#ive definitely lost followers over it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jakeshands · 7 months

Text

love me like you

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

word count: 25k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you answer without any hesitation.

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

“I can walk,” you respond coldly.

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

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

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

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

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

Soobin shrugs. “Post-grad is lonely.”

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

“No problem. See you around?”

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

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

yoon 💖

[1 video attachment]

WOAHHHHHHHHHH?????

apparently jake gave her chlamydia LMFAO

jiwon loml

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

wony 👯

jake has chlamydia???

yoon 💖

idk.

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

wony 👯

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

baby hikaru

what’s so surprising abt it??

rei 🐥 🐥

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonyoung snorts. “That sounds terrible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t,” Wonyoung says.

“Don’t what?”

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ricky --”

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

“What year are you?” Jake asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you drink a lot?” You ask Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

You drop the subject of music immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm? What was that?”

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

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

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

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

“Mint chocolate,” you say without hesitation.

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

“It’s the best flavor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake, what the fuck--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, thank you.” You repeat.

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

“A kiss?”

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

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

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat.

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

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

Jake snorts. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you drive here?” Jake asks you.

“Uh, no. Ricky dropped me off. Why?”

“Can I take you home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pay you.” Jake nods.

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

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

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

Jake shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake nods his head.

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

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

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

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

“Wonyoung Jang.”

“Wonyoung? You’re friends with Wonyoung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about after?” Jake asks.

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

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

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

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

“Whatever,” you huff.

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

“I had classes until 4 PM.”

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

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

“Okay,” Jake nods his head.

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

Jake looks at you, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

jake 🤍

5 mins away :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tough love,” Wonyoung shrugs.

“Tough love my ass.”

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

“--Don’t lie, Wony --”

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

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

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

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

You smile. “I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Monday,” you respond.

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

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

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

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

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

You guess you spoke too soon.

Or not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could put it in my room.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon snorts. “I totally believe you.”

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

jake 🤍

Where are you?

you

library

in one of the study rooms

jake 🤍

What room?

you

third floor, twenty one A

jake 🤍

Ok. See you soon ❤️

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Sorry.”

Jake gives you a look and you avert your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“I like yellow,” you respond.

“Alright. Yellow. Any particular reason?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How old is your younger sister?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. “Sap.”

“Only for you,” Jake responds.

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Y/N,” Sunoo says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Sunoo asks.

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

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

“It’s nothing,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tempt me,” Jake grins back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You play baseball?” You ask Riki.

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

“Riki,” hisses Jake.

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

“That’s cool. Could I play with you?”

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

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

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

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

“But you don’t have a glove.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki shrugs. “It’s fine.”

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

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

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

“Obviously.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned eighteen last week on Friday.”

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

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

“Thank you?”

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

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

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

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

“What gave it away?” Riki asks.

“You’re still having fart contests.”

Riki scowls.

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your happiest memory with him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your happiest memory?”

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

“Crazy how the world works,” Jake says.

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

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, did you?”

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

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

“Fuck off, Jake.”

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

You look at Jake in surprise. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

“You’re probably really good then.”

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

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

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

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

“Um, maybe a six?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you meet Jake again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jake nods his head. “Of course.”

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

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

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

—-

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

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

“Halloween was three months ago, Mye. It’s Christmas Eve, shouldn’t we be helping Mama in the kitchen?”

“We are!” Myeong refutes. “We’re making decorations!”

You throw Myeong a pointed look. “Carving pumpkins? For Christmas decorations?”

Myeong scowls. “No need to be such a grinch, Y/N. Sorry I missed carving pumpkins with you.”

You sigh and place down your scalp. “I missed carving pumpkins with you too, Myeong.”

Your younger sister turns to you, her eyes soft and wide. She reminds you of a baby deer. “Really?”

You nod your head and Myeong breaks out into a grin, throwing her arms around you and hugging you tightly. “It feels so lonely at home without you, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re back home for winter break.”

You hug your sister back tighter. “Me too. I missed you and Mama a lot. Especially her food. I mostly eat ramen and toast.”

Your sister giggles and draws out of the hug and starts to carve her pumpkin again. “What is college like, Y/N? Have you made any friends?’ Myeong wiggles her eyebrows, “Have you gotten a boyfriend?”

You snort. “A boyfriend?” You try to ignore your cheeks heating up. “Are you crazy, Myeong? I have no time for a boyfriend. I did make some friends, though.”

“Oh yes, that Wonyoung Jang girl?”

“How do you know about her?”

“You posted her on your Instagram story a couple of times, Y/N,” your sister deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, right. But yeah, Wonyoung’s my friend. And all her friends are my friends as well.” You don’t know why your chest swells with pride when you mention your friends. “I have a large friend group, Mye.”

Myeong smiles. She looks genuinely happy for you. “I’m glad, Y/N.”

You turn back to your pumpkin and continue to carve in silence. Your mother was in the kitchen, humming away to whatever song was on the radio as she baked some Christmas cookies. The warm cheer of Christmas wraps you up warmly. You were happy to be back home with your mother and sister, carving a pumpkin while your mother made cookies a few feet away. You were afraid leaving for college would change everything, but it had changed nothing.

“But, seriously Y/N,” Myeong breaks the silence, “you have had to at least kiss a guy at one of the parties you went to with Wonyoung!”

“Well, I did,” You drop your voice and lean in closer. “Lose my virginity.”

Myeong gasps loudly, your mother looking up from where she was placing cookie dough on a tray. “Everything okay, girls?”

“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look at Myeong who was staring at you, completely taken by surprise at your confession.

“Really?”

You nod your head.

“What was it like?”

You blush and bury your head in your hands. “Myeong -- why -- why would you ask me that?”

Myeong shrugs. “Curiosity.”

“It was fine,” you grumble. “It was just a hook-up, though, and I haven’t had sex since then.”

Myeong pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m just choosing to be safe. College parties are swarming with STDs.” Your phone begins to ring loudly, cutting off your mother’s humming and Myeong’s words. You steal a glance at who was calling you -- Jake’s contact name fills your screen and you can’t control the large smile that graces your face.

“I’ll be back,” you tell Myeong. “I have to take this.” Grabbing your phone, you exit the dining room and start up the stairs to your room. “Hey,” you greet Jake, pressing your phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

“Y/N, hey,” Jake’s voice is soft as he talks. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good. What about you?”

Jake sighs. “Well, I would like to leave, but I promised my mom and dad that I would stay for their Christmas dinner and I like to keep my promises, so.” If Jake were standing in front of you now, he would end his sentence with a shrug. Instead, he punctuates this sentence with another sigh.

“That sucks,” you murmur, shutting your bedroom door, and resting against it. “What is so awful about this Christmas dinner anyway?”

“It’s not really a Christmas dinner,” Jake explains. “It’s a business dinner, under the guise of a company Christmas dinner. My dad’s investors bring their families to our house for this Christmas dinner, but all they do is talk business while their wives make small talk and the kids sit at the table and eat in silence. Jay used to come, but his father wised up and decided to go on vacation during Christmas, which upset my father for a few years.”

“That is awful.”

“But it’s only for one night,” Jake sounds defeated. “What about you? What do you do for Christmas?”

“Not a lot,” you tell Jake. And it was true -- your family didn’t do a lot for Christmas. You all woke up quite late on Christmas since you and Myeong were no longer kids and the thrill of opening presents was slowly wearing off. Your mother made some pancakes for breakfast, and then the three of you headed down to afternoon mass. You weren’t religious, but your mother liked going so you and your sister accompanied her. You know how often your mother used to pray back when you were younger and she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her family afloat.

After mass, you would stop by a few shops to just pick up extra miscellaneous items. Then your mother would begin Christmas dinner prep and your relatives from your mother’s side would start turning up as soon as it hits 4 PM. They usually stay as late as midnight.

“That sounds….a lot more fun than my Christmas,” Jake laughs softly.

“It is fun,” you reply, laying down on your bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Myeong stuck on your ceiling years ago. “After dessert, we all watch The Santa Clause trilogy.”

“I remember you telling me about that,” Jake hums. “I’ve never seen those movies, what are they about?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything, Jake,” you tease. “We’ll just have to watch them together at some point.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Y/N,” Jake’s tone was just as teasing. “I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I called. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went insane inside this house.”

“Call me whenever Jake. I’ll always pick up.”

“Okay, I will. Talk later, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jake.”

—-

It was a little past eight when Jake calls you again. It’s Christmas, and you’re sitting at the dining table with your relatives. Dinner was served a couple of hours ago, but the conversation at the table was too good for anybody to think about cleaning up the mess displayed in front of you.

Your Uncle and Aunts were still helping themselves to the last bits of your mom’s lasagna. Dessert still had to be served, and your mother was looking for a way out of the conversation she was having with your grandmother.

Your phone cuts through the conversation you were having with your cousin.

“Who’s calling you, Y/N?” Your cousin, Lila, asks, trying to take a peek at your phone.

“Oh, it’s no one. I’ll be right back,” you sneak out of the dining hall and down to your bedroom. “Jake, hey.”

“Y/N, sorry if I disturbed you from your movie watching,” Jake greets.

“No, we’re still eating,” you assure Jake. “What’s up?”

“I-- I was wondering -- ah fuck, I don’t know how to ask this,” Jake admits.

“Just ask,” you encourage. “It’s okay, Jake. It’s just me.”

“Do you think I could come over? To your house?”

“Oh, Jake.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes. I’m sorry for asking, I just can’t be here. I just can’t do it. No one else would pick up. I’m sorry for asking, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Jake. And you’re more than welcome to come over. My mama feeds all my friends that set foot in this house. I’ll send you my address.” Your heart hurts for Jake. You can’t imagine how awful it must be for Jake to be in a house that doesn’t feel like home.

“Thank you, Y/N. Really.”

“Don’t mention it. Just arrive safely, ok? And text me when you’re leaving.”

“Okay. See you soon, Y/N.” The line goes dead before you can respond. You share your location with Jake, and pocket your phone, padding back downstairs to the dining room. Your mother had finally been able to leave the conversation with your grandmother and was now in the kitchen, dumping empty plates in the sink and fixing dessert onto fresh, clean, plates.

“Mama,” you step into the kitchen, keeping your voice low. “My friend from college is coming over. I hope that’s okay, he needed -- he needed to get away from his family for a while.”

“What’s his name?” Your mother asks, looking up from where she was plating the Christmas cookies she had made while you were carving the pumpkins.

“Jake Sim. He’s…my friend.”

“Jake Sim? Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations?”

You smile wanly. “They’re his parents, mama.”

“Then, he’s more than welcome inside my house, Y/N. I went to school with his parents, I know how tough they can be.” Your mother shakes her head. “They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

“You knew them?” You ask, surprised.

“Of course, I know them, Y/N. Everyone knew everybody back then. Should I set out a plate for him at the table?”

You look at the already crowded table. Myeong laughs loudly with one of your aunts. “Do we even have room for another chair?”

“We can make room,” your mother answers with a sly smile. “Do you know if he’s had dinner yet? Because I don’t want to just serve him dessert while he’s here.”

“Uh, I’ll ask him when he gets here.” Your phone dings with a text. You had two unread texts, both from Jake. One was sent eight minutes ago, telling you he’s left. The most recent one was Jake telling you he’d just parked. You wonder how close Jake lived if he was only an eight-minute drive away.

“He’s here,” you tell your mom, just as there’s a knock at the door.

“Go answer, I’ll make some room.”

You nod your head and turn away, eyes widening as Myeong rises from her chair. “I’ll get it!” You shriek, dashing out of the kitchen and down to the door. You throw the door open and your eyes widen at the sight of Jake.

“Y/N, hey,” Jake grins.

“Jake -- your -- your hair.”

It was black. His hair was black. You struggle to organize your thoughts as your eyes drag down the rest of his body. Jake was clearly dressed up for some formal event. He was wearing blue jeans with a white buttoned-up blouse tucked in, accentuating his waist, and a navy blue blazer.

“Decided to go back to black,” Jake answers with a grin. “Maintaining my blonde hair was tiring.” He peers over your shoulder. “Can I come in? Or did your mother --”

You shush Jake and step onto the porch, letting the front door fall shut. “No, you’re welcome in. I just -- I told them we were friends. They don’t know we’re….y’know? It just -- it just gets tiring lying all the time, and I don’t like lying to my mama and Myeong and --”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off. “I think it’ll be nice to not have to act like we’re dating for once.”

“Okay,” you smile relieved. “My mama knew your parents in college.”

“Really?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, she was more than willing to let you spend Christmas with us.”

“I already love your mom.”

“Alright, come on in, Prince Charming. Ready to meet my family?”

Jake adjusts his blazer and you have to pretend like your heart didn’t speed up. “I was born ready,” and for the final kill, he runs a hand through his hair. You almost faint on the spot. Since when was Jake this attractive to you? I mean, obviously, he was handsome, but you’ve never felt your heart palpitate like this before.

You’ve never seen your family so still and silent the moment you step into their line of sight with Jake. “Is that your boyfriend, Y/N?” One of your cousins teases you, earning a couple of snickers from your other cousins.

“Uh, no. This is Jake Sim. He’s my -- my friend from college. His parents are overseas at the moment, so I invited him over for dinner. Sorry he’s late, you know how assessments get during winter break.”

“He’s very handsome, Y/N. Are you sure you’re just friends?” One of your aunts asks, out of pure curiosity.

You flush bright red. “Aunty!”

“It was just an innocent question, dear,” your uncle, and her husband, defends. “Come join us, Jake. Have you had dinner yet?”

Jake smiles politely, taking a seat in the new chair that was beside yours. You steal a glance at your mother who smiles back smugly. “I have had dinner,” Jake responds. “My mom bought me some samgyeopsal before she left.” He plays along with the cover story you made up for him.

“Oh no, samgyeopsal won’t do you any good, honey,” your mother cuts in. “Do you like lasagna?”

“I love lasagna,” Jake responds, his eyes twinkling.

Your mother hpmhs, “You should have some of my lasagna. My lasagna is the best lasagna in all of America.”

“Too bad Aunt Yeeun ate it all,” snickers your cousin, Daisy.

“Too bad, indeed,” your mother says, glaring at her older sister.

Yeeun pokes out her tongue in retaliation, and the whole table dissolves into laughter. You glance at Jake, who stares back and smiles, his foot nudging yours beneath the table. “It’s okay, Mrs. L/N. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Call me Areum, honey,” your mother says, flushing. “And are you sure? I’m sure I could find something that wasn’t eaten by my good-for-nothing siblings.”

Grumbles are heard but your mother pays no attention to them. “If I can’t find anything, then I’ll have to serve you dessert. Will you be okay with eating my Christmas cookies? They won Y/N’s middle school’s Christmas fair baking competition three years in a row. However, when Myeong brought them to the fair, they decided that darn Dana’s cookies were better. I’m pretty sure the judges were being biased. Or racist --”

“I’m hungry,” Myeong interrupts, whining. “Fuss over Jake later! Let’s go serve everyone dessert now!” Myeong leaps out of her chair, sending you a look, before tugging on Areum’s arm. “Come on, mama! Jake can decide for himself if he wants to eat or not.”

Your mother sighs. “Alright. I’ll be back with dessert.”

The table launches into conversations with your mother gone, bombarding Jake with questions to which he answers all with ease. Beside you, Lila nudges you. “Was he the one who called you?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.”

Lila smirks. “Just friends, huh?”

You groan and kick her shin beneath the table. “Shut the fuck up.”

—-

The rest of dinner is spent happily. Jake easily converses with your relatives, and it seems like he gets along well with all of them. You hate the way your heart flutters at that thought. As Jake had said, it was almost like he was born to please your relatives, based on the way they smile whenever Jake responds to them with great enthusiasm.

Even your younger cousins enjoy Jake’s presence. He distracts them as the adults clean up and get ready for the movie marathon with pictures of his dog, Layla. He also plays them a couple of videos which gets your entire family cooing over the dog.

You sit in the corner of the living room, with a slight frown on your face. The older cousins were all hanging out together, thankful someone else was willingly distracting the younger ones. “Why the frown, Y/N?” Myeon asks you, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” you answer, schooling your expression into a neutral one.

“Jake Sim, he’s the son of that one CEO, right? Sim Corporations, or something?” One of your cousins, Daniel, asks.

“Yeah,” you nod your head.

“Damn,” whistles Daniel, “through Jake, you basically have connections to the entire corporate world, Y/N.”

“Good thing I’m not a business major,” you retort.

“But I will be next year,” Daniel responds. “Do you think --”

“If you want to use Jakes’s connections, you have to get buddy-buddy with him, Daniel. I’m not your lapdog.”

Daniel huffs. “Fine, loser.”

You grip the armchair pillow and whack Daniel with it. “I’m not a loser, freak.”

“Alright,” your uncle claps his hands loudly, “let’s get this marathon on the road! Adults, help yourself to some eggnog, minors, there’s some soda and juices for you. And yes, Daniel, we got you your gross dill pickle chips.”

Chaos descends as everyone fights for the best seats, the best drinks, and the best snacks. You’re content with staying in the armchair in the corner of the living room. It didn’t really give you the best view of the television, but you’ve seen these movies hundreds of times. You could practically recite every line of all three movies by heart.

Jake approaches you, holding two glasses of cola.

“Hey,” Jake greets, handing you one glass. “I feel like we haven’t had time to talk.”

“It seems my family is smitten with you, Jake.”

“I do seem to have that effect on everyone I meet,” Jake hums in agreement.

“Come on, let’s cuddle,” you say, pulling Jake onto the chair. “Unless you want to move closer. I know you wanted to watch these movies.”

“It’s okay,” Jake waves you off, “there’s always another Christmas to watch them with you.”

You ignore how your heart explodes, painting your body a lovesick pink.

After a lot of adjustments, you end up with your back pressed against the arm of the armchair, and your legs thrown over Jake’s lap. The first fifteen minutes of the movie had already gone by by the time you and Jake pay attention and instead of trying to catch Jake up, you ask him about his own Christmas dinner.

Jake told you it was the same Christmas dinner he’d been going to for twenty years, but it was the first time his older brother wasn’t there and Jake couldn’t handle not having his brother around, so he left.

“Thank you for having me,” Jake whispers.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you respond.

“How could I not?” Jake’s eyes were wide, “You have a trusting face.”

“Oh, so you’re friends with me for my face?” You scowl.

Jake muffles his giggles. “Yes.”

You huff and look away from Jake to watch Scott and Carol lean in to kiss beneath a mistletoe.

“Y/N,” Jake whispers. “I like you for your face and your heart.”

“Really?”

Jake nods. “Really.”

“Well, I like you for your money and your connections to the corporate world.”

“You don’t even major in business!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Y/N,” Jake gives you a pointed look and you sigh.

“Fine. I don’t like you because of your money or your connections, I like you because of your face and your heart.”

“Would you ever want to get married?”

You stare at Jake, shocked by the sudden change of topic. “What? Where did this come from, Jake?”

“My parents brought up marriage when they talked about our relationship. They said we shouldn’t date if we aren’t thinking about marriage.”

“Well, I mean,” you sigh, “if you ask nicely, then I’ll probably say yes.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Jake coughs loudly. You get stares from your sister and a few of your cousins, but you ignore them. “You -- you would want to marry me?”

“I mean --” you blink, confused. “That’s what we were talking about, right?”

“I was -- I was just asking if you want to get married. In general. Not to me.”

“Oh.” Your face flushes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jake intertwines your hands together and squeezes three times. “You’re cute when you make mistakes.”

“Shut up,” you groan.

Jake laughs softly, his eyes shining with adoration.

—-

“Do you think I could stay the night?” Jake asks you after he finishes saying goodbye to all of your relatives. The goodbyes took longer than usual because everyone was clamoring to talk to Jake. You didn’t understand all the fuss over Jake.

“Stay -- stay the night?”

“Or not. It’s okay, Y/N.”

“No --”

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, sweetheart,” your mother cuts. “You’ll just have to share a bed with Y/N, our guest room is a bit.. preoccupied. I’ve been cleaning out the attic.”

Jake looks over at you. “I’m okay with sharing a bed. Are you? If not, I can sleep on the floor or just go home.”

You eye your mom carefully. She’s never been this open and welcoming to a boy staying the night. In your bed. “Yeah…I’m fine with it.”

“Y/N and Jake sharing a bed!” Myeong sings in a teasing voice as she bounces up the stairs. “I’ll make sure to turn on my white noise!” Both you and Jake flush a deep red while your mother scolds Myeong for her words.

“I’ll go find you some clothes, Jake,” your mother smiles warmly at the boy beside you and disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with Jake.

“Won’t your parents be concerned about your whereabouts?” You ask Jake, leading him into the kitchen.

“I told them I was at Sunghoon’s,” Jake answers, leaning against the counter as you fill two glasses with water. He gratefully takes one of the glasses and drinks it all within seconds. “They won’t really be worried that much. They’ve never been the kind of parents to worry.”

You give Jake a gentle look and take the empty glass from him, rinsing it and making room for it in the dishwasher. “Your family is very fun,” Jake says, “they all…love each other.”

“I guess they’re fun. They can be a bit annoying and frustrating at times.”

“But you love them, though.”

“They loved you tonight, Jake.” You tell him, sensing the underlying tone of Jake’s words. You reach out to take his hand into yours as you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re probably welcome to all family gatherings in the future.”

“Really?” Jake asks in slight disbelief.

“Would I lie to you, Jake? Everyone loved you tonight.”

In the darkness of the living room, standing in silence, you can feel Jake. Jake is all over you. You feel as though you’re one with Jake, and everything you think, Jake is also thinking. You feel and hear every inhale and exhale of Jake’s.

With his other hand, Jake cups your cheek, and you immediately sink into the feeling. “Y/N,” it’s like Jake is feeling the same as you. He doesn’t dare to raise his voice. “I --”

“Jake, would you like to take a shower?” Your mother stands at the top of the stairs.

You rip yourself away from Jake, clenching and unclenching your hand as your mind races. “Oh, yes, that would be nice, Areum.”

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Areum smiles and turns back around, heading for the linen closet.

Jake turns to you. “Y/N --”

“You should go take a shower, Jake.”

Jake hesitates.

“I’ll see you in my room.” You don’t think you’ll be able to handle talking to Jake alone for the rest of the night. You climb the stairs with speed, leaving Jake in the dust. Reaching your room, you pull out your phone and fire a text to Wonyoung, your heart speeding, finally realizing why yourheart races around Jake.

By the time Jake finishes his shower and stands in the doorway of your room, you’re changed and separating the bed in two halves with pillows you stole from your mom. “What are you doing?” Jake asks you, drying his hair with a yellow towel.

“When we’re sleeping, we need to stay to our sides. We can’t cross the pillow line,” you explain to Jake, slipping beneath the covers on your side.

“Why do we need halves all of a sudden?” Jake asks, throwing his towel over your desk chair. “We’ve never had halves like this when we’ve laid in bed together.”

Your face flushes. “That’s -- that’s different.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Is it?”

You scowl. “My house, my bedroom, my rules.”

Jake climbs into bed, making sure to keep to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Jake gives you a sweet smile that disarms you completely.

“Fuck it,” you groan. You grab the pillows -- that had taken a lot of time to set up -- and you throw them to the ground. “I do like to cuddle things when I sleep, Jake. And since I removed my plushies for you to fit, I guess you could be a good substitute.”

Jake grins with a glint in his eyes that tells you he doesn’t believe your bluff. He opens his arms and you immediately curl up to his chest, your ear pressed to his chest, and there, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s beating rapidly and you allow your delusions to take over.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jake says, his voice close to your ear.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you mumble back.

—-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask Jake nervously as you sit in his car. A week after winter break ended, Jake had told you his parents wanted to meet you, and no matter how desperately you wanted to say no, you agreed to join Jake for dinner this weekend. You’re parked outside his parents’ house. It’s tall, and spiraling, and reminds you just how rich Jake was. You’re fretting over your look as if Jake hasn’t already complimented you a thousand times tonight.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” And, as always, Jake’s words of affection make you blush.

“Alright,” you say, “let’s do this.”

Jake nods and squeezes your hand before letting go.

“Remember,” Jake says in a low voice as you walk up to the front door, gravel crunching beneath the uncomfortable high-heels Wonyoung shoved you into, “we can leave. Whenever you want. We don’t have to stick around for the entire night, I’ll make up an excuse if you want to leave, okay?”

You kiss Jake’s cheek in lieu of a response.

Jake doesn’t bother to knock on the door, he just pushes it open. A multitude of shoes sit in the foyer, and you turn to Jake who is helping you take off your coat. “How big is this family dinner, exactly?”

Jake gives you a sheepish smile. “My parents, uncles and aunts, and cousins. I don’t know if Jaehyun will be here though.”

You can’t help but feel sorely underprepared for this. Why didn’t Jake let you know beforehand that you would be meeting his entire family? Your stomach rolls over at the thought, and you feel nausea wash over you. An uncomfortable itch appears in your throat -- no cough or clearing of a throat removes that itch as you walk from the foyer to the dining room where your demise awaits.

“You didn’t think to tell me?” You mumble to Jake, half anxious, half annoyed.

“It slipped my mind,” Jake murmurs back and you withhold a scoff.

You can’t help but feel intimidated as you enter the dining hall, gripping Jake’s hand tightly. His aunts, uncles, cousins, and parents mill about the room, talking and laughing forcefully with each other. The atmosphere doesn’t at all feel comfortable. It’s a weird atmosphere, it feels tense and taut.

Hyunjae is the first to spot Jake. He breaks out into a grin and approaches Jake, a girl with dyed red hair follows behind, her eyes glued to her phone as she frowns. Next to you, Jake inhales sharply and his shoulders roll back like he’s prepared for an attack.

“Jake,” Hyunjae greets, the smile not slipping from his face. He looks at you and his smile only grows. “Y/N. What a pleasure to see you both here.”

“The same can’t be said for you,” Jake responds, his voice tight.

The red-headed girl finally looks up, pocketing her phone and taking a sip of her champagne. “Jake,” her voice is soft, tinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen more perfect eyes, nose, and mouth on someone before. “Who are you?” She asks, out of pure curiosity. Her eyes shine and you try to search for some kind of double meaning.

“Y/N L/N,” you answer, feeling your heart tremble beneath the eyes pinned to your face. “Who are you?”

The girl laughs. It’s high and tinkling, like her voice. “I’m Francesa Choi, nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Jake’s ex-girlfriend.

“Jaeyun?” A voice calls out. You watch as an intimidating woman walks over to the group. Her eyes are piercing, and her hair is black as the night. It doesn’t take much for you to realize this woman is Jake’s mother. Lagging behind her is Jake’s father. Pepper hair, creased lines on his forehead, and a frown. You wonder how Jake is able to be who he is with parents like these.

“This must be the Y/N you talk highly of,” her eyes darted to you, and then back at Jake, like you weren’t worth her time. You try to pry your hand from Jake’s, but he only tightens his grip further. You're sure he’s cutting off blood to your hand.

Jake’s father watches you silently. He doesn’t say anything, remaining behind his wife as she does all the talking; all the commanding.

“Are you going to introduce us to her?”

Jake clears his throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Y/N L/N, Y/N, this is my mom and dad.”

Your mother’s words echo around your head. “Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations? I know how tough they can be. They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”

Jake’s mother -- Hana -- gives you a short nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I hope I get to know you well tonight.”

Not I hope we get to know each other well. You learn something about Hana Sim very early on. She’s the authorization figure of the Sim household. She expects you to tell her everything about you, and you get nothing in return.

Dinner is served, and with Jake to your left and his ex-girlfriend to your right, your nerves skyrocket. Jake’s ex-girlfriend is pretty -- she even smells pretty. No wonder Jake dated her. As the conversation is passed around the table, you also learn Francesa Choi is smart. She’s pretty, smart, and confident. It’s clear, by the way Hana praises and smiles at Francesa, that she’s thoroughly beguiled by the girl.

When Hana Sims speaks to you, though, it’s dull. Hana appears to look bored as she decides to make conversation with you, and for the first time that night, the table falls silent. Every Sim wants to know about you, apparently.

“How did you meet my son, Y/N?” Hana asks, picking up her wine glass.

“I told you how we met --”

“I want to hear her talk, Jaeyun,” Hana cuts off her son.

“We meet at a party,” you respond, hands curling on your lap beneath the table. Your nails dig into your palms to keep you grounded. “It was love at first sight.”

Any normal family would coo over love at first sight, but the Sim family only shares looks. Looks that are clearly laced with judgment. Beside you, Jake offers no help. He doesn’t even reach out to rest his hand on your thigh. You feel alone.

“Love at first sight?” Hana muses. “So, you love my son?”

It takes a lot of effort for you to breathe. Your chest feels heavy like there’s something crushing it. You steal a glance at Jake and he doesn’t look back, content with admiring his plate of food in front of him. Your heart pangs.

“Yes,” you say, willing the nerves out of your voice. “I love Jake.”

Hana doesn’t look impressed. “You’ve only been dating for a month.” That’s not a question -- it’s a statement. “How could you fall in love that fast?”

“He’s easy to love,” your response is almost instantaneous, your mouth working faster than your brain. Your response is honest. In a way. And that shocks and scares you.

Hana still doesn’t look impressed. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Y/N. What’s your major?”

“I’m Majoring in Linguistics. This is my first year.” Your nails dig deeper into your palms and Jake continues to offer no support.

“So you’re…eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Eighteen.”

Hana nods, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip. The silence is suffocating. Just how nosey and judgmental was the Sim family?

“And your family?” Hana asks, “Any siblings?”

“I have a younger sister, Myeong.”

“And your parents?”

“My dad passed away when I was three, so it’s just been my mom, me, and Myeong for as long as I can remember.”

Hana’s eyes narrow. You gulp and your heart hammers away in your chest. You feel a bad omen circling the air. Whatever is said next will either be your downfall or finally impress Hana.

“Did your mom ever get remarried?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Words tumble out of Hana’s mouth, and it sounds like Korean. The ground gives out beneath your feet and your heart drops out of your body. You don’t know Korean. Your mother never had the time to teach you, and she slowly lost her mother tongue. Your father died when you were young. You grew up feeling isolated, not really understanding where you fit in; you were Korean, but you didn’t speak Korean, and you’ve never been to Korea. But you had an American citizenship, so you were American, except you didn’t look American.

“I -- I don’t know Korean,” the words tumble out of your mouth -- the words were the bad omen you felt in the air moments ago.

If possible, the silence is louder than before.

“You’re Korean,” Hana states, her voice a foreign emotion.

“My mom and dad were first-generation immigrants,” you answer, your nails beginning to cut into your palm. “But my dad died before he could teach me, and my mom was always busy with work.”

“Have you ever visited Korea?”

“No,” you respond, Hana’s eyes cutting into your bones.

“I pity you,” Hana says, her words sharp like claws. Her eyes dart to Jake, and this time her words sting. “I thought I taught you better.”

Jake’s silence stings even more.

You were able to excuse yourself to the bathroom after dinner. You grip the edge of the sink and squeeze your eyes shut tightly, suddenly longing for the embrace of your mother. Hana’s words, her eyes -- her everything has you a shuddering mess. Who knew someone could make simple words sound so cruel?

The door swings open and Francesa steps in. She smiles and steps up to the sink next to you, pulling out some lip glass from her handbag. You watch her as she applies another layer onto her lips.

“That was a hard conversation to listen to,” Francesa says, her eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

“Yeah,” you mumble, not really in the mood to talk.

“It takes a lot to impress Hana.”

“Clearly.”

Francesa pats your shoulder. “I’m sure you will find something to impress Hana with.” You don’t know why but it sounds so condescending. “But I’m not surprised to see Jake hasn’t changed.” Francesa laughs to herself, finding something funny.

“What are you laughing about?” You ask Francesa.

“When we were dating, I was exactly like you when meeting his family. He threw you in the deep end, didn’t he? Told you were meeting his parents, but actually took you to a family dinner? And when his mother was grilling me, he was silent -- just like tonight.” Francesa sighs, turning to you. “He doesn’t have the guts to talk back to his parents. His older brother did, and that’s why he’s not at family dinners anymore.”

“I just..” Francesa trails off. “I just hoped tonight would be different, you know? You and Jake…you guys look happy and in love and I just thought that this would be the night where Jake finally speaks up and does something about the way his mother treats people.”

Francesa shakes her head, giving you a small smile. “It’s a shame your love couldn’t change that.”

“Why would I need to change Jake?” You ask, frowning.

“Oh, Y/N.” Francesa sighs. “Whenever I would come for a family dinner, Jake would sit in silence and let Hana pick at me, probing me to reveal personal secrets and shame me for them. She wanted to mold me into the perfect wife for Jake. Whatever flaw I had, Hana would take it and cut it up into a thousand more flaws, throw it back at me, and tell me I had to fix them all or else I would never be good enough for her son. Dating Jake made me hate myself, and him, so we broke up.”

“You cheated on him, though.”

“I did,” Francesa agrees easily.

“Why?”

“Hyunjae’s nothing like Jake.”

The drive home is silent. Jake attempts to speak, but after his fifth try, he stops. Your mind was a mess, recounting Hana’s sharp words, and Francesa’s story. Everything was a mess and you felt as if you never really knew Jake.

“Y/N,” Jake tries again.

You’re sitting in his car, outside your dorm. You don’t move to leave the car. You should probably confront the tense air before it gets worse the longer you continue to ignore it. You turn to Jake, trying to keep your emotions under lock.

“Jake,” you respond. “I think we need some space. Just for a few days.”

Jake looks confused. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is filled with rage you didn’t know you had. Watching Jake shift away, regret fills you. “Sorry, Jake. Sorry.” You look away, out the front window, and this time the tears come without warning. When you look back at Jake, you’re crying silently, the hurt inflicted by Hana filling up the space where your heart used to sit.

“If you can’t tell your mother to shut the fuck up and stop prying into my personal life, then we can’t be friends, Jake. Your silence really hurt me tonight.”

Jake’s mouth opens and closes. He doesn’t know what to say, and for some reason, that hurts you.

“You didn’t -- you didn’t even offer support, like a hand on my thigh, or a hand to hold. You left me -- you left me alone tonight, Jake.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, but he doesn’t even look like he means it. He’s still confused.

“Just -- just don’t talk to me for a couple of days. Unless we need to act like a couple for some stupid event.”

“Y/N --”

You smile sadly at Jake. “Jake, you’re meant to be in love with me. Your silence at dinner told a different story.”

You climb out of the car, close the passenger door, and walk away from Jake.

—-

Three days. You haven’t spoken to Jake in three days. You’ve kept yourself distracted by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends and actually completing your assignments before the deadline, and handing them in once the submissions open.

Deciding to give yourself a break, you take this chance to check your phone. Youngeun had sent you something on Instagram, and so you pause the game you were playing with Rei and check Youngeun’s messages. She had sent you someone’s story. Clicking on it, you watch the story and your stomach turns over. It was Jake with Francesa.

Normally, you aren’t one for presumptions and letting miscommunication get in between your relationships with those close to you, but when it comes to Jake, you can’t help but get insecure. He’s rich, he’s popular, he’s handsome. He can have anyone he wants, and yet there you were, faking dating him. And yet, there you were, falling in love with him.

Love. That word strikes you across your face. Love. Since when were you in love with Jake?

You recall the sudden development you felt over Winter break; you like Jake. And not in a fake way. You truly like Jake and it’s messing with your brain. You can’t handle Jake’s gentle touches and kind words, and you can’t handle his kisses and flirtatious remarks. This fake relationship is driving you insane and soon you feel like you’ll snap. You fear what the consequences would be when that day comes.

But when did love come into play?

The overwhelming emotions of love and like terrorize you. You click off the story where Francesa and Jake were sharing giggles and you leave Youngeun on seen. Nausea washes over you. Maybe this temporary space needs to be a permanent space.

You excuse yourself from your group of friends and walk back to your dorm. The chilly wind whips through the air and seeps through your hoodie, chilling you to the bone. Maybe you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, maybe you need to give Jake the chance to explain himself. Maybe you were just overreacting. Yes, Jake had let his mother embarrass you in front of his relatives, but that shouldn’t define who he is as a person. Right? Yes, Jake was hanging out with his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him, but nothing is happening between them. Right?

Your head begins to spin.

You stumble into the dorm and crash into Ricky. “Y/N!” The platinum blond exclaims, “I was just looking for you. Someone is here to see you.”

Immediately, you think of Jake. Has Jake finally realized what he did wrong three nights ago? Has Jake realized he loves you the way you love him? “Really?”

Ricky nods his head. “They’re in the common space.”

“Thanks Ricky,” you brush past the boy and with eager footsteps, you step into the common space -- only to falter.

Jake’s mother stands in the center of the room. Your heart stops and your breath catches.

“Mrs. Sim?”

The raven-haired woman turns at the sound of you calling her. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N,” she steps over to you. “Nice to see you again.” You knew these were false pleasantries. “How is college going?”

“It’s going well,” you respond stiffly. “Jake isn’t with me.”

Mrs. Sim chuckles. “Oh, I’m not here for my son.” Her eyes pin you to the spot. “I’m here to see you, Y/N. I value my son’s partners highly, and I think we should have a talk.” She gestures to the couch behind you. “Shall we sit?”

Hesitantly, you sit on the couch. Mrs. Sim relaxes in the spot next to you, and she pulls a white envelope out of her handbag and passes it over to you. “Y/N, I’ll be honest. I don’t think you’re right for my son.”

“What?” You draw your eyes away from the white envelope you were holding. “I’m not…right?”

“Korean heritage is valued highly in our family --”

“I’m Korean, Mrs. Sim.”

“But you cannot speak Korean.”

“But I can learn!” You refute.

Mrs. Sim raises her hand, silencing you. “There is more, of course. I just simply don’t think you and Jake will last. I am only saving you from heartbreak.”

“Mrs. Sim, I’m sorry but you don’t get to --”

“You feel as though you don’t belong in Jake’s world, Y/N. Am I correct?” Mrs. Sim’s eyes are narrowed as she addresses you, her voice one that commands to be listened to.

That is something you can’t refute. It’s something that had been bubbling up within you ever since that dinner -- ever since you realized just how rich Jake was. He lived and existed in a higher society you will never understand. In a society you can only dream of existing within. You don’t get the rules, and you don’t understand how to present yourself in that rich society Jake is ingrained in. You feel so out of place, and you’ve only attended a family dinner.

“With time, I think I can feel comfortable --”

“Y/N. You are not fit for my son. You should break up with him.”

You scoff. “What makes you think I would break up with Jake? I love him.”

Mrs. Sim sighs. “But does he love you? At dinner, it didn’t seem like he did. My son was more than happy to let you embarrass yourself.”

“Embarrass myself? That was -- that was your fault--”

“In that envelope is money. You should open it.”

You open it. It’s a check. Your eyes widen at the amount of money scrolled on the check. “What--what’s this for?”

“Break up with Jake and that money is yours.”

“I don’t -- I don’t want your money.” You throw the envelope on the ground. “I’m not cheap, Mrs. Sim.”

Mrs. Sim stands from the couch and brushes off her dress. “I have said what I wanted to say. I can only hope you listen to me, Y/N, and realize that you will never be the one for Jake, no matter what he says, or what you tell yourself.”

“Jake is his own person. He is twenty. He can make decisions for himself. Why are you still controlling him?”

Mrs. Sim glances over her shoulder. “My son is still green when it comes to the world. He does not know what is best for him because I sheltered him from the real world growing up.”

“He can make decisions for himself,” you repeat.

Mrs. Sim walks away.

A few hours later, with help of Wonyoung’s stalking skills and social connections, you find yourself back on Greek Row, and outside a frat house that was famous across campus because of their end-of-exams parties. Jake was at this party tonight with the rest of Enhypen.

Wonyoung was already chatting up some older college student and you head inside the frat yourself. It was already packed, horny and sweaty bodies pushing up against each other, and the smell of weed hangs suspended in the air. You start looking for Jake, and you immediately head for the back porch. You don’t find Jake there, however you find Sunghoon and Heeseung setting up a new game of beer pong. “Sunghoon! Heeseung!” You call out, rushing toward them. “Where’s Jake?”

Sunghoon beams at you. “Y/N! Hey! Jake took Sunoo to the bathroom. He’s wasted.”

“Awesome! Thanks!” You dash back into the house and climb the stairs, hoping there was a bathroom on the second floor of this frat. Pushing open every door, you only find bedrooms with two, or three people, making out on the beds. With apology after apology, your search for Jake and Sunoo and a bathroom is futile.

Then, a door at the end of the hall opens and out spills Jake and Sunoo. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s in excitement or nervousness for what’s about to happen. “Jake!” You shout.

Jake perks up hearing your voice, and his lips break out into a massive grin. He abandons Sunoo’s side and rushes up to you, wrapping you in a warm hug. He sloppily kisses your cheek. “Y/N!” He was tipsy. “I missed you so much.” He holds you tighter and nuzzles his face in your neck.

This was going to be hard.

“Jake,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”

—-

You and Jake were sitting at a bus shelter near the frat house throwing the party. Your leg shakes as you work up the courage to end the fake relationship you have with Jake. You don’t know why you were hesitating all of a sudden. Why were you afraid of ending this relationship with Jake?

“Jake,” you start softly. “I think -- I think.” You inhale. You can do this. You can spit it out. “I think we should end the fake relationship.”

“Huh?” Jake tilts his head to the side. He really is a puppy.

“Jake. We need to break up. Or whatever.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Break up? Why?”

This was the hard part. You’ve never dated someone so you’ve never experienced a break up before. How were you supposed to do this? How were you supposed to tell Jake to never contact you again because you don't fit in his world? You don’t fit beside him?

“I’m calling this whole agreement off,” you rephrase. You aren’t sure if this is an actual break up if you were never in a real relationship in the first place.

“Why?” Jake asks, and he looks sober. “We don’t have that much longer left.”

“I just feel like I did what you needed me to do. I stayed your girlfriend long enough to meet your parents. Now, it just feels pointless to keep this whole agreement going. I’ll transfer you back the money, and you can stop driving me around everywhere.”

“Y/N,” Jake says gently. He reaches for your hand and you retract it, dismissing the hurt on his face.

The thing about love; you don’t understand it. You’ve never understood love because you’ve never been in love. It’s confusing and tricky. Why does your heart beat a certain way around Jake, and not anybody else? You love your friends, sure, but it’s a different love to the one you feel with Jake. Love is weird, and confusing, and tricky, and unforgiving. You feel naive at the hands of love because it makes everything you thought you understood, more complex and hard to understand.

You used to know the difference between like and love and now you’re not so sure anymore.

You used to find love confusing, but now it’s complex with more instructions written in the fine print you never read in the first place. When your heart begins to beat a different tune, everything in you changes; how you behave, how you talk, how you dress, and how you look. Love changes you. For better or for worse.

“Jake, I don’t think we should stay friends after,” you admit, standing from the seat. The lamplight next to the bus shelter flickers slightly. A strong wind picks up and whips your hair into your face. Jake doesn’t move an inch, hurt and confusion plastered all over his face. “We’re two different people from two different families. We would’ve never worked out, no matter how badly I wanted this to be real.” The confession slips from your lips without a warning.

Jake looks anguished and he tries to reach for you again. You take a step back and the wind blows more harshly, rattling the bus shelter. “Jake. I don’t fit in with you. Or your family. I don’t fit in the world you’re living in.”

Jake tries to interrupt but you don’t let him. “It hurt me that night, when you offered no support, when you barraged me with your family dinner. I was underprepared, Jake, and I was left humiliated as your mother ripped my life apart in front of your relatives who I really wanted to impress no matter if they don’t hold value in your life.”

“Jake, I really, really like you.” You don’t understand the difference between like and love. Maybe you never will. Maybe you just really like Jake. “But we’d never work if this became real because right now, it’s fake, and I feel…” You shrug, unable to form a coherent sentence. “It’s just messing with me. And the dinner --”

“It was my mom, Y/N,” Jake interrupts, finally finding his voice. “You know how she is.”

“She’s manipulative and controlling. You told me yourself Jake,” you shoot back. “And I’m not looking for a fight Jake, I just think it’s time you actually put actions to your words. She shouldn’t still control your life. You’re twenty. Not sixteen.”

“Y/N --”

“Your mother humiliated me, Jake. She made me feel stupid for not knowing Korean.” Tears well in your eyes. “And you know what’s even stupider? She didn’t even believe for a second that you loved me. Your silence really spoke a thousand words, Jake. And not just for me.”

Jake sighs and glances away and towards the party that was happening behind him. “Is this because of the Instagram story Fran posted of us?”

You shake your head, bitterness spilling across your tongue. “No. I know you don’t like her like that, Jake. I mean, for a moment I was jealous but then I remembered she cheated on you and I know you’re better than that, Jake. And then I remembered, you didn’t tell me what ‘family dinner’ actually meant, and then you let your mother humiliate me in front of, pretty much, your entire family, and you’re still acting like you did nothing wrong when all I wanted was your support. Is that too much to ask for? I really tried to sell this relationship, Jake, but your mother saw right through us because of your silence.”

Jake drops his head, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You huff and the first tear drops. “Your family is really shitty, Jake.”

“I know.”

“And you can be better than them.”

“I know.”

“I really wished I didn’t feel so alone during that dinner.”

Jake raises his head. He looks pitiful. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t contact me, Jake, we’re done.”

Jake physically recoils at your words. “Y/N --”

“I hope I’m able to get over you, Jake. I really hope I am.” You step away from Jake, and above you, lightning crackles through the sky. “I had a nice time with you, Jake.”

Jake lets you go as thunder booms overhead.

—-

“Do you think I was overreacting?” You ask Wonyoung as you lie on your bed. It’s been a week since you last saw or heard from Jake and as much as you wish you didn’t, all you could think about was Jake. How stupid, immature, and hypocritical of you. “Maybe I was. Maybe it wasn’t that deep.”

Wonyoung hums. “No. I think you did good. You know what you want in a relationship, Y/N. You want someone who can stand up for you against his parents. Your reaction was valid.”

You roll over in your bed and face Wonyoung who was probably texting Sunghoon as she lay on her own bed across from you. “I miss him,” you admit softly and then promptly shove your face in your pillow to scream. “But I hate him for what he did -- but I really really miss him.”

“You liked him a lot, Y/N,” Wonyoung says gently. “Of course you’ll miss him.”

You roll onto your back again and stare at the ceiling. “He was nice to me. And kind. And thoughtful, and he was funny and charming and so polite and he made me feel warm and safe and comfortable and --” You look at Wonyoung who was smiling at you, her phone discarded. “I think I almost fell in love with him.”

“I think he almost fell in love with you too,” Wonyoung says.

You shake your head. “I don’t know about that.”

Wonyoung checks the time on her phone and gasps, leaping off her bed. “Fuck. It’s so late. I need to get going for my lecture. Do you want me to buy anything when I’m walking back?”

“Chocolate milk?” You ask Wonyoung. “I think I need chocolate milk.”

Wonyoung smiles and pats your shoulder. “Of course.”

You lie in bed for the rest of the day, thinking over your relationship with Jake. You hate to admit it, but to you, for the most part, the relationship felt real -- especially when Jake joined your family during Christmas. Nothing felt more real than you curled up on Jake’s lap, sharing laughter and trading jokes.

“Hey Wonyoung,” you ask a few hours later, after she’s returned with your chocolate milk. (The bottle is now empty as it lies at the foot of your bed.) “Do you think I was a bit too naive in the relationship? Sure, we’re only two years apart, but our maturity is probably ten years apart. Was I asking for too much?”

Wonyoung shakes her head. “You weren’t asking for too much. Jake was just giving too little. He wasn’t providing you with the emotional support a relationship needs.”

“But when we were alone,” you say quietly, “he did. He comforted me. He told me reassuring words and made me feel wanted. I don’t know why he did what he did at dinner. Clearly that’s a can I’ll never have the privilege of popping open or asking about.” Sighing, you squeeze your stuffed toy dog closer to your chest. “But I do think I was naive. I fell too fast for Jake. I am only eighteen, after all.”

“You fell first but he fell harder,” Wonyoung says.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

You shut your eyes and sigh again. “When I think of Jake, I think of him spending Christmas with me and my family. He’s just…so happy. So fucking happy. And it makes me feel happy. See? I fell too fast, and too deep, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.”

Wonyoung laughs softly. “And why do you think he felt happy, Y/N?”

A light blush tints your cheeks. “I like to imagine he felt happy because he was with me.”

—-

Exam season creeps up on you fast, and to deal with your stress you start going out on runs -- like right now. With loud Olivia Rodrigo blasting through your airpods, you jog down the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street. Since summer is near, the sun burns brighter and sweat easily soaks you.

On this run, you bump into Riki.

“Riki!” You exclaim in surprise when you spot the familiar boy walking towards the nearby park that houses a baseball diamond. He’s carrying his overstuffed baseball bag and has headphones on, but at the sound of your voice, he whirls around and tugs them off.

“Y/N,” he responds, his voice smooth and neutral. “Wanna play baseball?”

So, you find yourself pitching to Riki and retrieving the balls he hits out into the field, deja vu washing over you. He doesn’t speak to you until the end. Concern that you’ve angered him washes over you as you watch him take a long sip of water from his water bottle.

“I’m not mad at you,” Riki says, wiping his forehead with a towel. “So can you stop looking at me like that?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, blushing.

“If anything, I’m glad you broke up with Jake.”

You gape at the younger boy and watch him back up his stuff. “What?”

“He needed this wake up call. He has so much personal shit going on in his life that he never had the balls to face, and I guess whatever you said to him when you broke up with him really slapped him awake. I’ve never seen Jake this happy, or appear this light, y’know? Like before, it felt like he was dragging this dead weight around with him but ever since he cut off his family and dealt with personal issues, it’s like that dead weight is gone.” Riki harshly shoves his baseball glove into his overflowing bag.

“I mean, you know Jake is emotionally constipated in a way.”

You snort. “Ain’t that the truth. We would only brush the surface level of his…childhood trauma. He would tell me measly things -- like how his parents never had time for him, and how his mother was extremely controlling and his father was demanding, but that’s all. We never, like, actually talked about his feelings.”

Riki nods his head, picking up his bat and swinging it through the air. “Jake’s actually talking about his feelings now, by the way. He’s been talking to his brother more recently and finally caved into Jay’s nagging and booked a therapy appointment.”

“Oh wow,” your eyes widened. “Therapy?”

Riki nods his head. “He wants to get better.” The look Riki gives you says everything.

Running back home, your steps feel lighter. You’re able to study with a clear mind and when you exit the exam halls you feel as if you just aced all those tests. You don’t know why, but knowing that Jake is working towards a better self, makes you feel happy. You’re glad Jake is working on himself, and has support all around him. You feel the urge to reach out to him, but you fight it away by keeping yourself occupied by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends.

You occasionally run into Riki and Heeseung while out on your runs. They keep you updated on Jake, letting you know how he’s doing and what he’s doing. It’s nice to still be in touch with Jake’s friends, it’s nice to see that they don’t resent you for breaking up with Jake. Jay reaches out to you once, inviting you to his birthday party. You turn down the invitation and Jay says he understands. Then, he thanks you for taking care of Jake.

Your pride holds you back from unblocking Jake on Instagram so you create a burner account solely to keep yourself updated on Jake’s whereabouts during summer break. He takes Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki back to Milan, Italy where they shop at Prada, eat tons of pasta and pizza, and get drunk on Italian wine. Based on the stories they post, the Milan trip was quite eventful.

The start of your second year approaches quickly and you still haven’t reached out to Jake yet. You’ve unblocked his number and drafted up a few text messages asking Jake if he wants to talk, or meet up, but you’ve never had the guts to send them. You’re afraid of the outcome, you’re afraid of finding out that Jake never wants to see you again, but you’d understand if Jake requests that.

It’s the last day before you move back into the dormitory. You’re lounging on the couch with Myeong who is watching Crazy Rich Asians while she paints her toes. You’re laser focused on your phone, struggling to come up with a text to send to Jake. You really want to see him again.

Someone knocks on your door.

“I’ll get it,” you tell Myeong, gladly distracting yourself from the daunting task you assigned yourself. Dressed in old, short, denim shorts, and a ratty old t-shirt that boasts Disneyland’s 50th Anniversary, you open the door. “Hi--”

Jake stands on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses. His hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a white blouse that’s been paired with black slacks. He looks breathtaking. Literally. You can’t breathe.

“Y/N,” Jake smiles gently, and holds out the bouquet for you to take. “You look beautiful.”

You snort, still unable to move.

“Don't leave me hanging, Y/N,” Jake says.

“What are you doing here, Jake?” You finally find your voice, and your arm reaches out to take hold of the rose bouquet.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Jake admits. “And a lot of that thinking has been about you.”

You stare at Jake, wide-eyed, and if you were able to see yourself, there’s probably stars in your eyes. You grip the rose bouquet tighter. “You’ve been thinking? About me?”

Jake nods his head. “About you. And our time together. And I realized that if we had spent more time together, I would have fallen in love with you.”

You feel faint. “Oh, wow.” Your mouth feels dry, and it’s hard to breathe.

“You’re very lovable, Y/N,” Jake’s smile is just as bright as the sun, and his eyes hold galaxies that are far prettier than the one you’re existing in. “And I’m sorry for making you feel alone. Friends or dating, I should never let someone feel like that. I’m sorry for not standing up for you.”

“It’s okay, Jake,” you laugh off the insanity you’re feeling. “I’m over it. Really.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Y/N.”

You smile softly, raising the roses to your nose. “It’s okay, Jake.”

Jake nods his head. “Alright. Cool. I’m -- I’m glad.” He looks up at the sky, with tense shoulders, and closes his eyes. He looks unsure of himself and you let out a small, amused giggle. Jake glances back at you, and everything in him relaxes. He inhales deeply. “So, I was wondering, Y/N, if you’d like to go out with me. Tonight. On a real date.”

It’s silent for a long time.

“You can say no --”

“You’re a very hard person to get over, Jake,” you admit.

“I am?”

You nod your head. “I think it’s stupid how you still occupy my heart.”

“It’s stupid?”

You smile. “Very stupid. But that’s okay, because it makes me stupidly in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. Myeong’s watching Crazy Rich Asians, so you can keep her company while I get changed and --”

Jake cuts you off with a kiss. His lips are warm against yours. When he draws away, his eyes are like molten honey. It’s like he’s melting right in front of you, love oozing from every inch of skin that you can see. “Sorry,” Jake flushes. “I couldn’t help myself. You look really cute, Y/N.”

You draw Jake back in for another kiss.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen jake #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #sim jaeyun #sim jake #love me like you #jake sim #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n

1K notes · View notes

iznsfw · 1 year

Text

The Rabbit

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

9,623 words

Categories | maid!Wonyoung, if you could get the movie this is based off of you're awesome, blowjob, anal

Yep, I finally wrote Wonyoung. Who knew, right?

Maybe you'll meet your end today. Tomorrow, if you're lucky. Either way, they'd find out. That's definitely certain; mandatory love is no winning game. Love in general isn't, especially when it's founded on merely scrawny and lustful sex. The lines between lust and love blur, and it becomes more dangerous than it actually is.

And one could say that it really isn't love (you've heard that a couple more times than you'd like) when you barely know anything about her, when your mind only dances with the thought of ruining her angelic self again, but they know you'd never listen. You refuse to.

So, where did all this—a young, gorgeous woman by the name of Jang Wonyoung in the crook of your arm, her hand on your cock and glossy lips on yours—start?

Well, to understand, you have to stay in the present and reminisce about the past, just one more time. You've to live in it as if the former days were the current ones and what's now is nothing to worry about. But you shouldn't dwell too long; the world out there is no land for lonely men.

1. HOP

Your nerves and fears merge and struggle as one as you line up to the counter. They've plenty of reasons to do that sickly collaboration that makes your stomach hurt, but you find solace with the fact that it's at least a nice hotel. The soft yellow paint on the wall makes a lovely pair with the yellow one smeared on the outlines. The rooms are all well-furnished, and the frames bear replicates of several famous abstract masterpieces. In general, the hotel possesses a grand and pretty aesthetic, and you would have rated the stay five stars out of five if you weren't hoarded out of your home and in here.

Everyone dresses nicely, too. The older woman in the line next to yours wears a blazer and a high fashion tube top under it, her main color all over being pink. On the other hand, the man in front of you dons a formal black suit. It's like there was a recurring oath all around to dress grandly that they left you out of. How rude of them.

Suddenly self-conscious, you smooth down your simple shirt and jeans. You're already making an exception for yourself from the expensive dress code; the obligation to look clean should at least be followed. There shouldn't be any crinkled lines riding the fabric of your shirt, or a single speck of dirt on your cheap shoes.

"Next," says the woman at the counter briskly.

You make your way forward. Said woman is dressed in mandatory, dead-looking uniform and has no sign of a smile on her emotionless face. She doesn't want to be here more than you do. She makes that clear as she flashes you a tired look.

"Name?"

You tell her your name, switching your weight from one foot to another.

"Age?"

"Twenty-one years old."

"Sexual preference?"

"W-what?" you ask. It bears repetition; you have no idea why the woman would ask that.

She—(you should start calling her "Kim Gaeul" now; you've read the name on her breast pocket tag)—sighs, not caring to hide her frustration. "You know why you're here, don't you?" she asks.

Her tone suggests that you should know. However, no idea comes to mind. If they ever informed you of your purpose here, the message got lost in translation in the stress of packing your belongings and traveling all the way to this hotel. It's a decent upgrade from your humble little house, but it can’t mimic the safety of the place you grew up in. You're basically being held hostage here—this place will never be home.

"I don't," you admit guiltily.

"Well, if it's not obvious, you're a twenty-one-year-old heterosexual—I assume—man, and you still haven't found a partner."

Gaeul says it in this unnecessarily audible voice that makes you flush red to your ears. Everyone is going through the same, hence their presence in this very hotel, but when it's uttered out loud, it's like rubbing salt over an already throbbing wound.

Your face feels hot with humiliation. "Yes? And?"

"This doesn't go well with your purpose of being fruitful and multiplying," continues Gaeul. To quote the Bible in these times is… well, something, but you’ll let her have this one. "Here, you'll be able to find your lifetime partner—"

You're confused. "And how does being here help with bagging a girl?"

"—and spend two weeks together to prove your bond to us." Gaeul glares at you, clearly annoyed that you've interrupted her. For that, and out of pure, unyielded spite, she dodges your question expertly. "You're given forty-five days, and, if by the end, you're unable to find someone who shares the same qualities slash traits with you, you're turned into an animal."

Well, you did not expect that one coming.

(But, if your memory serves you well, the cop in the van that took you to this place said, as he brushed down his gray uniform: "They skin you alive to make you a little critter, that's what they do—it's heinous. Happened to an old friend of mine. Miss him more than ever."

"Did you see it happen?" you asked, his words stealing your attention from the lands running to keep up with the vehicle.

"Was told about it," answered the cop. "He said he wanted to be a dog. They took out his organs and gave all the blood to the hospitals. Dunno what happened to those, but they probably went down the same route. Wonder what kid out there got his lungs now, heh."

"Well, did it work? Did he become what he wanted?"

"No idea. All I can say is after that, dogs kept following me around.")

"You know," you say, leaning forward on the counter with your arms crossed, in hopes of appearing more in control of the whole thing than you actually are, "it takes more than forty-five days to find a wife, Gaeul. It takes years."

"Oh, really?" Gaeul gives you a condescending look one would give to a rambling, precocious toddler. "Didn't know that."

"Hey, I'm not doing this. I'm out."

"Suppose you're a Loner, then?"

"I've heard that one before."

She sighs. "A Loner doesn't believe in what we do here," she explains tiredly. "They don't believe in love."

"Sounds like me."

"If one wishes to extend their forty-five-day period in finding a partner," adds Gaeul helpfully, her statement definitely not a thinly veiled threat, "they're required to kill a Loner."

You're stunned by how everything works. Just forty-five days to get a wife? Those who don't want to comply with the system being hunted down as a consequence? What has this world come to?

You look back in line. There are numerous other men and women waiting for their turn, and you're wasting their time and Gaeul's. Not that you care much for her since she's been rude to you since the beginning, but she does look like the kind of person able to make someone disappear off the face of the Earth if they don't fit in. What if you don't match her criteria either? What would she have the people in charge do to you? What if the animal thing was a lie and they actually just killed you off?

It's either death, becoming an animal, or having someone to hold.

You haven't had the third one in a long, long time.

You inhale, hold that breath, and exhale slowly. Straighten your shoulders. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Alright. Sexual preference?"

"Heterosexual." You think.

"If, in any circumstance, you are unable to find a partner, what animal would you like to become?"

A beat.

"A rabbit," you say thoughtfully. "I think I'd want to become a rabbit."

2. DOWN

"A rabbit? Really? Out of every animal out there?"

A small Japanese woman from behind you in line keeps you entertained now in the waiting room. She has short, auburn hair and a cute smile. Her cheeks remind you of dumplings. Speaking of, you can smell some of them cooking in the kitchen nearby. You can hear your stomach rumble.

"It just… feels right, you know?" you say, shrugging in your seat beside her, in which she's strangely pressed up closely to you.

You haven't really given the animal thing much thought. You know that there's an underlying reason for it, but you can't really ponder exactly what. Perhaps it's a favorite animal from childhood? Nope, couldn't be it—your favorite animal back then was a lobster. And you can't even recall the reason for that.

"A rabbit… carrots…” You give up. “No idea.”

The woman nods understandingly. Her fingers guitar a rhythm on her knees. "Aren't you gonna ask what I'd like to be?" she says expectantly.

Alright, sure; you'll play her game. You've nothing else to do, anyway; you're just waiting for your room number to be announced. It might take a while, too, with the number of people waiting before you. The richer ones obviously get more privileges as well.

"What animal would you want to be?" you ask the girl.

"A butterfly. Be nice to just fly around and be pretty, don't you think?"

"A butterfly’s an insect, no?"

"Insects are also animals."

Desperate to keep the conversation going to fill the eerie silence, which makes you grow more and more uneasy, you prompt more lines from her. "Are they?"

She twitches her mouth to one side with a thoughtful look. "I'd like to think so."

You're given only forty-five days to find the one, you remind yourself. You have to constantly give yourself reminders lest you forget about your new life here in the hotel. Here's your chance.

"What's your name?" you ask her.

"Rei."

A cute name for a cute girl—nice. Rei's adorable from head to toe. Even the clothes she wears are sweet. Her plump cheeks allude to that, too. "Well, Rei, you want to team up?"

Rei scoffs, suddenly moving away from you. Her face, which you once saw as adorable, suddenly looks scary. "Is that what you think of all this? A defense-offense field game?"

"Uh, no, I meant that it’s—"

"No, save it. I want to actually find love here, you bastard. Love isn't a game you can just play anytime."

Yeah, of course it isn't; love is a fucking requirement. Does Rei really think she'll find true love in a world like this? You pity her Snow White enthusiasm for true romance, for a prince who’d sweep her off her feet without the feeling of obligation, but maybe she really wants to be a butterfly. You're not gonna stop her from what her heart desires; you're far from that kind of guy.

At least, you hope so. God, are you becoming one of those men?

Rei's obviously upset. From the pure shock in her face, it's clear she saw something in you that was quickly made meaningless by your mindset. She rises from the sofa, fuming, and walks away. She says in heated breaths that she needs some fresh air.

You watch your chance disappear just like that and smile tightly. Oh well.

"Tough, ain't it?" remarks the man from the loveseat across the room. He's a lot older, and he looks like he'd be the best grandfather. He'd probably let his grandkids stay awake past bedtime and give them candy. Why is he here? Maybe he recently broke up with Grandma? "Finding a girl?"

"Don't I know it," you sigh.

He smiles sympathetically. "It's better than being a rabbit," he says.

"I'd take a rabbit over a no-jerking-off policy."

That's how it works here: real life torture, in an unusual way, since they're depriving you of self-pleasure. They don't believe that masturbating would help find a girl. Gaeul told you earlier that if you were caught doing so—(and they will; they have CCTVs in the damned rooms, which definitely breaks more than a few laws about privacy and the like)—there would be severe punishments.

You truly don't want to know what punishment awaits your refusal to obey.

The man chuckles. "At least you get a lap dance. That's better than yankin'."

"A lap dance?" you ask. Gaeul didn't mention that.

"Every night, a maid comes over and gives ya a good grind down the groin. You don't actually get to touch her or do the thing, if you catch my drift,” he winks, “but it helps with mating. Wouldn't want someone who can't get it up at night, amirite, mate?"

"Suppose not."

The man sees the sparkle in your eyes. His laugh evolves from a soft, olden chuckle to a full-on guffaw. "See? There's pros in this place, too, getting a pretty girl on top of you every night."

"Can't the maid be my wife instead?" you joke. That would make the flow of things here a whole lot easier, if that were true.

He shakes his head. "Nah, some say they're part of the Loners. Wouldn't want to mess with them."

The Loners… you've heard about them during your drive here. You saw them lurking in the woods, guns cocked, with eyes flashing demonic looks at every passerby. While the cop told you not to make eye contact with them, Gaeul informed you about their beliefs earlier during your heated exchange: love shouldn't be mandatory. And you agree, but getting hunted down by desperate rich people isn't at the very top of your bucket list.

You're a coward, but you like to think it's just you playing safe. One wrong move can land you in a place where your eyes would never behold the light of day again, where life holds no meaning unless a carrot is present.

"You're lying about the lap dance thing, aren't you?" you say finally. The world is fucked up, but it can't be that bad, right?

He grins. "See for yourself, and don't say I didn't warn you."

If there's anything good in this hotel besides the air-conditioning and paintings, it's the food. The platters served on the white-drapes tables make you feel more well-off than you actually are. There's fish skillets, sushi, gravy, and mashed potatoes. Spoons and knives of varying sizes and utilities sit on the opposite sides of every plate.

"Guess I like this place now," you joke to a woman beside you. She giggles back politely, but doesn't respond; her mouth is stuffed with crispy chicken skin.

You eat to your heart's content. Pour gravy all over the hills of mashed potatoes. Scoop up unlimited rice and pair it with the soup. You wonder what kind of cooks they hired to produce these delicacies. Was there a certain secret degree that had to be obtained to be accepted here? A secret recipe worth signing an NDA for?

"Good, isn't it?" asks the young gentleman across from you. It's clear he's used to grand dining; he's dainty with his chewing, and knows on which occasion a specific utensil should be used. However, his eyes are kind—there's no judgment in them as he watches you wolf down your food.

"Definitely." Letting go of table etiquette, you speak with half your mouth full. Glance down at his plate. "Do you usually eat that little?"

"Not really," he responds. "Just keeping room for dessert."

"There's dessert?"

As if on cue, chocolate cake and more chicken wings are placed on the table. You take one of the chicken wings and eat it with rice, classic Filipino style.

(Speaking of, you really, really miss Jollibee.)

Should you go for the cake, too?

You glance at the cake, then at your growing belly. Fuck it. You slice a generous part of the cake onto your golden plate. The frilling of the dessert is made of flowery cream. The bakers decorated the top of it with coffee-flavored candy, which you fork into your mouth gladly. Your stomach and heart feel full, but you just keep eating. It’s rare to come across food this delicious, and you’re not going to waste it. It’s all or nothing.

"Let's take half and half for this bad boy," the gentleman gestures to the cake with a pinky, "and leave nothing for the rest of these fuckers. How's that sound?"

"What the hell, I'm in."

As promised, he slices the dessert smoothly with a serving knife and places a good amount for you, and another one for him. You're gluttons, you two, but it's exactly that which made you like each other.

You become quite uneasy when you see staff looking at you strangely. Their eyes are squinted, and they’re murmuring among themselves, pointing in your direction. You try to look away, but they’re approaching already. There’s nowhere else to run.

"Sir, you might want to come with us."

You look up, ready to bear whatever they're planning to do to you. But then you realize they’re talking to your new friend, who looks nervous. The look in his eyes matches the one you’d see in an animal caught in a bear trap. He follows them anyway to the backrooms; the staff look pretty serious, and they don't look like they'd back up.

You've no idea what happened after, but you hear the words "masturbation" and "disobeyed," watch a few heads turn out of curiosity, and smell the horrid scent of burning skin.

You also hear screaming.

Safe to say that no one used the toaster after that.

You enter the chambers of your room with a fulfilled stomach. There's just a tiny amount of alcohol in your system, enough to keep your nerves at bay, and maybe a few mashed potatoes. You make sure to brush all that off in the tiled bathroom, using the small tube of hotel toothpaste and the children's toothbrush they provided for you. Drain it all down with mouthwash and leave your mouth feeling minty.

You thought the bedroom would be as grand as the rest of the place. To your surprise, its design and furniture look like ones you'd see at a gas station motel, nothing more. There's no expensive comforter to slip under, or a tiger's carpet to rest your feet on. It's all just… normal.

Maybe you'd like it that way. One day, it'll feel like home. You're not entirely sure about it, but you're hoping it'll happen.

You're just watching TV on the vintage television they set up on a small table (it’s a pretty old movie called Psycho) when a knock sounds on your door. Wondering who it might be, coming over at this hour, you open it.

"Good evening, sir."

A girl with braided hair twisted by dark bows in a stereotypical and an obviously fetish maid outfit stands timidly outside of your room. In spite of your tiredness, it still astounds you how she looks like an expensive, vintage porcelain doll brought to life. Her skin is as pale as the frilly, ribboned fabric forming the top of her black dress and the gloves that wrap her thin arms like a present. Her hands are curled behind her back, but they hide nothing, not even her nervousness.

"I'm sorry," you say. She's pretty, and you would have done her, but you don't know what the hell she's doing here. "I didn't ask for room service."

"It's not room service," she says. She's tall for a girl, only a little shorter than you, but you forget it with how often she hangs her head. "I'm, I'm here to give you the… you know…"

"Huh?"

"The grinding thing?" the girl goes on. Her fingertips tap against each other. Her eyes meet everything but yours. "The lap dance?"

Oh, now you remember. Your mind let go of the idea, having trained its focus on the food you consumed, but now, you can't stop thinking about what this girl is going to do. And here you thought it was just a joke to get you going.

You take a proper look at her. She's really beautiful. That face and body of hers, visually striking and slim in all the right spots, doesn't belong in a maid's uniform, now that you look closer. She should be a model, strutting down the catwalk with confidence in every one of her strides. She should be out there walking for fashion weeks and shows, not grinding on random strangers varying from old and young.

(However, in all unfiltered honesty, you certainly wouldn't mind her rubbing her thighs and ass on you, or holding those braids as you plow her—)

"Who are you?"

"I'm the maid," she replies. She bites her lip, getting even more anxious about what's to come, but it just looks undeniably sexy to you, even if its effect on you is wholly unintended.

Nodding: "Yeah, I know that. But what's your name?"

"W-Wonyoung…"

"Well, Wonyoung, do you want to do this? It's completely fine if you don't."

It's probably her first time hearing this because her blush is intense. She can't recall the last time anybody asked if she actually consented to her job. "I don't mind," she says honestly. She crosses her arms together and looks down. "I think I kinda like it."

You smile widely. "You do, huh?"

"Yes, but I'm a little nervous. I… I've never done stuff like this before."

Her voice is small and sweet. Pair that up with her angelic face and the outfit, then it equates to her looking like the perfect fuckdoll. You can imagine a million different scenarios with her if the world were kinder: having her as your pretty little sugar baby, with Wonyoung always following you like a tail and calling you daddy. Perhaps as a young wife, too, who'd welcome you home in ways that stray from a simple breakfast or kiss. Oh, you lament those lost universes.

But for now, you can have her pretty ass on your crotch.

"Come show me what you came for," you say.

"I—" Wonyoung shakes her head. She has to get a hold of herself. "Sorry, I'm just scared."

"Don't worry, I'll help you out."

Your lower body descends on the bed. And after, so does her tight, round ass on your center.

Your hands hold on to her tiny waist and guide her in her routine. She's on your lap, and you're in heaven.

The skirt, created and woven by the wealthy seamstresses in the hotel, is mesmerizing, but it's the natural way of her butt grinding left and right on your crotch that catches you whole, as if she were born with the ability to make the simple, subtle action of nuzzling her rear end on your cock feel like every good thing in the world. In that moment, you have strong faith that a million dollars or a good life can't compare to Wonyoung's ass.

The doubled pleasure from her thin safety shorts and her round butt causes you to let out a deep, guttural moan: "Fuck, Wony."

"Wony?" she asks, looking back at you with glassy eyes that still hold impossibly delicate innocence in them. Oh, how much you want to see the corruption's lust bloom in her irises.

"Sorry." You throw your hands in the air with a soft, broken laugh. "Just slipped out of me, dunno why."

"No, it's fine," says Wonyoung. She winks. "I like it."

Temptation taunts you in the form of the young girl's skirted ass. You wonder if she's lying about being a neophyte to this; she's a natural talent. She takes care to press her butt hard against your rising erection, and pleasure its covered tip by grinding on it with a rapid rhythm. Your cockhead starts to feel hot and tight, and you can tell she's aroused as much as you are; her safety shorts are attractively damp.

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes." You hold on to her dancing hips that grind on your growing erection, guiding her movements to what feels good for you. "Mmm, fuck, faster."

"I can't, I'm sorry..."

Wonyoung halts and rises from your lap. It's a terrible decision to make; it leaves you with unfulfilled desire and her with shaky, buckling legs. She bows apologetically. "I—I'm not supposed to do anything other than that, sir," she explains. "I have to go now. I'm sorry."

You can't believe you were teased like that. And you can't even masturbate to get down from the path to your high. You've seen what they did to the man who was caught touching himself, and you aren't keen on having your hand shoved inside a burning hot toaster.

"Wonyoung, please—"

She exits the room, head bowed and cheeks flushed. You're sitting like a rejected schoolboy on the bed, with blue balls and a throbbing erection, and you couldn't be more disappointed.

The next day arrives faster than you expected, and you still can’t stop thinking about her. Well, there wasn't a minute in the nighttime you spent without thinking of Wonyoung. Although your eyes ought to be on the pretty girls aplenty who’re looking for a man like you—(there’s Miyawaki Sakura, the wealthy heiress with pink hair and a charming, camera-trained smile, and; Kim Jiwon, who would have stolen your heart with her cute, cat-like ways back in your high school days)—your mind remains caught up in Wonyoung.

Pick up your cup, and the black design makes you think of her dark braided hair, which would have felt amazing curled up in your hands as you have your way with her. It’s difficult to drink coffee when the bitter taste reminds you of how she’d taste infinitely better, if last night her crotch was parked on your face instead of your lap. Wiping your mouth with the provided tissue paper sparks a new lamentation: the similar smooth feel of her maid’s dress, and, with her slim shape, how easy it would be to fold her into every position imaginable just to feel her insides become disarrayed from your needy cock.

She’s like a dream come true, dancing in your mind as if she were your ballerina rather than a hotel maid. She’s a sweet, innocent daydream who knows not of how much she stays first in line in your train of thoughts. Wonyoung is temptation in its most innocent form, and it ruins you how you can’t have her for yourself.

"Hey, you alright?" asks the old man you befriended after Rei's rejection. He's still wearing his pajamas and foggy glasses.

You nod, your mind someplace else. "Yeah. You?"

"All is well on my end, too." He lathers Nutella on the plateaus of bread and folds into half tightly. "Did the maid come over to see you last night?"

Chewing through your bread (untoasted, of course), you shake your head. "Nope," you lie through your teeth. "No lap dance, no nothing."

"Huh, that's odd. You probably don't remember it."

"Or maybe you lied," you say.

"Nuh uh, your old man's a saint. She came over to me last night. Gave hot stuff here some action."

"Sure she did."

The man chuckles lightly before taking a bite out of his bread. Now that his eyes are on his food rather than you, you think of Wonyoung again. You wonder if your meeting with her is what love at first sight is. You’re unhealthily infatuated with the girl, and you’ve only met her once. Could it be that this means something more?

Unfortunately, you haven’t got the answer to your own question. But, when she comes tonight, you’ll find out. Your determination is set on it.

3. THE

And come she does; her meek voice barely has audible quality past the glass peephole on your door, but it does make her small face look unusually large. Her expression holds the same lamblike innocence to it, and the dirty thoughts all come rushing back.

Your heart jumps as you welcome her inside. "Hi, Wonyoung."

"S-sir," she stutters, hands folded in front of her skirt, "I want to say that I'm sorry for last night."

Her voice is sweetly precious in a way that, even if you didn't already like her, you would have forgiven her instantly. Her departure last night isn't a grudge you hold on her—she just wants to stay true to the rules, plain and simple. And there's nothing wrong with that; you play by the book, too.

"No hard feelings." You pat her cheek. Feel it become hot. "You're just doing your job. One more time okay?"

You watch the relief wash over her face. But nervousness settles in once more as she sits on top of you.

Her bum erects your cock, sliding up its backside and teasing the tip like she did the night before. You even get a feel of a cameltoe through her shorts. Your hands find her waist and you help her sway her hips side to side. Wonyoung's constantly looking back at you with desperation tinting her gaze. She might not know it, but it's the plea in her gaze that's daring you to break the rules for her just one time. Just one time.

Come on, it seems to taunt, you can live with a burnt hand, you can live with being a rabbit if it means spending a night with Wonyoung. Do it.

So, when she finishes her routine, the first thing you utter is:

"Please don't go."

You've reached a new low: you've fallen for the maid's tight hot body and pretty little face, and now you can't get enough. You won't ever get enough of her, and that both satisfies and dissatisfies you. If she's so far away, how can you ever get to have at least a healthy portion of her? How can you lose yourself in her when it's forbidden?

Wonyoung looks at you regretfully. "Sir," she begins, hand steadied on the doorknob.

"Please, Wony."

The nickname ignites a firework in her. The flame shoots through her trembling hands, pretty face, and drenched core.

When did words alone make her feel so… warm? Her legs feel weak all of a sudden, and though she knows she can get in trouble for entertaining you more, invisible puppet strings drag her to you. Her lust, like some tumors, has formed a mind of its own, and it overpowers her logic already. It intends to keep her on the track towards granting her sexual needs.

"If we do it," she says hesitantly, "do you promise to never tell anyone?"

"I swear."

Wonyoung nods, registering your oath and making a silent one of her own, too. "Okay, thank you."

"Of course."

"And… and can you call me Wony?"

You promise to. You swear on your risked life and heart poisoned by Wonyoung's presence that somehow thrives with the toxicity.

To illustrate what happens after that, and how your pants and her underwear end up slipping off and her thin legs are suddenly curled around your waist, is difficult. It's hard to remember who initiated everything, or even make verbal guesses when your lips are entangled with Wonyoung. Any attempts to cover any hidden CCTVs should have been made earlier when your hands weren't on her thighs, lifting her to the bed and keeping her down there as kissing becomes the only thing you know.

You don't know if Wonyoung is a good kisser or it's all because of how plump her lips are. They wrap around your own with such soft security that the tenderness of it makes slipping your tongue inside her ignites feelings of just a tiny bit of guilt. But then you remember that corrupting Wonyoung from a sweet girl with little experience to a nymphomaniac is exactly what you want to do, and the guilt goes away almost completely.

"You kiss so well, sir," she says, much to your surprise when you've just completed an internal monologue about how good she kisses.

"You're not so bad yourself. Fucking love these lips." You lick a stripe of lust over her mouth and she giggles. "Show me what they're good for, Wony."

"You mean, like… suck your cock?"

"You're a quick girl."

"I am, but only for you, sir."

Wonyoung takes this as her sign to switch the positions, with you being the one on the bed while she gets on her knees. The size difference between your erection and her small face surprises you. With how small Wonyoung is all over, especially her little mouth, how can she take you?

Luckily for you—and for the equally turned on maid—that's the thrill of it. She's big and tall around everyone but you, and that alone already makes you want to do the most unholy things to her. Show her who's truly the big one in this situation, show her where she belongs, which is below you, between your legs and making puppy eyes for your cock.

The light dawns on Wonyoung's pleading face. She pouts, grabbing a hold of your cock and swiping it on her mouth, before asking, "Please? May I pretty, pretty please suck your cock?"

"You can anytime. Wouldn't mind if I pull on your cute pigtails, right, Wony? You'd let me tug on them while I fuck your face?"

"Oh!" Wonyoung nods eagerly. Is that even a question? Of course she'd let you. "Yes, yes, sir, please do. Wony doesn't care if it hurts. Wony only wants you."

Are those tempting words part of her training course prior to becoming a maid? Maybe, and perhaps closing her sweet lips cleanly around your dick is a lesson there, too; it's a lesson she passed with flying colors.

Her hair's already twisted in your fingers, ready for when the overpowering emotion of lust hits. Meanwhile, her hands are on your thighs to guide her in pushing her head back and forth. Her eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky outside the window.

She clicks her tongue on the bottom side of your cock. Hissing, you make your first tug, mumbling her name in almost rueful tones. Yea, rue Wonyoung for how fucking sexy she is, rue her for taking your eyes off the people you're supposed to be with. Oh, yes, rue her. Her punishment ought to be what's happening right now, but she's enjoying it a little too much for it to be called one.

"So good!" she says pitchily, as if your cock were actual food that's left a lasting first impression. "Mm, oh, you're so big and long, sir. I love how your precum tastes. But I want the, the real cum from you, too."

"Wonyoung…"

There's her name again, never leaving your thoughts but departing from your lips. You rise from the edge of the bed and poke your dick against the inside of her cheek, and God, does she look adorable. It feels good, too.

"Mmm, mmm! You'll give it to me, won't you?" Wonyoung looks up at you expectantly, speaking between effortless blowing. "You'll give plenty of cum for Wonyoung, right?"

"If you keep blowing me like that, I might as well."

The last three words come all rambled against each other, tied closely between syllables as you're losing your breath. Dragging your cockhead against Wonyoung's tongue and cheeks brings you a lot closer than you'd like, but you really don't want to deny her of what she wants. You'd love to spoil her with numerous shots of semen, all over her beautiful and angelic face, plus inside her prepared mouth.

"Oh, then I'll keep doing it." She giggles mischievously. Your hips are contained by her hands as she starts to bob her head. You gasp as you fill her throat and part its tightness. Her tongue teases your balls pressing against her lips and your throbbing veins. "Mmm, like this, sir? C'mon, fuck my throat. Give me your cum."

You aren't going to deny her of that either. Your cock enters the depths of her throat with the help of your fists pulling onto Wonyoung's braids. She lets out soft grunts whenever you thrust, and soon, her effortless blowing becomes difficult to replicate.

It's sadistic pleasure when her gags stimulate your cock even further, as if she were just another pretty little fuckdoll whose purpose is none other than that, and her mouth opens wider for air only to be filled again with cock. Her breaths are far away, and with your musky scent filling her nostrils, she can't even get oxygen. Spit and gags are all you can hear aside from your own heavy groans and Wonyoung's whines. A world outside of sex with her doesn't exist at the moment—it's just you and her, and there's no turning back.

And, even with only you and her in this universe, you still get lost in the warm wet pleasure of her mouth.

The merciless assaults you do unto her face, using what's supposed to be the visual of the century being displayed in billboards nationwide as your personal fuckhole, make both of you scream. Like an experiment gone wrong, you explode in Wonyoung's mouth. Her drool slides down her chin as her tongue sticks out, trying to catch the hosed eruptions of semen into her mouth. She wants it all inside her, and there's no excuses that can be made for drops gone wasted.

That's what the rest of her face is for. You pull out and spray your cum on her. More explodes

"Sir, oh, sir, that's so much!" Wonyoung opens her mouth wide and sticks out her tongue, her eyes closed. "Yes, thank you, I'll take all of it!"

There are promises all over the world that are broken everyday, but Wonyoung keeps hers, true to her word: hands on her knees, like the obedient little maid she is, she lets your mess launch into her mouth and face. Even when some get into her hair, or a few specks roll down her maid outfit, she stays still and lets the tide take its toll on her.

It settles eventually, like all things do at some point. But it's made clear that this sex thing won't—you still want more. Like lust and gluttony, the sin of greed has taken over you. You long for more of Wonyoung, for her everything, knowing that this might be the last night you're ever allowed to see her again. They're sure to be watching everything going on.

You stand to lock the door. As the latch falls into place as well as the dresser table for extra security, Wonyoung's eyes sparkle; it means that the two of you aren't done yet.

"You're going to give me the real thing, right, sir?" A good pet and a good girl, Wonyoung crawls, following your steps, and sets her used face on your knee when you sit back down. "Right? Please say I'm right."

You laugh. After stroking her hair, you wipe the cum off her face with your thumb and offer it to Wonyoung. She sucks on it, as expected. "Aren't you supposed to be leaving? I thought you didn't want to do this."

"Oh, but I do, sir. I wanted to but I was scared… but I'm not scared anymore. I want you and your cock inside me, now."

You dig your thumb deeper into her tongue. Wonyoung whimpers, forced to open her mouth wider. "I'm afraid you don't get to make the rules around here, Wonyoung," you taunt. "But maybe if you tell me what you want, I'll give it to you."

"Really?"

"Sure, why not? But don't get your hopes up, Wony."

"Hahmm, okay." Wonyoung's finger dimples her chin. "I want you to fuck me."

"Dirty little mouth you got there."

Wonyoung blushes. "You made me like this, sir. It's your fault. I want you to take responsibility."

"In what way?"

"No…"

"I need you to be more specific, doll," you say. You raise her chin upwards. She juts her bottom lip out. "I'm risking everything here for you. Tell me what you want."

"I want sir to fuck me… to fill me up like I'm his little breeding toy." Wonyoung squirms. She's getting turned on at her own words. "Yes, yes, I want that—I know it'll hurt because I haven't been fucked by a cock as big as his, but I don't care. I want you to fill my insides and fill every hole. I want you to make it last."

"Even if we might never get to see each other again? Even if you might lose your job?"

"I don't care if I do, sir. All I want is you."

"You're a desperate little thing, aren't you, Wonyoung?" you ask, smiling a little. "But that's good enough for me. Get on the bed."

Wonyoung obeys a little too fast for someone who's only met you once. Where is the hesitation from earlier? Out of the window—she's on all fours on the mattress, skirted ass and pussy jut out. She's shameless, bold, and you certainly wouldn't have thought she'd be this weak for cock if you had only met her outside of this hotel. Her angelic looks just sweep out all possibilities of sluttiness, or at least, you would have thought so, because why is she whining helplessly right now, all for your dick?

Her soft sounds are subliminal messages. They tell you to spank her soft ass and have your way with her. They're so powerful that you do exactly that: you draw your hand back as far as you could and slap Wonyoung's ass cheek. Her knees tremble, and she's whispering your soft honorific over and over.

"Sir, please," Wonyoung whispers. "No more. I need you right now."

She doesn't need to say it when her soft, virginal cunt dribbles a waterfall of wetness. You make it a point to let your fingers slap its puffy lips as well. It sends the little maid crying out in pain, but it couldn't be that if she's spreading her legs more, right?

"Need your cock inside me," she says. She winces and cringes through the spanks. "Mm! Need it to ruin me, sir! Need it to make your maid too tired to work, please, please, please!"

"You're risking your job here, Wony," you say, a proud smirk on your face as you remind her of what's at stake, "you're risking everything just for my cock. And you've only met me once. My god, you really are a slut."

"Mhmm, I am!"

"And you know what happens to bad little maids like you, right?" Throwing one last harsh spank, you lean over to whisper in her ear. "They get this."

Wonyoung screams a ramble of curses when your cock enters her. You suppose she's truthful about never having done much of this before; she's painfully tight. Grunts already depart from your lips at the first few thrusts.

"Jesus fucking Christ." You're hypnotized by her reddened ass bouncing against your stomach as you drill into her. Your hands are wrapped tightly around her little waist to feel more of the round cheeks clap.

"Sir!" she shouts. She never gives you a break; her vaginal walls are always swallowing your length and keeping most of it there. "More, please, more, I need it!"

Wonyoung's pussy is better than just having her do a lap dance on you. It isn't even a debatable matter when it's wet just right for you to slide in and out of her hot warm hole, and tight enough to pleasure your cock like she was designed for fucking. Sizable breasts, pretty dazed face, and slim bod? It's hard to believe that those descriptions do not belong to a sex doll but instead to Wonyoung, but she's becoming one herself also.

That's exactly the reason why you're more than happy to give more to her. You glide your hands everywhere, feeling her beautiful body almost worshipfully. You're afraid to break her; she's so slim that you might hurt her with one wrong move, but your fear doesn't really match up with how mercilessly you're pounding her, how you're forcing her to scream out your honorifics as if the walls were soundproof.

You're worried, to be honest. You know they're watching, and you know other people are still waiting for their daily routine with her. You know that the two of you could get in trouble that extends to more than a simple scolding. More clarity would have hit you like a brick wall in your way if it weren't for Wonyoung screaming:

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck me like that! Ha– oh!"

Wonyoung lets out a tiny exhale at your hands pulling on her braids. With the help of the tugs, your eyes enjoy the sight of her expressions contorting with the pleasure and pain. One second, she's pursing her lips and her eyes are wide open, and in the other millisecond her mouth hangs with yelps and gasps. Wonyoung is not afraid to show how she feels, which motivates you to keep pounding. Every flush drill into her naked lower body draws another orgasmic expression on her pretty face.

"That's right, Wony likes having her little pussy stretched out," you growl. Sex might as well be an exercise; you're straining your hips with how hard you pull out and push, and getting your hands sore as they grasp her braids. Wonyoung is merely your equipment. "You do, don't you? Pretending you're an innocent babygirl just to tempt me?"

"Y-yes," she says, biting her lip. "I love sir's hard cock! I love how it hurts, oh yes—"

"Of course you do, baby. It doesn't matter what I do to you, you'll always cum for me. You'll put everything on the, fuck, line just for my dick."

Wonyoung squeals throughout firm rubs on her clit. Her lower body sways and flinches, and she's beginning to struggle to keep herself up. Luckily, there's your grip on her braids to keep her upright, to keep her in position for fucking.

"That's right, sir," she tells you. Her words are cut off by tiny gasps. "I'll always cum for you, I want to be the one you use forever. I don't care if we get caught, I don't care, I just want you."

"Of course. Nobody can fuck you as good as me. You're mine to ruin. Now cum for me like a good girl, Wony. Don't hold back."

She nods. She's almost there. Just a few more sunken thrusts into her warm pussy, and she's going to lose it. It's an ending she actually looks forward to. Being able to squeeze around you and to sheen your girth with squirt seems like an achievable goal. It doesn't even have to be time-based, too, she realizes, when her legs shake once more.

"Ohhhh, fuck! Sir, oh my god, sir, I'm cumming!"

Dragging your penis against her textured sensitive spot, you fuck Wonyoung into an orgasm. It arrives (you smile at the pun) like a heavy flood. If you were the one to spray your cum on her earlier, now it's reversed—Wonyoung's vagina squirts a mess of girl cum and nectar onto your lower body and the little clothes that remained on you. She's screaming so loud that you bet even soundproof walls wouldn't be able to hold back her shouts. No, the walls and windows would shatter, and the bed would break into pieces as well, with the help of her limbs scrambling to steady herself. Wonyoung has gone crazy, finally corrupted to the core as it contains all of your plentiful cum.

You tug her braided ponytails up and let her kneeling form rest against your chest. Her head rests against your shoulder, and from there, you hear her muttering senseless sentences. They can't even be called so when they're fragments of words that don't mix well together, but fortunately, you understand what she means: you fucked her really well.

It could go two ways with Wonyoung when you start to kiss her neck and shoulders: fortunate or unfortunate. She might be ready to have her other hole filled, but on the other hand, she might need more time to recover. But that isn't a matter you linger on when kissing Wonyoung's pretty collarbone and shoulders is a better task to fulfill. She's gasping softly, unable to moan because of losing her voice in her orgasm earlier, but you still work your magic.

"Sir…" she mutters. Exhaustion rides her body like a carousel. It makes her weak, and your kissing doesn't help aid her situation.

"Yes, Wony?"

She leans back more into your neck, and curves her head to the side so that her words play out next to your ear: "I want more."

4. RABBITHOLE

"You sure?" you say. This is probably one of the few times she has had sex, and it's only one night. Maybe it's going too fast?

"Does sir not want to fill my little asshole up?" Wonyoung asks. She guides your fingers to her sides. As if her body and your hands were magnets, they join instantly. "Doesn't he want Wony anymore?"

God knows what Wonyoung referring to herself in third person does to you. Your cock hardens and bumps her ass cheeks, and you’re required to tighten your hold on her hips to maintain your stability. "I—I want you, Wonyoung," you say. "But are you sure you're ready?"

She blushes. It's little caring questions like these that put her into the most passive state imaginable. When that state of mind imprisons her, she only wants to make you feel good. "Yes, sir."

There it is. It's your cue to switch positions, make use of as little time as possible to recover, and get ready.

You lather her asshole with makeshift lube. You drag squirt from her pussy to her rear end, using it as lube. Wonyoung, now sitting on the bed, watches. She's overcome with lust. Her puckered hole twitches as you tease your cock against it.

"Don't tease me, sir,” begs Wonyoung. She parts her leg a little more, then leans back into the mattress. The way she’s looking at you with those sultry yet pure eyes and how her legs are spread underneath the maid dress are straight out of a porn. Wonyoung’s so tempting, so irresistible, that you wonder every now and then if she’s even real. She’s a walking doll from head to toe, made to fuck and be fucked, which leaves the question: why aren’t you filling her asshole up yet?

You bunch together a whole lot of effort to push your cock through her hole. It’s a little less wet than her pussy, but god, is it tight. Wonyoung moans softly and tries to relax, but every push makes her impulsively clench down. You’re afraid that you might blow early, and you really don’t want this to end yet.

“Sir, sir,” she says, eyes widening to the size of saucers when you grab her legs and push them back. “Fuck, it’s so good, I can’t—”

You groan a little. “Yes you can, Wony.” Your thumbs slide up and down on her thighs affectionately. “You’re my good girl, right? You can take it.”

“Hnnn.” Wonyoung shuts her eyes. Her moans and whimpers are a series of pleasure that almost makes you forget about being careful rather than urge you to be. You’d love to hear more of those pretty moans from her, but she can’t make them unless she’s comfortable. “Is it all in yet, sir?”

Her asshole has taken in most of your rod. You suppose that’s good for a first-timer. It’s good enough for a little white lie. “Yep. Good girl. Can I move now?”

“Okay… just be careful.”

With a girl like Wonyoung, careful sex is out of the question. But oh, you try, you truly do. Make use of your shaft covered with Wonyoung’s pussy juices to lube up the journey inside her asshole. Let her wet cunt make it easier to slip into her tight, brown hole. You enjoy the helpless, corrupted look in her face and the feel of her pillowy thighs in your hands, and you can safely presume that she’s enjoying it, too. Soft hums of pain still barely make it out from between her knit lips, but her eyes roll back—it’s a different feeling, for sure, yet it feels good.

“Fuck, Wony, you’re a tight fit.”

“Thank you, sir,” says Wonyoung. Her pale cheeks have turned red again.

She rubs a finger over her nub so more of her juices can lubricate her rear end. It’s effective; although Wonyoung writhes with the double pleasure, the unusual method makes it easier to fuck her. Now, thrusting inside her is almost like doing so to her pussy: tight and wet. Her ass ripples beautifully, and her expressions catch you off guard. Her jaw is on the ground and her eyes look upwards, as if doing so helped ease the experience. However, she shuts them, as making that expression makes you hammer harder into her butt.

“That’s it, sir, it feels so good now. You’re so big inside me.”

“Deeper then?” you challenge her. You push her legs deeper into the mating press position, and you can visibly see her pussy clench around nothing but air. You’re allowed to travel deeper inside her butt this way, and Wonyoung couldn’t be more ecstatic.

“Yes, hmmm! So hard, sir, I can feel you throbbing!”

Does a sir kink exist? If not, it does now—Wonyoung’s polite honorific has become the easiest method to harden and lengthen your erection. Each time she calls you that, with those same watery eyes and puffy lips, you’re driven to deliver hammered thrusts in her hole, whichever one. In a way, she’s corrupted you, too. If you erased the former innocent maid she is, she’s transformed you into a man who can only go weak for her. Other women have no effect on you when the hotel maid is the one you’d rather pin down the bed and fuck till she passes out.

And she doesn’t even know it.

“Fuck, Wonyoung.” You give in to your impulsive thrusting, wringing screams of pleasure from her throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me, hm?”

Wonyoung’s next inhalation of air is delayed due to the obstacle that is your hand wrapped around her throat. She whines out. “Sir, oh my god—”

“This is all your plan, isn’t it, you naughty girl? You want me to do anything for you. You want my cock so bad that you make me want you, too. And for what, hm? For a quick dicking down? You’re fucking pathetic.”

Degrading word after degrading word leaves your mouth, but each makes Wonyoung thrust her core upwards to meet your clashing sex. She’s become paler, weaker, sluttier—all in the span of your furious sex session. You’ve no idea why you’re saying all those words that would hurt a normal person’s feelings and dignity, especially when Wonyoung is too angelic and pretty to be guilty of anything, but if it makes Wonyoung look like she’s on the edge of cumming at all times, then you’ll stick to that plan.

“I bet you like walking around in your little outfit, Wony, and wearing those pigtails, too, because you know people are going to look. Is that what you want? For people to notice how goddamned fuckable you are? Because if it is, it’s fucking working.”

Pausing is a faraway dream; you keep on rambling, and your thrusts remain rapid. A stream of ruined breaths squeeze out of Wonyoung’s mouth. Her pillow-like cheeks clench tighter around your cock, as if it were agreeing.

“Sir,” coughs out Wonyoung. Tears spill down her face, but she keeps on rubbing her small clit, and, on occasion, fingerfucking her cunt. “I’m going—god, I’m going to—”

“Cum? Do it, then. Cum all over my dick, but we’re not finished. The night is still young, Wony; we have all the time in the world.”

Releasing Wonyoung’s throat does nothing to help her breathe when your lips crash into hers immediately. She’s screaming into your mouth. You propel yourself closer to orgasm with your thrusting, then fully cream her butthole. Wonyoung’s cum squirts all over the place: on the bed sheets, your shirt, and your cock. She stops rubbing herself, apparently giving up on taking more, but you continue the loop for her.

Her screams continue. They’re a melody to accompany your thrusts, and your sleep, for you collapse on the bed, tired and weak.

You'll meet your end today. They already found out. That's definitely certain; mandatory love is no winning game. Love in general isn't, especially when it's founded on merely scrawny and lustful sex. The lines between lust and love blur, and it becomes more dangerous than it actually is.

So, now that you remember how all this—a young, gorgeous woman by the name of Jang Wonyoung in the crook of your arm, her hand on your cock and glossy lips on yours—start, what do you do now?

Well, for one, you have to reminisce about the past and pray for there to be a future, just one more time. You've to live in what once was as if the former days were the current ones and what's now is nothing to worry about. But you shouldn't dwell too long; the rapid knocking on your door is growing louder and louder.

#kpop smut #izone smut #ive smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #izone wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #wonyoung #jang wonyoung #male reader #x reader #reader insert #pov smut

1K notes · View notes

garoujo · 2 years

Note

sitting on megumi/nanami's face🙈

・✶ ｡ﾟ megumi thinks you are intoxicating.

♱ warnings — f!reader, agedup!megumi, face-sitting, he is very pussy drunk and trying his best >< not proof read ( ‘m sleepy )

♱ note — help it’s been so long since ive thirsted 4 anyone who’s not satoru . i’m sorry my ideas have been worn thin sob pls help </3

“does it feel good?” megumi asks from where his face is squished between your thighs, and he swears he feels his whole body shiver when you send him a starry-eyed look followed by a slow roll of your hips, grinding your cunt down onto his tongue with a neediness that makes his eyes roll as you nod out a pretty, little dazed uh huh.

his cheeks and the lower half of his face are slick with your juices as they drip down to pool onto the sheets below him, but it only spurs him on. they’re good signs as his slender fingers flex into the flesh of your hips every time your thighs tighten around his head, encouraging your needy little humps against his face.

“fuck—keep going, k-keep doing that.” you hear megumi mumble under his breath before he buries himself back into you, the low tone of his voice sending pleasured vibrations straight to your clit as your hips twitch from the sudden jolt of bliss, your fingers twisting in his dark hair as your hole clenches around his tongue.

but you almost hear him choke on his next growl when you trail your fingers between your thighs, spreading your folds lewdly before he’s diving back in — desire igniting his veins as his cock leaks and twitches in his pants. the way you’re melting so intoxicatingly for him is all new, and he feels like his ears are ringing when you meet every roll and swipe of his tongue with an even more eager grind.

megumi is flushed from his cheeks to his chest, a thin sheen of sweat over his toned torso and he feels sticky when he laps at your clit, his fingers tightening in your skin so he can push his tongue even further past your folds to dip into your hole. lewd squelching noises fill the room as he fucks you with the muscle, lazily blinking up at you when your hips grind against his face.

“i.. fuck—i wanna make you cum.” he grunts, desire heavy in the tremble of his voice and you arch almost painfully into his mouth when you feel his tongue split through your folds — slurping at the slick that’s gathered between them before he’s dragging his tongue up to roll your clit.

the sight of megumi so fucked out on your taste, eyes rolling back as he buries himself in you like it’s his first taste of heaven only makes you feel even better — bathing you in mindless kitten licks that make you tremble and rock in time with his movements.

the way he’s groaning beneath you, so lost in the pleasure he’s digging out of you is sending pleasured vibrations straight through your clit when he closes his lips around the bud, suckling languidly as his fingers twitch in your hips. his movements are experimental but he’s careful, he’s learning what makes you feel good — what makes you moan and grab tighter at his roots before you pull him deeper.

“so pretty. u-use me to make you feel good.” megumi exhales in reverence along your folds, grunting low when you only press deeper into him in response.

your clit is beginning to feel firmer when he flattens his tongue against it, messy with his spit and your slick and megumi think heaven really does fucking exist between your thighs when he looks up at you again, head thrown back in pleasure as you moan for him and shit—if he’s in heaven you’re definitely an angel.

but then he’s letting his tongue twist messy along your folds, letting you grind and hump yourself against his mouth until you’re hips are twisting and you’re going rigid above him, every roll of your hips turning into blissful jolts and humps that make you cry for him as you cum.

megumi’s eyes roll back and his cock feels like it throbs at the first taste of your cream on his tongue, his chin and cheeks glistening as he drinks up everything you give to him so eagerly. he keeps up his ministrations until the aftershocks of pleasure feel like they burn you with each kitten lick from his tongue over your clit, pushing his head away with a cute little whimper.

but he can’t hide the furrow of his brows when he looks up at you, cock undeniably hard between his thighs but his fingers are still tight around your thighs.

“are you done? i—i can keep going.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi smut

3K notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Text

Tangerine headcanons/ imagines

tangerine x female reader

tw: none! just cute stuff that makes us sad

okay so I love analysing people and ive been in love with him since march/april, so this was a piece of cake- also im obsessive and lonely so was super easy lmfao

these are just things that I think (kinda self indulgent) but if you disagree that’s fine too

princess treatment- he’d treat you like royalty

huge softie at heart

love language wise:

physical touch- I feel like he’s quite handsy, he always has to be touching some part of you

acts of service- he’d always be willing to help you, does things for you. makes you snacks and drinks throughout the day- like if you’re busy, he’d pop in and give you a tray of stuff you may need

quality time- he’d value the time you spent together, even if you weren’t doing an activity together (both in the same space, doing your own things) he’d designate certain days for just you

gift giving- he’d spoil you like crazy, he’d remember certain little things about you and get you a thoughtful gift based off that (like if you mentioned something you wanted to try for just one second midway in a conversation you had months ago, he’d remember it)

words of affirmation- he’d call you tonnes of pet names, I feel like he’d say ‘my’ in front of it to make it more special. he’d tell you he loves you, how special you are and how much he adores you etc

----

hates everyone but you vibes- he’s standoffish to everyone, but when it comes to you he’s the complete opposite; he speaks very soft and kind towards you

he treats you like the most valuable thing on earth

very patient with you

protector x protected energy- he just always wants you safe

nose and forehead kisses

lots of thumb stroking on your cheeks

lots of intense eye contact- he admires your eyes

feel like he’s a hip and thigh kinda man

I feel like you’d be very close to Lemon, and sometimes it’ll wind him up. Lemon would tell you embarrassing stories about Tan- you’d love it while he’d hate it

I get ride or die vibes- kinda like romeo and juliet, just minus all the death

he secretly loves your chick flicks, he pretends he hates them but watches them with you every time

he also pretends he hates when you call him sweet things but he definitely looks away to smile

he’s very slow to warm up, takes a bit of time to crack him open. on the outside he’s a doberman but on inside he’s like a ragdoll

gets a bit possessive, not in a scary way- but I do think that sometimes it could be

feel like he’s the kind that will literally worship you

you clean his cuts and wounds after missions

he runs warm but you run quite cold, so he’s always trying to warm you up

I feel like you’re the first person he’s actually loved romantically

drinks black coffee and ofc tea

definitely a whisky drinker, he loves a good whisky by the fire

I feel like he’s very clean, likes to keep everything organised. maybe a bit of a perfectionist

always smells good

very romantic and extremely charismatic- a natural charmer. funny and lots of inside jokes

he’s a great caretaker- looks after you really well. if you’re ill he’d be with you at all times, not caring if he got sick too. and when it’s your time of the month he’d get you hot water bottles and you’d get lots of back rubs etc

he loves it when you use your fingers to trace over his tattoos, same goes for his chest hair too

also loves when your stroke through his hair

he gets really irritated in hot temperatures- and starts swearing a lot more

I feel like he’s kind of set in his ways about things/ he knows what he likes, and that you help open his mind about trying and doing new things. you help keep things fresh and exciting

some reason I feel like you’d have daddy issues idk why, (sorry if you do, also sorry if you don’t lmao)

he might follow you like a lost puppy, he’d literally do anything you say

you’d be best friends as well as a couple

he’s very reliable and would drop anything for you

if you needed to rant or vent, he’d be there lending you his ear. he’d be an incredible listener

very attentive

feel like he’s a fast driver, but never when you’re in the car

if someone flirts with you or someone was mean to you at work he’d say “where are they? I will fuckin kill em”

private but not secret relationship

definitely a homebody

whenever he goes past the florists or to the shop, he’d always bring some flowers back for you (more often than not- it’ll your favourite type of flower)

leaves you sweet notes around the house

that’s it for now, hope you liked

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train fanfic #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #imagines #tangerine headcanon #tangerine imagine

2K notes · View notes

livingemkayde · 9 months

Text

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

366 notes · View notes

runby2 · 4 months

Text

hi it's the creator of horse plinko and other huge posts on this site.

i wanted to make a quick post on here, not to keep everyone updated on my life, because i'm going to keep staying far away from social media, but to let everyone know that if you feel like you are endlessly changing yourself to fit your following's perfect standards, you are not actually getting better as a person. why do i say this? growing up, i had a horrible childhood and it was hard to grasp a sense of self, so the internet was a good escape. i made posts about current topics, tried to get a lot of notes, and when i got those notes i felt like my life had a purpose. i didn't let myself ever find out who i truly was because early on i was so obsessed with being the perfect persona on the internet and avoiding home life, that i had literally linked my life cable to the internet. i was the living definition of chronically online. i was so young too, so i saw a bright future ahead of myself. "it can only go up from here." 3 years of complete isolation happened after my 18 years in a cult, and recovering from mental institutional abuse. and i went by juicedoesthings. and i fought with every part of myself, ignoring my DID and even having alters post inspirational paragraphs about why DID is 'something i know i don't have because ___'- some you can probably still find on this blog buried deep somewhere - i was lost in a cycle of amnesia and perfectionism to the point ALL of my identities were juicedoesthings, and we were all the same, and if one of us stepped out of line, we'd shun it. we couldn't risk being problematic. we couldn't risk everything we've worked up to be crumble. because that was all we were. don't make your identity a username. don't keep track of what is and is not acceptable at the current time in a fandom of any sort. don't curate your art just because a discourse blog reblogged it for clout. don't overthink some personal statement you made just because thirty people sent you personalized death threats. don't forget about nuance, and in the most sincere way i can communicate this, touch grass. and find out what comforts you. learn what makes you happy, not what can improve you. this post will probably be drowned under reblogs as my life goes on and i occasionally check back into this ghost town of what used to be my only identity. but tumblr fame has irreversibly damaged me, and how i perceive myself. it took so long for me to feel like it was okay to make mistakes. if the above sounds like you, i desperately urge you to find a way out of that cycle. don't chase fame online. anonymity can definitely get you where you want to be safely. over my years on here ive seen children adults and teens ask how to make a webcomic, how i got this many followers, how i became "me". i was conforming. i became perfect for the internet, but i didn't have any sense of self. don't be like me. don't become me. just create, and disconnect yourself from who you think you need to be in order to be enough.

#positivity #recovery #art #webcomics #juicedoesthings

152 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

im not sure if you are still taking fourth wing requests - and you absolutely can ignore this and i wont be offended at all - but you are like the only person ive seen who writes for liam and im d e s p e r a t e

what about something where reader and liam had like a one night stand kind of thing, except they both quickly realize that they are feeling much more than one night stand feelings. like maybe they were friends before and even though they didnt think long-run relationships were in the cards bc they are riders, they both still definitely harbor some feelings and then it all kind of spills over

idk im just dumping bc i have to vent it somewhere ahahah

More Than This

Liam x reader

A/n: I’m always taking Fourth Wing requests! Liam deserves the world

Warnings: mentions of sex

You couldn’t help but stare down the table at Liam. He was like a dream come true. With that perfect blonde, fluffy hair and those charming dimples that always made you blush. You kept thinking about how your fingers felt running through his hair last night while he laced on your chest.

For the first time Liam stayed the night after your…activities. You had been sleeping together for a few weeks now. You’d been friends since Parapet, always flirting with each other. The tension between the two of you snapped and decided friends with benefits would work out.

You couldn’t keep lying to yourself though. You had fallen in love with Liam the day you met him. Liam didn’t seem like he reciprocated your feelings so you pushed your crush down.

So you went about your day like normal. Hanging out with your friends, going to class, and meals. At dinner Violet noticed I was off. She nudged me gently with her elbow. “Hey,” she whispered, “you ok? You’ve been weird all day.”

From down the table you missed Liam staring at you with big puppy dog eyes, vying for your attention to be on him. He could hear Imogen teasing him but he was too focused on trying to hear you and Violet. For a split second he swore your eyes flashed over him.

With one more nod of Violets head, you got up from the long wooden table and headed out the door without sparing Liam a glance. Liam watched you leave them turned to Violet with a questioning look. Ever the instigator and sucker for fairytales, Violet pointed her chin at the door. Signaling for Liam to follow you.

Liam was going crazy searching for you. He swore he saw you just a few stairs ahead of him a minute ago. Finally, he got to the main common room and spotted you lounge on the expansive leather couch. The crackling fire reflecting in your eyes. You were clearly lost in thought.

Liam was careful approaching you, he didn’t want to frighten you. You looked so cute when you had your thinking face on. Your nose scrunched just the tiniest bit, and your eyes looked so soft yet far away.

Liam lightly ran his fingers across the top of your shoulder, you perked up staring at him as he sat next to you. “Hey sweetheart,” his tone as gentle as his touch. “Hey.” You try to sound like your usual cheery self but Liam saw right through you.

He tilted his head, taking you in with a sad smile. “What’s wrong?” Liam brought his large fingers up from your shoulder to play with your hair. You sigh out through your nose, using all of your self restraint to not lean into his touch. “Nothing. I’m ok Liam.”

He raises a blonde brow at you. Shooting you a discerning look calling bullshit. “Come on, we don’t keep secrets from each other. If you tell me your secret I’ll tell you mine.” And we might have the same secret, Lima thought to himself.

You ripped away from Liam’s touch. Looking down you rest your forearms on your knees. You couldn’t bear the look of pity and rejection on your best friends face. He obviously cared about you but the awkwardness that would come after you admit your feelings for him will be unbearable.

And besides, you’re riders. There’s a chance you won’t live past this year or the quadrant. Why break your own heart?

Closing your eyes you can’t the worlds that tumble out of your mouth. “I’m in love with you Liam. I didn’t mean to be, but the day I saw you my heart wouldn’t stop doing flips and I felt the good kind of butterflies in my stomach. I pushed it down because I thought it was a crush. But it’s not.”

When you finally stopped the silence crept over your skin. You felt hot, like a dragon was breathing fire directly down your shirt.

Liam’s hand held your jaw, his thumb running over your cheek as he moved you to look at him. Your eyes were unsure and scared. You hoped this was a good sign and not just comfort from a friend. “Sweetheart…I’m so insanely in love with you. You’ve driven me crazy since parapet and I was willing to keep doing this if it meant I could have just a piece of your affection.”

You let out a heavy breath in relief. Liam continued, “Everything about you is incredible y/n. From your heart to your strength you amaze me everyday. So please tell me this means you’re mine?” Words wouldn’t be enough to tell him yes. You jump into Liam’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Liam holds you tightly to his muscular body. Running his fingers through your hair and rubs his hand up and down your spine. Leaning back you hold the sides of Liam’s face and rest your forehead against his. “Take me to bed Li.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin as he shot up still holding you.

#liam mairi fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing fluff #liam fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi x you #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #Liam fourth wing x you #Liam fourth wing x reader

235 notes · View notes

ghostchems · 8 months

Text

wrong place, right time - papa emeritus iv x female!reader

you work at a local concert venue, specializing in requests from the music acts. one request and one warning slips your mind.

a/n: well!! i've been working on this for a few days and i've been feeling meh about my writing so i'm really glad i was able to get this out here! 2.6k words. spicy content! mdni! 18+! ao3 link.

You know you’re not supposed to be here. Among all of the instructions you had been given earlier in the day, the one to stay away from dressing rooms near the end of the show scared you the most.

And yet, here you are.

***

You drop off the last pack of chicken nuggets into the dressing room and give it a once over. There is an abundance of other snacks and drinks, anything that a “Ghoul” or a “Papa” would need. Or at least, you hope. You followed the directions in their rider closely so if they have any complaints… well, you would probably just deal with them anyway. That’s typically how you handle issues with the various acts that have given you trouble.

You like your job, you really do. You get to see the behind the scenes of music acts year round at a rather large venue that is close to your apartment. It’s the perfect job for you, especially since you’ve never been fond of working behind a desk. You need movement and excitement to keep you going, to keep you focused on the tasks at hand.

The fact that the band you are supporting is satanic doesn’t bother you much. The concert has been on your schedule for ages and you have been excited for the show leading up to it, mainly because it is different from the other pop shows and country concerts you’ve been supporting this summer. Your job is to make sure that the act’s riders are followed completely, including the ridiculous requests. The strangest request you had ever had to fulfill was twelve rotisserie chickens for some kind of christian rock band but your coworkers tease you that maybe Ghost had sacrificial goats in their rider.

When the band first arrives, you feel a deep chill run down your spine. Their appearance is not what you were expecting. Ghouls pile out of the tour bus, their bug-like masked jerking around to get a look at the venue. They are dressed like they walked off of a battlefield with poofed pants and large, black boots with a golden upside-down cross shining on the front of them.They stop and examine the venue crew members, their gazes dropping up and down from each member. One of them stops in front of you and they tilt their head. You offer an anxious laugh and they offer you a large, blindingly white smile.

“E-eh, don’t mind them.” The voice snaps you out of getting lost in the Ghoul’s sharp teeth. You turn to him, blinking a few times at his sharp mismatched eyes. Something takes hold of you in that moment. “They are just, eh, curious creatures. Harmless… unless they are hungry.” He smiles weakly at you and holds out his hand. You take it and give it a shake, eyes drifting up and down his figure. He is wearing a maroon tracksuit and he looks like just a guy. Definitely less intimidating than the costume wearing ghouls. “I’m Copia. Eh, I really appreciate you and your position. Did you get the, uh-?”

“Juice boxes. Yes, I have them, just need to put them in the fridge.”

“Ah, grazie. Thank you. And, eh, the-”

“The McNuggets are in the dressing rooms, yes.”

Someone calls for him and he is quickly scurrying away from you with a quick wave. Again, not the strangest interaction with an act you have ever had but something did feel off about it. The moment he is gone the air feels less thick and you can breathe again. You take a few deep breaths and snap yourself out of it before heading off to make sure everything is ready for the night.

“Hey!”

Your eyes scan the area and your head snaps in the direction of the voice. Another man, this one dressed similarly to the ghouls but without most of the flare. He has a gold upside down cross pinned to his vest. He catches up to you and rests his hands on his knees for a moment to catch your breath.

“Sorry, sorry to bug you. Uh, just wanted to follow up on those juice boxes.”

“I will drop them off in the dressing room.” You clench your jaw but manage to sound as pleasant as you possibly can.

“N-no, I mean, uh… it’s very important that they are dropped off early on. Like, before the end of the show.” The man seems nervous, his voice sounding a bit high pitched and his eyes wide with what appears to be fear. You start to answer but he is quick to cut you off, one of his hands grasping at your shoulder. “You’ve done a great job. A really great job, but it is incredibly important that no one is in Papa’s dressing room after the show. No one.”

You swallow thickly and give a small nod. He lets go of you, his eyes still piercing yours. He gives you a light pat on the arm and then walks away but turns over his shoulder a few times to look at you. This isn’t the first warning you’ve received but it feels more… harrowing than the others. The genuine fear in the man’s eyes and the thickness of the air when you first met Copia gives you pause but you quickly shake it off, as there are tasks to be done.

The show runs smoothly on your side of things. There have been no complaints and you are already thinking of you post show plans (stopping at a gas station for one of those snickers ice cream bars and then eating it in bed) — until you remember. The juice boxes. The fucking juice boxes. You quickly snatch the pack of them from the ground and take off running to Papa’s dressing room.

You estimate that they are performing the encore now so you don’t have much time. It doesn’t take long before you’re in the dressing room and you are immediately distracted by the colorful jackets lining the racks. You snap yourself out of it once your eyes settle on the mini fridge. Your heart is thudding in your ears as you open the mini fridge and stock it with fresh juice boxes, placing the entire case in it and shutting the door.

You’re not sure what you're afraid of more: getting trouble with your boss or being here when this “Papa” gets back. Your feet pound beneath you as you run to the door to the room when the knob starts to turn. You freeze as the door opens and you see him.

Copia.

Only he looks different, his face painted like some kind of skull and he is dressed in a red, sparkling jacket. His hair is mussed from performing and for a moment, he looks frazzled that you’re here before his lips curl into a dark smile.

“Oh, Copia, I’m so sorry.” You start to make your way to the door, maneuvering yourself so that you are still facing him. “I was just topping off the juice boxes. I’ll be out of your hair now.” You start to move to the door but he’s too fast, his hands grabbing you by the wrists and pinning them above your head, your back pressed to the door.

“Don’t be sorry, piccolina.” His voice is a low growl and he leans in further to you, his nose brushing against yours. You can’t move your mouth to speak, only offering a small whimper in response. He’s doing something to you; you can feel some kind of buzzing come from him. “Look into my eye — tell me what you see.” You can’t deny him, your eyes immediately flitting to his white one.

You feel it first, the heat licking at your skin. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open, unable to look away from the white hot flames of Hell you see within him. Copia let’s go of your wrists and you aren’t even able to move them, keeping them above your head as you gaze into the endless depths suffering and torture at the hands of creatures you could hardly even fathom.

The next thing you feel is Copia’s lips against yours, breaking the trance you were in but when you close your eyes you can still see the flames. Your arms fall around his neck and he deepens the kiss, his tongue hungrily invading your mouth, tasting every inch of you. His hands drift down to your hips and he pulls them into him, feeling his already hard cock rut against you.

When he pulls away, you feel exhausted. You catch your breath as you blink your half lidded eyes at him, your chest shuddering with each exhale. Copia keeps his cock pressed hard against you, while his hands start to wander your body. The heat that had danced along your skin now spreads through your body, turning into the most intense desire you’ve ever felt.

“This is why they come to see us.” His lips quirk into a grin as his fingers tease at your breasts through your shirt. “To catch a glimpse of what lies beyond.” You suck in a breath as he presses in closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’ve been blessed by Lucifer, piccolina.” He nips at your earlobe then starts to plant open mouthed kisses down your neck. You give a low groan, your nails digging into his shoulders as he kisses lower and lower. His fingers toy with the waistband of your pants before getting down on his knees in front of you.

“C-Copia, I—“ You stop short once his eyes meet yours, looking softer this time. “Papa. Papa, I didn’t mean to-“

“Shhh, dolcezza.” He starts to tug at your pants, pulling them down and exposing your already damp panties. “It’s okay. You are where you’re meant to be.” Papa’s voice is smooth and it does the trick at calming your nerves, until he presses a kiss to your clit through your underwear. A gasp catches in your throat as he moans against you, his fingers hooking into your panties to slip them off.

Papa bites and kisses at your thighs, ever so close to your dripping cunt, moving closer and closer until he finally drags his tongue across you. Your body trembles and you tilt your head back against the door, your eyes falling shut. His tongue works your folds and dips inside of you as he moans deeply into you, his hands gripping your thighs tight. His nose pressed against your clit and his tongue delves even deeper, fucking you with it.

Your hands fall to knot in his soft hair and he pushes his face even further into you with a groan. It’s like he can’t get enough of your taste, lapping greedily at your pussy. You feel lightheaded, your nerves on fire as your hips buck against his face. His nails dig into your thighs and his moans grow louder, your back arching against the door while you teeter on the edge. Papa’s nose brushes against your clit just right and you come undone with a choked sob. He pressed another kiss to your swollen clit while you come down from your high, his arms curling around you.

Papa lifts you as he brings himself to his feet, carrying you carefully across the room. He lowers you onto the couch, peeling off your top as he does so. Once it’s off, your hand grabs his cravat and you pull him in for a kiss. He groans against your lips, moving against them with hunger as he starts to tug at your bra. Even with the paint, he tastes smokier more than anything, reminding you of the bright fires of his eye. The kiss is desperate and you cling to him, craving his body against yours.

He breaks the kiss abruptly, leaving you whimpering while he grabs your hips. You are flipped over and you give a soft grunt from how quickly it happens, getting your bearings as his hand drifts down your backside. Papa settles himself behind you, spreading you open wide for him and he gives a raspy moan just at the sight of you.

“What a good girl you are.” He growls as he drags his cock across your cunt. “Do you want this, dolcezza? Do you want me to take you?” Papa presses his cock against your entrance and holds it there, the pressure making your body tremble.

“Y-yes, please. Please, Papa, please I-“

You cry out as Papa buries himself inside you to the hilt, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he sets a merciless pace. His hips snap into you and you manage to push against each of his thrusts, your hands scrambling to hold onto the leather couch to keep yourself in place. Breathy moans spill from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut as he fills you. You haven’t been fucked like this in ages and it’s been something you’ve craved for some time now. You think maybe he saw something inside you too when your eyes met.

His gloved hand ghosts up your back until he reaches your shoulder, grabbing onto it and pushes you further into the couch. You are practically drooling onto it as he fucks you, his cock massaging all the sensitive spots inside you. Papa tugs you by your shoulder, pulling you up so your back is to his chest. He slows his pace to be more sensual and his hands wander your body while he bites and sucks at your neck and back.

“Ti senti, a-ah, cosi bene.” He pants, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You lean your head back on his shoulder, moving your hips against his. Papa is paying attention to every inch of you, massaging, pinching, kissing, nipping anywhere he can find. You’ve never felt so worshipped, so sexy. He sits back on his heels and pulls you along with him, his mouth still latched to your neck.

You start to grind down on him, your hips moving slowly at first. Papa wraps his arms around you, groaning into your neck as you start to pick up the pace. He slips his hand down between your legs, finger tracing over your swollen clit. A gasp rips from your throat, your body writhing as you ride his cock. His hips start to stutter and he swiped his finger vigorously across your clit.

“F-fuck, Papa!” You whine as your walls spasm and contract around his cock, the muscles in your legs tending as you cum. He bites into your shoulder, muffling a deep moan in the back for his throat, his cock pulsing inside of you as he empties himself. Papa let’s go of you and you fall to your hands and knees on the couch, in a complete daze while catching your breath.

“Come here, piccolina.” He hums, an arm looping around your waist to pull you into his lap. Papa looks down at you with such care, caressing your body as you start to come back down to Earth.

“How… how am I supposed to go back to real life now?” Your eyes are wide, thinking back to what you saw.

“You’re not, cara.” He toys with your breasts, his fingers plucking at your nipples. “There is room on the bus, you know.” You stay quiet for a little while, his fingers moving down to stroke at your tummy.

“Will you show me more? If I stay?” You sit up and look at him, hair falling into your face. Papa tilts his head, soft eyes searching your face.

“Are there juice boxes in the fridge?”

“…yes.”

“Well, piccolina, as long as there are juice boxes and you in my dressing room at the end of the rest of our shows, I will show you more.” His nose brushes against yours and you feel his hot breath on your lips. You lean in.

A kiss to seal the deal.

#papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #cardinal copia x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfics #cardinal copia

285 notes · View notes

soobnny · 1 year

Text

SUE’S ENHYPEN FIC RECS

this obviously isn’t complete but these struck out to me a lot while i was making this list! i’ll update this or maybe make another one with additional fic recs when i find the time :)

☆ heeseung

familiar stranger — @bambisgirl

i rly liked the plot for this one. i found it funny the whole wanting him to take a picture of U, not like .. taking a pic together :( i just think that’s a rly charming point of the fic n i enjoyed following the scenario n just seeing how the both of them r reacting to the situation

we’re dating! (not really) — @jayflrt

one of my fav tropes ever. and one of my fav fics on here too! it’s just written so adorably and idk i love this so much. do u see like to the point i’m actually SPEECHLESS. just read this for a fun time n if u want to be smiling from ear to ear the whooooole time 🤭

☆ sunghoon

for the first time — @yaehao

perhaps my most favorite sunghoon fic (maybe even favorite fic in general) on tumblr. u do not understand how this story made me feel + i think it’s one of the reasons i got into writing for enhypen in the first place. it honestly expanded my passion for writing becos i wanted to be as good as op one day

12:08 pm | sticky notes — @luv4jun

this one’s a short read but it did stick out to me while i was reading it. honestly felt so realistic? everything felt vivid and real to me like it’s so sweet and it’s such a perfect read to remember before going to sleep

man of the hour — @sung5oon

i am a big actor!sunghoon enthusiast so this fed me WELL. fueled my silly little brain and i just … i love this. i love the trope and the au it’s playing in like !! i wish there was more actor!enha writings :”) i love it! definitely should read this one!

☆ jay

crushes & crashes — @restlessmaknae

this was such a good read. i remember just having the time of my life when i was reading this and just having a smile on my face the whole time :)

falling for you, i can’t keep you away — @ddeonuism

i just love hogwarts and harry potter au cos it’s the first book series i’ve ever read so anything in this alternate universe will make me scream. even more when it’s friends to lovers.

☆ jake

to all my firsts with you — @jayflrt

the silly thing is i have not read this fic yet but i KNOW it’s good. my friend recommended it to me and i enjoyed another fic written by op n love the way everything is written so i know this one’s golden too!

☆ sunoo

i’m gonna be real. i do not see much written for sunoo >:( let me know if u have a good fic rec aaaa i’d love to read more for him truly.

☆ jungwon

6:43 am — @iovnyu

this one fueled my daydreaming. u don’t understand how short and sweet this was like i could read it over and over again esp when i need a smile! will never fail to make u giggle

unrequited — @enhas-bestie

i honestly love how real this one felt. it’s the type that leaves your heart feeling heavy which is always a good feature when you’re reading angst!

lost cause — @yeongwonie

one of my most favorite jungwon fics of all time. it was written so beautifully and the flow is so easy to follow. just everything about this fic screams beauty and the plot is honestly just .. it’s so fun to read n just aaaaa. i can’t even express how much i love this fic

closer — @palajae

i read this one slowly becos i wanted to cherish every single moment and scene in the fic. this was one of the cutest things ive ever read like actual tooth-aching fluff. i remember just going back to this a lot and rereading it becos it gave me a new feeling every time i read it again.

blue birthday — @amakumos

drum roll please to my favorite jungwon fic on this app. i will never shut up about blue birthday and i will never stop coming back to this fic. the plot was something i’ve never read before and i just .. find myself rooting for everyone in the fic. it’s crazy how much i love this fic (btw this will be dethroned by kiss and cry also by yun i am gonna add it here as soon as it is released)

☆ ni-ki

sucks to be you, sleepyhead — @cloudninescenes

let’s talk about this one. the characterization and the flow of the story is so so pretty. i smiled the whole time with this one too :( i just love how riki is the teasing but down bad type. i love that trope so much. i cannot stress enough how much i enjoyed the plot too

lucky charm — @amakumos

one of my favorite — if not even my favorite ni-ki fic on here. i was giggling and laughing multiple times. honestly, you can count on yun for writing something you’ve never read before. her writing will always be my favorite. i remember talking about the original story with yun for this one so i feel #special

20th century girl — @delcakoo

guys i’m sorry but i was just giggling like a little school girl the whole time i was reading this. the characterization fits him SO much like i can imagine it so vividly and so clearly. like this is riki u are so right. and JUST!!! just read it and u will understand why i love it so much 🫶 i cannot wait to read the rest of op’s works when i have the time!

#☆ sue’s fic recs #enhypen fic rec #heeseung fic rec #sunghoon fic rec #jake fic rec #jay fic rec #sunoo fic rec #jungwon fic rec #ni-ki fic rec #fic recommendation

680 notes · View notes

bedoballoons · 8 months

Note

hi! i saw requests were open, may i requests albedo, itto and tighnari's significant other coming home after a long time away? maybe some angst to fluff? thank you!

Ive actually wanted to write something like this for so long!! I hope you like it <3 Also so sorry if it's been a long time since you've requested this!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Coming home after awhile~༺}

CW: Slight angst because of missing the reader but fluffy in the end!!

(Includes: Albedo, Itto, and Tighnari!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo stared aimlessly at the wall, a habit he had picked up after you'd left and it wasn't because he was bored or didn't have anything to do, on the contrary, he could busy himself with experiments and alchemy very easily, but without you around...life just seemed dull at certain moments...just like this one. He missed you terribly and you being gone longer than usual was really messing with him, to the point he was starting to worry you might never come back...

"Albeeedooo...immm baaack"

His eyes widened at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat as he turned around, how you'd managed to get through the door without him knowing a mystery that he currently didn't care about, because seeing you after so long filled him with the warmth he'd been missing. "I'm so happy you're back...I missed you so much my love." He grasped your hand gently, lifting it slightly to place a kiss on top, his bright blue eyes looking up at you with pure joy. "I missed you too..." You smiled sweetly at him, his fingers holding you chin as he placed his next kiss on your soft lips...a feeling he simply couldn't live without.

𑁍༄Itto:

Itto crossed his arms, sighing dramatically as his onikabuto lost yet another battle, their normal strength seemingly weak compared to all recent opponents...or perhaps it was him who was off, after all, he didn't have you by his side. Yes he had told you to follow your heart and travel as much as you could and he really did want that for you..., but you were his cheerleader, the love of his life...being without you for so long...he just wasn't the same.

"Ahh come on how about 2 outta 3?" He attempted, doing his best to regain his happy go lucky demeanor as he spoke to the little boy in front of him...who was holding his candy he'd just won for dear life. Just the sight was enough to make you feel right at home...gosh you'd missed him, "Itto...I think he won fair and square. How about you let him take the prize and I'll give you a kiss for participation."

The Oni instantly perked up, his eyes sparkling as soon as they caught sight of you, "I don't know what a participation is but I'll definitely take that kiss over some candy!" He wrapped his big arms around you, lifting you up as he hugged you and making you laugh happily, nothing could put a smile on your face as fast as he could. You connected your lips to his in a loving kiss, pulling away just long enough to kiss his cheek.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari bit his lip, trying his best to focus on his papers even though his tail was swaying furiously back and forth, the though of you returning any second after being gone so long, pestering him to the point he couldn't think of anything else but that beautiful smile he wanted to see so badly...or your perfect voice that his ears kept twitching in attempt to hear. He truthfully didn't think he'd be able to handle even one more day without you with him...

He stood up, leaving his desk behind so he could pace the room for a few moments...then make his way to the front door, his large ears pressed up against it...listening for your footsteps. Just as he was about to give up hope he heard the tip tap of your shoes against the ground, the sound enough to make him throw open the door. His body moving without thinking as he pulled you into him, capturing you in a tight hug before you could even walk into the house.

"Tighnari you're crushing mee" You joked hugging him back as a light blush coated your cheeks, you couldn't believe how quickly he had made your day better, any sad feeling expelled as soon as you saw him. "Sorry but the crushing hug is non-negotiable, after being gone so long this is your punishment." He chuckled, placing soft little kisses all over your face, his last one being a loving kiss on the lips that neither of you could get enough of...

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Enjoy*⁠.⁠✧

312 notes · View notes

wing-ed-thing · 4 months

Text

Marriage Pact (Erwin x Reader) Part III

Synopsis: To the surprise of the cadets, Commander Erwin is married to more than just his work. Their curiosity brings up fond memories of your and Erwin’s early days in the scouts.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Language, No Reader Pronouns, Fluff, Marriage Pacts, 104th Cadet Corps Shenanigans, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Original Characters, Alcohol

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: This has been done and edited for... far too long.

Affairs were irritatingly mundane during the days that followed the Military Ball. And after all the show-boating and money that exchanged hands, the Scouting Regiment certainly had something to prove.

“Shadis is putting you on expedition command?” You blinked in pleased surprise. Erwin stood in front of your desk, thumbs looped in a pair of straps that bisected his torso. He hummed in confirmation. You offered him a light applause with the soft tappings of your fingers. “Congratulations, that’s promising.”

“We can hope so.” Erwin shrugged with near indifference, brows jumping for only a moment as he considered the notion. He heaved a steady breath of air, likely already envisioning the increased workload.

“Hope so?” you laughed, not quite paying attention to his rigid body language. “You’re being set up to take command for sure—”

“Are you able to take my squads for a bit?” Erwin interjected. You blinked at him, taken aback by the interruption. He took a slight pause before squaring his shoulder back. “Sorry for cutting you off.” He tugged at his collar.

“No, not at all.” You shook your head, forcing yourself to maintain the cordial smile on your lips. You offered a gesture of your hand. “Continue.”

Erwin met your eye, matching your closed-lip smile of pleasantry, but only briefly. He dove right into business.

“I’ll be needed Tuesdays and Fridays. I was hoping you could take my squads. I asked Hange, but they’ve got their hands full with R&D,” he explained with a curt nod. You stared up at him, almost lost. Taking on additional bodies for two days a week was already a tall order, but taking on five extra squads might serve to be impossible.

“Okay,” you started, thinking before committing fully. If Hange couldn’t take them, you were likely the only one who could. Your eyes darted back at Erwin, who was waiting for your answer expectantly. Your lungs inflated with nervous air before you spoke again. “There’s no way they can be split—?”

“I don’t trust anyone else with my squads.” Erwin’s answer was swift. He stared at you with serious eyes and a severe expression. Erwin’s hands traveled from his leather straps as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. The sigh he heaved made you frown.

“There’s five of them. That’s— what?— over a hundred additional bodies?”

“Ninety-nine, actually.”

‘Okay, ninety-nine added to my eighty—”

“And I would owe you one.” Erwin leaned over the front of your desk. With one hand on the solid wooden surface, he imposed himself above you with his other hand back to clutching one of his ODM straps. The tips of his bangs swept gracefully over his forehead. Erwin glanced toward the door and then back at you.

You opened your mouth to retort, but your attempt at protest broke down into a resigned huff. You shook your head, raising your hands in defeat.

“Yeah, I can take your squads on Tuesdays and Fridays.” Your voice sounded more tentative than you’d have liked. Erwin quirked a brow. The crease on his forehead was subtle.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can take them,” you said definitively, shooting him a glare of warning. “Don’t push your luck.”

Erwin’s brows bounced again as he surrendered a step backward. You cleared a few things off your desk in search of paper to write yourself a note.

“If you’re not busy, we could discuss details now. I could make us some tea.” You avoided his eye, a large part of you just wanting to use taking on his squads as an excuse to finally get some alone time with him to talk the whole marriage pact situation over.

“Shadis actually has me preoccupied. I’m actually due to meet with Edmonds any moment now.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing to inch away. “I’ll send a memo by the end of the day.” He was already off by the time you looked up from your note-taking.

“A memo?” You nearly spat, standing as he began to walk out the door. You shouted after him. “I’m doing you a favor, Erwin! You owe me!”

He waved over his shoulder as he briskly walked out into the hall, not even bothering to look back.

“I know I do!”

***

There was a reason there were four section commanders.

Between your four squads and Erwin’s five squads, regular drills were crowded at best. The larger venue you scrambled to book for the following month was just large enough to accommodate your combined teams for standard practice. And for forest training, you were required to wear your ODM gear the entire day to get from one side of the grounds to another. You must have gone through five canisters in one session of supervising alone.

And so it went for the next few weeks. Almost every other day, you’d find yourself trudging up to the temporary training grounds far out of the way to meet over double the amount of soldiers you were used to. Erwin’s squads were about as obedient and competent as you could expect— Miche Zacharius alone took a hefty amount off your plate— but no amount of capability could take away from the fact that you were training half the branch two days out of the week. If it wasn’t for how well-coordinated your squad captains were, you might not have been able to pull off Erwin’s favor.

You stood at the edge of the forest with eyes toward the treetops on a particular Friday at the end of the month. The sun was already setting as you deliberated whether you wanted to let your total of nine squads leave for the day— the main deciding factor being your air tanks. If it were earlier, you might have switched your canisters, but after your last few rounds through the treetops, you decided you were satisfied with the work your teams had done. You watched them whip around among the branches, waiting until things felt right for you to call it quits.

The trotting of a horse sounded behind you. Just as you turned, Section Commander Fletcher dismounted.

“Are you getting paid for all this overtime?” he laughed, jogging his horse forward to meet you where you stood. You heaved a deep sigh, hands on your hips just out of the way of your massive sheathes.

“Can’t say I am,” you announced in the way otherwise polite words come out in fatigue. Fletcher pulled up beside you, gaze glued on the treetops above. A full squad of 28 members whirled by, maneuvering expertly through the branches and artificial targets.

“Wow,” he mused, a hand shielding his eyes from the beams of the setting sun, “You’ve got a well-oiled machine out here.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’d think I’d have it figured out, considering I’ve had them about a month now.”

“This isn’t figured out?” Fletcher raised a brow, jabbing his thumb up toward the flurry of scouts. You let out an amused scoff, head tilting up to bask your face in what was left of the light.

“Flying by the seat of my pants,” you jested, but your words were true. Fletcher let out an amused puff before mirroring your posture.

“Hell, if this is you making things up as you go, I’d love to see what you got when you do have a plan.” He shook his head in silent admiration. His eyes flickered to you, irises huddling in the left corners of his eyes as he studied you through his peripheral. “No wonder Erwin went to you first.”

“He came to me because Hange was busy,” you laughed, “Honestly, Hange might have had better luck anyway. They’re more used to handling all the moving parts than I am.”

“Well, you’re doing great.” Fletcher nodded affirmatively. “Although, I can’t say I’m not pressed that I was the only one Erwin didn’t ask to take his squads…” His lips formed the slightest pout. “I could have sworn that Hange said he went to you first. Either way, we could have split them and done drills together.”

“Two of us and three-quarters of the branch? No, thank you.” Another laugh erupted from your throat, and you turned to fully face him for the first time that evening. You gave him a once over, noting the state of his uniform. “Um, Fletcher? You know your backplate is supposed to go on your back, right?”

You reached over to loop your finger through the leather strap connected to his backplate and ran over his shoulder. His attention shot straight to where you tugged before Fletcher’s face drooped in reluctant acknowledgment. He held his hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, I know. But I got everything on before I realized, and I didn’t want to take it off and start over.” You withdrew, subconsciously looping your hands around your own tattered ODM straps. Fletcher continued with some more frantic waving of his hands. “Look, don’t tell Shadis. I’ve already faced disciplinary action for one too many mishaps with the uniform. He says if it wasn’t for my record on the field, I would have already been demoted.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who always has it perfect,” you tried to assure him. With the condition your straps were in, you were probably in uniform violation far more often than Fletcher was. Although, being as high ranking as you were, it probably wasn’t the greatest example to set for your squads. At least with you, most people couldn’t usually see that your uniform wasn’t up to policy in the first place without a full inspection. Fletcher was less lucky.

You heard your name a distance behind you, and by the time you turned again, Erwin had already ridden up the grassy hill on his white stallion. You perked up in surprise. Erwin spared a quick glance toward your company.

“Ah, and Section Commander Fletcher,” he remarked, not particularly content at the other section commander’s presence. Erwin smoothly slid off his saddle, tying up the reins to a nearby post with a flick of his wrist.

“Erwin! It’s good to see you finally resurface!” Fletcher waved. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Erwin retorted curtly, gazing briefly at the trees. The branches rustled with movement. “Don’t you have affairs of your own to prep for, Fletcher?”

“All about business as usual, I see,” Fletcher chuckled. His horse bumped him with its muzzle, and Fletcher gave the opposite side of the animal’s face a few pats. “It was quite the day today. My soldiers deserve the early break.”

“So soon before the next expedition.” Erwin’s eyes narrowed slightly, although his expression remained nearly undetectable. Despite his subtle dismay, Erwin’s demeanor remained straight and proper. “How intrepid.”

“If we work them too hard before the big day, they’ll be too exhausted to make responsible decisions.” Fletcher regarded Erwin nonchalantly, speaking lazily with his hands and a complacent twinge to his lips. Erwin blinked at him, scowling.

“Well, it’s good that we ran into each other,” he said, “You’re needed at headquarters. Something about one of your squads duking it out in the mess hall again.”

Fletcher’s face just about went white, and he needed little encouragement to mount his horse and start racing back toward Trost. He shouted something over his shoulder as he rode away. You only caught bits and pieces of promises to resume talking to you soon.

You watched him retreat down the hill, lost in fatigue from the day.

“Fletcher is an idiot.” Erwin’s voice cut through your daze. The harsh bite of his words hit you like an electric shock, causing you to perk up in acute astonishment.

Erwin didn’t meet your eye as he watched the speck that was Fletcher and his horse in the distance. He just stood there, posture straight and face stoic as he looked off toward the Walls. You opened your mouth to comment, but he soon brushed past you, leaving his scent in his wake. You stalled for only a moment before following him.

“What?” You wondered if you had heard him right. Erwin hardly spoke disparagingly of others— particularly not his peers— let alone so blatantly.

“For all that natural instinct Shadis sure puts a lot of stake in, Fletcher is an absentminded fool who won’t make it to see winter.” The inflection of his voice rose at the end of his sentence as if he were talking about a nice breeze. He shrugged, an uncomfortable and rigid indifference about him. Erwin focused on the equipment of his gear, standing just ahead of you at the edge of the forest.

“That’s mean.” You frowned. Erwin tightened one of his thigh straps.

“You know it as well as I do; no need to be coy.” He began rolling up his sleeves. You checked the time, wondering if Fletcher wasn’t the only superior officer to let his subordinates out for the day. “It’s better if he kept his destruction to his own squads. I don’t trust him around anything of mine.”

Perhaps you were devoting too much mental energy to your agreement, focusing too much on what exactly your relationship with Erwin was because his words left his lips and paralyzed you where you stood. You stopped mid-step, head jerking slightly in surprise.

“Anything of yours?” The words left your lips before you could even think.

You quickly snapped your mouth closed, meeting Erwin’s gaze with your own slightly widened eyes. You stood frozen, almost afraid to move. Erwin’s forehead creased, his mouth contorting downward with acute confusion. He cocked his head toward you, trying to decipher what the miscommunication was.

“I don’t trust him around my squads?”

“Oh,” you breathed, avoiding eye contact. You shook your head as if to physically dismiss the thoughts racing around your head. You covered your face with your hands, hiding the embarrassment and mortification that contorted your features. “I thought you said something else.” You shook your head again.

“What did you think I said?”

You continued to avoid meeting Erwin’s gaze even as you stepped up next to where he stood. You waved your hand in the air, not doing a great job of looking nonchalant. You stared straight ahead into the forest in an attempt to look normal.

“Don’t worry about it. I take it you want to round them up?” You gestured toward the trees. Your canisters were on the lower side regarding fuel, but you could afford to take one more trip around the training grounds. Luckily, Erwin didn’t pry.

“I’d like to catch the tail-end of their progress,” Erwin hummed. “And to see how severely I’m about to be out of a job.” You shot up into the trees together, landing on adjacent branches.

“Yeah, when you get promoted to commander, I’ll be working overtime taking on your teams while we train your replacement.” You were already on another branch, an impressive distance from where you started. Erwin wasn’t too far behind as you each signaled for your squads to regroup.

“You seem to be under the impression that Shadis will be relinquishing his title soon.” You could barely hear Erwin’s baritone voice over the wind in your ears. You whipped through the treetops together, expertly avoiding the soldiers flying through the air from the other direction.

“I thought we talked about playing modest?” you teased, swinging just ahead of him.

You landed next to each other, having reached the far end of the circuit. Your team captains were already leading your nine squads back the way you came to regroup and dismiss for the day. There was a notable shift in the air, no doubt caused by Erwin’s commanding presence. Everyone was eager to show off their coordination with the two of you present and watching.

“You’re talking as if you aren’t also very well qualified.”

“Erwin,” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes. You slapped him on the bicep with the back of your hand, “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying…” He whistled, playfully mocking the smile you tried to fight off. He didn’t even bother to hide his snickering. Erwin never looked old by any means, but even so, when he laughed, he seemed to become five years younger.

“Alright,” you sighed, the corners of your mouth still slightly upturned, “Let’s wrap this up. But I hope you know you’re taking charge on this one because I’m sick of looking at your squads—” You snickered, absentmindedly turning toward Erwin.

He stood with the thick wood of a branch beneath his boots, and his hand wrapped around an anchored cable which kept him steady. Erwin simply watched you. You dared to think he held something sentimental in his gaze, just like the night you made your pact. You turned to look over your shoulder, which garnered a chuckle from Erwin.

“Hey—” You were quick to snap in jest but weren’t allowed to say much else.

—“Would you like to grab a drink tonight?” Erwin mused.

You almost lost your balance right then and there. You instinctively moved to grip your own anchored cables.

“Yeah, sure,” you answered quickly, perhaps too quickly, “What time?”

“Let’s meet outside the gates at, uh, seven.” Erwin punctuated his decision with a decisive nod. His anchors reeled back in with a snap before he cast them out again into the forest. He didn’t miss another beat, already gearing up to set out through the branches again. You heard yourself agree before you both set off, ready to rein in the troops for the day.

***

You barely had time to stop home before it was time to meet Erwin, but you’d be damned if you were going to show up to your date in your uniform and the grime from the day on your skin.

To a lack of surprise, Erwin showed up early. He leaned against the brick pillar that held the left-side gate outside the Trost headquarters, seeming to have also changed clothes. Erwin retired his uniform straps and trousers for a pair of beige slacks. A grey leather jacket draped over his elbow, the dark color contrasting his white button-up. When he saw you, he perked up, pushing off from the pillar to meet you.

“I hope you’re okay with a walk,” he announced, his projected voice bouncing off the cobblestone street as he gestured in a vague direction with his thumb.

“Sounds good to me!” you answered, jogging up to meet him directly in front of the closed metal gates. You set off down the road together, chatting about random things from the day.

You didn’t see Erwin very often outside of work— although, given the nature of your professions, you still continued to see each other for obscene amounts of time between meetings, expeditions, and trainings. Even in contexts where you’ve slept within the same vicinity of each other, you were in uniform and on duty more often than not.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but consider how different he looked without his uniform— like something was missing. You wondered if you looked the same, although you didn’t have time to do much special preparation of your appearance between work and your meeting time. Your hair was still in an ODM-safe style.

You didn’t consider that this would become the norm when you were married. However, a growing part of you was gradually becoming more convinced that Erwin wasn’t actually serious about the agreement at all. Quite frankly, he hadn’t brought it up once, and you were sick of how often your pact had been on your mind. The extra thoughts only served to ruin the perfectly decent friendship you had with your coworker.

Things were never like this with Erwin before, and surely, a soldier as high ranking as you had better things to worry about; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I do appreciate your help this past month,” Erwin said, somewhere between your passage between walls Rose and Sina.

“It wasn’t too bad,” you admitted, not quite able to accept his thanks, “Your team leads are amazing. I couldn’t have done it without them.” Erwin’s brows rose in pleasant acknowledgment.

“That’s great to hear.” He nodded as you turned onto a familiar street.

The pub sat on the corner, and Erwin moved ahead of you to grab the door. Only then did you realize that the place Erwin took you to was Mulligan’s.

—“You said you liked the ale here.” He smiled. He was definitely talking before you tuned back into reality, and you already missed the first part of what he said.

You carried on with a simple hum and pleasant smile, drifting into the pub with Erwin, who led you to the bar. The far wall was covered in military memorabilia. A military police cloak and a set of ODM straps were displayed in the center, surrounded by hand-drawn portraits of service members from all three branches and newspaper clippings of various achievements. A set of wooden stairs sat on the far left of the wall, leading up to a loft area with seating. Erwin ordered ales for the two of you.

“We don’t get to do this too often, do we?” Erwin draped his jacket over the back of his stool. “I think the last time we even saw each other out of uniform, it was—”

—“Walkers’ retirement party,” you said in unison, smiling at the memory. Your mouth remained slightly agape as you struggled to calculate how long ago that was.

“That was— what?— twoish years ago?”

“Three.”

“You’re kidding.” Your cheek molded into your palm as you rested your elbow against the bartop. You squinted slightly as you glanced up at the ceiling. “I remember Baker’s promotion was two years ago, and I thought Walker left a week after or something.” Your ales appeared in front of you. The rim of your glass brushed your bottom lip as you spoke. “Because that was the year Baker had to separate those two rookies who got tied together during training.”

Erwin shook his head, swallowing his sip of ale.

“Walker retired three years ago, but he got so bored he tried to get his old job back about a year after Baker was promoted to his old position.” He motioned decisively with his hand as if painting an abstract, invisible timeline in the air. Your lips formed a circular shape as the memories clicked.

“Right.”

“Not that the minutia matters,” Erwin quickly clarified. He waved again in the air before taking his ale to his lips, meeting your eye from above the rim. “Three years seems like too long of a time to me.”

You stared into the foam on the top of your drink, watching as the white bubbles formed a perimeter along the section where you had been taking your sips. You averted your gaze as you spoke.

“Would that be considered normal for colleagues?” you asked with a raise of your brows, playing with the handle of your glass. Erwin studied you for the briefest moment in your peripheral before shifting in his seat with a shrug.

“I find the length rather excessive,” he admitted, expertly avoiding your actual question as he slung an ankle over his opposite knee. He sat somewhat straight with an arm on the back of his stool, and the other mirroring yours leaned against the bar. “It’s nice we could meet at such short notice. Talking about work all the time is hardly conducive to our dynamic, don’t you agree?”

“Excessively formal as always,” you sighed. You almost thought you saw him let out a single puff of amusement before he dove back into his ale. You saw your chance and took it. “But I’m glad you brought that up, because I think it’s time we talked about—”

“If a little bullying was all I needed to do to get you to visit, I would have done it sooner!” The chatter in the pub was cut by the booming voice. All heads turned toward the loft as an unnatural silence overtook the space.

Marie appeared at the top of the steps leading down from the loft, a tray of empty steins and glasses balanced on one hand. Her apron only served to emphasize the size of her enlarged stomach. Marie waddled down the steps, a few servers and patrons rushing to her aid. All talk within the pub slowly returned as most people turned back toward their drinks.

“Shit— Marie! You’re gonna fall!” One customer hurried to her side, taking backward steps down the wooden planks to give Marie his arm for stability. A server quickly scooped the tray of glassware away, the towers of empty beverages clinking and wobbling on top of each other.

“Oh, thank you, Steven. I could have gotten that.” Marie blinked, not watching the rest of her journey down the stairs.

“A business owner shouldn’t be bussing tables, let alone pregnant! Please go home!” a server urged. Marie only offered him a light smile, not acknowledging any of the pleadings that clamored around her as she made directly for you and Erwin.

“You didn’t bully me into anything, Marie,” Erwin sighed playfully. He stood out of his seat, but not before offering you a swift dip of his lip to you in apology. Erwin heaved himself up, ready to face Marie’s complaints, and you followed suit. Marie wasted no time in pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh, sure, sure. Nothing to do with that military schmooze-fest last month. I haven’t seen you here in years, Erwin! Shame on you!” You barely had time to think before Marie let Erwin go and latched on to you next. She slotted herself a bit to the side to properly hug you. Her demeanor seemed to melt as she grasped you firmly by the shoulders.

“Wonderful to see you again,” she said, smiling warmly.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reciprocated.

Marie pulled away, hands crossed over her chest as she took in the both of you.

“Drinks on me tonight!” She accented her exclamation with a single nod.

“Marie, please—” Erwin attempted to reason with her, but Marie wouldn’t let him get a word in before she was already talking to the bartender.

“Thomas! Please refill these ales— Oh! And put in for an order of pretzels!” Marie met your eye and offered you a wink before disappearing into the throng of patrons. Even then, Erwin wasn’t allowed any time to complain as the door to the pub swung open wide enough to hit the adjacent wall outside.

“Fuck! Be careful, Hange!”

“Yoo-hoo! Is that two workaholic scouts I see emerged from their caves to party with us?” Hange threw their hands up in the air, completely blocking the doorway. A few prominent regiment members piled in behind them, uttering various grumblings about moving out of the way. Miche’s face popped up over the crowd.

“Yo,” he nodded toward Erwin. The volley of scouts flooded the pub, spreading across empty tables and chairs. Hange, as well as members of yours and Erwin’s squads, began to approach the bar.

It was the last weekend before your next expedition.

How could you forget about something like that?

***

Jean didn’t expect such a mild reaction out of you, especially after they had trashed what he could only assume was one of your most prized possessions. The moment the door opened, visions of extra brutal drills and penalties beyond his imagination flashed before his eyes, his dreams shattering like the broken picture frame on the floor. Jean could only imagine what a cross-branch punishment entailed.

Eren was quick to try to explain, quickly lurching forward with your first name spilling from his lips, thankfully with your rank. A few other members of his cadet class tried desperately to explain their presence in your office, but you remained expressionless.

You stood wordlessly in the doorway, and as the room erupted into defensive panic, your eyes were only focused on the shattered picture frame. Jean saw you in his frozen silence, following your line of sight to the floor. He knelt down to salvage the mess.

“Don’t touch it; I don’t want you cutting yourself.” Your voice was neutral and level. You crossed the office in seconds, plopping your miscellaneous files on your desk before plucking a broom and dustpan from a tall cabinet.

“Let me get that!” Jean and Eren exclaimed in unison.

The cleaning process was slow. The only noise that dared to vocalize in the room was the soft brushing of broom bristles on wood. Your scouting paraphernalia sat in its usual closed wardrobe just above a small office trashcan now filled with broken glass and the broken frame. One of the seams where the wood had been glued at the corner had fractured, forming a jagged line.

You stood as still and expressionless as you did when you first entered while Jean finally articulated their presence in your office after hours. He considered your neutral demeanor the worst part of getting caught. There was no yelling or a scrunched-up look of disgust, just active and silent listening. You only nodded, seeming to think to yourself without giving away any hints about the nature of your thoughts.

“We wanted to know if you and Commander Smith were married,” Jean admitted plainly. There wasn’t any way around the truth. He studied your blank gaze. You were listening but didn’t have commentary to give quite yet. He bowed his head sheepishly. “I know that talking about things like that is really inappropriate, and coming into your office is even worse. We’ll replace your frame and accept any punishment you deem fit.”

“Speak for yourself…” Eren muttered.

“Now’s really not the time for—!”

When you spoke, “There’s ten of you?” was all you said.

Jean assumed you were counting heads for when you reported to Commander Pixis— or worse, Erwin. But it wasn’t until Jean sat on your worn, leather-covered couch with a cup of tea in his hands that he started to wonder.

You didn’t answer Jean’s question until the last cup of tea had been poured.

You sat with it, looking into your reflection in the steaming beverage as you perched on the front of your desk. The picture— which looked rather flimsy without its frame— sat to your left. You crossed your ankles, the tips of your shoes brushing the floor as you leaned back on one palm. You took a sip of your tea.

“Yeah—” You shrugged. —“Erwin and I are married.”

The room collectively choked.

“See—?!” Jean could only get out one word before he broke into a coughing fit, the words rushing to his lips before he could even think about the liquid in his mouth. He covered his face with his arm and sputtered into the fabric covering his elbow. A violent dribble of liquid splashed over his chin. You offered him a cloth from your tea cart. “See? I told you! I told all of you—!”

“God, Jean, shut up!” Connie’s speech was muffled by the tea cracker passing through his lips. Eren smacked the back of Jean’s head before stepping to the other side of Mikasa. Jean’s coughing fit began again.

“I think that's so cute!” Christa’s exclaim cut through the brewing feud on the other side of the rug. She leaned forward, squishing her face into her palms with a childlike glimmer of excitement in her blue irises. Ymir rolled her eyes, much more interested in the bowl of snacks making the rounds. “How did you guys meet?” You laughed almost giddily.

“We were section commanders together before I transferred to the Garrison!”

The smile on your lips gave away the fond thoughts and memories that flashed across your mind. The group of new scouts huddled together, the eleven of you forming a circle sprawled out across your office. They sipped their tea, eager to indulge in a self-imposed late-night story session. “And now we’ve been married for almost ten years.” Reiner held his hand up shallowly in the air, his fingers slightly curled.

“I got a question for ya,” he began. You nodded like a teacher fielding a student’s question. “Has he always been so…” Reiner trailed off, leaning deep into his seat on the couch that faced Jean’s. He stretched his arm out so that it rested on the tops of the adjacent cushions. “Uptight?”

“Reiner!” Bertholdt scolded under his breath, nudging him for emphasis. Bertholdt sank slightly lower in his seat, expertly balancing his teacup and saucer.

You hardly took offense as anticipated, laughing out loud instead.

“I suppose Erwin’s always been more strait-laced, even back then!” you mused, glancing up at the ceiling in thought. You swung your feet, drumming your fingers at the front edge of your desk before returning your attention to the group. “I will say, though, it’s a good trait to have in a commander, especially for the scouts— not that I have to tell any of you that. He humored me a few times when it came to, you know, your usual antics, but we all— Erwin included— knew he was being groomed for that commander position. He liked to stick to the— the rules if that makes sense.”

You nodded before sipping your tea. You thought that answered the question, but unbeknownst to you, you only served to further pique everyone’s curiosity. However, none of them were able to ask any of their burning questions before Christa’s voice silenced the entire room.

“So, when did you fall in love?” she asked, and her words bounced off the wooden fixtures in the office. It seemed as though all attention turned to her as she sat giddy, a knee to her chest as she anticipated your answer. You took a moment, apparently too long of a moment, as tense silence filled the room.

You tried to hide your shock, voice stalling in your throat as you struggled to find a good answer. Mikasa stared at you with a sharp keenness in her eyes.

“You aren’t in love, are you?” she said as more of a definitive statement than a question. You were quick to answer.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You shook your head, still searching for what to say. “I—” All words stalled in your mouth when you looked up at the gathering of scouts. All eyes were on you, waiting silently. Staring. You sighed. “We had a marriage pact. And that’s not to say we don’t care about each other.” That last part tumbled from your lips like an avalanche.

“A marriage pact?” Reiner grumbled, but once again, you didn’t even have time to answer.

“It’s when two people promise to marry each other if they reach a certain point in their lives and are still single,” Ymir explained before you could. She looked at you as if allowing you to tack on any details she left out. You could only nod.

“That’s not very romantic,” Reiner bluntly spat. A few low hums of agreement dotted the room. You didn’t register how his words rattled something in your chest.

“So, what, did you both turn a certain age and just… what? Get married?” Eren leaned on the back of the seat where Armin sat. His elbows sunk into the worn leather. “How does that work?”

“Did you have an actual wedding, or was it, like, courthouse?” Connie asked with his mouth full of a tea biscuit.

You sat on your desk with your tea in your hands. Your grip hadn’t left the saucer and cup handle in the moments you sat on the hot seat of their gaze. Your agreement with Erwin wasn’t something you necessarily kept secret. Still, the pointed questioning stirred something within you you couldn’t identify. The former cadets remained huddled together, clearly intently interested, with no signs of leaving anytime soon.

You sighed, refilling your tea.

“There was a couple under my command who had a marriage pact. I was telling Erwin about it one night before an expedition,” you began, and the entire room sat in interest as the sun set on the other side of your tall office windows.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: It's so odd writing "Christa" instead of Historia. I also wonder how many of my deep cuts land whenever I write for this section of the timeline. Sometimes I wonder if people think Marie is an original character. I mean, given how little she's in AOT she might as well be.

On another note, I really wanted to wrap things up in this part. But I think there was too much set-up for the last expedition/proposal for it to fit in one chapter. Once I hit 5k I knew my fate was sealed...

I don't know if I should write the wedding because I imagine it to be small and intimate. It might make this fic 5 parts. I only really wanted to write 3. I know engagement usually drops the more parts there are. People don’t seem to like long stories, but I dunno what do you think?

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Stupid, Stupid, Emotionally Unavailable Erwin Smith (Levi x Reader x Erwin)

Notes: I’m happy to add people to the tag list, but requesting to be added without interacting with any part of this series outside of your tag request will result in a swift block

@goddessinsweats @lionhearted-soldier @answer-the-sirens @piercedddriver @scarletrosesposts @thewrittenromance

#erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #aot x reader #erwin #erwin smith #snk x reader #x reader #x you #reader insert #attack on titan x reader #aot fanfiction #erwin fanfic #erwin smith fanfic #erwin x you #erwin x y/n

122 notes · View notes