractive the girl was. Her muscular arms and face that was meant to wear greek Armor made you go weak in the knees. Being gay was something you came to terms with years ago but finding yourself falling in love with your best-friend was just cringe. Out of all the girls at camp you choose clarisse.. really
——
The best part of camp in your opinion was the bondfire. Being able to sit around a cozy setting with friends and family warmed your heart in more ways than one.
After some time you were approached by a girl named Willow who you later found out was a daughter of Hermes.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like her. She was tall, strong and had a charming face, And she clearly seemed to like you to. “Don’t lie to me pretty girl you’ve seriously never had your first kiss”
Shaking your head you let out a soft laugh. “No never, actually I’ve never had a girlfriend before” Willow scoffed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear she leaned forward some. “Well.. I can offer an easy solution to both those problems— that is if you would like it” she tilted her head some.
Before you could answer however clarisse shoved Willow back from where she was making her almost fall out of her seat. “Clarisse what the fuck!”
“She’s not interested Willow, instead of preying on girls who don’t want you why don’t you go fuck around with one of your ex”
Campers looking over, embarrassed enough as it was you Grabbed clarisses arm pulling her away. Quickly finding the Athena cabin you threw the girl inside. “What was That” you almost yelled.
“What was What” she continued to play innocent, now messing around with you stuff— grabbing s mechanical pencil to mess with. “Stop Just stop! Clarisse a girl was finally showing Interest in me—-“
“Yeah a fuck girl who only wants to finger you then break your heart but god forbid I look out for you right!”
“I don’t care about that! It’s still the matter of fact someone liked me and you just—“
“Did you ever stop to think there might me other girls out there better than Willow who like you!”
At this point you were beyond frustrated. “Gods can You stop interrupting me!” You watched as clarisse awkwardly shifted her stance, now feeling bad you sighed walking over to the girl hugging her. “I know I’m new to this whole demigod life and you have no idea how thankful I am for having you here”
Clarisse squeezed you slightly. After a few moments you laughed. “What did you mean by ‘other girls here like me’ I’ve only been here for what like a month?” Clarisse didn’t respond however her actions told you otherwise. The shifting in her feet, the way her eyes avoided yours, how she held you— fuck clarisse liked you.
Once you realized it the daughter of ares knew you already figured it out. She cursed under her breath for a moment but was soon caught up in the fact you had grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss only lasted for a second even though it wasn’t that great of a kiss it got the point across. “I like you I like you a lot actually uh clarisse your super cool and sweet and I ju—“ you started to anxiously ramble until she cut you off with yet another kiss this time it being more directed and sweet.
Pulling away you smiled, keeping your lips close to the girls “you know what I love about you.. how you always let me finish my sentences” the opposing girl just rolled her eyes making you laugh once again
———
Once you returned to the campfire you were confused as to why people were making teasing remarks at you and clarisse.. until annabeth pointed out your now messed up hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt and lastly the growing hickey on your neck.
———
Y/n - you are a sociopath these look like you tried to strangle me
Clarisse - Yeah Well you weren’t complaining when I was leaving them there
—
#lesbian#wlw#clarisse la rue#clarisse pjo#clarisse x reader#percy jackson fanfiction#clarisse my beloved#clarisse x female reader#butch clarisse#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x you#clarisse larue#pjo show#percy jackson show#pjo fandom#percy jackson
452 notes
·
View notes
Text
drabble #10
summary: the one where anxious!reader needs something to keep their hands occupied and spencer has just the thing.
pairing: s.reid x GN!reader
w.c: 365
warnings/content: anxiety; fluff.
A/N: enjoy this drabble while I finish editing the “do you need me” one-shot <3
navi
masterpost
cm masterlist
would you like to enter my taglist?
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“here.” a jolt of electricity travelled through your arm because of the sudden touch on your skin.
you didn't flinch. it was a warm and comforting weight on your wrist, the softenes of spencer's hands making you weak in your knees. thank god you were sitting down.
you held back a complaint once his fingers pulled back.
“why are you—”
you had forgotten it today, he noticed. as a poor replacement, you were harshly pulling at your cuticles. now, he hoped you would use his hair tie instead.
“just take it.” he curls the hair tie around your wrist, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. “you forgot your pen.” he says matter of factly.
spencer knew you like the back of his hand. he understood your little quirks when you were excited and your tells when you were feeling blue. in days where anxiety is heavy on your shoulders, you abuse a red pen with your teeth and roll it around your fingers non-stop.
“won't you miss it?” you asked, fingers grazing the soft material, the ghost of his touch still present on the spot.
spencer gave you a soft smile, brushing his hair behind his ears. it was getting long, he had let it grow out and you can't help thinking that it suited his face very well. you wondered what it would look like tied up, despite the hair tie he'd always carry around with him, spencer had never tied up his strands.
“not really.” he uttered, leaning back against your desk. you watched as he opened his mouth to say something but he decided otherwise. then, he asked. “i- uh, do you want me to refill that?” he mentioned for your empty mug beside the thousand files you still had to finish.
“oh, yes. thank you.” you gave the mug to him and your fingers lowered right back to the hair tie. before he left, a stubborn strand fell off from behind his ear and he pulled it back once again.
letting out a sigh, you leaning back on your chair, your lips curling up in a dazed smile.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
taglist: @lilyviolets
#reader insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid x you#criminal minds drabble#spencer reid fanfic
474 notes
·
View notes
Text
heyyy everyone! a whole 2 months after i started on it, i finally come to you with my answer to @atomtanned's request for max20's garden at home set to be converted to the sims 2. it is not the entire set, i might go back and finish the missing pieces (mostly set deco) later; but for now, enjoy 31 new gardening-themed items for your games! 🌿
this set takes up a lot of file space, too much file space for simfileshare, apparently, so this download is hosted on mediafire only. to make up for this though, i've also uploaded the lot i used to preview all the items! you can grab it from the link below. aside from the cc in the preview, the only other thing it requires is a brick floor by @lordcrumps.
collection file and readme are included, as always. more previews and info are under the cut.
this conversion would not have been possible without @tvickiesims and @lamare-sims' garden center collection, from which i cloned and edited the planters in the set from. so shout out to both of them, their set goes amazingly with this one, so be sure to grab it too!
DOWNLOAD: CC SET | PREVIEW LOT 🍀 (warning: large file size)
again, credits go to max20 on patreon for the original ts4 meshes & textures, @tvickiesims and @lamare-sims for the planters i cloned the ones in the set from, and @honeywell-mts for their original garden plot, too. you're all amazing 💞
Close-Ups
click on the previews to enlarge them!
* i forgot to picture one of the planters in particular, the 'planter my mother frame', but you can view all the items in max20's original item list.
Items Included
Bath For Bird and Not Only -> 642 polys
Big River Rocks -> 440 polys
Clover Grass -> 1 swatch, Terrain Paint
Columnar Juniper -> 1464 polys
Columnar Juniper Short -> 1464 polys, repo'd to Columnar Juniper
Dry Fallen Leaves -> 1 swatch, Terrain Paint
Flowerbed Good Wood -> 1980 polys
Garden Arch Good Wood -> 2308 polys
Garden Gate Good Wood -> 3408 polys
Gardening Table -> 1992 polys
Hydrangea -> 3056 polys
Lilies -> 1098 polys
Log For Chopping Firewood -> 352 polys
Mini Greenhouse -> 676 polys
Outdoor Water Faucet -> 984 polys
Planter by Handy Wendy -> 188 polys
Planter Good Wood -> 438 polys
Planter My Mother Frame -> 434 polys
Planter with Bevel Good Wood -> 345 polys, repo'd to Planter Good Wood
Pots by Handy Wendy -> 285 polys
Potted Plant by Handy Wendy -> 464 polys
River Rock -> 118 polys
River Rocks -> 188 polys, repo'd to River Rock
Round Bench Good Wood -> 1968 polys
Seedling Starter Kit by Handy Wendy -> 508 polys
Set of Watering Cans by Handy Wendy -> 1084 polys
Side Bush -> 366 polys
Swing Chair Good Wood -> 3786 polys
Table Good Wood -> 236 polys
Tulips -> 672 polys
Wheelbarrow by Handy Wendy -> 1040 polys
Things to Note
The ColumnarJuniperShort is repositoried to the ColumnarJuniper.
The RiverRocks is repositoried to the RiverRock.
The PlanterWithBevelGoodWood is repositoried to the PlanterGoodWood.
The Planters are functional. They're cloned from tvickiesims and lamare-sims' garden planters, which are edits of Honeywell's pots.
Any garden plants included in this download do not have seasonal states. I tried to add them and gave up almost instantly. They do have overgrown states, though.
The GardeningTable is purely decorative, no slots either.
Some textures may be a bit blurry when you zoom in on them. No clue why, it might be like that in the OG download too :/
if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,
( @4t2ccdatabase )
#sims 2 download#the sims 2 cc#ts2cc#s2cc#sims 2 cc#the sims 2#sims 2#4t2#4t2 conversion#4t2 buy#requests#sims 2 requests
852 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Learning Process
Extra Soft!Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Your whole life, everyone told you motherhood would come easy. So far, it has not. You struggle to connect with your baby boy, Francis. You struggle to console him, to breastfeed him, everything. Joel has pretty much taken care of your son by himself in the two months since you gave birth. Today is your first day alone with your baby boy, and it ends in disaster. Does Joel also think you’re a failure of a mother? Takes place in Jackson, sometime after TLOU
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: emotional, emotional breakdown, talks of giving birth, breastfeeding, dirty diapers, taking a bath with Joel, pet names, vulnerable reader, postpartum depression and anxiety, undefined loving relationship with Joel
A/N: Just thought of this story, thought you could all use some sweet soft Joel :)
Edit: forgot to add this is loosely based on this request from @guiltgoreglory !!!
If you like this story, please leave me a comment or reblog telling me what you think!!🩷🩷
Masterlist
It’s a quiet December morning, the sunlight is just beginning to dance and sparkle on the snow outside. You’re in an old rocking chair Maria gifted you, holding your baby boy close to your chest. He’s quiet for once, usually he’s fussy when you hold him. You’re morose, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him into this world, with you as his mother.
His name is Francis. You gave birth to him two months ago in October.
It was a chilly April day when you realized you were late, not having a period since January. In a panic, you called Joel into your shared bedroom.
Those two words hit him like a ton of bricks. “I’m late,” you whispered, eyes full of worry and tears. Your words were bitter, tasting like the bile on your tongue.
“You’re what?”
“I think I’m pregnant, Joel,”
Joel sat down on the bed with you, his head spinning. He was quiet, too quiet. But not angry like you feared he would be.
Jackson was a great place to raise a child, but Jackson was still a town on Earth, which for the past twenty-odd years, has been overtaken by a brain-controlling fungus. There was no guarantee that having a baby in Jackson would be 100% risk free.
“But we’ll take care of it. I want you to come to the doctor with me tomorrow,” you started. “And we’ll deal with–”
“No,” Joel interrupted. He looked at you with his big brown eyes, so sad and worrisome. “I can’t let you do that. Not safe.”
Abortion is what he was referring to. It’s not that Joel felt abortion was wrong in any sense, he was the last person on Earth who had any right to discuss right and wrong. Abortion was risky, even in the safety of Jackson. And he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, or worse. He was right, and you knew it. You didn’t need any convincing. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom, Joel,” you breathed shakily. “I can’t do this.”
He held your hand in his own, so big and calloused from years of backbreaking work. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered. “You didn’t get into this all by yourself.”
It was true. Joel was the one who did this to you, anyway. He was your person, or whatever you could call him. Not really your lover, not officially at least. He was just your guy, your companion in everything. And you slept together. It just was a one time, two time, okay maybe all the time kind of thing.
Contraception wasn’t easy to come by. If you were lucky enough to come by some condoms, they were most definitely expired and probably useless. You’d be better off with the pull out method, which was never that great of a birth control method.
You and Joel would often forgo pulling out, getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. You loved each others’ bodies passionately. And well, your bodies did what human bodies tend to do. They created a baby.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Since giving birth to Francis in October, Joel had taken on the role of sole caretaker to your baby boy. It’s not what you had planned, exactly. It’s kind of just how it happened.
Joel did his best to teach you how to swaddle Francis, but you could never quite get it right. He’d flail his limbs too much and you couldn’t wrap him quick enough. Joel also tried to help you learn to breastfeed, but Francis would never latch to your nipple.
You and Francis didn’t quite connect, the way most new moms do with their babies. You’d seen women around Jackson with their babies, smiling and singing to them. Their babies looked so happy, so at peace with their mamas.
And it made you feel so isolated. You could never console him, never. It seemed like he only ever cried in your arms. You and Francis were like oil and water. Sometimes you wondered if you were even his mother. He wanted just about nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Joel.
Even the pregnancy was difficult. There was no glow to your body, like everyone told you there would be. You felt ugly and swollen, and you were in constant pain. Francis’ favorite activity in utero was to do somersaults, over and over and over, which meant you’d puke your brains out, over and over and over. Joel was patient with you, of course. You were growing his child. Didn’t press you for sex or make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’d just hold your hair back and promise you that everything would be alright, it wouldn’t be like this forever.
Joel, on the other hand, had no problem connecting with his baby boy. Francis and Joel were thick as thieves. Francis was silent in his arms, save for the cute little coos he’d let out while sleeping. Francis didn’t cry when Joel changed his diapers like he did with you. Francis let Joel bottle feed him, but refused to let you.
It broke your heart.
And it broke Joel’s too.
To add insult to injury, your relationship with Joel was dwindling. He was there for you, just distant. And you were distant too. You knew it could happen, lots of couples lose sight of one another after a baby. You just didn’t expect it to feel so lonesome and severe.
You didn’t play games with Ellie like you used to. Didn’t cook together. Didn’t touch each other. Didn’t even go to bed at the same time, because Joel was always with Francis. You’d go to sleep before Joel, silently weeping at all of your shortcomings as a mother and partner, or whatever you were.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“You’ll be alright today,” Joel says sweetly as he dresses himself. He speaks to you in a soft and gentle tone, soothing you.
“I’m just nervous,” you admit, still rocking Francis. He looks just like Joel. He’s got big brown eyes, just like his daddy. He’s even got the same dimple as Joel on his right cheek.
“I know you are,” he says, pulling on and tying his boots. He’s nervous too, if he’s being honest with himself. He knows motherhood has not been easy on you. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself and Francis, he just knows you’re high strung and anxious. “It’s just a couple hours. Tommy put me on the short shift today.” Everyone contributed to patrol in Jackson, and today is Joel’s first day back since the birth of Francis.
You smile weakly, but wear a brave face. He’s right, it’s just a couple hours. It’ll be fine. Joel kisses your cheek, then bends down to kiss Francis’s soft head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises.
And then he’s gone.
The silence is unnatural, almost eerie. You feel your anxiety in your fingertips as you mindlessly twiddle your fingers against Francis’ back. The sun is brighter now, and it’s time to get the day started.
Here goes nothing.
“Alright, baby. What do you think, eggs and toast for breakfast?” you whisper to Francis.
Francis just looks at you and coos with his amber eyes, his mouth suckling on his pacifier. He looks so much like his daddy.
“Sounds yummy to me too,” you reply to his lack of an answer. As you shift in your seat and maneuver Francis so that his head is tucked by your neck and you’re supporting his bum, he begins to whine a little. “It’s okay, my angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you. We’re gonna have a good day today, baby.”
You bounce him a little, soothing him. He quiets down. You make your way to the staircase, your sweet boy wrapped in your arms.
The stairs are…daunting. They’re steep, rickety, and old. They’re hard wood, but you were smart and took your socks off to eliminate any possibility of slipping. But still, it’s scary. For a second, you consider sitting and moving down the steps the way a toddler would. But you wave that idea off. Don’t be ridiculous.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. You take a step. And then another. Slowly, ever so slowly. Another now. One more.
You don’t know how it happened. You’re suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, your foot twisted and underneath your body, pinned to the hard stairs. Francis is screaming in your ear, still pressed to your chest.
You move your foot out from under you with a wince and before even checking to see if it’s broken, and hold Francis in front of you.
He’s screaming, wailing. His face is fire engine red as he cries. You quickly examine his little body to check for any scrapes or bruises or cuts. Luckily, there are none.
You do your best to soothe the little boy. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” You tell him over and over that it’s okay, but you don’t know that for sure. Did he hit his head? Did you shake him?
Francis is inconsolable. You look around you for anything to grab to keep him calm, luckily his pacifier is in reach. You place it in his mouth, he spits it out. You do it again. Nothing.
You’ve got this. Just breathe.
“Okay, okay. No paci. That’s fine, baby,”
Francis’ cries never let up. He’ll tire himself out eventually. Right?
With Francis still shrieking in your ear, you check your foot. It’s black and blue, already swelling. You try to sit up a bit, put some pressure on it. The pain shoots through your entire body. You don’t know if it’s twisted, sprained, or broken.
What you do know is that you’re stuck. You’re alone, with no way to call for help. No way to move from the steps. Joel’s short shift might as well be infinite now.
A few minutes pass as you just focus on your breathing.
Breathe, is what Joel told you when you found out you were pregnant. You panicked and hyperventilated as he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you back down to Earth.
Breathe, is what Joel told you when you spent hours vomiting into the toilet, Frankie never letting up on his somersaults. He held your hair back, rubbed circles into the tense flesh of your shoulders.
When you were in your long and arduous labor, screaming in agony and gripping his hand. Breathe.
Breathe. When you couldn’t soothe your son, and you broke down in tears of frustration. Joel took Francis from you and walked into another room to give you a break from his cries.
You just breathe.
Finally, the ear piercing shrieks flying from Francis’ mouth subside after a while. You don’t know how long exactly, maybe an hour. He’s still crying, but it’s a different tone. He’s hungry.
Might as well give it a shot. You can do this.
You lift up your shirt, adjusting Francis so he’s flush with your body. You guide his mouth to one of your breasts, encouraging him to wrap his lips around your nipple.
You can tell he’s trying, just can’t quite figure out how to latch. You do your best to help him, maneuvering his little body and your breast to ease his struggle.
“Come on, Francis. You’ve got this, buddy,” you coo. He seems to be relaxed a little by your voice. He almost latches, but not quite. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”
Maybe he’s uncomfortable on this side. You flip him over and offer your other breast. He can’t quite latch there either.
He’s whining, crying. He’s frustrated, you’re frustrated. He’s hungry, you’re hungry.
“Please, please, please,” you beg him softly. “You can do this, baby. Just eat for mama.”
He still won't latch, but you don’t stop trying. Not for hours.
Francis’ hunger pangs have seemed to peter out, now. He’s asleep in your arms, most likely tired himself out from crying so much. You worry if he’ll lose his voice by the end of today.
Your ass is sore, so is your back and your foot. But you savor the peace and quiet despite the pain in your body.
You wonder how many hours it's been. You try to tell by the way the shadows on the floor change with the sun, but you can’t make out much. Maybe the shadows have moved, maybe not. You can’t tell. Time doesn’t even feel real at this point. Today is agonizingly long.
You rest your head against the banister, closing your eyes. Joel told you once to take advantage of your sleeping son.
“Get some sleep,” Joel mumbled to you. It was maybe a week after giving birth to Francis and you were peering into his crib with heavy eyelids, afraid that if you slept he’d disappear. “He’ll be fine.”
“I know, I just,” you struggled to form a sentence. You wanted to make sure your baby boy was alright. You hated leaving him.
“He’ll be fine,” Joel repeated, his gruff voice firm yet sympathetic. “Go to bed.”
Joel helped you up, your body still so tender after Francis’ delivery. You winced at the ache in your muscles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispered to you.
You were in a trance, being led to your bed by Joel. It was like your feet weren’t even moving, just floating along and walking on nothing. Joel helped you in bed, adjusted the pillows under your head and pulled a blanket up over your shoulders.
He stepped away from the bed and made his way to the door, turning to give you one last look. Your gaze was still fixed on Francis, unwavering.
Joel sighed and walked back to the bed, this time his side. The bed creaked with each of his movements. He flipped you over gently so you couldn’t stare at Francis any longer, your head on his chest.
“Joel,” you protested. “Our baby.”
“Francis is fine,” he mumbled. “You need to sleep. I’ll watch him. Okay, mama? Mom sleeps when baby sleeps. That’s the rule.”
“I can’t sleep, though. I have to watch him,” Your anxiety wouldn’t leave. Joel felt you fight and struggle against watching Francis. You were so restless.
“Don’t sleep then,” Joel said. “Just rest your eyes. Can you do that for me?”
“Just rest my eyes?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give them a break,”
You groaned. “Fine,” you grumbled. You’d give them a five minute break and go back to watching Francis. “Just for a little bit. And then I’m gonna watch him.”
“Alright, honey. You do that. Hush, now. Relax,” Joel commanded you ever so sweetly. “Just close your eyes, mama.”
You did as he said, and he brought his hand to your head, dragging his fingertips through your scalp. His fingers trailed to your neck, then your back. You melted into him, turning into a puddle in his arms.
Within minutes, you were asleep, snoring quietly.
Joel knew how to read people, the right words to say to sway them in the direction he wanted them to go. You were no different than anyone else. Now, he wasn't proud of manipulating you into slumber, but he felt it was justified given the circumstances.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You wake up to a putrid smell, your ass basically numb underneath you.
“No, no,” you groan. You adjust Francis, and he begins screaming when you peek into his diaper. The kid does not like being woken up. “Fuck.” you cry.
It’s a bad one, the mess in his diaper. Francis wails in your ear as you assess the situation. You can’t just leave him in his mess.
You sigh, taking off your shirt. You set it down next to you on the staircase.
Francis screams louder when you take off his diaper and set it on the ground. He hates being changed. “I know, bud. This sucks for me too,” you sympathize with him. Then, using your shirt, you wipe him clean as best as you can. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.
“Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay,”
Francis is relentless. He doesn’t let up. You just hold him, his excrement is on your skin and clothes. You’re gagging as your eyes begin to water.
Your ears are ringing and sore from all the noise. Your back is aching worse than it ever has, worse than when you backpacked across the country with Joel and Ellie. Your arms are full of pins and needles and going numb, you’re afraid you may drop Francis. Your foot is throbbing angrily.
And then the floodgates fly open. Your tears are spilling, hot and fast. You’re gasping for air, hyperventilating. Francis is shaking with each jolt of your lungs and you try to still yourself, but you’re powerless against your body.
You sob loudly, almost as loud as Francis. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your frustration, pain, loneliness, leaving your body and washing over it again in heaving sobs and cries.
“I’m sorry,” you cry to Francis. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is thick and wet.
You try your best to breathe, just like Joel told you. But you can’t. You’re gasping uncontrollably and your nose is full of mucous, blocking you from inhaling and exhaling.
“I’m sorry,” you say again, holding Francis and rocking him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Francis.”
You repeat it like a mantra. You apologize to your little boy over and over and over again, for hours.
“I’m so sorry, Francis. You deserve better, sweet baby,”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“I was thinking we’d do soup for lunch. Nice and warm, what do you think?” Joel’s voice is faint and muffled through the front door. You perk up slightly at the sound of him and Ellie, but you’re too drained to do anything more.
“Soup sounds good. But I’ll make it. You burnt it last time,” Ellie giggles. Her bubbly voice is music to your tired ears.
“Did not,” Joel says with disdain for Ellies recollection of events. “How do you even burn soup?”
“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who burned it,”
Ellie and Joel giggle as they make their way through the house, then both of their smiles drop at the sight in front of them.
You’re half naked, covered in feces and your face is puffy with tears. Your foot is black and blue and ugly as you sit and cry, with Francis naked and messy in your arms.
Joel says nothing, just grabs Francis from your arms and checks him. Then he moves to you, checking your body and your face.
“Oh my god,” is all he can get out. “Oh my god.”
You just cry.
“What the fuck happened?”
Your eyes meet Joel’s, then Ellie’s. They’re both so concerned.
So you explain how you fell down the stairs, right after Joel left. You don’t know how it happened. You explain how neither you nor Francis have eaten. “We’ve been here for hours,” you get out between sobs.
“Oh my god,”
Joel’s eyes are glassy, his voice is shaky. He passes Francis to Ellie. “Need your help,” he says to Ellie. “Clean him up. Please.”
She nods, holding out her arms to take Francis. “I’ve got him,” she whispers, before taking him into the kitchen.
Joel helps you up, you yelp at the pain. Your foot aches, so do the rest of your bones. “I know. I know,” Joel mumbles. His heart is broken into a million pieces, he’s in disbelief that this even happened to you.
He helps you into his arms, cradling you as he walks you both up the stairs. You hold onto him tightly, the smell of his clothes and his sweat bring you so much comfort and relief. Your person is here, and he’s gonna make it all better.
Joel takes you into the bathroom and removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them on the floor. You sit on the toilet seat as he removes his clothing. You feel like such a failure of a mother.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, now,” he says softly.
“I can’t shower, Joel. My foot,” you cry.
“I know, honey’. I’ve got you,” his voice is so quiet, so gentle. “Just for a minute. Just let me rinse you, that’s all.”
Joel lifts you up slowly, being extra conscious of your foot, then lifts you into the tub. He pulls the leg of your injured foot over his hip and wraps one of his strong arms around your waist as he uses the other to turn on the warm water.
He removes the showerhead and rinses your body, watching all of the dirt and grime leave your skin. Then he places the showerhead back in its spot and switches the water to come out of the bath spout.
He maneuvers you in his arms to sit down against him in the bath. Your back is pressed to his chest as the warm water begins to fill the bathtub. All that can be heard is the sound of rushing water and your quiet sobbing.
“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s okay, now. I’m here. You’re safe,”
“Joel,” you cry, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I know. I know,” he murmurs.
He holds you like that as the water fills, your sobs are beginning to die down. Joel leans forward to shut the water off once the tub is full, then grabs a rag and some soap to clean your body.
Only now does it hit you that this is the first he’s seen you fully since giving birth to his child. You look so different now. You curl up, bringing your knees to your chest.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers as he pushes your knees back down. “I only wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you now.”
He scrubs your body gently, washing away the disaster of a morning you and Francis shared. He can sense your insecurity still. “So beautiful,” he breathes. He’s so delicate with his movements, washing you so tenderly. So full of love and care. “Always been so beautiful, mama.”
You relax into his touch, your head resting on his chest. He’s so warm. So comforting. He feels like home. He tilts your chin up so your eyes can meet his own, so deep and dark. His fingers trace your features, your chin and your lips and your nose. Your eyes well with tears again.
“I’m so sorry, Joel,”
“What for, honey?”
“Today. Francis,”
“Hey, now,” he says. “Wasn’t your fault.”
“It was, though,” You shake your head slightly, your bottom lip is wobbling. “I’m such a terrible mom, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Joel’s eyes fill with tears, they begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re not a terrible mom,” he hushes you with a broken voice. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”
Of course, he knows why you think that. He’s been a little overbearing with Francis, not giving you the opportunity to learn to parent the way he should have. “You’re new to this, honey. That’s all,”
You mumble something under your breath, Joel doesn’t hear. All he hears are your quiet whimpers and sniffles as you stare deep into his eyes. He’s never looked so raw before.
Some silence passes, and finally he speaks.
“Sarah was an early walker,” he begins.
Your brows furrow. Joel rarely talks about Sarah, even now.
“Once she began wobblin’ on those little legs of hers, I knew she’d be trouble. She’s the reason Tommy and I built a fence,” Joel recounted. “You know why?”
“Why?” you whispered.
“Well, she was an escape artist,” he says. “I’d be out there, doin’ yardwork or grillin’. She’d be in her sandbox, building little castles and whatnot. I thought she was, at least.” Joel pauses for a second, looking away wistfully.
Joel continues, smiling now. “Anyway. I’d look back to check on her, and poof. She’s gone. And I’d look across the street, and she’s makin’ friends with the Adlers. Workin’ her charm with them into givin’ her cookies and ice cream. She did it all the time,”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Constantly. She did it constantly,” Joel replies. “Girl was trouble. Nothin’ but trouble. So Tommy and I built that fence to keep her from escapin’. ‘Course, didn’t stop Mr. and Mrs. Adler from sneakin’ her treats before dinner.” Joel chuckled at the memory. You did too.
“She sounds so sweet, Joel,” you say.
“She was,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s quiet again for a moment, remembering. “I was runnin’ her a bath one night. Right after she learned to walk, you know? And I’m focused on the water, makin’ sure it’s not too hot and not too cold. She’d kick up a fuss if the temperature wasn’t to her liking. Like, exactly. Had to be perfect.”
You smile. Joel is such a wonderful storyteller, you could listen to him talk all day long.
“Didn’t even notice her leave the bathroom. Thought she was right behind me. I just heard her tumble down the stairs, screamin’ and cryin’. Tommy grabbed her, drove us to the hospital,”
You nod quietly.
“So they run tests on her, of course. She’s charmin’ the nurse into giving her suckers and toys. She was fine, thank the lord. No bruises, no scratches. Just fine,”
“That sounds so scary, Joel,”
“It was. Terrifying. I cried like a baby the whole night thinkin’ I hurt my little girl,” he says. “But you know what the nurse told me?”
“What’s that?”
“She said that babies are rubber. They’re tough. Resilient. Our little boy is resilient too, you know,”
You look away from him, picking at your fingernails. The guilt is eating you again.
“You’re new to this, mama. Go easy on yourself, for christsake. You just had him two damn months ago,”
You barely reply, just kind of mumble. You don’t know how to respond.
“Hey, look at me,” he tilts your chin and to stare into your eyes. He’s deadly serious. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re doin’ fine, mama. Shit happens.”
You still can’t speak. His words help, but it was still a terrible day. Maybe one day you won’t hurt over it. He understands, not forcing you to say anything.
He just finishes washing your body, then dries you off and wraps you in a towel. He carries you into bed, promising you that he’ll get the town doctor over later to check on your foot. There’s a sandwich waiting for you on your bedside table. Ellie. Such a sweet girl.
Joel leaves you to clean the mess of your clothes in the bathroom and at the stairs, and you eat your sandwich. You feel so much better getting some food in your system.
After finishing your sandwich, you hear tapping at the door. “Can we come in? It’s me and Francis,” Ellie says.
“Yeah, El. Come in,”
Ellie tiptoes in with Francis, his hair is wild and curly. Just like Joel’s. His eyes are big and lost. Ellie looks fatigued. “He didn’t like the bath very much,” she says. “But I did give him a bottle.”
“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,” you reply. “He can be a little cranky. Thanks for feeding him, El. You’re so good with him.”
“Yeah, I can handle him. We’re best friends,” she says. You can see in her face that she’s exhausted, though. “Right, Frankie?”
You smile softly, holding out your arms. Ellie places him in your hold gently, being extra careful to support his head and neck. She can see the worry on your face. You still feel so unsure of holding him, being responsible for him.
“Guess what?”
You look up at her. “What?” You bounce Francis softly.
“I’m gonna teach him how to say fuck. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she giggles, that signature smirk on her face. Her eyes are so playful and bright. “And I’m gonna teach him the other ones too. Bitch, ass, asshole, shit, dick, cun-”
“Don’t you dare corrupt my son, you little shit,” A deep voice interrupts. It’s Joel, standing at the doorway. “Don’t need two demented kids in this house. You’re more than enough.”
“Hey!” Ellie gasps, feigning offense. Ellie sits down on the bed as Joel walks towards her. “I’ll teach your kid whatever words I want, old man. And I’m not demented,” She punches him in the arm playfully. “You are.”
Joel just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
You meet his gaze, smiling at him quietly. Francis is asleep in your arms, mumbling and cooing softly. He’s so sweet like this.
Joel takes Francis from your arms, places him in his crib. Joel looks at Ellie. “Out,” he says. “Mama needs to sleep.”
Ellie gets up to leave, not before giving you a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around the girl, she’s such a good big sister to your baby boy. She doesn’t often hug you, so it’s a welcome surprise.
Joel meets you on the bed, pulling you close to his body. You rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. “Get some sleep, honey,”
You yawn, melting into his body. “Okay, daddy,”
He feels like home.
@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers@angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane
#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#tlou hbo#tlou show#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#soft!joel miller#soft!joel miller x reader#strang3lov3
2K notes
·
View notes
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
Text
他们是在 。。。暧昧 ！？second edition.
content. what made your friends think you’re dating him
incl. deuce, jade, jamil & gn!reader ┊ first edition
note. deepest apologies to jamil stans i really tried
deuce spade
Yeeah. It’s so obvious. The first-year can’t even look at you without growing red or sputter nonsense, it’s cute actually. They’d think it’s only a crush but when you laugh and place a reassuring hand on top of his whenever he’s nervous? Yeeah. Everyone could tell it’s the day after feelings were confessed and reciprocated!
That’s not the only factor, though. You see, Deuce and his friend group are particularly loud (cough Ace Grim Sebek). I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody overheard them screaming about Deuce finally making a move or succeeding in asking you out. Also the way they IMMEDIATELY move to sit across or pull another chair just to let you sit beside Deuce is a dead giveaway. Jack’s the only one trying not to make this a big deal.
jade leech
People actually thought you made some type of contract with Octavinelle’s mischievous dorm head and fucked up some things within it when they saw Jade Leech, the equally infamous Octavinelle student around you all the time. They thought he was collecting debt from you! You know, always around you, leaving a little snack on your desk with a note containing who knows what grave threats in it, greeting you outside when class ends, all those notorious pressuring tactics. But you look…happy? When you see him? And Jade looks? Genuine? When he smiles at you? Definitely an unfamiliar sight.
The dots finally connected when you were given a limited edition pastry on the house during that time you visited Mostro Lounge with your friends. Seriously? Free? Octavinelle doesn’t just give out free stuff without some promoting. No, that man handed it to you just like that, told you to enjoy your stay. He didn’t even thought of giving your friends one! Look look, there it is. That super mischievous and mocking smile. Directed towards them but not you, is he courting you?
jamil viper
Jamil sighs when he realises he forgot his headphones back at your place. You needed help in one of the chapters and Kalim encouraged him greatly to aid you, giving him permission to leave his side. The study session went on late, both overworked students tired, and he bid goodbye forgetting his headphones. Now he actually has to listen to Floyd’s annoyingly high pitched voice and some of Ace’s not so intelligent comments during warmup. Until a voice that rings pleasantly in his ears was heard. “Jamil! You left this at my place- hm? Oh no worries! Thanks again with helping me with homework yesterday. I’ll see you later? Bye!” before you hurriedly rushed to your own club activity.
After giving you a wave, Jamil did a sharp turn, purposely avoiding the other basketball club members’ gaze. Left it? At your place? Riiight. Jamil’s not a bad person, but his hands are so full with making sure Kalim survives that no one thinks it’s possible for him to fish out time for another or even willing to. Definitely prompted some teasing brow wiggles and elbow nudges.
#deuce spade x reader#jade leech x reader#jamil viper x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#deuce spade#jade leech#jamil viper#twst#twst x reader#gender neutral reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Pet names.
featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto
or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.
⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.
word count: 1.5k
You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.
“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”
It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.
“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”
Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”
With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”
Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.
“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.
It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.
“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.
“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”
You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.
You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.
“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.
“You’re in the way, dollface.”
You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.
Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.
As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.
Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.
The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.
Bakugou had never called you something like that.
“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.
“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.
“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.
After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;
“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”
With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.
“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”
At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.
“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”
You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.
And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.
With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.
Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.
“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.
“Anything you want, princess.”
God, you swore you were already in love.
In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.
Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.
Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.
You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.
Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.
And he did it so effortlessly.
“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”
You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.
“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.
“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.
You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.
With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.
“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”
Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”
eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!
318 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hanslegaspi03
Untitled
bulkedboy
Bigger is Always Better
sistersofwhit
SistersOfWhit
ellaeekkk-blog
Just another Lesbian on Tumblr.
nadiamenotti
Nadia Menotti