#K-Means Clustering

[maplecinnamonbun]

assigning genders via k-means clustering

my gender is Gender 11, but there is no indication what that entails

[mercenaryg]

Did you know what K Means Clustering, not sure what to do with that information, but it's there.

[megid0nt]

[deba1407]

KMeans Clustering Assignment

Import the modules

from pandas import Series, DataFrame import pandas as pd import numpy as np import matplotlib.pylab as plt from sklearn.model_selection import train_test_split from sklearn import preprocessing from sklearn.cluster import KMeans

Load the dataset

data = pd.read_csv("C:\Users\guy3404\OneDrive - MDLZ\Documents\Cross Functional Learning\AI COP\Coursera\machine_learning_data_analysis\Datasets\tree_addhealth.csv")

data.head()

upper-case all DataFrame column names

data.columns = map(str.upper, data.columns)

Data Management

data_clean = data.dropna() data_clean.head()

subset clustering variables

cluster=data_clean[['ALCEVR1','MAREVER1','ALCPROBS1','DEVIANT1','VIOL1', 'DEP1','ESTEEM1','SCHCONN1','PARACTV', 'PARPRES','FAMCONCT']] cluster.describe()

standardize clustering variables to have mean=0 and sd=1

clustervar=cluster.copy() clustervar['ALCEVR1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['ALCEVR1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['ALCPROBS1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['ALCPROBS1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['MAREVER1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['MAREVER1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['DEP1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['DEP1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['ESTEEM1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['ESTEEM1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['VIOL1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['VIOL1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['DEVIANT1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['DEVIANT1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['FAMCONCT']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['FAMCONCT'].astype('float64')) clustervar['SCHCONN1']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['SCHCONN1'].astype('float64')) clustervar['PARACTV']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['PARACTV'].astype('float64')) clustervar['PARPRES']=preprocessing.scale(clustervar['PARPRES'].astype('float64'))

split data into train and test sets

clus_train, clus_test = train_test_split(clustervar, test_size=.3, random_state=123)

k-means cluster analysis for 1-9 clusters

from scipy.spatial.distance import cdist clusters=range(1,10) meandist=[]

for k in clusters: model=KMeans(n_clusters=k) model.fit(clus_train) clusassign=model.predict(clus_train) meandist.append(sum(np.min(cdist(clus_train, model.cluster_centers_, 'euclidean'), axis=1)) / clus_train.shape[0])

""" Plot average distance from observations from the cluster centroid to use the Elbow Method to identify number of clusters to choose """ plt.plot(clusters, meandist) plt.xlabel('Number of clusters') plt.ylabel('Average distance') plt.title('Selecting k with the Elbow Method')

Interpret 3 cluster solution

model3=KMeans(n_clusters=3) model3.fit(clus_train) clusassign=model3.predict(clus_train)

plot clusters

from sklearn.decomposition import PCA pca_2 = PCA(2) plot_columns = pca_2.fit_transform(clus_train) plt.scatter(x=plot_columns[:,0], y=plot_columns[:,1], c=model3.labels_,) plt.xlabel('Canonical variable 1') plt.ylabel('Canonical variable 2') plt.title('Scatterplot of Canonical Variables for 3 Clusters') plt.show()

The datapoints of the 2 clusters in the left are less spread out but have more overlaps. The cluster to the right is more distinct but has more spread in the data points

""" BEGIN multiple steps to merge cluster assignment with clustering variables to examine cluster variable means by cluster """

create a unique identifier variable from the index for the

cluster training data to merge with the cluster assignment variable

clus_train.reset_index(level=0, inplace=True)

create a list that has the new index variable

cluslist=list(clus_train['index'])

create a list of cluster assignments

labels=list(model3.labels_)

combine index variable list with cluster assignment list into a dictionary

newlist=dict(zip(cluslist, labels)) newlist

convert newlist dictionary to a dataframe

newclus=DataFrame.from_dict(newlist, orient='index') newclus

rename the cluster assignment column

newclus.columns = ['cluster']

now do the same for the cluster assignment variable

create a unique identifier variable from the index for the

cluster assignment dataframe

to merge with cluster training data

newclus.reset_index(level=0, inplace=True)

merge the cluster assignment dataframe with the cluster training variable dataframe

by the index variable

merged_train=pd.merge(clus_train, newclus, on='index') merged_train.head(n=100)

cluster frequencies

merged_train.cluster.value_counts()

""" END multiple steps to merge cluster assignment with clustering variables to examine cluster variable means by cluster """

FINALLY calculate clustering variable means by cluster

clustergrp = merged_train.groupby('cluster').mean() print ("Clustering variable means by cluster") print(clustergrp)

validate clusters in training data by examining cluster differences in GPA using ANOVA

first have to merge GPA with clustering variables and cluster assignment data

gpa_data=data_clean['GPA1']

split GPA data into train and test sets

gpa_train, gpa_test = train_test_split(gpa_data, test_size=.3, random_state=123) gpa_train1=pd.DataFrame(gpa_train) gpa_train1.reset_index(level=0, inplace=True) merged_train_all=pd.merge(gpa_train1, merged_train, on='index') sub1 = merged_train_all[['GPA1', 'cluster']].dropna()

Print statistical summary by cluster

import statsmodels.formula.api as smf import statsmodels.stats.multicomp as multi

gpamod = smf.ols(formula='GPA1 ~ C(cluster)', data=sub1).fit() print (gpamod.summary())

print ('means for GPA by cluster') m1= sub1.groupby('cluster').mean() print (m1)

print ('standard deviations for GPA by cluster') m2= sub1.groupby('cluster').std() print (m2)

Interpretation

The clustering average summary shows Cluster 0 has higher alcohol and marijuana problems, shows higher deviant and violent behavior, suffers from depression, has low self esteem,school connectedness, paraental and family connectedness. On the contrary, Cluster 2 shows the lowest alcohol and marijuana problems, lowest deviant & violent behavior,depression, and higher self esteem,school connectedness, paraental and family connectedness. Further, when validated against GPA score, we observe Cluster 0 shows the lowest average GPA and CLuster 2 has the highest average GPA which aligns with the summary statistics interpretation.

[usaii]

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[internetdaddy98]

Day One 

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: You arrive to your first day of your fourth year as an Emergency Medicine resident. As you and your fellow fourth-years prepare to guide the new interns, Dr. Robby, the enigmatic and commanding attending physician, delivers his signature no-nonsense orientation speech.

Word Count: 1.4 K Content Warning: Medical procedures, will most likely be medically inaccurate at times, unresolved tension.

The first shift of your fourth year didn’t begin with fanfare. It began with an overripe banana in your navy jacket and three missed alarms. You had made it in with five minutes to spare. The green-and-white badge clipped to your chest felt heavier today. Senior Resident. You adjusted it twice before walking through the double doors of the ER, like the weight of it might suddenly feel natural if you just wore it right.

It didn’t. Not yet.

The Emergency Department was already alive with its usual symphony around you, the dull buzz of fluorescents, overhead calls, distant beeping, and the hum of organized chaos. The moment you walked towards the nurses' station, you were met with a familiar voice.

“Well, look who decided to show up. Fourth year already, huh? Damn. I’m getting old.” Dana stood behind the desk with a cup of lukewarm coffee and a sideways grin. A blonde strand of hair was tucked behind her ear, and her badge swung as she leaned over the counter.

You smiled, grateful for her warmth.

Dana Evans had been here longer than anyone. She loved her team fiercely and fought for them like a lioness, a mix of cool-headed authority and maternal instinct. And she had always looked out for you. Quietly. Unfailingly.

“You’ll do good Sheri,” she added, more softly, her eyes meeting yours. “You always do.”

You nodded, swallowing the knot in your throat. “Thanks, Dana.”

As you looked around the department, the ER started to infiltrate your senses. The ER smelled like coffee, antiseptic, and nervous sweat, which could only mean one thing.

Intern orientation.

You stood just to the side of the hub, clutching your travel mug like a lifeline while Santos balanced a doughnut box in her hand. The buzz of conversation was still light, nurses going back and forth with gossip between sips of lukewarm coffee, and your fellow fourth-years faking the confidence that came with a new badge.

Santos strutted over to you, box in one hand, sass in the other. “Happy Fourth Year to us,” she announced. “Time to abuse power and emotionally scar the interns. I’ve been dreaming of this.”

Whittaker followed a beat later, immediately dropping his stethoscope and fumbling with his badge. “Hi. I’m fine,” he said to no one in particular, crouching to pick them up.

You couldn’t help the small smile. 

Then came Mel, quiet as ever, earbuds still half in, with a pen tucked behind her ear and a notepad already in hand. She offered a little wave and a shy smile before taking stand next to you.

Together, the four of you made up the new senior class. Three years of trenches, trauma codes, midnight breakdowns, and vending machine dinners had formed a bond that was messy but strong. You knew their rhythms now, the cadence of their stress, how Trinity snapped gum when anxious, how Dennis narrated to himself under pressure, how Mel stilled completely when she was deep in thought.

And you — you were the quiet one. The calm. The unshakable center.

“Why do they always look like baby ducks?” Santos muttered beside you, watching the incoming class file in through the double doors.

“Because they’re about to be emotionally drowned,” you said, monotone.

“God, I missed your sunshine.”

A sharp, familiar voice cut across the room. “Alright, listen up.”

Everyone stilled.

Dr. Robinavitch, attending physician and gravitational center of the ER, stood at the head of the small cluster of residents and nurses. His hoodie was rumpled, his sleeves rolled up, and a stethoscope hung around his neck like it had been there since the Cold War.

“Huddle up,” he said. “Five minutes. Don’t make me herd you.”

The interns scurried closer, wide-eyed. You and the rest of your senior class, took your places near the back. Dana leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, watching like a hawk with a smile.

Dr. Robby scanned the group, voice steady and clipped. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Dr. Robinavitch. I’m the chief attending. You can call me Dr. Robby, or sir, or in the case of one intern last year ‘dad.’” His expression remained dry, though a ripple of laughter moved through the group.

“That intern was never seen again,” Dana added helpfully.

Dr. Robby ignored her. “You’ve officially survived med school. Congratulations. Now the real fun starts. This is the Emergency Department,  high acuity, high volume, and we do not tolerate egos. You mess up? Own it. You don’t know something? Ask. We protect each other here, and you’ll be expected to do the same.”

He paused, eyes sweeping the room until they landed on you.

“And your senior residents will be your lifelines. Listen to them. Learn from them. Especially Dr. Sheridan.”

A few heads turned toward you. You kept your expression neutral, even as something flickered behind your ribs at the sound of your name in his mouth.

“She’s quiet,” he continued, “but she’s one of the best we’ve had through this program.”

Santos leaned in close and whispered, “He likes you.”

You elbowed her without looking.

Dr. Robby gestured toward your group. “Drs. Santos, King, Whittaker, and Sheridan are fourth years, which make them your senior residents. They’ll be running most of your shifts. Any questions, take it to them first. If they can’t help, escalate to me, Dr. Collins or Dr. Langdon.”

At his mention, Dr. Langdon gave a short wave from the side of the room, easygoing and ever observant. He was the counterbalance to Robby’s steel. You always liked him for that.

“Any questions before we start rounds?” Robby asked.

An intern raised a tentative hand. “Uh… where’s the bathroom?”

“Follow the smell of crushed dreams,” Santos said.

Dana pointed toward the east hallway. “Second left, kiddo.”

With a short nod, Dr. Robby dismissed the group. “Alright. Fourth years, divide and conquer. Interns, stick close. You’ll be drowning in charting by noon. Welcome to the Pitt, let’s go save some lives.”

As the team dispersed, you stepped back beside Dana, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. Fourth year. This was it.

“You good, Sheri?” she asked you softly, using the nickname only she and Robby used.

You nodded. “Feels…weird. Like I’m supposed to know what I’m doing now.”

Dana’s eyes twinkled. “Fake it till you make it kid. That’s what we all did. Except Robby. He was born already carrying a cric kit and a superiority complex.”

“I heard that,” Robby muttered as he passed, eyes cutting sideways toward you. “Dr. Sheridan, you’re with me for Trauma 1. Let’s see how rusty you are after your vacation.”

“You gave me two days off.” you scoffed.

“And it shows.”

You followed him into the hallway, interns trailing behind like ducklings, and tried to ignore the way your pulse stuttered at the proximity. Three years of working under him had taught you nearly everything you knew about emergency medicine, and everything you didn’t want to know about longing in silence.

Something had changed last year. Quietly. Without permission.

He didn’t hover anymore, didn’t micromanage. You didn’t defer as much. You challenged him. And, more than once, he’d smiled at that. Not a condescending smirk, but something warmer, like he’d been waiting for you to push back.

There had been a moment, late one night during a consult, where your hands had brushed over the same EKG printout. You’d both paused. Neither moved.

The air had shifted.

And since then, a quiet game of restraint.

You shook the memory loose.

Robby glanced over his shoulder. “Sheri. You listening?”

You blinked. “Always.”

He quirked a brow. “Good. Don’t make me regret this.”

He didn’t.

Not yet.

And as you moved into Trauma 1 with the interns on your heels, Dana watching from the counter, and the ER waking into its usual barely-contained chaos, you felt it.

The beginning of something.

The fourth year had officially begun. Later, when a septic patient coded and the room exploded into motion, you found yourselves working side by side again. The rhythm was familiar, practiced. He intubated while you ran compressions. You handed him a syringe without being asked. He moved left as you moved right, and for a moment, it felt like breathing.

No one watching would guess that beneath the sterile efficiency was something frayed and quietly electric. No one but maybe Dana, who raised an eyebrow at you as she passed.

By noon, your scrubs were stained, your coffee was cold, and the new interns had already started whispering about “Dr. Sheridan” with a mixture of awe and confusion. She’s the small one who’s scary calm, you overheard one say near the supply closet.

You took it as a compliment.

The hours blurred. One trauma, two admissions, a consult from psych. Somewhere in between, you caught Dr. Collins entering from the physician lounge, tall, poised, still perfect even in blood-spattered scrubs. Her eyes flicked toward Robby as she passed him near the nurses’ station.

He didn’t react.

You did.

[just-nc-tea]

the truth untold ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

⭑.ᐟ Fake Dating - Sim Jaeyun Jake’s world takes a nosedive when he gets a wedding invitation from his high school ex—the same ex who cheated on him—with your ex. Desperate to avoid showing up alone Jake ropes you into a fake relationship, just for the evening. Originally. But if you’re going to sell the lie, you have to make it convincing. That means dates, inside jokes, learning the little details about each other that real couples would know. By the time the wedding arrives, neither of you are sure where the act ends and the truth begins.

ᝰ genre. Hockeyplayer! Jake, college sports , angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, fluff, suggestive, fake dating.ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of weed, alcohol and nicotine, suggestive language & actions, shitty exes, strained family relations, mention of death, desciption of murder (Y/N is a anthropology student and works with dead bodies, but it's nothing detailed) PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ word count. 31.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ GET ADDED THE TAGLIST HERE ⁀➴༯ OR COMMENT 🏒

You dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, your legs and shoulder aching under the weight of your uni bag and the bag of groceries you were carrying. You were regretting your gym session while you were on the bench press and now, after three back-to-back lectures and one surprise pop quiz later, you felt like a shell of a person.

When you reached the small cluster of mailboxes near your door, you let out a sigh. You haven’t looked into your mailbox for a few days and there were a ton of letters, most likely promotional flyers, peeking out of it. You fumbled with the key, twisted it open, and immediately regretted it. A flood of envelopes tumbled out, some landing on your sneakers, others scattering across the floor. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, crouching to gather the mess. Flyers for pizza places you’d never try, glossy brochures for local gyms that clearly overestimated your interest in fitness. You flipped through the pile absentmindedly. You froze.

Your name, neatly scrawled in delicate cursive on an off-white envelope, stood out in the sea of junk mail. The paper was expensive, thick to the touch. You turned the envelope around, revealing a wax seal with two conjoined rings in the middle. A RSVP? You rattled your brain, thinking who might be getting married, but your mind came up with nothing.  Curiosity got the better of you, and you tore the envelope open. Inside, a golden-embossed wedding invitation practically sparkled under the streetlight. You scanned the details, and snorted. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sophia Williams and Marcus Baker. We’d be honored to have you celebrate our special day.

Your ex-best friend. And your ex-boyfriend. Getting married. 

You snorted. “Special day, my ass,” you muttered, shoving the invitation back into the envelope. The nerve. There was no way you were going up at that shit show to play nice, as if the two of them didn’t break your heart in a million pieces. Whatever sick sense of closure they thought they were offering you, you weren't interested. There was no chance in hell you were going to that wedding. You put the letter back into its envelope and tossed it together with your junk mail into your bags continuing your way into your apartment. 

You were on your way to your Forensic Taphonomy class, when you spotted Jake sitting on one of the benches along the water fountain on the campus, his eyes closed while he enjoyed the early spring sun. You dropped down next to him on bench, startling him: “Hi Jake.” His head shoot into your direction and his eyes flew open. “Y/N!”, he said while putting a hand to his chest, “You just scared the shit out of me.”  You laughed and shook your head. “I am sorry Jake. Do you know what scared the shit out of me yesterday? Marcus and Sophias RSVP.” Jake gawked at you: “Their what?”

“Their RSVP. Those two are getting married and had the audacity to invite me. I don’t even know where they got my new address from.”, you shrugged, leaning back and closing your eyes. You didn’t get particularly much sunlight in the lab or the library, so every ray of sunshine had to be cherished.  “Oh shit. Are you going?”, Jake asked. “To the wedding of my ex best friends and my ex, who cheated on me with said best friend? Fuck no. I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than do that.”, you snorted, shaking your head.  Jake let out a low whistle, leaning back on the bench with a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. “Man, they’ve got some nerve.” You snorted, crossing your arms as you turned your head into his direction. “Right? Honestly, I thought I’d never have to see them again. But they apparently don’t share that opinion.” Jake shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Jesus christ. Why would they get married? You can’t tell me they really love each other.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “God. How were we ever in love with those two narcissistic assholes? We are too nice and pretty to have lost time and energy even talking to them.” Jake glanced over at you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “We were young and naive. And we had to learn the hard way. But are you really not tempted to attend? Maybe dump red wine on Marcus’s tux for good measure?” The mental image made you laugh, but you quickly shook your head. “Nah, I don’t have the energy for that kind of drama. Plus, I’d probably just end up making a fool of myself. They’re not worth the effort.” Jake’s lips quivered in a half-smile, his bitterness softening just slightly. “Yeah. They’re really not.” The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, the sound of the fountain splashing in the background. Jake broke the silence. 

“You know, I always thought Sophia was smarter than this. Cheating with Marcus of all people? Like, come on. At least pick someone who doesn’t talk about himself in the third person.” You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound. “Right? And Marcus was always so... ugh. He thought he was God’s gift to women. The fact that she fell for- not the fact that I fell for him is just–” You threw up your hands in mock exasperation. Jake smirked. “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares about all the dumb shit he used to say. He was such an asshole to everyone.” “And yet here we are, left in the dust while they ride off into their happily-ever-after,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. “Life’s funny like that.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced at you. “Funny isn’t the word I’d use, but yeah. Guess we’re stuck with the same shitty chapter in our history books.” You gave him a faint smile, the bitterness in his tone mirroring your own. “Well, I should probably get going,” you said, standing up and brushing off your pants. “Forensic Taphonomy waits for no one.” “Tapho-what?”, Jake asked.

Jake was toweling his hair dry, while walking into the kitchen of his dorm. Heeseung was basically sleeping with his eyes open while Jay was aggressively whipping eggs. Whatever he was cooking right now smelled heavenly. But Jake would eat anything right now. Practice had been brutal, and he was ready to collapse, but his stomach continuously made growling sounds that he couldn’t ignore.  He dropped down next to Heeseung, startling his captain awake. On the table in front of him was a pile of letters that someone had brought inside. His gaze narrowed at the fancy, embossed envelope propped against a stack of unopened mail. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was from. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters, ripping open the golden waxseal.  For a moment, he just stared at it, blinking, trying to process the sheer audacity it must’ve taken to send him this. His jaw clenched, and the annoyance bubbled up fast. Who the hell invites both their exes to their wedding–the same people they cheated on to be together? 

“What’s up?”, Heeseung asked, resting his head on his hand. Jake tossed the letter on the table again, leaning back into the chair and signing exasperated. “Who the fuck invites both their exes to their wedding. They cheated on us. For fucks sake!”  “Who?”, Jay asked, turning around still whipping eggs.  “Sophia and Marcus are getting married. Y/N received her invitation yesterday and now,”, he gestured towards the letter, “they apparently thought it would be appropriate to invite me as well.” “What the fuck.”, Heeseung leaned forward to grab the letter. “Dear Jake. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sophia Williams and Marcus Baker. We’d be honored to have you celebrate our special day.”

Jake pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes. “Cordially invited my ass.” Jay snorted, turning back to his pan but keeping an ear on the conversation. “That’s insane. Why would they even think you’d show up?” Jake let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Our families still have a lot to do with each other. My parents are still obsessed with Sophia. They used to invite her over for dinner even after we broke up. Didn’t even tell me until I ran into her at the house once.” He shook his head, rubbing his temple. “I’m almost positive my dad’s going to call me any second and gush about how I should be happy for her and how disappointed he is that it’s not me she is marrying.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped. “They what? You’re kidding.” “I wish I was,” Jake muttered. “They’ve been close with her parents forever. Business stuff or whatever. My dad loved that she came from a ‘respectable’ family, you know? I could’ve been dating the queen of England and she still wouldn’t have measured up to Sophia in his eyes.” Jay slid a plate of egg fried rice onto the counter and turned to face them fully, arms crossed. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you have to go. You’re a grown-ass man, Jake. Just don’t show up. Screw your dad. You don’t owe him anything.” Jake huffed out a dry laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, easier said than done. You know my dad, Jay. This wedding is going to be crawling with people he thinks are ‘important.’ You know how he is about appearances. If I don’t go, it’ll somehow be my fault for making the family look bad.”

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “But what about you, man? Doesn’t matter to him that this is…what’s the word? Oh, right. Humiliating. You’re just supposed to suck it up and show up all smiles?" “Probably,” Jake muttered, crossing his arms. “In his eyes, I probably deserved it. He’s already implied before that if Sophia cheated, it’s because I ‘let her slip through my fingers.’” Jay’s eyes widened in disbelief. “He actually said that?" Jake nodded grimly. “Yup. Every time I screw up, he brings it up. Like losing her was some monumental failure on my part. Honestly, he probably thinks that showing up to the wedding is a chance to redeem myself somehow." Heeseung shook his head, looking genuinely pissed on Jake’s behalf. “That’s messed up, man. Beyond messed up. You can’t let him keep controlling you like that.”

“What choice do I have?” Jake shot back, frustration lacing his voice. “If I don’t go, it’ll be endless guilt trips and lectures. And let’s not forget the part where my dad’s probably going to find a way to make it about how I’m an embarrassment to the family.” He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you, I won’t have a choice. If my dad wants me there, I’ll have to go." Jay frowned, leaning against the counter. “So, what, you just show up and let them parade you around?” “I don’t know. Wait until my parents text me and then be the disappointment I am born to be I guess.”, Jake shrugged.

Jake was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, listening to his professors rambling over bananas and their ability to act as a payment agent? He was watching a reel recap of the top moments of their last game when he got the message he knew was going to come. His stomach tightened.

Dad:

You’ll be at the wedding. No excuses.

Jake gritted his teeth. Of course. 

Jake: I’m thinking about it.

He shoved the phone into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the lecture. Bananas, yes. Economical life cycle. 

Rotting bananas no good for economical life cycle.

Oh god. What? 

His phone buzzed again.

Dad: Do you have any idea how bad it will look if you don’t show? The Kims have been family friends for years, and your absence would reflect poorly on all of us. Don’t let this turn into yet another disappointment.

Jake felt the heat rise to his face. The words “yet another disappointment” echoed in his head like a slap. He closed his notebook, muttered a quick apology to the professor, and slipped out of the classroom to take a breath.

Just as he reached the hallway, his phone started ringing. 

He took a deep breath and answered with a resigned, “Yes, Dad?”

The voice on the other end was sharp, controlled, and laced with cold authority. “Don’t give me that tone, Jaeyun.”

Jaeyun. Never Jake. Or son. Or anything else that would indicate that his father feels any positive emotion towards him. 

“You are coming to that wedding.”, his dad said in a voice that signaled he didn’t take no as an answer.

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal. Sophia cheated on me. Why the hell would I want to be at their wedding?”, Jake said, biting back his frustration. 

“Because it’s not about what you want,” his father snapped. “This is about appearances, Jake. About responsibility. This isn’t up for debate, Jake. You’re expected to be there. The whole family is going. Your brother is flying in from the States for this–it’s a family obligation. Sophia was-”

“Don’t,” Jake interrupted, his grip tightening on the phone. “Don’t start talking about how Sophia was perfect or how I screwed it up. She cheated on me, Dad.”

“And what does that say about you?” his father countered coldly.

Jake had to bite his tongue to stop himself from talking back. 

“You had her,” his father continued. “She was beautiful, smart, and from a good family. But somehow, you weren’t enough to keep her. Now she has found a husband from a respectable family and you are still bitter about it.”

Why can’t his dad just leave him alone? What did he care about Jake's love life? He already had his golden son, who was as good as married, worked in the company and did everything right. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I’m not going alone,” he said, the words tumbling out. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’m not going alone, if i am attending at all.” Jake repeated, his voice firmer this time.

There was a long, heavy pause on the other end of the line. 

“What’s her name?” his father asked, his tone even and clinical, like he was conducting a job interview.

Jake swallowed hard, realizing too late the corner he’d just backed himself into. He took a breath, bracing himself. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” Y/N? Did he just utter your name? Fuck. 

Another pause. This one was longer, heavier.

“What’s her last name?” his dad finally asked, his tone quiet and deliberate.

Jake swallowed hard, wishing he could take back every word. 

“Y/N,” he said. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/L/N.” His father repeated the name slowly, almost like he was testing it. “I’ll assume she’s presentable. Background?”

Jake bristled. “She’s... a forensic anthropology student. Smart. Independent.”

“Hmm.” The sound was noncommittal, but Jake could sense the wheels turning. “Well, I’ll expect to meet her at the wedding.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Jake standing in the hallway, gripping his phone so tightly it felt like it might shatter.

Jake let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. 

And what does that say about you?

As if Sophia’s cheating was some kind of personal failure on his part.

Sophia was the picture perfect girlfriend his dad expected him to have. She was fairly pretty, clever, came from a family just as well-connected as theirs. Jake had never really felt butterflies. Not with Sophia. Not with anyone afterwards. 

Their whole relationship was build on public image, on convenience, on the unspoken understanding that they would look good together.

Sophia was in a similar position as Jake. If his dad would have known about half the stuff she did he would have never been this delighted when he told him he was dating her. She was partying more than she was studying, being bad influence for all of her friends. And her father had enough and told her that there would be some serious consequences for her if she didn’t step down. And her dad approved of him. So she approached him first.

She was all of his firsts, though. His first kiss, his first time, his first real relationship. 

But connection? Love? He never had that with Sophia. He tried to. Tried to tell himself he loved her, thought he loved her. But thinking back at it he probably never did. That didn’t mean her cheating didn’t hurt less. He and Sophia still had their moments and she was one of his most trusted persons, she knew almost everything about him and he knew a lot of things about her.  

Jake still remembered the day he found out about Sophia cheating on him. He wasn’t the one who uncovered the truth. You were.

He remembered being confused when you stood in his hallway looking lost, your face tear streaked. How you barely breathed his name before saying, Jake, I need to tell you something.

You told him how Sophia came clean to you, how she told you that she had slept with your boyfriend, how she was in love with him and how she didnt want this to ruin your friendship. 

He hadn’t believed you at first. He didn’t want to. But he also knew you wouldn’t lie about something like that. He didn’t really know you all too well, but he knew you well enough to know that you probably really loved Marcus, no matter what kind of douchebag he was and that it really hurt you. Scratch that. You were devastated. He was a year above you but your paths did cross quite frequently in school. You didn’t attend school for almost two weeks and when you came back you looked so sad. His heart ached every time he saw you. 

A day after you told him what happened he confronted Sophia.

She hadn’t even really tried to deny it. Instead, she had just sighed, almost exasperated, and told him that they both knew they were never real in the first place. That for her at least this was all show, that they looked good together, that their families approved. That she was sorry if he really felt like he was in love with her.

Jake had ended things immediately. He was more heart broken over the whole thing than he though he would be and when he turned to his parents he didn’t really get the reassurance he had hoped for. His father, of course, had been disappointed–not because Jake had been cheated on, but because he had lost Sophia. His mom however did her best to help him get over Sophia and suddenly they were eating galbitang three times a week. 

And now, Sophia was getting married to someone “respectable,” while Jake was still the disappointment.

He let out a bitter chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have answered his father’s call. 

Now, on top of everything else, he had to figure out how to convince you to go to this damn wedding and pretend to be his girlfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything. Everything went wrong.

First, he realized that the number you used in Australia was obviously not the one you were using in Korea now. Then, he realized that he didn’t follow you on Instagram anymore. After an embarrassingly long debate with himself, he finally sent a follow request, which you accepted a few hours later. Great. Progress.

Except now he had to actually message you.

“Hi Y/N. I kinda lied to my dad and now he thinks you’re my girlfriend. You kinda have to attend my ex’s wedding with me. I’m so sorry. But it would embarrass me, and my dad would murder me if you said no. Please go with me. Thank you. Bye :)”

No. Absolutely not. He deleted it before he could even consider pressing send. Another draft followed. Then another. Then another. Each one somehow worse than the last.

In the end, he gave up dming you entirely. This was a conversation he had to have face to face. 

Maybe he could catch you on campus? Except he didn’t know your timetable, your lab, or even which building your classes were in. The more he thought about it, the worse it got. 

So now here he was, sitting on the stairs in front of one of the medical buildings, praying to whoever might be listening that you’d pass by. He thought your classes were in this area—wasn’t your major technically part of the medical school? Oh, God. What was he doing? And for what? To impress his father? His father, of all people?

Jake exhaled sharply, dragging his hands down his face. He was such an idiot.

Then, as if the universe decided to throw him a bone, he spotted you.

You were walking briskly across the courtyard, a bag slung over your shoulder, earbuds in. Jake shot to his feet. “Y/N!”

You didn’t hear him. He cursed under his breath, jogging a few steps before calling out again, louder this time. “Y/N! Do you have five minutes?”

You looked up, squinting slightly, and then frowned when you recognized him. “Jake? What are you doing here?” He jogged a few steps to meet you before you could brush past him. “Hey, do you have five minutes?”

You checked your watch and shot him a skeptical look. “Not really. I’m heading to class. What’s up?”

He opened his mouth, but instead of starting with the careful, logical explanation he’d rehearsed in his head, it all came out in a breathless, panicked rush.

“So,Ikindofliedtomydadyesterdayandnowhethinksyou’remygirlfriend.” He took a breath,

“and it’s this whole thing because he’s forcing me to go to Sophia and Marcus’s wedding, and I panicked, and I said I wasn’t going alone, and then he kept asking questions, and I said your name, and now—” He took another breath and continued, slower this time. 

“And now he thinks we’re dating, and I really need you to come to this wedding with me because if I show up alone, he’s going to make my life hell. And also, I might die. Not literally, but close.”

You blinked.

Then, slowly, you pushed your phone into your bag and crossed your arms. You narrowed your eyes. “What the fuck, Jake?”

Jake winced, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. “Uh, yeah. So I lied to my dad. About us. And now he thinks we’re dating.”

You lowered your bag, letting it dangle in one hand, and crossed your arms. “Jake. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” He looked at you, wide-eyed and sheepish. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I had no one else to turn to. You’re the only person who gets how screwed up this wedding thing is. And technically you are already invited. So it wouldn’t be weird if we got there together? Except that you would have to kinda pretend to love me and shit.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh my god. Okay. Fine. Forget class—now I have five minutes. What the actual fuck, Jake?”

“I panicked!” he said defensively. “He was going off about how embarrassing it would be if I showed up alone, and how I’m not married, and how I don’t have a girlfriend, and how my life’s a failure compared to my brother’s—so I panicked, and I said I was bringing you.”

You blinked at him, your arms crossing tightly over your chest. “So you told him I am your girlfriend. And you’re bringing me?”

“Yes.” He winced, looking at the ground. “I know it’s insane, but hear me out.”

“There’s no way I’m going to that wedding, Jake,” you said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Look, I get it. I don’t want to go either. But think about it.” He gestured between the two of you. “We’ll both have someone to lean on at the wedding, no awkward moments alone, and it’ll keep my dad off my back. It’s a win-win.”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Win-win? What do I get out of this?”

“Anything you want,” Jake said quickly, his desperation shining through. “I’ll owe you, big time. Name it, and I’ll do it.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Jake. This is ridiculous. You’re literally asking me to be your girlfriend for a weekend to impress your father.”

“I know,” he said, his tone softer now. “But I swear, it won’t be as bad as you think. We’ll go, we’ll stick together, and then we’re out. You can even make fun of Marcus and Sophia the whole time.”

You sighed, clearly conflicted. “Jake… I really don’t want to go to that wedding.”

“Please,” he said, clasping his hands together like he was praying. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Please Y/N. Please, please, please, please. 

You looked at him for a long moment, then sighed again. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Fair,” Jake said, relief washing over him. “That’s all I ask.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for class.”

“Right, sorry.” He stepped aside, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

You stared at the wedding invitation sitting on your desk. The idea of going to that wedding was so ridiculous. You weren’t about to subject yourself to that humiliation.

But as much as you hated the idea of being anywhere near Marcus and Sophia, there was a part of you that missed your old friend group. All of you went different paths, to different unis and countries and you were sure that they were all invited and would attend the wedding. 

Jake’s desperate proposal kept replaying in your head. The idea of showing up together wasn’t the worst. If anything, it’d probably make things easier. At least you had someone in your corner that wasn’t your dad or your mom. Jake was fun, charming and good looking and spending the evening together might even be fun. And you knew that Marcus resented Jake, deeply. He would probably not like seeing the two of you together. 

That thought alone gave you a sick kind of satisfaction.

You were sitting at a table near the ice rink, your biology notes spread out in front of you. It wasn’t the most ideal study spot, but you knew that Jake had to walk by here after practice, and you didn’t feel like chasing him down across campus. You could have sent him a message, but talking to your future fake-boyfriend about your future fake-relationship seemed more appropriate then texting back and forth.

You pretended to focus on your notes, but your mind kept drifting back to Jake. Objectively, he was attractive—annoyingly so, in fact. And while you weren’t particularly close, you’d only ever heard good things about him from mutual friends and well… Sophia.

Honestly? If you had to fake-date someone, he wasn’t the worst candidate.

You were just beginning to lose feeling in your toes when you spotted him. He was walking down the path, hockey gear slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Jake!” You stood up and waved, catching his attention.

He blinked at you, surprised, but adjusted course and made his way over. “Y/N. Hi.”

“Let’s do it.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Let’s go to that godforsaken wedding together.”

His brows shot up. He dropped his bag on the ground and sat down beside you, still looking skeptical. “You’re kidding. You really want to do this?”

“Want?” You scoffed. “No. But it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, and I sure as hell don’t want to give those two the satisfaction of thinking I care.”

Jake leaned back and exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “Thank you Y/N. You are saving me from being ridiculed by the asshole I call father.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No worries. I’ll probably regret it, but whatever.”

“I think i have to warn you about my dad though.”, Jake turned to you. 

You raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“He probably thinks I lied, which I kinda did. He won’t believe us if we don’t seem disgustingly in love.” 

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. 

Jake nodded, tilting his head toward you. “Yeah.”

“How exactly do you want to do this then Sim? I am not really a good actor. I can hold your hand but being all lovey dovey? I doubt it.”, you sighed, rubbing your temples.

You were itching to light a cigarette. You couldn’t believe this is actually happening. This is insane. Absolutely insane. Your hand instinctively moves toward your pocket, fingers brushing against the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Just one. To calm your nerves. 

“I don’t really know. I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.”, his shoulder sacked down.

“Well I have watched and read enough about fake dating that I know that we should at least, you know, get to know each other a bit. Like I know you are a nerd and you play hockey? Which is probably not enough to seem convincing.”, you shrugged.

You glance at Jake out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his reaction. Does he even realize how ridiculous this is?

“I am not a nerd.”, Jake protested. 

“Do you still collect Lego?”, you deadpanned.

“I-Yes-But- Yeah I do but it doesn’t make me a nerd.”, he sputtered and shook his head, a few water drops from his hair hit your face.

“Mhm. Sure. Whatever you think Jakeyboy.”, you hummed and grinned at him. 

He huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his body. “So what do you wanna do?”

“To get to know each other?”, you asked, playing with the end of your scarf. “ I guess we should spend time together. And we should definitely work out some kind of like I don't know, timeline for when and how we met an shit.” 

“Well,” Jake started, drumming his fingers against the table, “okay. We met on campus, obviously. We got closer through mutual friends.”

You exhaled through your nose, thinking. “Who’s supposed to be our mutual friend?”

He thought for a second before saying, “Jay. He’s probably the only one who’d actually go along with this bullshit if anyone asks. And I mean Sophia? We did hang out back in highschool.” 

You nodded. “True. And as for how long we’ve been dating?”

Jake shrugged. “What’s a believable timeline?”

“Three months?”

“The wedding is in three months.”

“Right.” You frowned. “Five months, then.”

“Five months is good.”, he ran a hand over his face, exhaling. “My dad is going to ask a lot more questions than that tho. He’s also going to be watching us like a hawk. What is stuff you are okay with doing and what not?”

You took a moment to think about it. You haven’t really had the time to think about dating since you broke up with Marcus. Graduating and your classes didn’t really grant you much free time so you pushed the thought of dating aside. Marcus was your first in everything and you haven’t really had the desire to kiss anyone after him but kissing Jake didn’t seem like the worst thing to do. Sophia always gushed over him being a very good kisser and well frankly being very good in bed. You probably knew more about Jake's sex life than he would like you to know.

“I don’t really care honestly. I don’t really feel like making out with you in front of your dad to convince him. If the situation requires it, a normal kiss is fine. Only if you are clean though.”, you shrugged. 

He tilted his head. “Requires it?”

You shrugged again. “What if someone calls bullshit?”

He hummed and nodded. 

“Could you do me a favour?”, he asked after a beat of silence. 

You raised your eyebrows. “A bigger one than this already is?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Could you, you know, like not tell your friends that we are doing this? It’s already embarrassing enough that I can’t really pull someone and have to bring a fake date, I really don’t want to give my friends ammunition to make fun of me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “So you want me to lie to my friends?”

He exhaled through his nose. “No. Yes? Kinda? I mean, I guess, we are going to meet up quite frequently now to get to know each other? All platonic of course. So like you could just tell them, that we started talking after we got the invites, which is not wrong and we are now just befriending each other, which also is not going to be a lie. Just don’t tell them about the fake dating to the wedding.” 

You signed, leaning against the backrest of the bench. Chaewon and Yujin would never shut up about you fake dating Jake Sim and would most definitely make fun of him. And probably you. You were in the same situation after all. Single and invited to your cheating exes wedding. You were done and over with Marcus. Yes he broke your heart and you were devastated but in hindsight he was such a horrible partner that all the pain in your heart turned into anger and resentment. Same went for Sophia, all the bad decisions you made in highschool were an accumulation of them being just horrible friends.

After a pause, you nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”, Jake asked, turning towards you, his face hopeful.

“Okay. I won’t tell them.”, you signed, “What kind of platonic frequent meetings did you have in mind? Not gonna lie, my classes take up a big chunk of my free time. I feel like I am more in the lab and the library or a random classroom than my own home.”

“I could come study with you! I definitely should also get back on track.”, he beamed at you.

You nodded and hummed, already dreading the time you will lose while you were talking to Jake, but whatever.

He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the table as he watched you with an exaggerated doe-eyed look. “We should probably get more comfortable with touching. Hand-holding, hugging… you know, typical couple stuff in front of the others. I tend to be quite clingy when i like someone.”, he said, his voice dropping playfully.

Without missing a beat you shoved his face away.

Jake laughed, leaning back. “I’m just saying, if you ever want to hold my hand, Y/N, you just have to ask.”

You deadpanned. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jake smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “So, deal?”

You sighed, but there was a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Deal.”

The two of you sat in silence for a second, thinking about what you were about to do. God you really needed a smoke now.

Jake drummed his fingers against the table, glancing at you. “So… you got any plans for the rest of the evening?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “figured, we might as well get a head start.”

You considered it for a second. “What are you suggesting?”

“Fried chicken?” he offered, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “An incredibly romantic first date.”

“Right? Thought I’d go all out,” Jake deadpanned, waiting for you to gather your things.

You shook your head but shoved your notes into your bag anyway. “Fine. You’re paying.”

“Of course. I am a gentleman Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, falling into step beside him.

The place Jake picked was small, tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, but it smelled amazing. Jake led the way to a booth near the window, sliding in across from you as he grabbed a menu.

“You’ve been here before?” you asked, scanning the options.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded. “We come here after games sometimes.”

You hummed, then glanced up at him. “So. Where do we start?”

Jake smirked, setting the menu down. “The basics, I guess. Favorite color?”

You gave him a blank stare. “Seriously?”

“What? Gotta start somewhere.”

You sighed. “Fine. Yellow.”

Jake nodded. “Nice. Mine’s blue.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Alright, Jakey. What else do I need to know about you?”

He thought for a second before saying, “I have an older brother. He’s working for my dads company in the States right now and he has been engaged since christmas. My parents. Well, you already know my dad is an absolute hard-ass. My mom’s a lot more chill, she honestly is great. Oh and we have a dog. Her name is Layla.”

You knew his dad was an asshole. Sophia told you as much back in highschool. From your experience you concluded that rich old business men were rarely nice persons. “Do they expect you to go pro?”

Jake hesitated, then shrugged. “No. I mean yeah? Kinda? My mom is very supportive and my dad thinks hockey is just a hobby and that I should focus on my studies.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Is he the reason why you didn’t go into physics? Back when we were in Highschool you loved it. I always wondered why you are in econ now.”

Jake hesitated, his grin fading. “Yeah. He’s… big on appearances. He wants me to follow in his footsteps, and go into the family business. Physics didn’t fit the mold, so here I am.”

“That’s… awful,” you said softly. You couldn’t imagine your parents holding you back from your passion. Your mom and dad were honestly gifts from the gods and you had a great childhood. You were still very close to both of them. 

Jake shrugged again, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “It’s whatever. What about you? Why forensic anthropology?”

You smiled, relaxing a little. “My parents are both doctors - surgeon dad, ER mom. Growing up, I thought medicine was the coolest thing ever, but I also didn’t want to deal with people.”

Jake chuckled. “That tracks.”

“Then I got obsessed with bones,” you continued, your smile widening. “The show, not like actual Bones and eventually, I realized I could study the same thing the main character studied, and here we are.”

Jake tilted his head, looking genuinely impressed. “That’s actually pretty cool.”

“It is,” you said, a hint of pride in your voice. “But it’s a lot of work. Lab hours, endless classes, late nights. I spend more time with composing bodies than living ones.”

Jake made a face. “Great. Can’t wait for that to come up in conversation at the wedding.”

“Oh, it will,” you grinned. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs out under the table. “Alright. So tell me stuff about hockey. I am sure that will come up since you do love it.”

Jake perked up slightly, his fingers still idly picking at his fries. “Do you know anything about hockey already?”

“I know you hit a puck with a stick and sometimes punch people,” you said, tilting your head. “That about sums it up, right?”

Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s like saying surgery is just cutting people open.”

You smirked. “Well, am I wrong?”

Jake shook his head but laughed. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “I don’t know. Why do you like it?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked, then looked down at his hands for a second, like he was trying to put words to a feeling. “It’s… freeing, I guess. When you’re on the ice, everything else disappears. It’s just you, the puck, the team. You don’t have time to think about anything else.”

You nodded, watching the way his face softened as he spoke. “That sounds nice.”

Jake glanced up at you, a little surprised. “Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The diner around you buzzed with quiet conversation, the occasional clang from the kitchen. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Then you nudged his foot under the table. “So, are you good?”

Jake scoffed. “Am I good?”

“Well, yeah,” you grinned. “Like do you sit on the bench? Is that a thing? Do you play a lot? I wouldn’t know.”

Jake leaned back, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Wow. That hurts.”

You laughed. “I’m just saying.”

“I’ll have you know,” Jake said, pointing a fry at you, “I’m actually really good. Top scorer on the team, even.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Impressive.”

Jake smirked, looking smug. “Damn right.”

You took another sip of your drink, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him. “You know, it’s weird actually talking to you like this.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, reaching for another fry. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you gestured vaguely, “back in high school, we were always around each other, but we never really talked. You were just Sophia’s boyfriend. And I was Sophia’s best friend. It’s like we existed in the same space but never actually interacted unless she forced us to.”

Jake let out a short laugh, nodding. “Yeah. You know, she used to make me come to movie nights with you? Even though I had zero reason to be there?”

“Oh, I remember,” you smirked. “You’d sit there pretending to pay attention, and then the second Sophia looked away, you’d be on your phone playing clash of clans.”

Jake grinned. “Hey, in my defense, your romcoms weren’t exactly exciting and I had a lot of energy as a teenager. You also always complained that you should be studying instead of watching movies.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I mean not all of us had that sports scholarship as a back up plan. Some people had to actually study and be good in classes.”

Jake snorted. “Yeah, joke’s on me. Turns out, my dad never wanted that future for me anyway.”

That made you pause. You studied him for a moment, catching the way his expression flickered before he masked it with a casual shrug. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I always thought I would study together with Marcus, him being able to tutor me and shit. Then he cheated and then I went into Anthro instead of business. I guess neither of us ended up exactly where we thought we’d be.”

Jake looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah. Guess not.”

The moment passed quickly, and he grabbed a fry from your plate, tossing it in his mouth. “But, hey, at least now I get to go on a fake date with my ex’s best friend. That’s a plot twist I never saw coming.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, well. Life’s funny like that.”

You’ve been in the library for two hours, slumped over your case notes, fingers rubbing at your eyes as you try to focus. Nothing makes sense. The forensic pathology case you're working on has a bunch of conflicting details, and no matter how much you dig through the information your teammates collected, you're not getting anywhere. The injuries don’t align with the victim’s position, and the more you try to piece it together, the more frustrating it becomes. You let out a long sigh, your frustration practically radiating from you as you sit back in your chair, staring blankly at the wall in front of you, when the door to your study room clicked open and Jake poked his head into the room. 

“Here you are!”, he entered the room. 

“Hi Jake.”, you signed and turned your head towards him. 

“Still at it?” he asked, setting his bag down and taking a seat at the table across from you. He had asked you the day before if you were free for a platonic getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-date, and you had to tell him no since you had to study. You were making little to no progress with a body you and a group of four others were tasked with, so you were stuck in the lab or the library until the deadline on Friday.

“Yeah,” you answered, rubbing your eyes again. “This case is just... I don’t even know anymore. None of the injuries make sense. I keep going over the information, and it’s like nothing fits.”

Jake gave a small nod, pulling out a laptop and carefully putting your notes to the side. “Sounds rough. Did you find anything new on the body today?”

You gave him a dry look. “Do I look like we found anything new, Jakey?”

He chuckled at your misery and fell into his studying routine, the occasional click of his pen filling the silence as you went back to your case notes. You both tried to focus, but the silence only helped you spiral further into frustration. The puzzle pieces just wouldn’t connect, and you felt like you were running in circles.

Finally, you slammed the file down in front of you with a groan. “Ugh! I can’t do this anymore!” you muttered. “I’ve been staring at these same injuries for an hour, and they just—nothing makes sense! I can’t figure out how the stab wound angles align with the body position.”

Jake glanced over, then leaned back in his chair, making a thoughtful face. “The victim’s injuries don’t match up with how you think the crime happened?”

“Yeah!” you said, looking at him desperately. “Like, there’s a stab wound here, but the victim was lying in a completely different position than the one that would’ve caused it. And the other injuries don’t line up either.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at the case file as though he were mulling it over. “Have you tried acting it out?”

You shot him an confused look. “You want me to act out a murder?”

“Why not?” Jake grinned. “It’s not like anyone else is here to witness it, and it could help you get out of your head.”

For a second, you were too tired to even protest, and the absurdity of it actually made you laugh. You shook your head. “Okay, fine. Let’s pretend we’re the victim and the killer, then.”

Jake immediately stood up, fully committing to the role. “I’m the victim. I’ll be... right here,” he said, dramatically flopping down on one of the chairs. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how seriously he was taking this. “Okay, I’m the killer. What am I supposed to do here?”

“Try stabbing me,” Jake said, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m waiting to be murdered.”

You hesitated, then walked over to where he was lying. “Alright, so I stab you here?” you said, positioning your pen as if it were a knife, looking back at your notes. Jake was actually not lying in the right position, so you adjusted the way he was slouching on the chair slightly.

“And now,” Jake flopped his head back dramatically, “try getting your position right. That’s important as well, right?”

You paused. “Wait a minute,” You turned back to your notes. “What if the position doesn’t even matter? What if the injuries happened at different times? What if the killer was trying to cover up the first stab wound by causing more damage? Oh my god that would explain why this– oh my god i can’t believe i am this stupid. I even put it down as perimortal.”

Jake stopped in his act, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Huh. So the victim didn’t just get stabbed once?”

You shook your head. “No, he has like 15 or 16 wounds, all made by the same knife… but maybe at different points in time. The first wound has to have happened somewhere else. The injuries don’t add up because they weren’t caused all at once. Those were made to cover up the initial cause of death, because the big knife is probably traceable.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. “Okay?”

It was like the entire case had just clicked into place, and it was all because you had let yourself stop overthinking it for a second. How could you have not thought about that? This was so obvious. Maybe studying with Jake wasn’t as much as a waste of time as you thought.

“Okay, wait,” you said, settling back in your seat, scrolling through your notes until you found the pictures of the stab wounds you had taken earlier that day and turned them toward Jake.

“Look here,” you pointed at a particular dent in the bones. “This is the cause of death. And the rest of the cuts in the ribcage bones are from a different angle and way weaker, most likely made with a different knife. So the body was probably moved, and the killer or maybe another person did the rest of the damage.”

Jake nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Damn, look at me. Maybe I should also go into forensics. I think we make a pretty good team. We could clear cases together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, Jakey. If you wanna look at some more gruesome bodies and have the smell of death linger around you, let’s go.”

He scrunched his nose. “On second thought, I think I would rather stay with Econ.”

You shook your head and giggled.

After finally giving your brain a break, you and Jake packed up your things and left the library. You stepped outside, stretching your arms above your head and your back made a satisfying cracking noise. Without thinking too much about it, you reached into your pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Jake, who had been rummaging through his bag for something, glanced up. His movements stilled when he saw the cigarette between your fingers.

He blinked once. Then twice.

“What,” he said flatly, like his brain was still buffering, “the hell are you doing?”

You exhaled, letting the smoke curl into the air. “Smoking?”

Jake just stared at you, completely thrown. “You—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. “Since when do you smoke?”

You shrugged. “For a while now.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “You study forensic pathology. You literally just spent hours complaining about injuries and cause of death, and you still–”

Before you could react, he reached out and plucked the cigarette right from your fingers.

“Seriously, Y/N. This is bad for you.”

You blinked at him, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Jake, give it back.”

“Nope.”

“Jake.”

“I’m not letting you poison yourself,” he said, holding the cigarette out of reach like you were a child he was scolding.

“Yah!” You frowned, moving to take it back, but Jake just held it out of reach, his expression now shifting to full-on disapproval.

“You, of all people, should know what these do to the body,” he scolded. “How are you in forensics and still put this shit in your lungs?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I chain-smoke every day.”

Jake scoffed again, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, great. I’ll tell your lungs that so they feel better.” And with that, he crushed the cigarette between his underneath his shoe before tossing it into a nearby trash bin.

You stared at him, half annoyed, half amused. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he echoed, still giving you that disappointed look. “You study dead bodies all day. What part of that made you think, ‘Hm, yeah, let me shorten my own lifespan’?”

You sighed, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Jakey.”

He ran a hand through his hair, still looking exasperated. “I just think it’s stupid.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. You knew he was right. Smoking was a bad habit you picked up thanks to Marcus and you weren’t able to shake it off until now.

After a moment, Jake let out a breath, as if shaking off his irritation, and nudged your shoulder lightly. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat. I am starving.”

“You know, we should make this a regular thing.”, you said looking at Jake while taking a sip of your iced tea and scrunching your nose. 

“What do you mean?”, Jake watched as you opened a packet of sugar, dumping the entire thing in your ice tea.

“Going to cafes.”, you shrug, “There are so many cute cafes here and I have a list of them to try out but i never got around to try them all. Maybe we could make this our thing? Going to a new cafe every week?” 

Its been a little bit more than three weeks since you and Jake first started to spend time with each other and he had to say it was surprisingly nice to hang out with you. His schedule was packed with practice and games while you were studying a lot. He sometimes thought that you spend a bit too much time in the library or the lab but he also knew that it was your main place to socialize with your squint friends. So he was happy to get you out of there on occasion.

Jake didn’t even think about it when he slid his latte across the table and took your lemon iced tea in return. During the last few times you’ve been out to grab food or drinks he noticed that you like to be a bit experimental with your orders. Asking the waiters for their favourites or Jake if he thought a particular drink would taste well. He took one sip and immediately winced at how absurdly sour your drink of today was.

You blinked at him, looking between the drinks. “Did you just–”

“You clearly hate that,” he said, nodding toward the lemon tea. “And you put so much sugar in your drinks, you might as well have ordered something else entirely.”

Your lips parted in surprise before you huffed out a small laugh. “Well, damn. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Jake just smirked, taking another sip of your tea suffering from the sourness while you happily drank his latte.

“I think that's a great idea.”, he then answered your question from before. “The weekly cafe thing. I mean it would definitely help with the whole building up a real connection and getting to know each other better.” He honestly was looking forward to meeting you every time you scheduled one of your getting-to-know-each-other-to-seem-convincing-dates. There have been 4 so far, but you had been texting quite frequently in between. Him asking how your classes were and you asking how training or his games went. He was pretty pleased with himself when you told him that you got an A thanks to his participation as a dummy victim in the library and you brought him a piece of cake as thank you when you met a few days later. 

You hummed in agreement, stirring your (his) iced latte. For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a spoon clinking against a glass filling the space between words. 

You broke the silence and leaned forward slightly. “Do you like it here?”

Jake glanced up at you. “Korea?”

You nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swirling his straw around his glass, trying to mix the sugar into the ice tea in hopes that it toned down the sourness. “I mean, I miss Australia sometimes, but I like it here. The city, the people.”

You hummed. “Same. I miss home sometimes, but I like being in Seoul. It’s nice having a fresh start, you know?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Plus, I love living with my roommates. Heeseung is a menace, and Jay’s the closest thing we have to a responsible adult. Their girlfriends—or well, Heeseung’s girlfriend and Jay’s almost-girlfriend—are also fun to be around. I think you’d like them.”

You smiled. “They sound fun.”

“They are.”

“I am sure you would like Chaewon and Yujin as well.” you said, sipping your (his) drink. “We met in first year, and they kind of adopted me. Took pity on me looking lost on my first day. I was really young when I started university, thinking back at it now.”

Jake raised a brow. “How old?”

“Seventeen.”

 “Oh yeah?”, Jake tried to think of a seventeen year old you. 

He remembered always thinking you were pretty cute in your school uniform—always so put together, always so proper. While he and Sophia were constantly scolded for their messy ties and rolled-up skirts, you were the picture of perfection, your blazer buttoned just right, your hair neatly pinned back. Even now, years later, you still dressed like that. Thoughtful, elegant, always intentional. Now, as he stood there, watching you fidget with the hem of your coat, he couldn’t help but smile. You were still the same person you’d always been, meticulous, thoughtful, a little bit nerdy.

“Mhm.” Your gaze drifted toward a small pond near the café’s patio, where a few kids were jumping around in front of it.

“You still are young, Y/N,” he said, following your gaze. “Get to my age, and then let’s talk about that again.”

You snorted. “You are like a year older than me. Probably less. My birthday is coming up soon.”

“Oh? When?”

“In like five weeks?”, you took another sip of his latte.

Jake’s lips twitched. “Are you gonna throw a party?”

“Probably not. I’d much rather go to parties than have to clean up the mess.”

He chuckled. “Fair.” 

He would have eaten a broom if you would have said yes. You never really one for big parties, but still attend every time. Most of the time he found you and Sophia smoking outside with Marcus and his friends. That idiot had such a bad influence on you and he hated seeing it back then. Marcus was a year older than Jake and therefore almost two years older than you and he pretended to be a bad boy. Which was cringe on its own but he tried to convince you that being a bit more rebellious was cool. It annoyed him back then so much he made it his mission to talk to you and get you away from your boyfriend and his friends, when he got the chance. Mhm maybe he did spend a bit more time than he initially remembered with you. He never understood what you saw in Marcus. 

“Are you going to the spring break party next week? The girls and I are planning to go.”, you interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t know yet. We’re playing a game that day and the day before. I’ll probably be dead tired,” he admitted, stealing a piece of your cake.

You tapped your finger against your glass, then glanced up at him. “You should come.”

Jake raised a brow. “You want me to crash girls’ night?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, idiot. It’s not really girls’ night if we attend a frat party, but I think it would be nice to see you there. I kinda wanna see how adult Jake parties. You were fun back in highschool, even though you scolded Sophia and me for being dumb shits every five minutes.”

Jake studied you for a second before a slow, amused grin pulled at his lips.

 “You want me to scold you again? I will if I catch you smoking.”

“I am fully aware of my deathly habit of inhaling nicotine and I am committing to the bit so hush. Also now I am a legal adult who can buy their own cigarettes.”

Just then a gust of wind brushed past, prompting you to tug your jacket tighter around yourself. As you adjusted, your bag tipped slightly, and your phone and  a pack of cigarettes clattered onto the table.

Jake’s gaze flickered down to them, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly while you put both back into your bag and put the bag onto the floor.

Jake exhaled, raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.” After that it was silent for a moment, just the sound of the children playing in the park and the birds chirping up in the trees .

“You know,” he said, his voice breaking the silence, “you still dress like you’re in school. All put together and stuff. It’s kind of adorable.”

You shot him a look, your cheeks flushing slightly, and he grinned. Oh. He liked that. “What do you mean with that, Sim?”

“Well you were always so put together and propper and look at you now. Always so put together and propper, even when you wear your lab goggles.”, he chuckled. Last week he barged into your lab (after asking the professor for permission) and dragged you out for burgers. He’d taken approximately a million 0.5 pictures of you that day, wearing your lab coat and gigantic goggles. 

“You looked like a mad scientist,” he’d said, grinning. “Big glasses and all. It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you’d protested, swatting at him, but he’d just laughed, dodging your hand.

The spring break party was in full swing, the bass from the music vibrating through the floor as you leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand. Chaewon and Yujin had abandoned you shortly after you got there, leaving you to people-watch and sip your drink. You were just about to text Jake to see if he was coming when you heard a familiar laugh.

You turned your head toward the kitchen door, and there he was Jake. Even back in highschool you understood what all the girls drooling over him saw in him. He looked unfairly good. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on you, his face lit up with that stupid boyish grin of his.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice loud and a little too enthusiastic. He started making his way over, weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission.

You smirked, setting your drink down on the counter. “Hey, Jakeyboy. I heard you won.”

Jake didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into a hug so tight it lifted you off your feet. You laughed, your hands resting on his shoulders as he spun you around once before setting you back down. The hugs were something new you were doing. But you had absolutely nothing against it.

“We crushed them,” he said, his voice brimming with pride. “Absolutely destroyed them.”

“I am glad! You were so worried! Is Jay feeling better?”, you asked softly, fixing the collar of his shirt when he set you down. 

“Yeah. When we came in he disappeared and went to search for his girlfriend.”, he rolled his eyes but smiled. You hummed and took a sip from your drink, he stole your cup and took a sip scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Y/N you have a horrible taste in drinks.” 

“That's not true. This is a sex on the beach? How can that be bad Jake?”, you spluttered stealing your cup back. 

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “It’s way too weak. You definitely need something stronger!” He turned to the counter behind him, rummaging through the bottles until he pulled out a half-empty bottle of tequila. “Here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tequila? Really?”

“Trust me,” he said, grinning as he poured two shots. He handed one to you and held up the other. “Cheers, Y/Nie!”

You laughed, clinking your shot glass against his. “Cheers, Jakey.”

You both downed the shots, and you winced as the tequila burned its way down your throat. Jake laughed, his hand brushing against your arm. “See? Way better than that sugary crap you were drinking.”

“Debatable,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. But you were smiling, and so was he.

The music shifted, and the opening notes of Umbrella filled the room. Jake’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed your hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

“What? No—” you started to protest, but he was already pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor.

“You’re not gonna make me dance alone, are you?” he said, turning to you with an exaggerated pout.

You rolled your eyes but let him drag you into the crowd. Jake was already moving and you laughed, shaking your head as you started to dance with him.

“You’re such a dork,” you said, but you were smiling. When did Jake become this…cute? Back in highschool he always watched over you like a guard dog when you met at parties. Admittedly you were underage and easily convinced to do dumb shit, but he seemed a bit tense back then, almost worried. And he for sure never made you dance. But this was nice. Seeing him laugh this freely, genuinely enjoying his time. He apparently needed a fresh start even more than you did, but it was nice to see that he got what he needed.

“Yeah, but you’re dancing with me, so what does that say about you?” he shot back, his grin widening.

You didn’t argue. Instead, just matched his energy and sang along to Umbrella. 

You spend quite some time dancing together, joined by your or his friends sometimes. Every time a Katy Perry song came on–which, for some reason, was way more often than usual–Jake would pull you back to the kitchen for another shot. He made not only you but also his friends and teammates and their girlfriends take shots in honor of Katy Perry, when they were around. By the sixth one, you were both laughing so hard you could barely stand.

“I think the universe is trying to tell us something,” Jake said, leaning against the counter as he poured another round.

“Yeah, that we’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” you said, taking the shot glass from him.

Jake laughed, his hand brushing against yours as he handed you the salt. “Worth it.”

You smirked, licking the back of your hand and sprinkling salt on it. “You’re such a bad influence.”

Compared to Marcus he definitely wasn’t. You did so many things to impress him that you weren’t proud of. Some of things turned into habits you couldn’t shake off, even 2 years later. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you downed the shot, the tequila burning less this time. Jake watched you, his grin soft and a little dazed. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You weren’t sure if you were imagining things but it looked like Jake’s eyes flickered down to your lips and then back up to yours. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your stomach flipped. You smiled, your fingers brushing intentionally against his as you set the shot glass down. “Me too.”

Jake wasn’t sure how long he’d been outside. The night had blurred together in a haze of tequila shots, bad dancing, and more shots. He’d lost you at some point, or maybe you’ve lost him, and now he was sitting on the porch steps, staring up at the stars and wondering how penguins could survive in such cold weather. His ass was cold. He couldn't imagine living somewhere even colder and having to sit on the floor.

The door creaked open behind him, and Sunghoon stepped outside, a beer in hand. “There you are,” he said, plopping down next to Jake. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Jake blinked, trying to focus on Sunghoons face. “Why?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Because you disappeared for, like, three hours. Who were you dancing with earlier?” 

Jake frowned, trying to remember. Dancing. Right. Y/N. “Oh. That was Y/N.”

Sunghoon’s eyes lit up. “Y/N? As in, the Y/N?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon repeated, grinning. “She’s here? At this party? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but then he froze. “Wait. Where is she?”

Sunghoon laughed, shaking his head. “You lost her?”

Jake ignored him, standing up a little too quickly and swaying on his feet. “I didn’t lose her. I just… misplaced her.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Sure.”

Jake had looked everywhere for you or at least he thought he had. He got stopped several times by other people and pulled to the kitchen for shots and his head was spinning just enough to make it hard to focus. Eventually, he gave up and stumbled outside again, hoping the cool air would clear his head.

The porch was quieter, the muffled bass from the party thumping faintly in the background. Jake blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and that’s when he saw you. You were leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from your fingers as you talked to some guy Jake didn’t recognize. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair was a mess. You’ve pulled it out of your neat ponytail and it was now in a rather messy bun. He’d always known you were pretty, obviously, but this was different. This was—he didn’t know what this was. Hot? Yeah, probably hot. But fuck he hated seeing the cigarette in your hand. His chest tightened, a sharp, uncomfortable feeling tugging at his gut.

Jake walked over, his steps a little unsteady, and plucked the cigarette from your hand without a word. He stubbed it out on the railing and tossed it into an ashtray, ignoring the way you pouted at him.

“That was my last one,” you said, your voice a little slurred.

Good.

“Good,” Jake said, crossing his arms. “Stop poisoning yourself. It’s not cool.”

You pouted harder, your bottom lip jutting out. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

And damn it this was unfair. Criminal, even. He almost felt like giving you another cigarette just so you’d stop making that face, because something about it made him feel ridiculously weak. 

The guy, who was leaning against the railing next to you, burst out laughing. He was obviously drunk–or high, or both–and his laughter was loud enough to make you glare at him. “Oh, this is rich,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Y/N just got her cig stolen.”

You kicked him in the shin, hard enough to make him yelp. “Shut up, Yangyang.”

“Ow! What the hell?” Yangyang said, rubbing his leg but still grinning. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you’re an idiot,” you shot back, giving him the finger.

Yangyang just laughed again, shaking his head. “Well, if you can’t smoke, I’m gonna smoke with Hendery.” He turned around, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hendery! Where are you, man?” Jake was pretty sure that whatever Yangyang was smoking wasn’t a cigarette. 

You rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath. Then, you turned back to him, your pout returning full force. Oh god, not again.

“That was my last cigarette, you know.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “And?”

“And now I’m sad,” you said, letting your forehead drop onto his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve ruined my night.”

Jake laughed, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your back, while the other one gripped the railing tightly. The world was spinning just very lightly, but he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to leave this spot. He liked having you this close, even if you’d just smoked and even if he hated the smell of it.

 “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

You groaned, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “You don’t understand. That was my emotional support cigarette.”

Jake snorted, his fingers brushing against your hair. “You’ll live.” 

You were warm. So warm. He barely registered what he was doing, just that he didn’t want to move.

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, but there was no real heat behind it. Your eyes were a little hazy. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake said, and this time, he laughed. He couldn’t help it. There was something about the way you pouted that was just… endearing? Or maybe that was the tequila talking. Either way, he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

 Jake’s head was spinning just enough to make everything feel a little surreal, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was imagining the way your eyes seemed a little too bright, your movements a little too slow. Were you high? Maybe. Probably. He didn’t care. Not really. Should he care? He felt like he should care if you were high. He always did back in highschool. He remembered how uncomfortable you looked when Marcus came up to you with his cigarettes or joints or drinks, but you never declined. That asshole.

Then, out of nowhere, he tilted his head back and said, “Have you ever thought about penguins?”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Penguins,” he repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “We should think more about them.”

You stared at him for a second, your brow furrowing like you were trying to figure out if he was serious. Then, without warning, you burst out laughing, leaning into him as your shoulders shook. “Oh my god, Jake. You’re so drunk.”

Jake frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus on you. “No, I’m not. I’m… perfectly fine. If I close one eye, I can see you in HD, so I’m not that drunk.”

That only made you laugh harder, your head resting against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It makes perfect sense,” he insisted, though he was grinning now. “You’re just… too high to understand.”

“I’m high?” you said, sitting up and wiping tears from your eyes. “You’re the one talking about penguins!”

Jake shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Penguins are cool. They’re, like the best birds.”

You snorted, leaning back on your hands. “Okay, Mr. Ornithologist. Tell me more about these superior birds.”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but then he seemed to forget what he was going to say. Instead, he just laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just really like penguins. Their asses don’t freeze even in snow.”

You giggled again, looking up at the night sky. “Yeah, well, maybe you should adopt one. You’d make a great penguin dad.”

Jake turned to look at you. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding solemnly. “ You could teach him how to skate and buy him mini gear and shit”

Jake laughed, leaning back on his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, giggling and leaning into him again.

Jake wasn’t sure how long you’d been sitting on the porch steps, your head resting on his shoulder as you both stared up at the stars, talking about everything and nothing. Yangyang  came back at one point and now Jake knew you were high, when Yangyang enthusiastically offered you another puff, which you accepted just as enthusiastically. Jake was perfectly content to stay like this forever.

That is, until Heeseung showed up.

“Jesus, what happened here?” Heeseung’s voice cut through the quiet, and Jake looked up to see his roommate standing in the doorway, his girlfriend was peeking out from behind him. Both of them were grinning, though Heeseung looked more exasperated than amused.

“We’re fine,” Jake said, waving a hand dismissively. “Go away.”

“You’re not fine,” Heeseung said, stepping onto the porch. “You’re both drunk off your asses and sitting on the ground like a couple of lost puppies.”

“I’m not drunk,” you said, lifting your head from Jake’s shoulder to glare at Heeseung. “I think I’m high. Jake’s drunk, though. And he wants to adopt a penguin and call it Noot Noot.”

You broke out into giggles, leaning into Jake as if this were the funniest thing you’d ever said. Jake groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “I do not.”

“You do,” you insisted, still laughing. “You said penguins are the best birds and that Noot Noot would be the perfect name. And you want to teach him how to play hockey.”

Heeseungs girlfriend bursted out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, that’s adorable.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Yeah, adorable. Come on, you two. Let’s get you home.”

Jake groaned, leaning back on his hands. “We’re fine. Leave us alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Heeseung said, bending down to grab Jake’s arm. “Up. Now.”

Jake tried to swat him away, but Heeseung was too strong, pulling him into a standing position. “Noooo.”, he lamented, “I don’t want to stand up. My legs hurt.”

As Heeseung hauled Jake to his feet, Jake turned to you, his expression suddenly serious. “Wait, Y/N has to come too,” he said, his words slurred but insistent. “She can’t go home alone. She’s... she’s gotta come with us.” You blinked up at him, your own head spinning as you tried to process his words. “I’m fine,” you said, though your voice was just as wobbly as his. “No, you’re not,” Jake said, his hand reaching out to grab yours. “You’re coming with me. Heeseung, tell her.”

Heeseung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. Baby, help me out here.”

His griflriend stepped forward to help you up, her laughter fading into a soft smile. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

You pouted but let her pull you to your feet, swaying slightly as you stood. “I’m not drunk,” you insisted, though the way you stumbled over your own feet said otherwise.

“Sure you’re not,” she said, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. “Let’s go.”

Heeseung and his girlfriend managed to get both of you into a cab and back to the dorm. The ride was a blur of laughter and half-hearted protests, and by the time they got there, Jake was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder at least once.

“Alright,” Heeseung said, unlocking the door and ushering everyone inside. “Jake, you’re on the air mattress. Y/N, you get his bed.”

Jake groaned, collapsing onto his bed. “Why do I have to sleep on the floor?”

“Because you’re a gentleman,” Heeseung said, tossing a pillow at him. It hit Jake square in the face, and he let out an indignant huff. “And because I said so.”

You giggled, sitting down on the edge of Jake’s bed. “Thanks, Heeseung. You’re the best.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah.” 

His girlfriend handed you a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. “Here. Take these. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You nodded, swallowing the pills with a grimace. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” she said, smiling. “Now, lets get you changed so that you can get some sleep. Both of you.”

She pulled you up again and ushered you into Jakes bathroom while Jake changed into his pyjama and flopped down onto the mattress, closing his eyes and almost falling asleep until you came back and threw yourself onto his bed. It creaked loudly and you giggled.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, Jake turned his head to look at you. “You good?”

You nodded, your eyes already closing. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, his voice soft. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” you murmured, already halfway asleep.

Jake smiled, turning onto his side and closing his eyes. The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of sheets as you shifted on the bed. 

Or at least, until you suddenly sat up, your eyes wide. “I don’t wanna sleep. Let’s watch Noot Noot.”

Jake blinked slowly, propping himself up on his elbows. “What?”

“Noot Noot,” you repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, the penguin. The one you want to adopt.”

Jake groaned, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “Y/N, it’s like 5 a.m.” How could you be so awake? You were drunk and high. 

“Exactly,” you said, climbing out of the bed and onto the air mattress next to him. The mattress squeaked under your combined weight, and Jake had to grab the edges to keep from rolling off. “It’s the perfect time for Noot Noot.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, giggling as you pulled out your phone and started searching for a video.

Jake didn’t even try to argue. Instead, he just leaned back, and you curled against like it was the most normal thing in the as you found the video and hit play. The sound of the penguin’s high-pitched “noot noot” filled the room, and you both burst out laughing.

“See?” you said, your voice full of triumph. “This is amazing.”

Jake couldn’t help but agree, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the video or because you were lying next to him, wearing his clothes and laughing like that stupid penguin was the funniest thing you have ever seen. Either way, he wasn’t complaining. His eyes slowly drifted shut. 

You woke up to the sound of someone groaning softly and an arm slung loosely over your waist. Your head was pounding, your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Where the hell were you? You blinked blearily at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. You recognized Jakes room and concluded that Jake was the one who woke you up. 

Your face heated up. Why were you sleeping on Jake? 

Jake stirred beside you, his face scrunching up as he groaned again. “Y/N,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and urgent. “I gotta… I gotta go. Like, now.”

You barely had time to roll out of the way before he scrambled off the air mattress, nearly tripping over the blanket tangled around his legs. He stumbled toward the bathroom, and you heard the door slam shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of him throwing up.

“Oh, Jake,” you muttered, wincing in sympathy as you dragged yourself off the deflated mattress. You grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and shuffled to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door before pushing it open.

Jake was kneeling in front of the toilet, his forehead resting on his arm. He looked up at you, his face pale and his hair sticking up in every direction. “I’m dying,” he croaked.

“You’re not dying,” you said, crouching down beside him and handing him the water. “Here, rinse your mouth out.”

He took the bottle with a shaky hand, swishing some water around before spitting it into the toilet. You reached over and started rubbing his back, your fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. “You’re such a lightweight,” you teased, though your voice was gentle.

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a few slow breaths. “I am so tired. Why did we think watching Noot Noot at 3 a.m. was a good idea?”

You froze, your hand stilling on his back. “Wait. What?”

Jake cracked one eye open to look at you. “You don’t remember? You literally squeezed yourself onto that stupid air mattress and made me watch, like, ten Noot Noot videos. You said it was ‘essential viewing.’”

“Oh my god,” you said, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, force you or make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Jake laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Relax, Y/N. If I was uncomfortable, I would’ve said something. I just didn’t expect to spend half the night watching a penguin meme.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Still. Sorry if I was annoying.”

“You’re always annoying,” he said, but the way he smiled took the sting out of his words. “Now, can we please go back to bed? I feel like death.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “But I’m not sleeping on that deflated mattress again. I’ll pump some air into it while you finish up here.”

Jake nodded, leaning heavily on you as he stood. “Deal. Just shut up for five minutes, okay?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you left him in the bathroom and went to find the air pump. By the time Jake emerged, looking slightly less green but still miserable, you’d managed to get the mattress back to a somewhat functional state.

“There,” you said, flopping down onto it. “Now you can have your bed, and I’ll take this.”

Jake just nodded and collapsed onto his bed, pulling the blanket over himself with a groan. “You’re a saint,” he mumbled, his voice already muffled by the pillow.

“I know,” you said, grinning as you settled onto the air mattress. The room was quiet again, the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner and Jake’s steady breathing. You closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion pull you back under.

“Y/N this is a stupid idea.”, Jake said, watching the recipe on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

“It’s actually a very good idea, Jakeyboy. We are two responsible adults who I am sure can make a lasagne and salad.”, you huffed while cutting up an onion. 

Jake raised an eyebrow, and moved next to you, grabbing some of the carrots. “Responsible adults who are cooking for their friends who are actually responsible adults as a thank you?”

“Exactly. I think cooking Hee and Jeonghee lasagne as a thank you for not letting us end in a ditch while we were high and or drunk is a responsible thing to do. Can you also peel the celery? Do we have to peel the celery?”, you stopped cutting the onion and frowned at Jake, holding up a stalk of celery.

Jake shrugged, searching through the drawer for a peeler. “Dude, I have no idea. Why does your recipe want you to put in celery?” He rummaged through the utensils, muttering to himself. “Jay has to have one somewhere here, right? Peelers could be categorized as knives?” If Jake was honest, he rarely cooked—at home or here in his dorm. Ramyeon was easy to make, as was fried rice or a fried egg, but lasagna? He was really unsure if or how he should match your confidence that the two of you could whip up something edible.

You frowned harder and grabbed Jakes phone from next to him. “I have no idea. Maybe i read something wrong? What's your pin?”

“100920.”, he started peeling the thickest carrot lying in the bunch, “Haha look at that. This is surely over average.”

You snorted and hit him lightly on the back. “Man. Jake. What the hell,” you scolded, scrolling through his TikTok chat. “Oh, wait, I think I kinda mixed up two different recipes? This one wants celery, and this one doesn’t. Should we still add it?”

“Yeah? Do you like celery?”, he peered over his shoulder to look at the video you were showing him now. 

“I mean, it’s ‘high-protein lasagna’ and not ‘lasagna straight from an Italian restaurant.’ I think we should stick to ‘straight from an Italian restaurant.’ Screw protein. Jay can get pumped when I’m not there,” you shrugged, sliding Jake’s phone into his back pocket.

“Just for your information, I’m also getting pumped. I need the protein too,” he muttered, his tone mock-offended, as he leaned against the counter next to you.

You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “Oh, man. You’ve got a long way to go, Jakeyboy. Jay looks delicious, and you still look like the 16-year-old Lego-building loser you were in high school. Muscle-wise, at least.”

“Hey!” Jake protested, bumping his hip into yours playfully. But then, in a move that surprised even himself, he stepped closer, towering over you slightly as he leaned against the counter, effectively caging you in. He flexed, his biceps straining against the sleeve of his shirt, and shot you a smug look. “Still a loser, huh?”

Your eyes flicked down to his arm, then back up to meet his gaze. You reached out, your fingers trailing along the curve of his muscle, slow and deliberate. “Hmm,” you said, pretending to consider it, but your touch lingered, your nails just barely grazing over his skin. Jake swallowed hard.

“Not bad,” you finally said, lips quirking. “But I’d still appreciate Jay’s more.”

For a split second, something in him stuttered. His breath hitched before he could stop it, his playful smirk faltering as your hand remained on his arm just a second too long. His brain scrambled, short-circuiting between the feeling of your fingers on him and the way your lips formed those words.

He forced himself to roll his eyes, to plaster on some version of nonchalance before his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You’re just jealous.”

You stepped a bit closer to him, your chest nearly brushing against his, and poked him right in the middle of his chest. Shooting him a fake pout. “You know, Jake, if you’re trying to impress me, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Oh. Oh, shit.

His brain blanked for a beat, completely wiped clean.

He could see every tiny detail of your face. The slight overline of your lipstick, the way your lashes curled, the teasing glint in your eyes that made his stomach flip. He could smell the floral tinges of your perfume.

Jake raised an eyebrow, willing his voice to stay steady. “Oh, yeah? What would impress you, then?”

You tilted your head, your expression as innocent as ever: "Hmmm. Maybe if you could actually cook this lasagna without burning it,” you mused, tapping a finger to your chin, “or, I don’t know, if you could actually keep up with Jay at the gym.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, the sound of the front door opening interrupted him.

“Uhh, am I interrupting something?” Jay’s voice came from the doorway, his tone laced with amusement as he took in the scene. 

You didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all! It’s actually perfect that you’re here. We were just talking about you.” You turned to Jay with a bright smile, completely unbothered. “Do we put celery in lasagna, yes or no?”

Jake blinked, his face heating up as he took a step back from you. Okay, what the hell just happened? He glanced at Jay, who was now grinning at Jake.

He raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “Celery in lasagna? That kinda feels like a crime Y/N.”

“That’s what I said!” Jake exclaimed, grateful for the distraction. His heart was still beating way too fast.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, no celery. Got it.”

After Jay hung up his jacket and washed his hands he dropped on the high stool in front of the counter Jake and you were currently back to cutting up the definitely over average carrot and the onion, bickering over how big the pieces should be. “Is there a reason why you two are trying to set our kitchen on fire?”

“Well until now nothing has been on fire. And we just were in the mood for lasagne.”, you said with a nod. 

“For the record, I have been bullied into this and I am innocent.”, Jake said, looking at Jay who gave him a knowing facial expression. Well not really knowing, actually. There was nothing to know. Or at least shouldn’t, right?

You shot him a look, waving the knife in his direction. “Sounds like a you problem, Jakeyboy, now go and try making the sauce.”

Jake groaned but obediently grabbed the pot of tomato sauce you’d set on the stove. He turned the burner on. “How high should this be?”

Jay groaned and stood up, moving towards the two of you. “Oh my god. You are going to burn the kitchen.”

You were sitting in the stands of the ice hockey rink on campus, waiting for Jake to finish his practice for the day. Usually, you would have waited outside, but the weather was atrocious, cold, windy, and raining sideways, so you opted for the lesser evil: the freezing arena. 

It wasn’t ideal, but at least you weren’t getting drenched. You curled up on the hard plastic seat, wrapped in Jake's hoodie. He had tossed it your way when you complained about the cold earlier, your suit pants and the t-shirt you were wearing were warm in the lab with your lab coat on top but you were freezing in the rink. You pulled your noise-canceling headphones over your ears and attempted to focus on your notes. You’d been at it for a while now, trying to memorize the damn nerves of the human leg, but you’d officially hit your limit when the Nervus obturatorius made you lose your own damn nerves.

With a frustrated sigh, you gave up, glancing toward the ice.

Your eyes found Jake immediately, not that you were looking for him. He was just easy to spot, standing out among his teammates, moving across the ice with a confidence that was second nature. His strides were powerful, effortless, muscles flexing under all that gear. He didn’t lie when he told you that he was good. 

It was weird seeing him like this, so focused. You were so used to the version of him that never took anything seriously, always smirking, always teasing. But here, in his element, he looked different. Determined. Sharp. A little more grown up than the Jake you met years ago. You couldn’t understand how his father could not see how much Jake loved and needed this sport. On the ice he was just ruthless. You definitely weren’t an expert, but after a bit of research you figured out that quite a few players graduated from DA and immediately went into the NHL. You were sure that if Jake tried he would get in. He just needed a small little push to even try. 

And then, like he felt you watching, Jake skated past the glass, catching your gaze. And then, the bastard winked at you before turning back to his drill like nothing happened.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled fondly nonetheless.

You saw him all the time now. The weekly cafe dates-not-dates became a thing and then the Wednesday post-practice hangout just happened after he asked you to wait until his practice was over so he could walk you home. And your study dates-not-dates? Well, if you had to suffer, he had to suffer, too. And most of the time they ended with free food for you after wards, so who are you to complain? 

 And maybe–just maybe–you didn’t mind it. Jake was steadily slipping into the role of your best friend, weaving his way in before you even realized it. Even your friends accepted him when he first barged into one of your study sessions and now he had the pleasure of being your dummy victim for the last month and a half. He didn’t seem to mad about it any you genuinely enjoyed him being around. Sometimes you looked forwards to studying just cause it meant you and Jake went out for dinner afterwards. Like you did with the cafes, you are trying out a new restaurant every week. So far your favourite one was the small Mandu place that was in one of the rather creepy alleyways around your subway station. You had Jake with you, right, your scary kinda buff hockey playing…friend. 

Before you could think too hard about that, the practice wrapped up. The guys disappeared into the locker room, and you forced yourself to refocus on your notes, determined to actually learn something before Jake finished showering.

It was quiet for a while, the rink mostly empty, just the occasional distant noise from the locker room. You were so focused, that you didn’t hear him approach.

Until–

“Boo.”

You screamed. Loud.

Your headphones flew off, your tablet nearly tumbled off your lap, and your heart slammed against your ribs.

Jake stood behind you, doubled over, laughter spilling from his lips, hands on his knees as he wheezed. “Oh my God–your face–”

“You asshole!” You smacked his arm, still clutching your chest. “What is wrong with you?!”

He was still grinning, eyes bright with amusement, hair damp from his shower. He was in sweats now, his hockey bag hanging off his shoulder.

“You scare way too easy,” he teased and dropped down on the seat next to you.

“You loomed!”

He snorted. “I stood there.”

“You loomed,” you insisted, glaring at him.

Jake just smirked, then nudged your knee with his. “Are you waiting for me?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I just love freezing my ass off in an ice rink for fun.”

“Aw, Y/N, you’re so cute,” he teased, reaching out to pat your hair like you were some little kid.

You smacked his hand away with a huff, shoving your iPad into your bag. “Fuck you, Jake.”

He shrugged, standing up and holding out a hand. “Nah, man, I’d rather have someone else do that job.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Oh?” You tilted your head, voice dripping with faux curiosity. “Missionary? Or cowboy? Maybe 69?”

Jake snorted, shaking his head. “Reverse missionary. I wanna see the face of whoever has the pleasure of feeling Jake Junior doing his magic.”

You lost it, laughter spilling out of you. “Sure, Jake.”

Still giggling, you started walking toward the exit together. 

Jake shot you a side glance, smirk still firmly in place. “Okay, but for real, if I had to pick a second-favorite position–”

You groaned. “Why are we still on this?”

“Because you asked,” he pointed out, completely unbothered.

You gave him an exasperated look but played along. “Fine. What’s Jake Junior’s backup move?”

Jake pursed his lips, pretending to think. “Reverse cowgirl is solid. Great view, minimal effort.”

You snorted. “So, you’re lazy.”

“I prefer efficient,” he corrected, giving you a pointed look.

You hummed as if considering it. “Okay, but wouldn’t that make missionary way too much effort for you?”

Jake gasped dramatically. “Excuse you, I give 110%.”

“Sure you do.”

“You doubt my skills?” He placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Wow. I thought you believed in me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I totally sit around thinking about your sexual performance.” Actually 16 year old you did. Whenever Sophia told you about what they were doing. How good he was. But 21 year old you hasn’t really done so. In quite a while. Maybe you should think about it again. 

Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “You should.” 

You shoved his shoulder, laughing again.

You reached the heavy entrance door to the rink and when Jake used his shoulder to open it you.

Your hands were still linked. His hand was warm in yours and you could feel the calloused skin on the inside of his palm pressing against yours softly.

Huh.

You should’ve let go.

Neither of you did.

“Yo, lovebirds!”

You looked up to see Jay leaning out of a car in the parking lot, grinning like an idiot.

“Are you getting in or gonna stand there holding hands all night?”

Your stomach dropped.

You let Jake's hand go like it burned, stuffing your own into your hoodie pocket.

Jake looked completely unbothered. He just shoved his hands into his own pockets, glancing at you with an easy smirk. “You jealous, man?”

Jay laughed. “Yeah, bro, I’m really heartbroken over not being the one holding your hand.”

You gasped and clutched your chest dramatically. “Oh my god. Jake! You should have told me you are with Jay! I can’t  get in between your homoerotic love-hate relationship!”

You quickened your pace and Jake jogged after you, still chuckling under his breath.

The moment the doors shut, Heeseung turned in his seat, eyebrows raised. “So… when were you guys planning on telling us?”

You blinked. “Telling you what?”

Jay scoffed. “Oh, come on. The looks, the hand-holding, the fact that you guys are basically attached at the hip these days.” He turned back toward the front, muttering, “I still can’t believe I had to witness you flirting in the kitchen while almost burning it down.”

“Hey! It didn’t burn down!”, you protested, not focusing on the flirting part. You still weren’t sure what happened there, but you knew that you definitely liked Jake's reaction. 

Jake stretched his legs out, completely relaxed. “You sound jealous, man.”

“Duh,” Jay said immediately. “We’ve been through so much, Jake, and you go and fall in love with someone else? Unreal.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung laughed and reversed out of the parking spot. “Damn. Jake you really haven’t asked her yet?”

You stiffened. “Because there’s nothing to ask.”

Jay turned back around, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Sure. Y/N, you hang out more with Jake than I do, and I live together with him. I sure know when my homo-erotic lover is about to ask his loser best friend to be his girlfriend.”

Jake let out a low, dramatic sigh, tilting his head back against the seat. “Man. It’s so hard being this wanted.”

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Heeseung laughed. “C’mon, you really expect us to believe you’re not together? Like, at all?”

“Yes!”

“Then what are you?”

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

Jake glanced at you, amused, like he was waiting to see what you’d say.

You inhaled sharply. “We’re just friends.”

Jay hummed. “Friends who go on, what, three dates a week?”

Jake shrugged. “Gotta make time for my favorite person.” 

And you said “We aren’t going on dates!”, at the same time. 

You snapped your head toward him. “Jake.”

He just smirked and you hit him again.

Jay and Heeseung groaned at the same time. “Oh, my God.”

You groaned back, louder. “Oh, my God, what?”

“Nothing,” Heeseung said, clearly not meaning it. “It’s just exhausting watching you guys be this in denial.”

You crossed your arms, fully exasperated now. “There’s nothing to be in denial about.”

Jay just shook his head. “Right, right. Tell me that again when you’re not literally sitting in his favourite hoodie.”

Your stomach dropped. You glanced down.

…Shit.

You were wearing Jake’s hoodie. That said nothing though. You wore them often. You had the talent to not bring weather appropriate clothing, mostly because your outfits wouldn’t look good if they were weather appropriate. You’d rather freeze than wear a ugly jacket.

Jake grinned, looking way too entertained. “I told you to bring your own.”

You kicked him and leaned forward. “Jongseong Park, are you seriously saying you don’t believe in cross-gender friendships? Psychologically, they’re crucial for emotional intelligence, breaking down gender stereotypes, and even improving romantic relationships. Anthropologically, they’ve played a key role in human survival!” You gesticulated between you and the two of them sitting in the front. ”Men and women have always worked together, forming alliances and strengthening social cohesion. So, like, without cross-gender friendships, we probably wouldn’t even be here. So maybe you should get some female friends first, to improve your social and emotional skills and not judge Jakeyboy and me because we can be friends without fucking each other.”

Heeseung and Jay just stared at you.

Mouths slightly open, eyes blinking slowly, processing the absolute monologue you just hit them with.

Jake, however, just grinned and leaned back in his seat.

“Man,” Heeseung said, finally breaking the silence. “I actually forgot you were smart.”

Jay whistled lowly, shaking his head. “Damn. And she’s hot too. Unbelievable.”

Heeseung turned to Jake, looking him up and down with newfound pity. “Bro. You do not deserve this.”

Jake scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Jay started the motor and shook his head dramatically. "Dude. You’re dating a nerd. I've lost my nerd to another nerd. I knew I was never enough for you."

"I'm not dating her!" Jake protested.

"You wish you were dating her," Heeseung shot back, grinning.

You nodded solemnly. “Jay’s the real loser here.”

Jake groaned. “You guys suck.”

Jay ignored him, shaking his head as if he was still in mourning. “I mean, I thought we had something special, you know? And then he goes and picks her?”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as if truly mourning Jay’s heartbreak. Then, with the most sympathetic look you could muster, you placed a hand on his shoulder. You were so glad for this distraction, Jesus. You were really not in the mood to explain to yourself and anyone else what the hell was going on with you and Jake. And why you were just walking hand in hand. Why didn't you let go even when you realized. 

“Oh, Jay,” you said, voice laced with faux pity. “I am so sorry you fell for him. I can assure you that he has not been cheating on you with me. I have way to high morals for that.”

Jay let out a deep, shaky breath, nodding solemnly. “It’s… it’s been really hard.”

Heeseung placed a comforting hand on his other shoulder. “Stay strong, man.”

Jay sniffled dramatically. “I mean, I thought we had something special, you know?” He gestured vaguely toward Jake, looking absolutely betrayed. “

Jake rolled his eyes. “You guys are so stupid.”

“Stupidly heartbroken,” Jay corrected, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head. “It must be painful, to think you lost your one true love to a woman who looks at dead bodies all day.”

“Exactly!” Jay threw his hands up in exasperation. “Like, what do I have to do? I’m young, I’m attractive, I come from money–”

“Yeah, but you don’t have weird hobbies,” you pointed out with mock seriousness. “That’s clearly where you went wrong.”

Jake scoffed. “Oh, so my hobbies are weird?”

“You monologue about black holes for fun, bro,” Heeseung said.

Jake scowled. "First of all, wormholes are a fascinating theoretical concept—"

"God, there he goes again," Jay fake-gagged, making you burst out laughing. 

You liked Jakes ‘weird’ hobbies. You didn’t particularly enjoy physics but if he could listen to you ramble about bone fracturing you could listen to his rambling about wormholes. It was really cute actually.

"You guys just don’t appreciate science," Jake huffed, crossing his arms.

"Not true," Heeseung said. "I appreciate science when it’s not being explained to me at 2 a.m. because some idiot suddenly had an existential crisis about black holes swallowing the Earth."

Heeseung leaned back in his seat, nodding in your direction. “See? This is what you could have, if you want to steal Jay's boyfriend.”

You just smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, Jay, if it makes you feel better, I would be treating him well. You know, take him out, hold his hand, maybe even listen to his little physics rants. Then he can home to you and treat you like the king you are and satisfy all your needs. I just learned that his preferred position is missionary.”

Jay gasped. “You’re gonna let him nerd out?”

Jake glared at you. “Don’t call it nerding out.”

“I am in love with a nerd,” Jay muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"Oh, Jay," you clutched your chest like you were heartbroken for him. "I am so sorry. Falling for a loser like Jake must be so hard."

Jay nodded solemnly. "It is. The worst pain I’ve ever known."

Jake groaned. "You both suck."

"You love us," Heeseung and Jay said in unison.

Jake just slumped in his seat, muttering under his breath while you all laughed.

Almost two hours later you were laying on Jake's sofa bickering over what movie you wanted to watch today. You were scrolling through Disney plus while he was on the toilet when you saw two very familiar faces.

“Continue watching?”, you muttered and clicked on the picture just as Jake came back from the bathroom. “You started watching Bones?” 

Jake, dropped down on the sofa next to you, lounging with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table. “You said it’s the reason why you are the person you are now.” he said, stretching lazily. “Figured I’d see what the hype was about.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You weren’t sure what stunned you more—the fact that he actually gave the show a chance or the fact that you felt weirdly… touched by it.

“And?” You folded your arms, giving him a pointed look.

He sighed dramatically. “It’s annoyingly good.”

A triumphant grin stretched across your face. “I knew it! I told you, you would like it!”

“Please just tell me they get together.”, he said resting one of his arms on the armrest behind you.

You pressed your lips onto each other and shook your head: “I will not spoil anything. You gotta watch Jakeyboy.” 

Jake scoffed, reaching for the remote. “Booth and Brennan are the most stubborn people on Earth. They’re practically begging to make their lives harder. They should just fuck.”

You just laughed.“I will say nothing. How much did you watch?”

He shrugged and pressed start on start. “Five seasons.”

Your jaw dropped. “Jake!”

“What?” He shrugged, grinning at your shock. “I got hooked.”

“You are insane.”, you shook your head. “Where did you find the time to watch five season in like seven weeks?”

“I mean I watched other stuff as well. But I tend to watch it whenever I am not eating anything? I don't really want to eat and look at a rotting corpse? I am normal compared to you.”, he shrugged and grabbed the blanket that was laying next to him, draping it on top of his and your legs. 

“Hey!”, you protested.

Jake was heading out of the business building, stretching his arms above his head as he stepped into the crisp afternoon air. The sun was out, and it instantly put him in a better mood. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that you had texted him earlier, asking if he wanted to go for coffee at your café—the one where you’d had your first date-not-date. He didn’t even have to think twice before saying yes.

You loved the sun, but between your major and the sheer number of hours you spent buried in your studies, you rarely got to enjoy it. So whenever the weather was decent, you made it a mission to drag him or one of your friends outside with you. He thought it was kind of endearing.

He was checking his phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he read your text you sent him during class when he suddenly heard his name being called: “Jake!” 

His head snapped up at the familiar voice. A man in a sharp suit strode toward him, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

“Uncle Jungjae?” Jake barely had time to register what was happening before he was pulled into a firm hug. “What are you doing here?”

His uncle patted his back before stepping away, smiling knowingly. “Nice to see you too, son.” Then he lifted his laptop bag slightly. “I was invited to give a lecture on venture investing. Thought I might catch you while I was here. So surprise!”

Jake blinked. “Well, you got me.”

“Of course I did,” Jungjae chuckled, throwing an arm around Jake’s shoulders as they started walking toward the campus entrance. “So, tell me, how’s school? Hockey? Life? Your father mentioned you have some exciting news.” His eyes glinted with curiosity.

Jake stiffened slightly. Of course, his dad sent his uncle to poke around.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Everything’s good. School’s school, hockey’s hockey. Same old.”

“And your girlfriend?” His uncle’s smirk was all-knowing. “Your father was very surprised when you told him you were bringing someone to the wedding. Or, well that you had a girlfriend at all.”

Jake forced a tight-lipped smile, heart sinking. Damn it.

“Ah, yeah. Y/N,” he said, feeling oddly hot under the collar. “We, uh, we’ve been together for a while now.”

Jungjae raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve been very secretive about it.”

Jake swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “I just… didn’t think it was a big deal. And, you know, my personal life isn’t exactly dinner conversation with my dad.”

His uncle hummed. “Well, I’d love to meet her. Without your dad present. He is going to intimidate that poor girl to no end.”

Jake had always been fond of his father’s younger brother. Unlike most of his family, his uncle was consistently supportive, kind, and easy to be around. He himself didn’t have any children but it was clear he was his favorite child in the family. 

Jake opened his mouth to stall when, as if on cue, he spotted you approaching from across the courtyard.

His stomach dropped. Shit.

You were walking toward him, unplugging your headphones, wearing one of his jackets you stole over one of the summer dresses he knew you loved. You really looked cute in it. Younger, not as sharp as you usually did. 

Thinking fast, he plastered on a smile and waved you over. “Y/N! Baby!”

Your brows knitted together for the briefest moment before your eyes flicked toward his uncle. Jake barely tilted his head in his direction and widened his, just enough for you to catch on.

A second later, you nodded slightly, your expression smoothing into something effortlessly sweet as you closed the distance between you two.

“Hi, Jakey.”

If Jake wasn’t currently fighting the urge to die inside, he might have cringed at how effortlessly you played the part. Instead, he just wrapped an arm around your waist, hoping his uncle didn’t notice how stiff he was.

His uncle looked very amused.

“Well, well,” he mused, shaking his head. “Now I see why your father was so shocked.”

Jake forced a grin. “Yeah, uh–Uncle Jungjae, this is Y/N.” He gestured between the two of you. “Y/N, my uncle.”

You turned to his uncle with a polite smile, offering your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Jake’s told me a lot about you.”

Jungjae shook your hand, his grip firm. “And yet, this is my first time hearing about you.”

You laughed lightly. “Well, Jake’s a man of mystery, I suppose.”

Jake nearly choked. Mystery? He was the least mysterious person on the planet.

His uncle gave a thoughtful nod. “That he is.” His expression softened, though, as he studied Jake. “It’s good to see you finally settling down.”

Jake exhaled, squeezing your waist in what he hoped looked like an affectionate gesture.

You handled the whole situation flawlessly. “Of course,” you said, bumping Jake’s side. “I had to whip him into shape.”

Jungjae laughed, patting Jake’s back. “I like her.”

Jake swallowed thickly, forcing another grin. “Yeah, me too.”

And maybe, just for a second, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

His uncle glanced between the two of you as if analyzing something before he started walking toward the exit of the courtyard. “I was just heading to my car. Walk with me?”

Jake hesitated, but you were already nodding. “Of course,” you said, looping your arm through his.

And just like that, you were walking beside him, your fingers trailing down his wrist before casually slipping into his hand.

Jake froze for half a second before forcing himself to relax.

It wasn’t weird. You’d held hands before. But something about the way you did it so naturally made his chest feel a little too tight. He squeezed your hand lightly, trying to focus on the conversation.

“So,” his uncle said as they walked. “Tell me, Y/N–how did you two meet?”

You barely missed a beat. “Through mutual friends.”

“And how long has it been?” Jungjae asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake panicked for half a second before you replied smoothly, “A few months now.”

Thank god you could actually act your part out better than him. He was sure his uncle would see through every lie he would try to tell him. 

The older man hummed. “Interesting. Your father made it sound like it was much newer than that.”

You let out a breathy laugh, looking at Jake with almost sparkling eyes. He has never seen this facial expression on your face but he didn’t want you to stop looking at him. “Well, when he told his dad we just put a label on our relationship but we have been going on dates since around the end of last year.”

His uncle gave a slow nod. “I suppose that makes sense.” Then, after a beat, he added, “You’re studying forensic anthropology, right?”

You perked up immediately. “Yes! Jake mentioned that?”

“He did,” Jungjae said, glancing at his nephew, knowing very well that Jake never said anything about that. It must have been his father. “And he said you were very passionate about it.”

Jake found himself relaxing more and more as you started talking about your studies. You were always so excited about what you did, and it was hard not to get caught up in your energy. He loved listening to you rambling about your cases or whatever you thought was interesting. Huh, maybe his friends were right. You were a nerd. 

Even his uncle seemed to enjoy the conversation, nodding along and asking more questions. By the time you reached the parking lot, Jake had almost forgotten that this wasn’t real.

Jungjae stopped by his car and turned to the two of you with a warm smile. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Y/N. I can see why Jake’s so taken with you.”

Jake stiffened. Oh shit.

But you just smiled sweetly, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go. “It was really nice meeting you too, sir.”

Jungjae patted Jake’s shoulder. “We’ll talk soon, alright?”

Jake nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, of course.”

His uncle got into his car, and as soon as he was out of sight, Jake let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

You turned to him with a smirk. “Well, baby, that was fun.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I hate this.”

“No, you don’t.” You nudged him playfully. “Come on, fake boyfriend. You still owe me coffee.”

Jake shook his head but let you pull him along.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or deeply concerned that lying to his uncle felt so easy at the end.

You were listening to Kazuha excitedly talk about wanting to ride the biggest rollercoaster when a familiar voice called out.

“Yo, Y/N!”

Turning toward the voice, you spotted Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon and their respective girlfriends walking towards your group. The moment Jays girlfriend saw you, she brightened. “Oh! Sakura, K! I didn’t know you guys were coming too!”

You met Jay's girlfriend briefly when you were having one of your movie evenings and she was very sweet to you. 

Sakura beamed, immediately hugging her. “We just got here not long ago!”

Meanwhile, K stepped forward, bumping fists with both Jay and Heeseung. “Been a while,” he said, grinning.

Jay smirked. “Dude, it’s been, like, two weeks.”

“Which is a while,” K shot back.

The group easily fell into conversation, exchanging hugs and greetings. Heeseung’s girlfriend was talking to Yunjin about a new book, while Sunghoon and Jake were talking to K, giggling like three small girls.

You shook your head with a small smile. 

At one point Jake slowed down his pace and walked next to you and Chaewon, just listening to the two of you talking about a class she already passed and you were currently suffering through. 

It wasn’t long before the others started eyeing the biggest, fastest ride in the park.

“You’re coming, right?” Kazuha asked you.

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah… no.”

Jake scoffed from beside you. “Same.”

Sunghoon frowned. “Dude, you’re seriously not coming? Again?”

“You know I don’t do rides,” Jake said, crossing his arms. “It’s not my fault my body refuses to cooperate.”

“Oh my god, you get motion sickness,” you realized, looking up at him.

Jake groaned. “Don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed.

The rest decided to go and lined up in the queue without you, leaving the two of you alone. 

Jake slung an arm around your shoulder, watching your friends queuing up. “Guess you’re stuck with me for the night.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, what a tragedy.”

The two of you decided to walk around the carnival on your own, not wanting to be bored by waiting for your friends when the operator told you they would have to wait at least twenty minutes. 

Jake walked beside you, his arm still around your shoulder when he suddenly stopped in front of a game stand. “Oh my god look at those plushies. They look like a cheap badly made mini version of Layla. I am going to win one!”

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the game. It was one of those classic carnival scams–the one where you had to knock over a pyramid of weighted milk bottles with a baseball.

“Oh, are you?” you teased, crossing your arms, leaning onto the booth next to him. “Because I don’t know, Jakeyboy, this looks kinda hard.”

He scoffed, rolling his shoulders like an athlete about to enter a championship game. “Have a little faith in me.” He winked for dramatic effect before turning to the booth worker. “Three tries.”

The first ball bounced off the bottles without even toppling one.

You barely stifled a laugh as Jake straightened his stance. “That was a warm-up.”

The second throw knocked over a single bottle.

Jake cursed under his breath. You bit your lip, watching his jaw clench in frustration.

By the third attempt, you were almost hoping he’d miss just to keep teasing him. But with sheer determination and possibly some anger, he threw the last ball with a little too much force, sending the bottles scattering.

“Yes!” Jake pumped his fist in the air before turning to you with the cockiest grin. The booth worker asked him what plushy he wanted and he enthusiastically asked for the beige dog.

He handed Jake the little dog plushy and he handed it to you. “Here. A token of my victory.”

You took it, grinning up at him. “Aw thank you Jakey. Are you sure you want to give me fake Layla?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, take her.”

With your new plushy secured in one arm, you let Jake guide you toward the food stands, where the smell of fried dough was practically calling your name. Within minutes, the two of you were sharing a funnel cake, tearing off pieces as you strolled through the festival.

At some point, Jake paused, squinting at you.

“What?” you asked, mid-bite.

He smirked. “You’ve got sugar on your face.”

Before you could wipe it away, he reached out, brushing his thumb against the corner of your lips.

You froze.

It was such a simple action, something so natural, and yet your brain short-circuited for a second too long.

Jake, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. “There. All good.”

You blinked at him. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he teased, popping a bit of sugar-covered dough into his mouth like nothing happened.

You exhaled, shaking your head with a laugh as you kept walking, pretending your heart wasn’t suddenly hammering in your chest.

When you and Jake made it back to the ride, the others were mid-flight, getting tossed around like rag dolls. You both stood at the base, watching as Kazuha’s scream pierced through the air, while Jay, next to her, looked like he was regretting every life choice that had led him there. The ride finally came to a halt and your friends stumbled out, looking various levels of disheveled. Sakura’s hair was windswept, K was holding onto her for balance, and Heeseung’s face had gone a little pale.

Chaewon spotted you immediately, her eyes zeroing in on the plush dog. “Well, well, what do we have here?” She smirked, poking the dog’s nose. “Did Jakeyboy win you a prize?”

You held the dog protectively to your chest, shooting her a mock glare. “Don’t insult our child.”

Chaewon burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Your child? Hey guys, look! Y/N and Jake had a baby!”

Sunghoon grinned. “Wow, congrats on the new addition!”

Kazuha smirked, leaning over to get a better look at the plushy. “What’s its name?”

You rolled your eyes, playing along. “Sir Fluffington the Third.”

Jake snorted, nodding seriously. “Yeah, it was a tough labor, but we pulled through.”

The whole group erupted into laughter, and even though your cheeks were burning, you couldn’t help but laugh along. 

As the teasing about "Sir Fluffington the Third" died down, Chaewon suddenly grabbed your arm and tugged you a few steps away from the group.

“So.”, she said and hooked her arm into yours. “You and Jake, huh?”

You furrowed your brows. “What about me and Jake?”

“What do you mean what about the two of you.?” Chaewon swung your connected arms slightly as the two of you walked. “You two have been getting pretty close lately.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Mm-hmm.” She hummed, clearly unconvinced. “That’s why he won Mr. Fluffington the third just now. Because you are just friends.”

You scoffed. “I think I’d know if there was something more than friendship going on between the two of us.”

Chaewon stopped in her tracks, turning to face you with an amused expression. “Would you, though? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like everyone else already knows except you.”

Her words made you pause. You and Jake had become pretty comfortable with each other. And you really enjoyed spending time with him. But that didn’t mean– Did it?

Chaewon grinned at your silence. “See? Told you.”

“Even if there was something between us, there is no chance that his dad would let him date me.” You swallowed hard, forcing a shrug. “Their relationship is… strained, and it makes things complicated. It’s not as simple as just asking each other out.”

Chaewon’s face softened. “Oh.” She paused. “I didn’t know. I am sorry Y/N.”

You nodded, relieved she accepted that answer without pushing for more. 

Chaewon nudged you lightly. “So, what? You guys are just dancing around each other, until his daddy gives you the yes?”

You let out a short laugh. “No. There is really nothing between Jake and me. We are just friends. I would have told you if it was more.”

Oh if she only knew.

Your group had unanimously decided that the Ferris wheel would be the last ride of the evening. It was almost midnight, and most of the festival-goers had already trickled out, leaving behind clusters of drunk students squeezing in one last round of fun.

You stood at the back of the line, chatting absentmindedly with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon as the line moved forward. You were just about to follow Jay into the gondola he and Sunghoon were sitting down in when the ride operator suddenly stopped you and Jake.

“Sorry, you’ll have to take the next one,” the worker said, lowering his hand before either of you could step into the gondola.

Jay shot Jake a look so obvious you almost groaned out loud.

He didn’t even need to say anything. You knew what was happening here. 

With an exhausted sigh, you took a step back, standing beside Jake. The doors locked with a metallic clink, and you watched as it slowly ascended, leaving the two of you stranded on the platform.

The silence stretched between you until the next gondola arrived.

As the Ferris wheel lurched back into motion, you slid into the seat across from Jake, stretching your legs out slightly. Jake, however, rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, before blurting out, “So… Jay wants me to ask you if you wanna be my girlfriend. Like, right here. Right now.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, throwing your head back. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. We would have absolutely fit into their gondola. Man, your friends are so noisy, Jake, it's unbelievable.”

Jake tilted his head, feigning innocence. “You mean they orchestrated this?”

“A hundred percent.” You shot him an exasperated look. “Chaewon also pulled me aside earlier, asking me what we have going on.’”

Jake snorted, shaking his head. “So, let’s do it then.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, switching seats so that he was next to you instead of across. The shift made the gondola sway slightly, and suddenly, the space between you felt a lot smaller. “Let’s just tell them I asked you. That I had this whole speech about how my dad doesn’t matter and how I love you and shit. I mean we at least know now that we do look realistic.” His voice was casual, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he leaned back against the seat, turning his gaze to the lights below.

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, of course. And then I started crying and dramatically said yes?”

“I mean, you could cry. Would add to the believability.”

You huffed out a laugh, nudging his leg with yours. “Pretty sure I wouldn't cry over that, Jakeyboy.”

He smirked, but before he could respond, he jolted his chin toward something outside the window. You followed his gaze and, sure enough, saw Jay and Sunghoon’s gondola creeping up alongside yours at just the right angle to peer into yours.

“They’re watching,” Jake muttered.

A wicked idea bloomed in your mind. You turned back to him, voice laced with mischief. “Should we give them a show then?”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?��

You tilted your head slightly, observing the way the carnival lights flickered in his dark eyes. He looked—annoyingly good, if you were being honest. Soft strands of hair fell over his forehead, and the warm glow of the Ferris wheel cast a golden hue over his features.

“Let’s kiss, Jake. If you were to really confess we would definitely kiss.”

The words left your lips before you could think twice about them.

Jake visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes flickered from yours to your lips, then back up. “You think this is a situation that requires it?” His voice was quieter now, a little breathless.

Your heart gave an unexpected lurch.

“This is a situation that demands it.” you corrected, ignoring the way your pulse thrummed in your ears.

You didn’t give yourself time to hesitate. You scooted closer, closing the space between you, and slowly lifted your hand to his cheek. You half-expected him to pull back, to laugh it off and tell you to stop being ridiculous. But instead Jake moved. He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you, and his hand lifted – hesitant at first – before settling against your jaw, his thumb brushing featherlight against your cheek. The warmth of his palm sent a strange shiver down your spine, rooting you in place as his lips met yours.

It was supposed to be just a kiss. Nothing more.

But the second his lips moved against yours, something in you faltered.

You had forgotten what kissing felt like. Or maybe, you had just forgotten what it felt like to kiss someone like this. Maybe you just also never have been kissed like this. 

Jake’s lips were warm, softer than you expected, pressing against yours with a kind of cautious certainty. His fingers curled slightly where they rested against your face, his touch sending a slow, unfamiliar heat creeping up your neck.

You didn’t even realize you had leaned into him until the gondola creaked slightly, shifting under the movement. Your fingers instinctively gripped the fabric of his jacket, pulling ever so slightly.

And for a fleeting moment, the world outside the small metal cabin disappeared.

No carnival. No friends watching from another gondola. Just the feeling of his mouth slanting over yours, his thumb tracing absentminded circles into your cheek.

Your lips still tingled when you pulled back. Your breath came just a little too fast.

Jake swallowed, his hand slipping from your face as if he had just realized where it had been. His eyes flickered across your face, lingering for a second too long on your lips before he cleared his throat.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant sound of the carnival buzzed around you, and the Ferris wheel continued its slow rotation.

You swallowed, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Jake couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, it’s definitely... uh, not something I thought I’d be doing today.”

Your brain still felt scrambled.

“So was that a yes to my proposal to be my fake girlfriend until the wedding?”, Jake nudged your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and hit him with Sir Fluffingtin the Third. “Go fuck yourself Sim.”

He shook his head and said with a serious expression. “Y/N, we already had that conversation. I need another person for missionary!”

You snorted and hit him again. “You are such a looser, Jakeyboy. But yeah if we can convince the others that we are unbelievably in love with each other until the wedding in two weeks then your dad should believe us as well, right?”

“I hope so.”, his gaze flickered back to Jake and Sunghoons gondola. 

When your gondola finally came to a halt, you took the chance to breathe, pushing the strange tension aside as you stepped out. The second your feet hit the ground, you felt like you had just snapped back to reality. Jake was right behind you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as you rejoined your friends.

Jay and Sunghoon were waiting and from the way their eyes flicked between you and Jake, they were definitely hoping for a post-ride recap.

You shot them a tight-lipped smile—the universal signal for don’t ask—before slipping away to where Kazuha and Yunjin were waiting.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Jake barely had time to kick off his shoes before Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon practically ambushed him “Alright,” Jay started, crossing his arms. “Talk.” “What?” Jake scoffed, trying to walk past them, but Heeseung blocked his path. “You know what,” Sunghoon drawled, leaning against the wall with an all-too-knowing smirk. “We saw you.” Jake’s stomach dropped. “Saw what?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Dude, the kiss.” Jake opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. His brain was still partly fired. Jay clapped a hand on Jake’s shoulder, grinning. “So? You finally asked her out?” Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He knew this was coming. He prepared for this. But still, something about the way they were all looking at him made him… hesitate. “Yeah,” he said finally, keeping his voice even. “I did.”

Sunghoon let out a sharp whistle. “About damn time." Jake forced a chuckle, even as something inside him twisted uncomfortably. “Yeah, yeah.” Heeseung nudged him. “So what did she say?” “She said yes.” The words felt strange on his tongue. Like a half-truth. Because technically you did say yes—just not in the way they all thought.

Jay grinned, shaking his head. “Man, I knew it. I knew she’d say yes.” Jake stiffened. “What?” “Come on,” Jay scoffed. “It’s so obvious. This girl looks at you with hearts in her eyes. The way the two act around each other is almost disgusting, Jakeyboy.” Jake swallowed and Jay narrowed his eyes. “Alright, walk us through it. What did you say?”

Jake exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… what do people usually say? I told her I liked her, and that I wanted us to be together.” It wasn’t technically a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Heeseung hummed, clearly unsatisfied. “And what did she say?” Jake shrugged, trying to play it off. “She said yes." Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”

Jake scoffed. “What, you want a full transcript?”

Jay grinned. “Yes, actually.”

Jake groaned, pushing past them to collapse onto the couch, but they all followed.

“Okay, fine.” He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers. “She said she already knew you guys were orchestrating the whole thing and that it was really obvious.”

Jay smirked proudly. “You’re welcome.”

Jake rolled his eyes but continued. “And then I said something about how my dad doesn’t matter, and how I like her and all that.”

Sunghoon squinted. “Do you like her?”

Jake blinked. “I mean, yeah? I wouldn’t be dating her if I didn’t.”

That seemed to satisfy them for a second, but then Jay continued.

“And the kiss?”

Jake stiffened, suddenly hyperaware of the phantom feeling of your lips still lingering on his.

“What about it?”

Jay scoffed. “Dude, come on. How did it feel?”

Jake hesitated, searching for the right words, but the only thing that came out was, “…Good?”

Sunghoon snorted. “That’s it? Just ‘good’?”

Jake groaned, running a hand down his face. “What do you want me to say? It was nice, okay?”

Later that night, Jake lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts an absolute mess. What the actual fuck was happening? How did you agreeing to be his fake date for your exes weeding escalate into him being your “officially” your boyfriend in front of all your friends. Now, he had to keep up the act every time someone was around.  Jake exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He was completely and utterly fucked. Because now he knew how your lips felt against his, how they tasted faintly like the sweet funnel cake and cigarettes, how your fingers skimmed over his skin so lightly it sent a shiver down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stop replaying it over and over again. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It wasn’t supposed to leave him breathless, heart racing, craving more even after you had pulled away. This was supposed to be fake. 

It was supposed to be just for show, something to sell the act. But the second you had gotten close, the moment your fingers ghosted over his cheek, he had completely forgotten about the act. He had forgotten everything except how warm your lips were against his, how effortlessly you fit against him, how badly he wanted to pull you even closer. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Jake turned onto his side, gripping his pillow like it would somehow help him make sense of this. Pretending for a weekend? Doable. Pretending in front of your friends? A little more complicated, but still manageable. But pretending to himself? That was a whole different problem. So why the hell did it feel so real?

Not even 24 hours later the reason why everything had to at least look real called him.  Jake was toweling off his hair when his phone rang. He sighed and stared at the screen for a second before answering. “Jake.” His father’s voice was clipped, businesslike. “I’ve been looking into this Y/N girl.” Jake’s stomach dropped. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course, you have.” “I have to say, I’m not convinced she’s a good fit for you. Jake clenched his jaw. “And what exactly does that mean?” “She doesn’t… carry herself the way I expected,” his father continued. “Her parents might be working as doctors but she-” He exhaled sharply, like the conversation itself was tedious. “She is not exactly what people will expect from you.” Jake’s grip tightened around the phone. God forbid he date someone who doesn’t look like she walked out of a country club. “Not everything is about appearances,” Jake muttered, rolling his eyes so hard he was surprised he didn’t get a HD view of his brain. “I don’t know if this is the right choice for you.”

Jake gritted his teeth. “It’s not a choice. “Isn’t it? Do you think she is a good fit for you?”  Jake’s stomach twisted. What the hell does that mean? He wanted to ask, but he already knew he wouldn’t get an answer. His father was careful with his words, always just vague enough to sound concerned rather than cruel. But Jake knew what he meant. She’s not good enough.  Jake’s fingers dug into the fabric of the towel. His father continued. “You’ll be bringing her to a wedding where people will talk, Jake. You need to think about what that means. For you. For us.” Jake squeezed his eyes shut. This was exactly why he even considered the whole fake dating thing in the first place. To get his father off his damn back. But instead, he was just under even more scrutiny. Jake’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He wanted to tell his father to shut up, to fuck off, but instead, the words that came out were:

“I love her.” Silence. Jake could hear his own breathing, too loud in his ears. Where the hell did that come from?

His chest felt tight, his own words echoing in his head. But the moment they left his mouth, he knew. He knew. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t saying it just to shut his father up. He wanted to mean it. His father finally spoke, voice unreadable. “Do you?” Jake swallowed. Yeah. Yeah, he did. It was terrifying. It was also the easiest truth he’d ever admitted. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. Another pause. Then— “I hope, for your sake, that’s true.” And then the line went dead.

Jake stared at the screen, still gripping his phone, heart pounding in his ears. He had just told his father–of all people–that he loved you. And the worst part? He wanted to tell you too.

It had been almost 2 AM when your phone buzzed next to you, pulling you out of a deep sleep. Groggy, you reached over, squinting at the screen. Jake’s name flashed in the dim light. You rubbed your eyes and blinked, half-asleep.

Jakeyboy Are you awake?

You smiled a little, even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be awake right now.

You Yes, now i am. What's up?

A beat passed, then another text came through almost immediately.

Jakeyboy Do you wanna get ice cream? At the GS25 in front of the campus

You frowned, pulling yourself out of bed. You glanced at the clock. 1:47 AM – well, there was no way you were going back to sleep now. You threw on a hoodie, grabbed your phone, and slid your feet into a random pair pajama pants. Your hair was still braided, messy from the day, but you didn’t care.  The GS25 was halfway between your dorm and his, and when you got there, you spotted him sitting on the curb already. He looked up when you approached, his eyes lighting up just a little bit. A small smile curled onto his lips. “You look cute,” Jake said, his gaze scanning over you with an easy affection. Your heart fluttered, but then you looked down at your pajamas and felt a little self-conscious. You couldn't help it. “Thanks,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward about your unkempt appearance. Jake noticed the shift in your mood right away. “Hey, don’t do that. You really do look cute. I mean it.”

You tried to brush it off, offering him a small smile. “I’m just wearing pajamas.” “Well, pajamas look good on you,” he said casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You felt a little warmer at that. You both went inside and bought ice cream, then sat outside in front of the store. The cool air stung your skin, but it felt good, somehow. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling comfortable, though the silence between you felt oddly thick tonight. Finally, Jake broke it. “My dad called,” he said suddenly, his voice a little tight. You pulled your head away slightly, looking at him, concerned. “What did he want?”

Jake didn’t meet your eyes, and you could see the way his jaw tightened. “He basically told me that he thinks you aren’t a good match for me.” He waved vaguely, his voice was tight, like he was swallowing frustration. “He was like ‘I expect the best out of her’. He expects you to be perfect, so that for the media we can play the picture perfect couple and family and shit. I hate it so much Y/N." Your heart sank. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t right, that he didn’t deserve that kind of pressure. But you didn’t know how to begin. Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m just so tired of hearing it. I don’t want to be what he wants. I want to do what I want.”  It wasn’t fair, what his dad was putting him through. It wasn’t fair to expect Jake to conform to someone else’s vision of what his life should look like. Your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. “Jake, I—" He cut you off before you could finish. “I’m just saying, it’s not like this is all pretend. I mean... I really like you. You are one of my closest friends right now. You know that, right? And I don’t want him to actually hurt you when you meet at the wedding. He is going to be an asshole to you.” 'One of my closest friends' Somehow that stung a bit but you couldn’t help but feel touched by how much Jake seemed to care about protecting you, even in this mess of a situation. But the more you thought about it, the more confused you got.  Him saying you were a friend coudln't sting. It shouldn't.

"I get it." you said after a moment, trying to sound lighthearted. “It’s all good. You don’t have to worry about it. I am a big girl, Jake. If he talks shit to me i will politely talk shit back at him." Jake didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he dropped the subject. You both sat in the silence for a while, eating your ice cream.  “Jake…” you started, biting your lip. “What was your childhood like? You don’t have to tell me, but… I guess I never really asked and you tend to not talk about it.” Jake was quiet for a long time. So long that you almost regretted asking. Then, finally, he spoke. “I spent most of my time with my uncle,” he said quietly, his gaze distant. “He was the only one who actually cared about what I wanted. I think… I think he’s the reason I still have a little faith in family. He’s the reason I got into hockey and he convinced my Mom to convince my dad. He was always supportive. My mom is too, but sometimes I feel like her focus is more on Joshua than on me.” You could feel your heart ache at the vulnerability in his words, and you nodded slowly. “That’s really nice. I’m glad you had him. He seemed nice.” Jake smiled faintly. “Yeah. I love him a lot.” He paused, eyes drifting to the side for a moment. “I had a good childhood, overall. Just... complicated sometimes. But, I guess that’s kind of everyone’s story, right?”

You hesitated again, your fingers gently touching the edge of his hand. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter. “I think everyone’s got their own stuff they’re working through." Jake was silent again. You got up and tossed your trash into a bin nearby, giving him a moment to just think. When you sat down he put his head onto your shoulder. It had to be uncomfortable for him but he carefully took one of your hands, playing with your fingers. He almost startled you when he started talking again. “I never loved Sophia.”

You stilled. “I thought I did, at the time. Or well I wanted to.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “But looking back… I never felt all that shit people talk about. The butterflies, the excitement, the–whatever it is that makes people fall in love.” You didn’t say anything. You just let him talk. “I started dating her because I knew my dad would like it,” he admitted, his voice laced with something bitter. “And she liked the attention. We looked good together, so it just… made sense. My friends teased me about it, and I thought, ‘Maybe this isn’t stupid.’ Maybe it would shut my dad up for a second.” Jake exhaled, staring down at your hands and softly closed his fingers around yours. “But it was never real. Not for either of us. She liked the image. I liked the approval.” He let out a dry laugh. “She was still my first everything, though. First kiss, first… all of it.” He swallowed. “And then she cheated. With her best friend’s boyfriend.” Your heart clenched. You weren't sure what hurt you more back then. Sophia or Maruc's betrail. “You told me when you found out.” His voice was quiet now, distant. “And when I confronted her, she wasn’t even really guilty. She just… looked at me and said, ‘You knew this wasn’t real, Jake. We both did. And you know the worst part?” He lifted his head rom your shoulder and finally met your gaze. “My dad blamed me. He said it was my fault she strayed. That if I’d been a better boyfriend, if I had been more–” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. You’d known his dad was awful, but this–this was worse than you expected. It was cruel. It was disgusting. Jake had been a kid, figuring things out, and his father had just used it as another way to tear him down. Another way to remind him he’d never be enough. “That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice thick. You felt an ache in your throat, something dangerously close to anger. “That’s not fair to you at all.” Jake blinked, like he wasn’t used to hearing those words, and his brow furrowed in confusion, as if he didn’t understand why you were so upset for him. You tightened your grip. “You didn’t deserve that, Jake.” God, he really hadn’t. He was kind, funny, a little cocky but never mean. And he had spent his whole life trying to meet impossible expectations that only left him feeling like he was failing.

It was quiet for a long moment before you spoke again. "When I found out that they were sleeping with each other I felt my world collapse. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. Marcus was my first too, in everything.", you focused your gaze on your intertwined fingers, softly squeezing his hand. "Sophia was what I thought was my best friend. I told her everything and I followed both of them like a little duckling." You chuckled bitterly. "I was so swooned by their world. Being rich and influential. Going to all these cool events. I didn't even realize that I hated every second of it. I did so many...things with Marcus that I am not proud of. Most of the stuff I really didn't want to do but I was young, stupid and I think I was in love. Those stupid butterflies betrayed me. I should have never been excited for anything I did with that asshat, but I was and in the end I was the one heartbroken."

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head again. "So I don't really think you missed out on much. At least you didn't get your herat broken in millions of pieces. " As as soon as the words left your mouth, you saw Jake’s face soften in a way that made your chest tighten. His eyes were fixed on you. He shifted slightly, leaning closer, and his voice was lower, gentler. “Wait... Y/N, what... what kind of things?” There was a pause, and you could hear the worry in his voice. “What did he make you do?” You blinked at him, caught off guard by the tenderness in his question.  You didn’t want to get into all of it – not with him, not now. You really wanted to leave the past in the past. So gave him a small, reassuring smile, though it was laced with a hint of sarcasm. “Nothing too crazy, Jake. Just... stupid stuff that I let myself be talked into because I thought I had to, you know? Smoking, drinking, sex when I didn’t even want to.” You shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light despite how heavy it really felt and focused your gaze on the streetlamp on the opposite side of the street. “Just... young, dumb, and in love.” "You didn’t deserve any of that," Jake murmured, his voice tight. His hand, still gently holding yours, gave you a small squeeze. “You deserve someone who sees you as more than a way to impress their friends or boost their image.” You wanted to say something lighthearted, to push this conversation into a safer territory, but for once, you didn’t have it in you. You just nodded, your fingers tightening slightly around his.

“I’m sorry,” he added quietly, almost to himself, as if he was blaming himself for not being there for you sooner. You felt your heart soften at his words, and you smiled faintly, squeezing his hand back. "Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, Jake." You paused for a moment, then added with a light chuckle, “Besides, I'm not a delicate little thing. I’m fine." Jake sighed, his hand resting on his lap now, still close to yours. “I just... I hate that you went through all that. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve better.” His voice softened and you could feel those traitors in your stomach. Those stupid little butterflies whose only goal was to make you unhappy. "It's fine. Really. I didn't tell you this to make you worry about me. I just wanted to show you that you haven't missed out by not feeling all the things people feel when they are in love. Most of the time those nice feelings disappear and not so nice ones take their place. You were spared by not being in love with Sophia.", you chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder again. Trying to ignore your butterflies and all those things people feel when they were in love. You couldn't fall for Jake. You never wanted to feel the pain you felt when you saw Marcus and Sophia in his bed and everything that came after ever again.

The bar the team was celebrating their win in was busy, but not unbearably so. It wasn’t loud enough to be overwhelming, but still just enough to make your head ache slightly.  You sat next to Jake in your usual spot, both of you nursing beers, though neither of you were drinking fast enough to actually feel it. His arm rested lazily around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your sweater. You leaned into his side, letting his warmth seep into you, but it didn’t do much to shake the heaviness pressing down on you. Your mind kept drifting back to earlier in the day. You had been fine during the lab, steady hands and a clear mind as you did what had to be done. It was routine, nothing you hadn’t done before. Usually, you could detach. Today, you couldn’t. You and four other students were working on the body with respect and professionality. But as you peeled back the skin and bone, carefully exposing the delicate folds of the young boys brain, you felt nauseous. 

Jake shifted beside you. “You good?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the bar noise. You exhaled through your nose, nodding automatically. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Jake studied your face for a second longer. You gave him a weak smile and his fingers pausing against your shoulder. He squeezed your arm gently before taking another sip of his drink.

You were half heartedly listening and laughing along to what Beomgyu was telling Jake but your thoughts were still elsewhere. You knew the profession you chose was gruesome. Your parents had tried to prepare you for it, making you sit through forensic classes, pushing you to talk to actual forensic anthropologists, hoping you’d reconsider. But you were stubborn. You applied to every university that offered a forensic anthropology major, determined to prove that this was what you wanted.  And it was. You loved it. All of it. Well, almost all of it. Because sometimes, especially when you were handling kids, or what was left of them, you were forced to remember exactly what you were doing. Those young boys and girls, long gone, their skin cold, the smell of formaldehyde replacing what should’ve been Axe body spray or cheap drugstore perfume. Faces stripped of emotion, of laughter, of life. They had futures, or at least, they should have. They should have had years ahead of them, chances to grow up, to fall in love, to make mistakes. But instead, a single accident, an illness, or worse, a person had taken that from them. 

It made you appreciate your own life more. Made you hyper-aware of how fragile it all was. And yet, what were you doing with that awareness? You were fake dating someone. To appease his father.

In some way, weren’t you just wasting his time? Wasting your own? Time that could be spent with someone who would actually be there in the long run. Someone to grow old with. To adopt a real Sir Fluffington the Third, to plan holidays, to talk about kids, to buy a home together. Someone to come home to. Someone to share the weight of days like this. Your brain, unprompted and entirely unhelpful, supplied you with a picture. Jake. Or rather, an older version of him. The thought startled you, so sudden and so vivid that you nearly flinched.

Jake?

Why was it Jake?

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he laughed at whatever Beomgyu had just said. He wasn’t yours. He wasn’t meant to be yours. And yet, your brain had conjured up a version of him standing in a kitchen with you, handing you a mug of coffee in the morning, smiling at you like you were his favorite thing in the world. You shook the thought off. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. You suddenly felt a bit like you were suffocating, the warmth of the bar, the buzz of conversation, even the way Jake was still absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you murmured, barely loud enough for Jake to hear over the bar’s noise.

Jake glanced down at you immediately. “Want me to come with you?” You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.” His brows pulled together, just for a second, before smoothing out again.  And because, apparently, this was a thing you did now, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. You weren’t sure when it had started, exactly. In the week since the kiss until now you and Jake really leaned into the whole couply stuff, being a bit more touchy with each other. He was always touching you in some way, his arm around your waist, his hand on your lower back, his fingers brushing against yours absentmindedly. It was all too easy to let yourself get used to it.

Maybe it was necessary, given that in just two weeks, you’d be standing beside him at that god forsaken wedding, playing the part of a couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. To get his father off his case and to give a huge fuck you to your exes. You really hated his father. That man didn’t deserve Jake's respect and you have told Jake as much. since that one conversion at the GS25 you never missed any of his games. You send  him stupid memes or small messages to motivate him to win, to show him you were there to support him. And it worked until now. Not a single game lost. You’ve bought him so much food and pastries as congratulation gifts that you were glad he did as much sport as he did. Else he would probably be a bit round.  

But right now, you needed some distance. You needed air. And you needed a cigarette. Jake hated to see you smoking. So before he could change his mind and follow, before you could second-guess yourself, you turned and slipped outside. The night air was crisp, cutting through the warmth that still clung to your skin from inside the bar. You tilted your head back, staring at the sky, letting your eyes trace the constellations.

Life was so fucking fragile. You had known that for a long time, logically, clinically. It was something you studied, something you understood down to the very bones of it.  But today, it felt different. Today, you peeled back a boy’s forehead, carefully extracted the thing that made him who he was, and for the first time in a long time, it had rattled you. It made you want to scream. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that someone so small, so young, could just be… gone. Reduced to an object on a table. A case file. A lesson. Your fingers twitched as you pulled a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it with practiced ease. The first inhale burned. It didn’t fix anything, didn’t quiet the thoughts clawing at your mind, but for a fleeting moment, it gave you something to focus on. The nicotine settled in your system, a dull sort of relief, just enough to take the edge off.

You needed to quit. You knew that. You had been saying it for years, but every time you thought about stopping, you hesitated. The craving wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way the cigarette felt like a pause button, a moment of stillness in the middle of everything. It was a shitty habit, and Jake hated it. He made that clear every time he caught you. You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the stars.

“You know he hates it when you do that.” The voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Jay stepping outside, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Your heart was still beating a little too fast from the surprise, but you scoffed, bringing the cigarette back to your lips. “You gonna give me shit about it too?” Jay shrugged, finally turning his gaze to you. “Nah. Just an observation.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, well. He’ll live.” Jay hummed, stepping closer. He leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes searching your face. “You’re quiet today.” You hesitated. The cigarette burned between your fingers, the nicotine was already settling into your bloodstream. You forced a small smile, tilting your head slightly as you took another drag.  “Just tired,” you said. “Long day.” You flicked the ash onto the pavement, watching it disappear into the cracks. 

Jay didn’t look convinced. His eyes lingered on your face, searching, and for a second, you thought he might call you out on the obvious deflection. It was annoying how good he was at reading people. At reading you. “Y/N-” “I’m fine, Jay,” you interrupted gently, offering him a softer smile this time. “Really.” He didn’t move, didn’t say anything right away. Over the last two months you had gotten close to Jay, through all the hours spent at the rink, at team dinners, at their dorm, at bars just like this one. And somewhere along the way, between all the forced proximity and the nights spent orbiting the same friend group, you and Jay had grown close too. Not in the same way you were with Jake, but close enough that he could read you just as well. Maybe even better.

That was the problem. Jay studied you, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Did you tell Jake?” You exhaled, watching the smoke curl upward, disappearing into the night. “No,” you admitted, flicking ash onto the pavement. Jay made a sound, something between disbelief and exasperation. “Dude.” You sighed, bracing yourself. “I don’t want to worry him." Jay let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “That’s not how this works, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, catching the way his brows had pulled together, the tension in his jaw. He wasn’t angry, Jay never really got angry, but he was frustrated. You’ve spent almost a whole night talking to him, when the two of you decided to stay sober and watch over your friends. You told him there that you really hated doing that. Worrying people with your problems. Life was too short to worry, especially over problems that aren’t your own. “I’m fine,” you said, lighter this time, as if saying it enough would make it true. Jay’s gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” “Do what?” “Pretend,” he said simply. “Not with me. Not with him. Especially not with Jake.” Something in your chest tightened, the words settling uncomfortably in your stomach. You swallowed, looking away. If Jay only knew. “It’s not a big deal.” Jay sighed again, lingering for another second like he wanted to say something else. But then he just shook his head and pushed off the wall. “Try not to take the whole pack down with you,” he muttered as he turned toward the door. You let out a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No promises.”

And then he was gone, the bar swallowing him whole. You stood there for another moment, the weight of his words pressing heavy against your ribs. And then, before you could stop yourself, you reached for another cigarette.

Jake was half-listening to Beomgyu and Soobin talking about a recent Eagles game when Jay slid back into their booth, leaning in close. “You need to talk to Y/N,” Jay murmured, voice low. “Something’s off with her. She wouldn’t tell me what’s up, so maybe you can use your boyfriend privileges to get her to talk?” Jake furrowed his brow, staring at Jay for a beat. He had noticed it too, how quiet you have been all night, how you lingered closer to him than usual. But he also knew you. He knew you hated worrying people with your problems. If he asked outright, you’d probably brush it off. You’d talk when you were ready. You always did. He figured something must have happened in the lab. Some cases were harder to stomach than others, and sometimes, the weight of what you learned stuck with you for a while. When that happened, you liked to process it alone.

But despite whatever was on your mind you still showed up for him. You always did. You had come to every home game for the past few weeks, watching from the stands like his own personal lucky charm. Jake hadn’t played a single bad game since you started watching. “I know,” he murmured, voice quieter than intended. “She’ll come to me if she wants to.” Jay didn’t say anything more. He just gave Jake a look that said he was doubting that and switched topic. A few minutes later, Jake flinched when cold fingers brushed against his arm. He turned quickly, half-hoping, half-knowing it was you. It was. You squeezed yourself back into the booth beside him, settling into your usual spot. Instinctively, his gaze swept over you.

You looked tired.

He felt bad that you were here. He knew Fridays were busy days for you. And yet, you still made time to come to his games and stick around for the post-game hangouts. The fact that you showed up, no matter how exhausted you were, meant more to him than he could put into words. When your eyes met his, something flickered across your face—an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “You good?” His voice came out softer than he meant, but it was the only thing he could think to say. You held his gaze for a second before offering a small, fleeting smile. “Yeah,” you murmured. “All good.”

Jake didn’t believe that for a second. But he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled you closer, tucking you against his side. His arm curled around your waist, holding you a little tighter than necessary. As Beomgyu and Jay started talking about an upcoming swim competition, Jake found his focus drifting. You shifted slightly in his hold, resting your head against his chest, and his thumb absently traced small patterns against your side. He took a slow breath and immediately scrunched his nose. The sharp scent of secondhand smoke clung to your hair.

He leaned forward slightly, lips almost brushing the shell of your ear. “You smell like smoke.” You sighed, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. There was something unreadable in your expression. Jake held your stare, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist, trying to get you to stay here with him, to relax–even if just a little. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I was outside.”

Jake hummed, debating whether or not to scold you. He knew smoking wasn’t an everyday habit for you, but you tended to smoke whenever you were stressed or something was troubling you. He didn’t want to lecture you. Not right now. But then, before he could stop himself, his lips parted. “You should quit,” he said quietly. You looked away.  “I know,” you muttered, voice distant again. Jake exhaled softly, letting the moment settle. He wanted to say something else, to get you to open up, to tell him what was wrong, but before he could, Jay’s voice cut through the conversation again.

The night carried on, the noise of the bar a comfortable hum in the background, but Jake barely heard it. His focus had narrowed down to the warmth of you against his side, the way your body naturally leaned into his like it belonged there. Jay was saying something–laughing about something–but Jake wasn’t really listening. His attention flickered to you every few seconds, studying the way your fingers idly traced the rim of your glass, how you bit down on the inside of your cheek when you were lost in thought. Then the song changed. Finesse by Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. The second the first beat hit, Jake felt his stomach twist. A chorus of cheers and drunken excitement filled the bar immediately, a wave of energy that swept through the room. It was a tradition, one that had been in place long before Jake joined the DA hockey team. Every time Finesse played, all the hockey players were expected to kiss their lovers. People made their way through the bar, searching for their partners.

"Fellas, grab your ladies if your lady fine." Jake’s grip tightened on your waist ever so slightly. It would probably look weird if he didn't kiss his girlfriend. He hesitated for only a second before he leaned in, letting his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “It’d be weird if I didn’t, right?” You barely had time to react before he leaned in, slow and careful, like he was giving you a chance to stop him. But you didn’t. And something in him faltered at the absence of any hesitation on your part. 

His nose grazed against yours for a brief moment before his lips met yours. Soft and deliberate. It was gentle at first, almost as if he asked for permission again, and when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it slightly. His body responded without thought, the tequila on his tongue mixing with the faint taste of your cigarette from earlier. His hand slid down from your jaw to your throat, feeling the soft pulse there.

You shivered, and fuck.  That reaction alone had something deep in him stirring. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy this as much as he did. And yet, the second you melted into him, Jake felt something he’d never felt before. His stomach flipped, his chest felt too tight, and for the first time in his life, he understood what people meant when they said a kiss could leave you breathless.

When his hand traced down the curve of your spine, when his fingertips barely skimmed your skin through your thin shirt and you shuddered beneath his touch, he felt a rush of something hot and heady curl low in his stomach. So he did it again. Slower this time. Letting his fingers linger, tracing back up, taking his time. Another shiver. Another sharp inhale. Jake felt a stupid, giddy grin threaten to break through. Butterflies. He actually felt fucking butterflies.  Every little thing he did, every touch, every movement–he could feel it in the way your body leaned into his, how your breath stuttered against his lips.

He was fascinated. Completely and utterly hooked on the way he could pull those reactions from you with barely any effort. That realization alone made something snap inside him. He slid his hand back up your spine, fingers pressing into the nape of your neck, and the way you shuddered again had his breath catching in his throat. You melted into him, and it felt too easy. Too good. 

God, he was an idiot. Jake pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. He could feel your breath against his lips. “Please stop smoking. It’ll kill you.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted saying it. The seriousness in his voice didn’t feel right for the moment, but he couldn't help himself. He hated that you smoked. You looked up at him, and for a brief second, he thought he saw something shift in your eyes, something that made his chest tighten. His hand, still on your waist, slowly lifted, and he gave you space to push him away. But you didn’t. Your gaze met his, and he found himself unable to look away.

Shit, this was all kinds of messed up. Jake’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but he knew that in this moment, with your eyes locked on his, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to you, to feel the warmth of you, to drown out everything else in the world. Slowly, he lifted his hand again, this time cupping your jaw with his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. His breath was shallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. 

His fingers curled at the nape of your neck, thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. He didn’t think. He just acted, pulling you into another kiss. He had kissed plenty of people before, but never once had it felt like this. Never once had it knocked the breath straight from his lungs, left his brain foggy and his chest aching with something unnameable. The kiss was slower. More deliberate. He kissed you like he wanted to learn you, like he wanted to savor every second, every movement of your lips against his. He deepened it just slightly, exhaling softly as he swallowed the small noise you made. 

You didn’t move away, didn’t push him off. Instead, you kissed him back just as slowly, just as deliberately. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slower this time, like he couldn’t help himself. And he really, really couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, just enough for him to taste more of you, and fuck, he was done for. His chest felt too light, his stomach too full of something fluttery and warm. It was embarrassing, really. He was an athlete, a grown-ass man, and yet here he was, feeling like some love-struck kid who just got his first real kiss. He could’ve kept going. He wanted to keep going. His forehead rested against yours as he exhaled, trying to steady himself, trying to pull himself out of whatever the hell this was becoming.

Jake barely noticed Beomgyu approaching, barely heard whatever the hell his teammate was saying, because he was too busy trying to make sense of what just happened. Then, like nothing had happened, he was forced to turn away, to let go, to pretend. But even as the bar filled with noise again, even as he forced a grin and let himself fall back into easy conversation with Jay, the feeling of your lips still lingered against his. And worse? The breathless, giddy feeling still hadn’t left. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was in deep, deep trouble.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the building. Your bed was cramped, barely big enough for the two of you, but that was the least of your concerns. The heat from Jake’s body pressed against your back, his arms around you pulling you into his warmth, but you couldn’t seem to shake the cold feeling that had settled deep in your chest. You had thought that after a long walk, after getting tucked into bed, maybe you’d be able to sleep. But sleep wasn’t coming tonight.  Your thoughts circled around that damn brain, the weight of it, the fragility of life, the way it had been so small and delicate in your gloved hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Kids weren’t supposed to die, to be handled like... like pieces of evidence. But that was what he had become.

This brain. The boy was someone. A person. Someone's son, someone's brother, someone's friend. He had been alive. He had thought and laughed and felt and dreamed, and now... nothing.  Jake shifted behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck as he adjusted his position. His breathing had steadied out a while ago and you assumed he fell asleep. But his arm tightened around you, pulling you just a little close. "Hey," he murmured, his voice low and thick with sleep. "You okay?" You didn’t answer right away, pretending to be asleep. You couldn’t. You could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill when you were on your own, but voicing out what was on your mind to Jake would surely open up the floodgates you called eyes. He was here so you wouldn’t do that, not to trigger you into doing so.

"Y/N," Jake said again, this time his voice was more awake, more alert. His hand slid up your arm, his fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder. "Talk to me." You sniffed once and blinked away a few tears. When Jake heard the noise he lifted himself onto his arm to look at you. You rolled onto your back, the tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him. "I—" You swallowed, trying to keep it together, but your voice cracked. "I held his brain, Jake." You could barely say it out loud without choking on it. "His... brain. Like, the thing that makes him a person. The thing that... made him alive." You let out a shaky breath. "I can’t stop thinking about it. That’s all I’ve been thinking about. That... he was just a kid. And now he’s gone." Jake was quiet for a moment. But then his hand moved again, his fingers threading through your hair gently, and his breath was steady against your face as he leaned in close.

"I don’t know how you do what you do," Jake said softly, his voice low but filled with a quiet admiration that took you by surprise. "But I know it’s not easy. And you don’t have to carry all that by yourself, Y/N." "How am I supposed to do this?" you whispered, voice barely above a breath. "How do people deal with this? When you see something like that and you just feel so helpless?" You sniffed again and wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “He was killed by multiple kicks to the brain. Who could do that to a child, Jake?” Jake paused, his hand now resting on your side. His thumb brushed against your ribcage in slow, comforting strokes. He didn’t have an answer right away, and you didn’t expect one. But after a moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t know," he admitted, and there was something so raw, so honest about the way he said it that it almost made you break right then and there. "I wish I did. I wish I could tell you that there’s a reason why those people do what they do, but… I can’t. I don’t think there is." His fingers curled slightly against your side. 

"But I know you," he continued, his voice steady. "And I know that if there’s anyone who can handle this, it’s you. And I know that doesn’t make it easier, but it makes it matter. You’re helping people. You’re making sure those kids get their justice." You let out a shaky breath, your eyes finally drifting to his. They were soft in the dim light, dark with something unreadable. You searched his face, taking in the way his brow was drawn slightly, the way his lips were parted. "I don’t feel strong right now," you whispered. Jake’s lips twitched, just barely. "That’s usually when you are." For a while, neither of you spoke. You just breathed, just laid there, his fingers still tracing absent patterns along your ribs, his body still warm against yours. He was right. It wouldn’t get easier but at least you could find answers for the families in mourning and justice for the victims. 

"Thanks," you murmured. Jake shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him again. "Anytime," he whispered, his voice full of warmth. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, exhaustion creeping in despite the thoughts still spinning in your mind. Jake must have noticed, because his hand moved again, brushing a strand of hair from your face before settling back against your waist. "Get some sleep," he murmured. "I’m right here."

Jake didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He’d woken up in your bed that morning, your back pressed against his chest, your breathing slow and steady as you slept. He should’ve rolled away, should’ve put some space between you, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d let himself stay there for just a little longer, his arm still draped over your waist, his fingers twitching where they rested against your stomach. And that was the first red flag. Because this – whatever this was – was supposed to be fake. It was supposed to be a means to an end, a temporary fix for a problem that had nothing to do with the two of you actually being together. But that didn’t explain the way he’d felt when you asked him to stay over last night. Didn’t explain the way something in his chest had clenched when he saw those tears you tried to hide.

It sure as hell didn’t explain the way he’d kissed you yesterday. How the taste of your lips was so addictive, it was the only thing he could think about all evening. He hated the tinge of the leftover nicotine on your lips but he loved how you reciprocate his kiss, letting him deepen the kiss. The combination of tequila and cigarettes being almost as addictive as the funnel cake and cigarettes was a few weeks ago.  The second red flag was that he didn't want to let you go. Maybe he was being a little overbearing, but he didn’t care. You complained the whole way to his physio appointment, groaning about how you had actual work to do and how you had no interest in watching him get his shoulder prodded and stretched, but he ignored you. He just grabbed your hand and tugged you along, keeping a firm grip to make sure you didn’t slip away.

And honestly? He was glad he did. Because the second his physiotherapist started explaining something about muscle recovery, you perked up. You went from grumbling under your breath to engaging in an actual conversation about anatomical shit that went completely over his head. Something about tendons and ligaments and how the body compensated for injuries—he wasn’t sure. But you were smiling, and you were talking like you actually enjoyed yourself. Jake sat there, half in pain, half in awe, watching you chat with his therapist while he was forced through another round of exercises. “You’re way too enthusiastic about this,” he muttered between clenched teeth as he pushed through another painful stretch.

You just grinned, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall. “I just think it’s fascinating.” Jake shot you a glare that didn’t hold much weight, but deep down, he was relieved. He didn’t know if you were actually feeling better or just putting on a good front, but at least you weren’t curled up in bed, lost in your own head. That was a win. After physio, he didn’t give you a chance to slip away. He dragged you to lunch, steering you toward a small, homey restaurant owned by a sweet old woman who always snuck him extra food. “You literally didn’t have to make me come here,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you picked at your plate. “Didn’t I, though?” he shot back, stuffing a dumpling into his mouth. You rolled your eyes but kept eating, and Jake counted that as another win.

By the time you both made it to his dorm, you were still insisting that you needed to study. He glanced at you from where you sat at the other end of his couch, your laptop balanced on your lap as you tried to study.  "You’re staring.", your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing that, yeah, he had been staring at you. Your eyes didn’t leave your screen, but he could see the ghost of a smirk playing at your lips. "You look like you're about to pass out from boredom," you added. Jake huffed, leaning over to shut your laptop. "Not bored. Just done watching you pretend to study." You glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. "Some of us have degrees to earn, Jakeyboy."

"Some of us also need to take a break before they burn out," he countered. You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him when he tugged the laptop out of your grasp and set it on the coffee table. Instead, you shifted, pulling your legs up onto the couch and reaching for the blanket draped over the back. Jake barely hesitated before shifting, too, letting you settle against his side as he grabbed his phone again. And that was the third red flag. Because he wasn’t thinking about how fake this was supposed to be. He wasn’t thinking about how this wasn’t part of the plan. He was thinking about how easy it was to be with you like this, how natural it felt to have you curled up against him, warm and soft and real.

Jake swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly around his phone as he forced his attention back to the screen. He scrolled aimlessly through TikTok, but it didn’t matter what he was looking at.  "You're quiet," you murmured, and he turned to see you watching him, brows drawn slightly. Jake forced a smirk. "Enjoying the peace while it lasts." You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot, but he didn’t miss the way your expression softened after a second. "You don’t have to babysit me, you know." He frowned. "I’m not–"

"You totally are," you interrupted, your voice light but pointed. "I’m fine, Jake. Really. This happens once in a while. You know I do work with some sad stuff." Jake studied you for a moment, and maybe you thought that would be enough to convince him, but it wasn’t. He could still hear your voice from last night, the way it cracked when you told him about that kid. He didn’t say anything, just shifted his arm so it was draped more securely around you, pulling you in just a little closer. And you let him. And that was the biggest red flag of all.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty CONTINUE ON READING --⟢ PART 2 all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands

ᝰ an. part two is in the works and will be coming soon! I hope you all are excited for some heavy angst and fluff nonetheless! I also hope that I didn't make any mistakes when I copy pasted the fic in here because I had to literally go scene by scene and edit every text block :,( ₊ ⊹  

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Shadow and Light (Part III)

Sequel to Webs of Fate

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 5.2 K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine

Part I Part II Part III

The Spider-HQ echo with an unsettling symphony - a child's piercing cries and the hushed whispers of concern from some of the multiverse's bravest Spider heroes. They stand clustered around the smallest yet most powerful disturbance they've ever encountered - a baby boy. His wails have been echoing through the HQ since Miguel left the room, leaving the baby and dozens of Spider-man behind. Each cry is a call for help that pulls at their hearts, demanding attention, challenging their patience.

After much deliberation and coaxing from the rest, Miguel gave his team an ultimatum - they have until dawn to find an alternative solution, before Gabriel has to be eliminated, before the universe collapses on itself. His voice was a cold whisper when he spoke, "Figure out another way by tomorrow morning, or..." Nobody dares to complete the sentence, not even Miguel, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And with that Miguel was gone, and the baby immediately started wailing and hasn’t stopped since.

Now Gwen, with her brows knitted in worry, rocks the baby with desperate gentleness. Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, a look of sheer helplessness painting her usually confident face. Beside her Peter B. is attempting to cheer Gabriel up but his efforts as pointless as they are endearing. The usually funny and charming Peter B seems to be losing a battle of wits with a one-year-old. It would've been humorous, had the situation been any different.

The sight of the little baby boy weeping his heart out, oblivious to the chaos his presence is causing tugs at their hearts, binding them in a collective resolution - they must protect this child. The shadows and the light, entwined in this web they’ve all been thrown into. And the clock is ticking.

Hobie scoops up the little boy, cradling him close in an attempt to soothe his relentless tears. "See, the cow says muhhhhh," he coos. His tiny cries falter, curiosity momentarily replacing distress. He gazes at Hobie with wide eyes, intrigued by the cool looking man. "And the butterfly," Hobie pauses dramatically, "well, the butterfly don’t say nothin’." He continues his little game, while rocking the baby gently in his arms. "And the pig says-"

 Miles chimes in with an eager grin, "Oink, Oink."

"Nah, bruv," Hobie laughs. “The pig says, ‘You have the right to remain silent!’”

Gabriel’s face scrunches up, and the waterworks start again. Hobie chuckles, "Fair enough, little fella. Cops make me wanna cry too."

Meanwhile Jessica Drew, clad in her black and white Spider-Woman outfit, her dark locks cascading around her shoulders, is leaning against the doorframe, half entering the room, her eyebrows raised. "Well? I assume he didn’t stop crying?“

Beside her Peter B.  with his shaggy brown hair and five o’ clock beard just shakes his head. 

“This is nuts. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is working.“ Gwen states.

In the background, the cries of baby Gabriel cotinue, little fists flailing as he continued his tantrum. Jessica, arching an eyebrow, comments, “He’s still going at it?”

Hobie Brown, just gives her a quick nod. “Oh yeah, the kid has got a set of lungs.”

Suddenly, Pavitr Prabhakar, yelps as a makeshift toy, made out of wood and spiderwebs, hit him square in the forehead. "Ow! And one hell of arm throw."

Methodically, Jessica starts running through a mental checklist. “Diaper?”

Peter B. Parker nods. “Clean.”

“Food?” Jessica glances at Miles who holds a baby food jar and a bent spoon.

Miles, in his black and red suit, shrugs. “Kept smacking the spoon out my hand.”

“Nap?” Jessica's questions further.

The entire room answer in unison, clearly frustrated “Literally the first thing we tried.”

Pavitr smirkes at them. “Jinx.” But his joke is short-lived as Gabriels screams become even louder.

Gwen, then takes charge, “Ok, we have to do something,” her eyes flicking around the room with determination. She points to Jess, “You have to talk to Miguel. You’ve been around him the longest, maybe you can get through to him.”

Jess looks hesitant but nods.

“And Peter,” Gwen turns to Peter B who’s still juggling items in his hands, to entertain the baby and stop his crying. “Get Mayday’s toys. Maybe the baby’s just bored.”

Peter gives a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”

“And Pav, Hobie,” Gwen instructs, her voice steady. “You need to rally the other Spider-people. We need everyone on board to protect this little guy.”

“Margo, you’re with me, girl. We are  paying our old friend Lyla a little  surprise visit. Something’s a little fishy with her.” Margo nods eagerly. 

As everyone scatters into action, Miles stands there, looking slightly lost and raising his hands. "Hey, guys, you forgot about me! What am I supposed to do? How can I help?" he calls out to the rapidly moving group.

Pav whirls around and points at Miles, "You, take care of the little guy, newbie," he says, as Hobie thrusts the still crying baby into Miles' arms.

"Great," Miles grumbles, balancing Gabriel on his hip and looking down at the squirming bundle of tears.

 He starts to bounce up and down gently, trying to imitate what he's seen in movies. The baby continues to cry, unfazed by Miles' efforts.

“Alright buddy, let’s figure this out together. I can swing through New York, so how hard can babysitting be?” Miles whispers to the baby.

Hours drag on and Gabriel's relentless cries continue to echo through the HQ. Despite his earnest attempts, Miles, armed with only his spider powers and limited babysitting experience, is unsuccessful in calming the baby. He’s tried everything he can think of – makinf funny faces, telling funny stories in a soothing tone, gently swinging him back and forth with his web-slinging skills, and even humming a little tune (it was Humble by Kendrick Lamar, but the thought counts, right?). At one point, he even tried to entertain the baby by creating animals out of webbing, but that didn’t work either. The baby is relentless, and his cries only seem to get louder. 

In the meantime in Miguel’s office, the echoing cries penetrate through the walls. Migel is sitting behind his desk looking at some documents, while Jess stands in front of him.

“Please, Miguel, it’s a baby boy. How did you imagine doing this, huh?” Jess exclaims, her voice rising. “Did you plan to build some sort of machine to just vaporize him? Or did you think of strangling him with your own bare hands? I know you’re not a monster.” But Miguel's face remains stoic, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk.

“And look,” Jess continues, pointing vaguely in the direction of where the baby’s cries are coming from, “this baby is already older, and nothing has collapsed yet. The universe is still here.”

“I can’t risk any more lives, Jess,”Miguel responds coldly, finally looking up at her.

“But what if there is another way? We haven’t even tried everything. We have brilliant minds here. Let’s...let’s figure something out that doesn’t involve.. that,” Jess pleads, her voice softening.

Miguel looks at her for a long moment but his expression remains unreadable. The cries of the baby continue to fill the air.

Jess then turns her gaze towards Lyla, , who is stationed nearby, her holographic interface flickering with data. “Lyla, what are the kid’s powers? Run a genetics test, a DNA test. We need something to work with.” 

Lyla’s synthetic voice answers in an eerily calm tone, "I have already processed the genetic information, Jessica. Thanks very much, genius. As per my findings, the child’s power attributes remain undefined. In regards to the DNA test..."

Lyla hesitates just a fraction of a second, but enough for Miguel to notice. It's an unexpected response from an AI that's programmed to be efficient and direct. A strange tingle rises within him but he pushes it aside, refocusing on the matter at hand.

“is inconclusive.” Jess squints at Lyla. “Inconclusive? What do you mean? Is he an anomaly or not?”

“He’s an anomaly, certainly. However, the DNA analysis is...complicated,” Lyla maintains her composed tone. “Complicated how?” Jess presses on. “Just...unfamiliar and intermingled genetic markers,” Lyla responds vaguely. “The child is an enigma.”

"Miguel, please" she continues, turning back to Miguel, clearly frustrated with Lyla's vague responses that are not helping her case. Her tone is still serious, "this isn't some variation of a monster, this is a baby."

For a moment, Miguel’s gaze flickers, his usual icy aura briefly wavering. "It doesn't matter," he finally grunts, closing his eyes as if to physically shut out the argument. Jessica's voice turns unexpectedly brittle. "I didn't join the Society to kill innocent kids."

Miguel clenches his jaw hard. "We do what we have to do for the greater good. No exceptions." Jessica takes a deep breath, her next words coming out almost in a whisper. "What if there was my Gerald or a version of your-" she begins, but is quickly cut off.

"DON’T. Don't even go there, Jessica" Miguel growls, his hand forming into a tight fist. "And why the hell is it still crying?"

Jessica's gaze softens slightly. "That child, that little boy, probably misses his parents. Parents who are going through hell right now, searching for their baby." Miguel's fist tightens further, a spark of something, maybe regret, guilt,  flashing in his eyes. Jessica presses on trying one last time to convince him. "He was found in 586, right? Maybe we can reconnect with Su-" 

"No," Miguel interrupts sharply, his voice a final command. “Until tomorrow morning, Jess,” he finally says in a low voice, putting an end to Jess’ outburst. “That’s all. You can leave now.” 

There’s a heavy silence, where the only sound is Gabriel’s distant crying.

Jessica looks at Miguel, her gaze piercing. "Think about what you’re doing, Miguel," she whispers and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

In the heart of the HQ, Margo sifts through the labyrinth of Lyla's concealed data. She uncovers a file that captures her attention – the baby's DNA results. "There you are," she mutters to herself, an air of triumph in her voice. As she opens the file, her eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh no…“

"What is it, Margo?" Gwen asks making her way over to Margo.

Margo's voice trembles slightly. "So, while looking through the hidden data, I found the baby's... there was a parental match."

Gwen's heart skips a beat. “I knew something was was off with Lyla. Of course she knows more. Well, who are the little guy's parents?"

Margo hesitates, then blurts out, "Miguel and Sunny."

Gwen stops dead in her tracks, her mind reeling. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"The baby's mother is Sunny, and the father is Miguel," Margo reiterates, her voice steady.

Gwen eyes widen. "But... are you sure? I know Sunny's baby. I was there when baby Gabriel was born!“

"Yes, I'm sure. There were two parental matches for the baby in the spider DNA logs:Sun Spider and Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time you saw the baby, Gwen? Babies change quickly at that age." Margo confirms. 

"Miguel and Sunny? That's not possible... how have we never noticed that there's something going on between those two?" Gwen's mind whirls with confusion.

"Oh, I noticed," Margo's voice holds a hint of smugness, "The way he was sneaking into her room at night? And the way he looked at her every time she set foot in a room, like a lovesick puppy. It was adorable. Wait, nobody else noticed?"

Gwen splutters, taken aback, "What? No, I... well, he's all 'we need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the multiverse. No more traveling for fun'" she imitates Miguel's voice with a teasing lilt, then she adds, "And Sunnys is literally the personification of a warm embrace."

Gwen's mind whirls but she continues, “ Woah, okay lets focus on the important part. I mean, I knew something was wrong with Lyla, but why... why would she do that?"  

"There's more, Gwen," Margo says, her voice shaking slightly. "I found another thing in her data. It's... it's about how she's processing information."

Gwen frowns, "What do you mean?"

Margo takes a deep breath before explaining, "In simple terms, Lyla's been teaching herself new things. She's changing, growing beyond her original programming. Her code is self-evolving."

"And the data about the baby?" Gwen asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Margo sighs, "She's been... twisting it, making the baby seem more dangerous than it actually is."

Gwen's mind reels with this new information, the world around her seeming to tilt. "But why?" she finally manages to ask. "Why would Lyla do this?"

"I don't know, Gwen," Margo admits. "But we need to find out and warn Miguel. And soon."

Meanwhile in Miguels office, the wailing becomes louder, almost as if piercing through the walls, trying to reach something, or someone. Miguel's face betrays his discomfort, as if the cries are tugging at his walls around his heart. There's a weight on his chest, something unidentifiable that makes it hard to breathe.

Suddenly Lyla’s holographic interface hums. She begins to show the outline various strategies for eliminating the child. Her voice, analtytic but almost cheerful, fills the room. “So, we could create a temporal displacement field, effectively erasing the child from existence. Or perhaps expose him to a slow-acting molecular destabilizer..." 

 "Based on the trial," she continues unfazed by Miguel’s lack of response. "the device should work as intended, wiping out any of its DNA and trace. Be like the anomaly never existed." There's a hint of satisfaction in her words.

Miguel, until now staring blankly at the wall, finally turns towards Lyla, his complexion pale and his eyes wide.

His insides twist painfully, the mere idea of bringing harm to this innocent child becoming now unbearable.

“Stop,” Miguel chokes out.

“Apologies, Miguel. We must consider all options for preserving the multiverse. You out of all people should know that,”Lyla retorts.

But something within Miguel snaps. His ice-cold distant facade crumbles. Rising abruptly, his chair clatters loudly onto the floor.

Without saying another word, he strides out of his office. “Miguel? Are you listening? Where are you going?” Lyla calls after him, but her words are unanswered in the empty room.

Walking down the hallway, Miguel slows down as he passes the room where the infant's cries come from. He pauses when he hears Miles' pleas inside.

“Little dude, if you stop crying promise I’ll get you some cool kicks. Maybe some baby Jordans? Please, please just stop crying,” Miles pleads, his voice sounding desperate and utterly exhausted.

After a moment hesitation, Miguel pushes open the door and steps into the room. His gaze, sterner than ever, as he takes in the scene: Miles looking near defeat, his energy spent trying to soothe the wailing child, his spider suit rumpled and hair disheveled.

"Enough," Miguel comms sharply.

Miles looks up from where he's been pacing with the baby, his eyes wide like he's just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “You,” Miguel points at Miles, who is holding the still-crying baby. His voice booms with authority. “Put him down”

Miles, slightly dumbfounded, obeys and carefully lays the child down on his makeshift bed. “I need you to return to Earth 586. Get some of his belongings - toys, blankets, anything you can find," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But Miguel--" Miles startsbut gets cut off immediately.

"Now," he says, his red eyes flashing dangerously. Miles opens the portal hastily and disspears to your universe.

The crying has subsided to whimpers, and Miguel finds himself kneeling next to the little one, who reaches out for him. As if on autopilot, Miguel’s hands scoop him up abruptly from the bed.

"Quiet, niño. "Miguel growls at him with a  low and threatening tone. "I could just... do it right now." His irritation gets the better of him, and he bares his fangs at the little one. This sight shocks Gabriel into silence for a moment, his big, teary eyes widening at the sight. 

But then, to Miguel's surprise, the baby breaks into a fit of giggles, the sound infectious and joyous.

Gabriel suddenly mimics Miguel, baring his own little teeth – two tiny milk teeth and the beginnings of baby fangs peeking from his gums, causing Miguel to stiffen in shock.

Caught off guard Miguel's hold slips and Gabriel lands back on the web-shaped bed with a bounce. The baby's laughter ends abruptly and is replaced once more with tears and cries.

Still in shock, Miguel stumbles back a step, but Gabriel's cries soon pull him back into the present. With a sigh, he picks up the little boy yet again andGabriel immediately snuggles into the crook of Miguel’s neck, his tiny arms winding tightly around his throat.  Miguel swallows hard, unsure of what to do next. 

Then, almost instinctively, he starts to hum a tune he thought he'd long forgotten. "Tú eres mi sol de la mañana, el sol que brilla..." His voice is barely audible, the words shaky. Gabriel's little body relaxes against him, a content sigh escaping his lips followed by a quiet yawn. He nuzzles closer to Miguel, his tiny breaths falling into sync with the rhythm of the song. "...alegra todo, mi corazón," Miguel coninues softly, his mind flooding with memories. He sees a bright, lively girl with the same curious eyes as the boy in his arms. 

"Daddy," Gabriella asks, her large eyes bright with curiosity as she looks up at him, "why do you call me your morning sun? I'm not yellow."

Miguel chuckles at her innocence, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He cradles her against his chest, looking into those eyes so full of wonder. "No, mija" he replies, his voice soft with affection "you're not yellow but you are my sunshine."

"But why?" She wrinkles her little nose, her childish curiosity making Miguel's heart fill up with love.

"Because, mijita," he begins, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, "just like the sun, you light up my world. You chase away the darkness with your laughter and your love. You are warmth, you are joy, and just like the morning sun, you are a new beginning, a promise of a brighter day." 

Gabriella blinks up at him, her lips curving into a small, and she hides her smile in the crook of his neck. "I like that, Papi," she whispers, "Sing the song again, please?"

“brilla, conmigo, brilla que brilla, alegrandome esta cancion. Tu eres mi sol de la manana…“

Eyes closed, Miguel draws Gabriel unconsciously closer, his heart full, and for the first time he’s feeling a sense of contentment he hasn't experienced in years. 

The moment is shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, pulling him abruptly out of his peaceful trance.

Peter B is standing in the doorway, arms loaded with various dolls. "Wow, he's finally asleep," he remarks, looking between Miguel and the now sleeping Gabriel with a relieved smile. "I was starting to think that was impossible." 

Without responding, or even sparing a glance in Peter's direction, Miguel turns away from the door and heads to the bed. He gently places the sleeping toddler down, pulling a small blanket over him. Once he's confident that Gabriel is settled, Miguel quietly leaves the room, his demeanor as frosty and aloof as ever, making no acknowledgment of Peter's presence. 

Peter B is quick on his feet, rushing after Miguel. "I brought him toys from Mayday," he blurts out. "She won't miss them. She's not too good at sharing, but I guess she won’t mind in this case."

Miguel continues his stride, not giving Peter so much as a backward glance. "Que maravilla," he mutters under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the dismissal, Peter B. reaches out and places a hand on Miguel's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Miguel raises an eyebrow and glances back at him half-heartedly, clearly not interested in a conversation.

Peter takes a moment, his gaze intensifying. "Hey, boss," he begins, his voice shaky yet determined. "We can't let anything happen to this boy, right?" 

At Peter's words, Miguel closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Back on Earth 586, you're in the throes of a meltdown. Your little boy, Gabriel, is nowhere to be found. You've scoured the whole city of Nea Yorkey, every nook and cranny you can think of, but there's no trace of him anywhere. Desperation gnaws at your insides, and fury bubbles up, hot and fierce. Your mind is in turmoil, swirling with anger and fear, clouding your ability to think straight. One thing is crystal clear though: whoever dared to touch your child will pay dearly for their actions.

You're frantically trying to find a way to contact anyone from the Spider Society, while simultaneously considering every possible avenue to traverse the multiverse yourself. Alchemax - the multinational conglomerate known for its cutting-edge research and technological advancements - seems to be your only hope. As you're about to make your way there, a sound from Gabriel's room stops you in your tracks.

Your Spider senses, already on high alert due to the unexpected circumstances, seem to kick into overdrive. Every instinct within you screams that something is about to happen. Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild drum as you slowly approach the room.

Meanwhile, in Gabriel's room, Miles is having his own share of troubles. In his haste, he stumbles over a toy car that starts making an assortment of noises and brightly lit animations. "Ah, this stupid toy!" he curses under his breath.

A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he wonders aloud, "Wait, does he need a blanket?" Just as he's about to reach for a small bunny stuffed animal that lay discarded on the floor, an intense blast of sonic energy sweeps across the room.

Caught by surprise, Miles finds himself flung across the room, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Before he can even let out a gasp, a spider web shoots out, pinning him securely against the wall. There he hangs, suspended, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he attempts to comprehend what just happened. Well its safe to say he didn’t saw that coming.

Miles, still stuck against the wall, manages to blurt out, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" you echo, incredulity lacing your tone. "You break into my son's room and ask me whoI am?"

Your mind races as Miles stammers, "Wait, your son's room? Wait, are you...are you a Spider-person aswell?"

Ignoring his question, you stride towards him, an aura of threat radiating off you. "Stop talking!" you command, "I ask the questions!" In your hand, a ball of solar energy forms, crackling with power and casting a glow across the room.

"Why are you here? Where is my son?" The words are more of a growl than a question, the motherly instincts in you sending waves of danger rippling across the room. "Your son is okay, please don't hurt me!" Miles pleads with a shaky fear laced voice.

Squirmy and visibly frightened, Miles stammers out his confession, "We-we took him...it was our mission... He's an anomaly...we needed to get him out of this universe, send him to his own, so it wouldn’t collapse and interfere with the multiverse...but he doesn't have one, and I'm so sorry..."

His voice dwindles to a murmur, words tumbling over one another in his haste. Amidst his ramblings, your icy inquiry slices through like a blade, "Who instructed you?"

A sharp wince contorts his face, betraying his fear. "Our boss..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "Miguel... Miguel O'Hara."

The energy in your hand dissipates, leaving only shock in its place. It's almost too much to take in - the idea that Miguel, your Miguel, could have done something like this. "He's okay, we... we didn't know he was the son of a Spider-woman. I'm Miles Morales, by the way." he introduces himself, attempting to inject some normalcy into the situation.

"I'm Spider-Sun," you respond automatically, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

"Wait … you?" Miles' eyes widen in recognition. "You're Sunny?" When you give a numb nod in response, he continues, "You look more like 'Stormy' if you ask me." Your gaze snaps to Miles, the intensity of your death glare immediately silencing his attempt at humour. "Sorry, sorry," he stammers, raising his hands in surrender. "I just...I've heard Gwen and Peter talk about you."

"They never stop talking about you," Miles continues, trying to regain his composure. "They always say you have such a radiant personality and how much they miss you. They take care of your son, don’t worry. Hes safe for now.” 

"What do you mean he's safe 'for now'?" you cut him off abruptly, your voice cold and hard. Miles gulps nervously before responding.

"Eh...we have until morning to find a solution for this...anomaly," he stammers. You interrupt him, seething with a fury that makes him cringe. "My son's name is Gabriel. He is not an 'anomaly'," you spit out the words like they are poison, hating the way they make your sweet little boy sound like some kind of mistake.

"Eh, yes, for Gabriel," Miles corrects hastily, "because, eh... if we don't find an alternative, they need to, eh...eliminate..." He trails off, speaking so quickly and softly that you almost don't catch his last word.

"ELIMINATE?????" You scream and for a split second, Miles is sure he sees your eyes blaze with a terrifying, luminating light. 

"We can stop them. We can talk to them and say it's your son," Miles says quickly, desperately hoping to calm you.

"I don't talk. Bring me to my son," you demand. Without wasting another moment, you order him to open the portal. "Y-yes, right away, Sunn... eh, Mrs. Sun, eh... Ma'am," he stammers, visibly trembling under your steely gaze.

 It takes him two shaky attempts before he manages to successfully open the portal, his hands still unsteady from the encounter.

Back at the headquarters, Peter chases after Miguel into his office. "Boss, all I'm saying is, what if Lyla is wrong?"

Miguel is pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The weight of the situation is quickly becoming too overwhelming and he feels himself teetering dangerously close to his breaking point.

Just at that moment, Gwen, Pav, Margo and Hobie burst into the office, their faces set withdetermination. "Miguel, there’s something you need to know.  Please hear us out. Margo and I, we found something.Lyla is - ," Gwen starts but Miguel is quick to silence her with a raised hand.

Just as Miguel is about to speak, the lights flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the room. Hobie looks around nervously. "Is that eh...normal?"

Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pay the electricity bill?" 

The lights flicker even more violently, plunging the room into a dance of shadow and light.

With a violent burst, the door is flung open, and a brilliant surge of light blinds everyone. You stand in the doorway, an ethereal aura glowing around you.

"O'Hara!" Your voice thunders through the room, heavy with wrath and revenge. As Miguel turns around to face the source of the sound, a massive, lightning-tinged sonar blast slams directly into his chest. He's pushed backward, knocked off balance before he can brace himself for the attack. He tries to recoverr, to shift into defense mode but he doesn't get the chance. You're relentless, a solar goddess in human form, hurtling blast after blast at him. Miguel has no time to regain his stance, each attack landing with more force than the last. 

Gwen makes to step forward, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. "That's Sunny," he says, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. Hobie's eyes widen comically. He cocks his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Our Sunny, eh? Blimey, I never knew she had it in her. That rebellious firecracker," he mutters, a distinct note of admiration creeping into his typically laid-back British drawl.

Miles bursts into the room, breathless and disheveled. He stumbles towards Gwen, his voice hurried and concerned, "I tried to stop her, but she was...she was furious. Woahhh, I've never seen Miguel get beaten like this before."

And he wasn't exaggerating. Miguel was fighting back, his fangs bared, his claws out and ready but he was no match for your rage-fueled attacks. You were right up in his face, delivering punch after punch at a brutal pace

"Where's my son, O’Hara? What have you done to him?" you demand, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

At your words, Miguel's movements falter. His defense wavers, and he barely manages to gasp out, "Your son?" He doesn't dodge your next blow, doesn't attempt to shield himself or strike back. Instead, he allows you to continue.

Miguel is shocked. His reflexes kick in as he sees the next punch coming and he grabs your wrist, halting your next powerful punch aimed for his face. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding an emotion you've never seen in him before. Is it fear? No, it's much deeper, more profound.

As he stares at you, your luminescent eyes gradually lose their fiery intensity, shifting back to their human form.

"I... I didn't know," Miguel stammers, his voice a trembling whisper. "Lo – lo siento. I – I didn’t know.”

His breaths are ragged, and you can see a war waging inside him.

"But...how?How didn’t I know?" His voice is choked, your wrist still securely in his grip. “Your son?” Miguel continues,his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours and all he sees is raw, untamed anger with an aching pain that pierces his soul.

“Yes, MY son!” your voice echoes through the room like a whip. “Did you think that you could just take him from me? That I wouldn't come for him?”

Miguel’s grip on your wrist loosens as he stumbles back. His heart feels like it’s about to explode as realization dawns on him. The dark curls, the small fangs the baby had bared at him –pieces of a puzzle start falling into place. His own blood runs cold.

“Where is he, Miguel? Where’s myGabriel?” your voice breaks as you say the name, and it feels like another punch to Miguel's gut.

“Gabr...” Miguel chokes. “No... no...”

His voice is barely audible, the air knocked out of him by the significance of the name. His knees buckle, and he falls on the floor. "NO."

“You, who I thought would protect any child, wanted to eliminate my – our – flesh and blood!” Tears, full of anger and hurt, stream down your face, but your voice doesn't waver one bit. 

Miguel, still on the floor, looks up at you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear on my life, on Gabriella’s memory. I-I wanted to do the right thing. I- I never, -Lo siento.” 

There’s a moment of tense silence as you look down at the shattered man before you,the love of your life, the father of your child, who almost made the most horrifying, unforgivable mistake.

Just then, from another room, the faint sound of a baby's cries pierce through the heavy atmosphere. You abruptly yank your wrist out of his grasp and towards the door to leave.

Your heart clenches as you break into a run, following the pitiful cries. You don’t look back.

Miguel remains on his knees. He doenst follow you, he doesn’t dare to move, anchored by the crushing weight of what he's done, as the sounds of Gabriel's cries fade into the background.

"Gabriel," he whispers, the name escaping his lips like a vow. A promise of redemption. And with that single word, Miguel knows he'll move heaven and earth to protect his child.

Part 4 "Webs of Redemption"

Hello, you wonderful souls! I want to say a big thank you for your patience and kind words about this series. I really appreciate each of your sweet comments and messages – they mean so much to me. Thank you all for the insightful ideas and suggestions you contributed for part 3. I've incorporated as many of your concepts as I could because they're simply brilliant. I'm eager to hear more of your thoughts, criticisms, and proposals for part 4. I also want to give a special thanks to Jess, @wolfjessedragon . Her inspiration and amazing ideas were the driving force behind Part 3, and I couldn't have written it without her! love you guys, keep being awesome!

[nnnaaahhhiiiaaa]

Ice Cream - kwon ji-yong

Summary | You and Ji-yong have been dating for the past two weeks. And you had never been on a date until now.

Pairing | post-debut!ji-yong x fem!reader.

Genre | 2000s school era.

Warnings | Fluff, romantic.

Author's note | English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

You were a bundle of nerves. It was your first date with your first boyfriend, and even though things were just starting, deep down you hoped—with the innocent hope of someone who dreams quietly—that it would last forever. Your heart was pounding as you rummaged through your closet, unable to find anything that felt perfect. Nothing felt enough like you, yet you didn’t want to clash too much with Ji-yong either.

Your styles were from completely different worlds. He had that streetwear vibe—oversized clothes, tilted caps, chains. You, on the other hand, radiated a Y2K aesthetic full of colors, sparkles, and that nostalgic early-2000s flair. You were polar opposites, but that didn’t stop you.

With a long, resigned sigh, you threw on the first thing that caught your eye: a denim mini skirt with a pink leopard-print belt, matched with a top in the same pattern that slightly revealed the black lace of your bra. Over that, a denim jacket to balance things out. You finished the outfit with pastel pink kitten heels and a mini bag that looked like it was made from the same fabric as your top. Bold, flirty, and unmistakably you.

You did your makeup quickly but carefully—soft eyeliner, glossy lips, and a bit of blush that highlighted your hopeful expression. After one last glance in the mirror, you headed out to your date.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Ji-yong stood out even among the bustling crowd in downtown Seoul. But what really caught your attention wasn’t him—it was the scene around him: several girls your age clustered near, asking for autographs and, of course, taking their chance to flirt shamelessly.

You frowned, unable to hide your jealousy. With a dramatic flair, you pulled out your leopard-framed sunglasses and slid them on with all the attitude of a diva. You walked toward him confidently, like the whole world was your runway. You knew this came with his recent debut in the K-pop group—photos, fans, attention... but it still got to you. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because of the way those girls approached him with fake smiles and eyes full of intentions.

“Ji-ji!” you called out playfully, a radiant smile lighting up your face—the one you knew he loved.

He turned around instantly at the sound of your voice, as if his ears were trained to recognize it. He quickly apologized to the fans and made his way over to you, fast, like just seeing you grounded him again.

The girls’ gazes shifted instantly—from dreamy admiration to pure jealousy. You smiled in triumph, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him without hesitation. It wasn’t just affection—it was a subtle claim. The eyes behind you burned.

“Wow, what was that?” he chuckled nervously, still surprised.

“What?” you feigned innocence, taking your sunglasses off with elegance. “I can’t kiss my boyfriend? Or is it that you don’t want them to know you have a girlfriend... or worse, that it’s me?”

You pulled away dramatically, crossing your arms like you were in the middle of a soap opera. Ji-yong rolled his eyes fondly and stepped in, grabbing you by the waist.

“Oh, come on. You know that’s not it. You just caught me off guard, baby.”

And before you could reply, he kissed you back. This time, deeper, more sincere.

Your cheeks flushed instantly. You peeked with one eye and saw the fans walking off, clearly annoyed. You smiled mid-kiss, satisfied.

“Knew it... you got jealous, didn’t you?” he teased as he pulled away, that playful glint in his eyes.

“Of course I did. Just because you’re famous now doesn’t mean you’re single to the rest of the world,” you replied, gently pinching his cheeks.

He looked at you like you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen and planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. Your heart skipped a beat, and you blushed again.

“Come on, baby. Let’s make this date unforgettable.” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

You’d arranged to meet in the heart of Seoul, where Saturday mornings filled the streets with food stalls, clothes, accessories, and that vibrant city energy only Seoul could give. The whole day was yours.

“Oh, look, Y/n!” Ji-yong called.

You were busy looking at some jewelry at a cute little stall, but turned around when he called you. He was holding an adorable plush toy—a mix between a chick and a bunny. Its little body was yellow, with long floppy bunny ears, an orange beak, and stubby legs. It was ridiculously cute.

“It’s so cute!” you squealed, hands flailing with excitement. You snatched the plushie from his hands with a giggle and hugged it tightly like it was a treasure.

Ji-yong couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were smiling in a way that left him speechless. Your blonde hair danced in the breeze, your lips curved sweetly, and your laughter was music to him.

“It’s for you,” he said suddenly.

You stopped. Blinked.

“What?”

“I’m giving it to you,” he repeated calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“B-but, Ji-ji…” you stammered. You didn’t want him spending money on you. Not out of pride, but because you didn’t want to feel like you owed him anything.

As if reading your thoughts, he shook his head and gently brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

“You don’t have to give me anything back. Your smile is worth more than any plush toy in the world.”

Your cheeks turned bright red—you looked like you might burst from the embarrassment. Like a little tomato about to explode. Ji-yong loved it. He smiled, utterly smitten by you. Every minute with you made him fall harder.

You had no choice but to accept the gift, even if you pretended to be reluctant. But inside, you were overjoyed. And even though you tried to act casual, you couldn’t help but pet the plush with affection. It was Ji-yong’s first gift to you, and you’d treasure it forever.

“How about we get some ice cream? Then we can keep walking through the stalls,” he suggested, gently intertwining his left hand with yours, while holding the plush in the other.

“Yes!” you beamed, hugging his arm. “I need something cold with this heat!”

“Are you sure you’re hot?” he teased with a raised brow and a smirk. “Don’t get me wrong, you look amazing in that mini skirt, but if I were you, I’d be a little cold…”

“I can handle a few more degrees than you, babe. Don’t worry about me.” You winked at him, amused. “You’re the one who looks all tired and sweaty. You’re worse than me… though still very cute.”

Ji-yong chuckled under his breath, guiding you toward a nearby ice cream shop.

You didn’t have to walk far. The shop was right next to the Cheonggyecheon River, which gave you the perfect excuse for a stroll afterward, hand-in-hand with your ice cream and each other.

“What flavor do you want, gorgeous?” he asked, giving you one of those smiles that melted you faster than the summer sun.

“Hmm… vanilla and strawberry,” you answered without much thought.

“One vanilla-strawberry and one green tea, please,” Ji-yong told the vendor, never letting go of your hand.

Minutes later, you both had your ice creams. Ji-yong reluctantly let go of your hand to hold his, but that didn’t stop you—still hugging the plush against your side, you reached for his free hand and intertwined your fingers again. Like letting go completely wasn’t an option.

You walked together in a comfortable silence until you reached the river. The sound of flowing water and the soft breeze created the perfect atmosphere. It felt like Seoul had paused just for the two of you.

You sat by the edge, close enough for the current to almost touch your shoes. The ground was cool, the sun gentle, and everything moved at a slow, peaceful rhythm, like the world was giving you space to just be.

Without a word, you rested your head on Ji-yong’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh—the kind that doesn’t weigh you down, but lifts you up. As you savored your favorite flavor, you felt his body relax beside you, his fingers gently caressing the back of your hand with quiet affection.

Time passed slowly—but perfectly.

“I wish this would never end…” he whispered suddenly, his voice barely a breath, as if afraid to shatter the magic of the moment.

Your heart skipped. You didn’t need to think.

“Me too…” you whispered back, pure honesty in your voice.

You looked up and found him already watching you. His eyes sparkled—not from the city lights reflected in the water, but from something deeper: emotion, affection, a quiet happiness that felt real.

You both smiled—and in that smile was everything. The budding love, the growing connection, the promise of an “us” that was just beginning but already felt special.

There, by the riverside, between the murmur of the water and the sweetness of your ice cream, your first date became an unforgettable memory.

[bettelaboure]

⊹The Brushstroke of Desire ⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader ⊹ Warnings: explicit sexual themes, sensuality, intimate situations, and emotional vulnerability ⊹ Word count: 2 k ⊹ Authors note: usually I prefer smut myself, but dear God, how I giggled like a little girl writing this...

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The first time you noticed him, Seung-Hyun was an island amidst the buzz of the gallery’s opening. While the guests swirled in clusters, exchanging pleasantries and hushed critiques over champagne flutes, he remained apart, alone. His presence was subtle but undeniable. A man who seemed to move through the world as if it bent to his will. A man who had no need to hurry, yet, here he was, pausing in front of your painting with a quiet reverence that made your breath catch. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a perfectly tailored suit, a suit that whispered of wealth, of power, yet there was nothing about him that seemed conceited. No, it was as if his calm, unhurried attention to your work held a deeper meaning—an unspoken invitation to witness something intimate, something only the two of you could share.

The brushstrokes of your piece were a map of your soul. The color choices, deliberate. The shapes, reflections of your inner chaos and quietude. When his gaze finally shifted toward you, it was not the casual glance of a viewer. His eyes were sharp, tracing the arc of your expression, as if reading between the lines of your existence, searching for a truth hidden in plain sight. In that moment, you felt a delicate dance of exhilaration and vulnerability flutter in your chest. Was it possible? Could he—this stranger who was no stranger at all—see what you had poured into the canvas? The raw, unspoken parts of yourself you had laid bare for the world?

There was no small talk. No hollow pleasantries. Just a single question that made your pulse race. “Tell me about this one.” His voice, smooth and deep, lingered in the space between you.

The words spilled from your lips with a kind of honesty you didn’t know you were capable of. You spoke of the emotions that had driven you to paint, the restlessness that had gnawed at you, the nights you had spent lost in a haze of color and shadow. You spoke, but it felt as if he wasn’t listening for the facts, but for the unspoken weight of your experience. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on you—intense, unwavering, as though he could see inside you, past the surface. As though he was savoring every word you uttered.

It was as if time itself had paused, drawn into the magnetic pull of his attention. When he spoke again, it was with the slow certainty of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. "Dinner?" The invitation was simple, yet his eyes held something more—a promise. One you were unable—or unwilling—to deny.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The atmosphere was soft, intimate, as if the world outside had been temporarily forgotten. Candlelight flickered against the polished wood, casting shadows that danced along his features, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. He was a man sculpted by grace, by power, by something deeper that you couldn’t quite place. The faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a cloak, soothing and heady all at once.

Each brush of his fingertips against your knuckles was an unspoken question, a quiet exploration. There was nothing accidental about his touch—every movement deliberate, calculated, designed to unravel you piece by piece. His hand rested lightly on your thigh, a soft pressure that sent heat spiraling up your spine. Your breath caught, the touch innocent, yet charged with an energy that sent your thoughts scattering.

The conversation flowed, weaving between art, life, and the things left unsaid. Seung-Hyun spoke with a depth that made you lean closer, drawn not only to his words but to the way they were delivered—with purpose, with intention. His eyes, always steady, seemed to see more than you were willing to show. There was a slowness to his every gesture, as if he savored the moment before he moved on to the next. Each sip of wine, each lean toward you as you spoke—it was as if he was tasting you, savoring the very essence of your being.

“How did you start painting?” he asked, his voice low and hushed, as though it were a secret shared between you and him alone. His gaze never wavered from your face, studying the way your lips moved, the subtle change in your expression.

You hesitated only for a moment before speaking, the words tumbling out, soft and confessional. “It wasn’t a choice. Not really. I think I’ve always needed to paint. It was my escape when I was younger—a way to channel everything I couldn’t express. But over time… it became more than that. It became the lens through which I see the world.”

He nodded, his expression softening with understanding. “Art,” he said thoughtfully, “is one of the few things that can capture both the chaos and the calm of life. It holds everything—the contradictions we don’t want to face, the truths we don’t want to see.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his insight. There was a quiet intensity in the way he spoke, as though he understood the very marrow of your soul. “You speak as if you’ve felt it,” you remarked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I have.” He leaned back, studying you as though he were memorizing the way your face lit up when you spoke of your passion. “Art is the one thing in this world that remains untouched by power or wealth. It demands honesty. And it’s not just beauty that I seek—I collect art because it forces something real from me. It opens a door to truth that nothing else can.”

The silence between you thickened, pregnant with a tension neither of you acknowledged yet both could feel. Then, after a beat that stretched between you like a taut wire, he added, “And you—your presence, your passion—it’s like you’re a piece of art yourself.”

You felt the words as if they were a physical touch, something that shifted the air around you. A compliment, yes, but something far more intense. Your chest tightened, heat creeping into your cheeks.

“You mean that?” Your voice trembled with the question, the sudden vulnerability of being seen so completely, so intimately, leaving you breathless.

His lips curved into the faintest smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was something deeper there, something that told you that he had already seen more of you than anyone else ever had. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

By the time the night was over, you weren’t sure if you had eaten anything at all. The taste of his voice, the weight of his gaze, and the subtle brush of his fingers against your skin had rendered everything else distant, irrelevant. When he drove you home, the silence in the car was heavy, charged with an unspoken understanding, a quiet storm brewing between you.

You barely had time to breathe before realizing your phone—your lifeline to the outside world—was left in the passenger seat. You had resigned yourself to retrieving it the next day, but Seung-Hyun was not a man who left things unfinished. The next morning, a soft knock echoed at your door, and when you opened it, there he stood, phone in hand, his presence commanding the space.

But something else—something more—was in the air now.

As you stood there, a whisper of sound broke the silence. Your voice. Soft, needy, breathless.

Seung-Hyun froze, his breath hitching at the sound. His pulse quickened as he stood just beyond the threshold, rooted in place, a witness to the private moment unfolding before him.

He could have walked away. He should have. But the pull, the magnetic force between you, kept him there. Instinct moved him, and he turned the knob, stepping into the space you had unwittingly made for him.

The sight of you, sprawled on the bed, fingers grazing over your own skin, lost in a moment of desire you hadn’t known he would witness, was enough to make his chest tighten. His pulse thudded louder in his ears, a rush of heat flooding his veins.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Your eyes locked, and in them, he saw everything—the vulnerability, the longing, the rawness of the moment. It was an invitation, and he accepted it without hesitation.

With deliberate slowness, he closed the door behind him. His voice, barely a whisper, was thick with something you both felt but refused to name. “Were you thinking of me?”

The confession was already there, written in the flush of your cheeks, the rise and fall of your breath. Your body answered before your lips could. The weight of his gaze held you in place as he crossed the room, each step deliberate, measured. He traced the curve of your jaw with a fingertip, and the touch was gentle, reverent, as if he was learning you with each caress.

When he kissed you, it was slow—an unhurried exploration, as if he was savoring the taste of you, imprinting it on his memory. Every second stretched between you, thick with the promise of more. His hands moved with the precision of an artist, memorizing the way your body reacted to his touch. The way you gasped when his lips brushed your inner thighs, the tremor that followed every slow, deliberate caress.

And when he finally took you, it was not rushed. It was deliberate, the way he studied every inch of you, the way he held you as though you were something fragile, something precious. Each movement was a stroke on a canvas of skin, each whisper of his name from your lips a note in a song only the two of you could hear.

When the world outside had faded, and you lay tangled in his arms, the soft light of dawn spilling through the curtains, you felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging. Not just to him—but to the moment. To the quiet certainty that this—whatever this was—had changed you both, irrevocably.

And in the stillness, he whispered against your shoulder, the ghost of a smile in his voice. “I came to return your phone.”

You laughed softly, a sound that felt too light, too free for everything that had just passed between you. And in that moment, you knew. This was only the beginning.

[mercenaryg]

They told me that K-Means-Clustering, but whether or not that's a good or a bad thing remains to be seen.

[kathlare]

this love

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As the group enjoys a private tour of the zoo, Pietra observes the undeniable chemistry between Lando and Amelie, which shifts Lando's usual confident demeanor into something softer and more vulnerable.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 14th, 2024 - Melbourne, Australia

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in Melbourne, and Pietra could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. Max, Lando, and herself were heading toward the zoo where Amelie, Lando’s girlfriend, was spending time with her sister, Elysia, and the rest of her team before the big night. Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was in full swing, and Amelie had been opening for her, which meant the energy was high.

Despite having been in Amelie’s orbit for some time now, Pietra was nervous. This was the first time she was meeting her in person, and she had heard so many things about her. Not just from Lando, but from Max too. Max had warned her—half-joking, half-serious—that she was about to witness firsthand how "touchy and horny" Lando became around Amelie. Pietra had laughed, but now, as they drove toward the zoo, she was beginning to understand the weight of his words.

Lando, sitting next to her in the back seat, was checking himself in the rearview mirror for what felt like the fiftieth time. He ran a hand through his messy hair, adjusting his shirt, then checked his phone—Amelie had texted him a few minutes ago to confirm they were on their way. Lando’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the mention of her name. Pietra watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. He was definitely a little bit smitten.

As the car hummed along the streets of Melbourne, Pietra tried to hide her curiosity. She was still processing everything Max had said about Amelie and Lando’s relationship. She had heard snippets of their past—how they were once friends who casually dated before drifting apart, only to rekindle things in 2023 at the Mexican Grand Prix. They had such an intense connection, one that Pietra could tell was undeniable, even if Lando never fully admitted it.

Max, sensing Pietra’s growing curiosity, shot her a teasing glance. —I’m telling you, you’ll get it once you see them together. It’s like… pure chaos. But it’s sweet chaos.—

Pietra raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. —Is he really that bad?—

Max let out a chuckle. —Oh, he’s a simp. Straight-up. But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll never live it down.—

Pietra tried to hold back a laugh as she glanced at Lando again. He was still adjusting his shirt, seemingly unaware of the tension he was creating in the back seat. His nervous energy was palpable. —You look fine, Lan,— Pietra said, half-teasing but also trying to reassure him.

Lando’s eyes darted to her in the mirror, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. —You think so?— He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly trying to look effortlessly cool, but Pietra could see through it. It was all for Amelie.

Max, who had been listening to their exchange, smirked. —Pietra, trust me, once we’re at the zoo, you’ll see what I mean. Lando can’t help himself around Ames. She’s his kryptonite.—

Finally, the car pulled up to the zoo. The private event felt surreal to Pietra—everything had been arranged just for them. A private tour of the zoo, with Amelie and her team. As Pietra stepped out of the car, her eyes widened at the sight of the exotic animals, but her mind was focused on the real reason she was there: meeting Amelie.

Max nudged Pietra as they walked toward the group. —There she is.— He gestured toward a small cluster of people ahead. Amelie was standing with her sister Elysia, laughing at something Alex had just said. Her hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and her radiant smile lit up the area. She had a natural beauty that almost took Pietra’s breath away.

Pietra couldn’t help but feel a little starstruck. She knew Amelie’s reputation and had seen her perform countless times on social media, but now, standing in front of her, it was something entirely different. Amelie was even more stunning in person. As if sensing her approach, Amelie looked up, and her eyes locked onto Lando. The soft smile on her face grew, and Pietra noticed how Lando’s whole demeanor changed the moment he saw her. It was like he became a completely different person—softer, more open, and undeniably smitten.

Pietra watched, her heart doing a strange little flip as Lando practically lit up when he saw Amelie. His nervousness melted away, and a huge smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a casual smile either—it was the kind of smile someone wore when they were completely at ease and utterly happy.

Amelie was wearing a simple yet effortlessly chic outfit, a loose white blouse paired with a pair of faded denim skirt and sneakers. She had an air of comfort, as if she were entirely at home in the world, and it made her even more magnetic. The way she greeted Lando with open arms, almost as if she was waiting for this very moment, made Pietra’s stomach flutter in a way she wasn’t expecting.

—Lan!— Amelie’s voice rang out, her accent thick but warm. She practically bounced over to him, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Pietra couldn’t help but notice how Lando immediately pulled her in, his hands lingering on the small of her back as if he couldn’t bear to let go. The connection between them was undeniable.

—Hey, Ames.— Lando’s voice was soft and affectionate, the way he said her name sending a slight shiver down Pietra’s spine.

Pietra blinked, trying not to feel too out of place, though she was admittedly a little overwhelmed. Max had said it, and now she could see it for herself—Lando was completely and utterly wrapped up in Amelie.

After a brief moment of holding onto each other, Amelie pulled back, but only slightly. She looked up at him with those big, blue eyes, and Pietra swore she could see the unspoken words floating between them. They didn’t need to say it, but it was clear they were so far past just being friends. There was something deeper, something raw, underneath all their easy banter and flirtation.

Then, Amelie’s eyes shifted toward Pietra, and she smiled warmly.

—You must be Pietra!— she said, her voice laced with excitement. —I’ve heard so much about you.—

Pietra was caught off guard. She had known Max spoke about her a lot, but hearing Amelie confirm it made her feel a little shy. She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

—Hi, Amelie, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person!— Pietra said, extending her hand. She was trying to keep it cool, but she could feel her nerves rising as Amelie’s warm smile remained steady.

Amelie took her hand, giving it a firm yet friendly shake. —It’s great to finally meet you too! I’ve heard so many stories from Lando and Max. I feel like I already know you!—

Pietra laughed nervously. —I hope they’re all good things!—

—Oh, mostly!— Amelie teased with a wink.

Max, standing nearby, nudged Pietra with his elbow, a knowing smirk on his face. —Told you, didn’t I?— he whispered.

Pietra rolled her eyes playfully, trying to hide the flutter of embarrassment in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was certainly a little overwhelming to see how comfortable Amelie and Lando were around each other. Still, Pietra was happy to see them both so happy, and she couldn’t deny how easygoing Amelie seemed.

As the group continued to mingle, Pietra found herself drawn to Amelie’s presence. It wasn’t just her beauty—it was her confidence, the way she moved and spoke with an ease that made it obvious she was used to being in the spotlight, yet somehow, she made everyone around her feel at ease. Pietra couldn’t help but compare her to what she had imagined in her head after hearing all of Max’s stories. Amelie was definitely more grounded than the glitzy, Hollywood image Pietra had expected. She felt a little silly for being so nervous.

After a few minutes of chatting, the group began the private tour of the zoo. They were guided through the paths, the animals roaming freely in the carefully crafted enclosures. Pietra, still trying to get used to everything, took in the vibrant surroundings while trying to keep up with the rest of the group.

As they strolled through the zoo, Pietra marveled at the unusual creatures. But she couldn’t fully concentrate on the animals, not with the electricity in the air between Amelie and Lando. It was palpable, like an invisible string pulling them together, no matter where they were. Pietra found herself constantly catching glimpses of the way Lando’s gaze softened when he looked at Amelie, or how Amelie’s smile seemed to shine even brighter when she caught his eye.

They paused by the giraffes, their long necks reaching for the treetops. Max, ever the joker, leaned over to Pietra and whispered, —Look at him. That’s how he’s been since he knows her. Completely mesmerized by her.—

Pietra couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Lando standing just a little bit too close to Amelie, his hand brushing the small of her back as they both laughed at something Alex had said. They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. Lando was openly fawning over her, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a soft vulnerability that only Amelie seemed to draw out of him.

As they moved to the next exhibit, a playful group of kangaroos hopping around, Lando fell back a bit, walking next to Pietra.

—So, what do you think?— Lando asked, his voice lowering just enough that only Pietra could hear him.

Pietra hesitated for a moment. —I didn’t expect this... but it’s great. You two seem... really comfortable together.—

Pietra glanced over at Lando, still a little taken aback by the dynamic between him and Amelie. She could see it now—the effortless way they interacted, as if they had been in their own little world for years. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, and it was impossible to ignore.

—You’re… something else,— Pietra replied, her voice tinged with awe. —I can see what Max meant. You’re totally wrapped around her finger, huh?—

Lando grinned, but there was a certain tenderness in his smile as he shifted his attention back to Amelie. —I’m not complaining,— he said softly. —She’s… well, she’s Amelie. She’s got that effect on me. Always has, probably always will.—

Pietra couldn’t help but chuckle, though she also understood the sincerity behind his words. There was something about the way Lando spoke about Amelie that made it clear—this wasn’t just a fling. He was deeply invested in her, in a way she hadn’t seen him with anyone else.

—It’s cute, though,— Pietra teased, nudging him playfully. —You’re all soft when she’s around. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you like this before.—

Lando raised an eyebrow, looking both embarrassed and amused. —Shut up,— he muttered, but there was no hiding the grin that spread across his face. —You have no idea. You’re just getting started, Pietra. Wait until you see us when we’re really alone.—

Pietra smirked, her curiosity growing even more. —Oh, I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure of seeing that at some point.—

Lando gave her a mock glare, but there was no malice in it. It was the same playful banter they always had, though now with a touch more vulnerability that Pietra hadn’t expected.

Pietra watched, feeling a strange warmth in her chest as she saw the connection between them. It was clear that, despite all the time apart and all the ups and downs, they were completely in sync with each other. She could see it in every look they exchanged, in every little touch, and it made her smile. This was real, and it was undeniable.

[03jyh23]

🖤⌇ thuggish charm chapter one bandit(?)!; a jung wooyoung mini-series

badboy(?) wooyoung x fem!reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: the one where you miss your train and meet a charming... bandit?

│genre: romance

│trigger warnings: none?

│words: 4.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

│taglist: if you wish to join let me know here

— hi there, my lovely people! honestly, i have no idea what this is 😭. i got inspired by a song from one of the rappers in my country and just went with it. and now i'm just wondering if i should do something more with this story or just leave it be?

love, mon ♡

A cold evening breeze tousled your hair, plastering strands to your face. A heavy bag hung from your shoulder, filled with items that couldn't fit into the large suitcase standing beside you, your hand gripping its handle tightly. The thing was, you didn't make it to your transfer train. Despite your friends' warnings, you insisted you could grab a much-needed iced coffee in the 10 minutes before your train left. You were wrong.

The platform was dark, with only two solitary lamps casting a dim light. You cursed yourself under your breath, but there wasn't much you could do now. You'd already waited for an hour; you could've managed another before the next train arrived. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily—it was running out of battery. It was frustrating. You'd have to wait two hours just to take a train for a little over forty minutes to reach your hometown. But you were the only one to blame. Well, at least you had your coffee and a blueberry muffin. But it wasn’t worth it, not at all. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. You glanced at the large clock hanging from the information board, hoping the minutes would pass more quickly. Of course, they didn't.

After an frustratingly long time you finally heard the train approaching, its rumble growing louder as it neared the station. You felt a mix of relief and anticipation wash over you. Finally, you'd be on your way. As the train's headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the platform, you gathered your belongings and prepared to board, eager to put this frustrating delay behind you.

The car you boarded was empty, so you sat down at the very end, near the window. You placed your luggage in the designated area and quickly plugged in your phone to charge as much as possible for the remaining journey.

As the train pulled into the next station, the platform gradually came into view, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that cast long shadows across the concrete. The stark illumination revealed an almost deserted space, save for a group of eight young men clustered near the far end. Their presence immediately caught your attention, starkly contrasting the emptiness surrounding them. Each member of the group was clad entirely in black, their dark attire blending into the night behind them. As your eyes adjusted to the scene, you noticed intricate tattoos adorning their bodies and faces - some subtle, others bold and striking. Three of them were casually smoking cigarettes, the wisps of smoke curling upwards into the night air. As you observed them, one of the smokers suddenly locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense and unwavering, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tossed his half-finished cigarette into a nearby bin. The action, while seemingly casual, felt loaded with meaning. Your heart plummeted, a mix of anxiety and unease settling in your stomach. The weight of his stare was palpable, even from this distance. Instinctively, you turned your head away, breaking the uncomfortable connection. Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. As the train doors hissed open, you found yourself fervently hoping that none of the group would decide to board. The thought of sharing this confined space with them filled you with a sense of apprehension that you couldn't quite shake off.

"Wooyoung-ah, just get there and get it done with, yeah?" the unexpected gentleness in the voice you’ve just heard had caught you off guard. You grabbed your phone to busy yourself with, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it, trying to appear nonchalant.

As you glanced up from your phone, you saw one of the young men from the group stepping onto the train. His movements were fluid and graceful, belying his intimidating appearance. The tattoos on his face seemed to dance in the flickering light of the train car. "I'll be fine, Joong. See y'all next week, yeah?" the boy called out, waving to his companions just before the train doors closed with a loud beep. Your heart rate quickened as you realized he must be Wooyoung, the one addressed earlier. His hair was black, neck-length, with a fringe styled neatly—only a few strands falling onto his forehead. You noticed a bandage right above his eyebrow, the skin around it purple with bruises. He wasn't tall, but the chunky boots and large leather jacket made him appear more imposing. The tattoos adorning his face seemed to shift and dance in the dim light of the train, adding an air of mystery to his already intimidating presence. His dark eyes scanned the train car, eventually settling on you. For a moment, your gazes locked, and you felt a mix of fear and inexplicable curiosity wash over you.

Wooyoung chose a seat a few rows ahead of you, close enough that you could observe him without being too obvious. As he settled in, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he was shedding some of the intensity he had displayed on the platform. The train lurched forward, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the intimidating figure you'd seen on the platform with the young man now sitting quietly a few rows ahead. His presence seemed to fill the car, even in silence. Your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoos adorning his face. The one beneath his left eye caught your attention - at first glance, it looked like the number 26, but as you studied it more closely, you realized it might be something else entirely. Your gaze drifted to his temple, where a small, delicate butterfly tattoo rested, a surprising contrast to his otherwise intimidating appearance. You tried to read the lettering above his eyebrow when he caught your eyes again. You raised your eyebrows and looked away, feeling a shudder run through your body. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place. Your heart raced as you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, all too aware of his presence just a few rows ahead.

The train's rhythmic movement did little to calm your nerves as you found yourself stealing quick glances at Wooyoung again, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tattoo above his eyebrow remained a mystery, its meaning just out of reach.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence, startling you out of your thoughts. "You know, it's not polite to stare," he said, his tone filled with amusement. His eyes met yours again, this time with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, caught red-handed in your observation. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected address.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, turning to face you more directly. "Curious about the ink?" he asked, gesturing to the tattoos on his face. "Most people are. They either can't look away or can't bear to look at all." His words carried a weight that suggested he was used to both reactions. You felt your words frozen in your throat, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze and the unexpected interaction left you speechless. You simply averted your eyes, focusing intently on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You heard him chuckling softly, a sound that was both melodious and slightly unnerving. "Not much of a talker, huh?" he mused, his eyes still fixed on you. You dared to look up again, the warmth in his expression caught you off guard, softening his intimidating appearance. It was a stark contrast to the intense gaze you had encountered earlier. For a moment, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. "Are you afraid of me?" Wooyoung asked, sensing your hesitation. His voice was softer than you expected. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. The initial fear you felt was still there, but it had been tempered by curiosity and the unexpected warmth in his smile. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's fair," he said, his voice sultry. "But I promise, I'm much more... fun than I look." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Want to find out just how deceiving appearances can be?" His gaze locked with yours, intense and inviting, daring you to look beyond his intimidating exterior.

You blinked continuously, taken aback by his bold proposition. "E-excuse me?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. The sudden shift in the conversation left you flustered, unsure of how to respond to unexpected flirtation.

Wooyoung rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he approached, you found yourself captivated by his presence. He stood before you, and for the first time, you truly noticed the intricate details of his face. His nose and lip piercings glinted in the dim light of the train car, adding to his allure. You were struck by how handsome he was up close, his features a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves. Looking up at him, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wooyoung's eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he gestured towards the seat next to you. The question hung in the air, loaded with possibilities. Your heart raced as you considered your options. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze made you feel both thrilled and uneasy. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded slightly, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. As he settled into the seat beside you, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting, you couldn't help but wonder what you were getting yourself into.

"My name's Wooyoung," he says, his eyes roaming your features. "And I'd hate to scare off such a beautiful girl, so answer me... are you really afraid of me? Or is it just my killer looks that's got your tongue?" You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck as Wooyoung's words washed over you. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filling your senses. You struggled to find your voice, caught between the intimidating aura he exuded and the undeniable attraction you felt.

"I... I'm not afraid," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... surprised." You met his gaze, finding yourself drawn into the depth of his dark eyes.

Wooyoung's pierced lips curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised? By what? My charming personality or my devilishly good looks?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe a bit of both," you admitted, surprising yourself with your boldness.

His smirk widened into a genuine smile, transforming his face. "I like your honesty," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, beautiful, since we've established you're not afraid of me, how about we make this train ride a little more... interesting?" You crossed your arms and leaned back against the window, trying to put some distance between yourself and Wooyoung. His sudden closeness and bold proposition had caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts.

"Are you going to shout 'A bandit! Help!' and run away now?" he joked, but you couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd been in this situation before. Despite his joking tone, there was an undercurrent of familiarity in his words. Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Do people usually call you a bandit?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Wooyoung's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise or appreciation—crossing his features. He leaned back, creating a bit more space between you, and let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, straight to the point, aren't you?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and something more serious. "Let's just say I've heard it enough times to make jokes about it. But appearances can be deceiving, you know?" His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability there that contradicted his tough exterior. "What do you think? Am I living up to the 'thug' stereotype?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his eyes directly. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both nervous and intrigued. "Honestly?" you asked with hesitation, weighing your next words carefully.

"No, please lie to me!" Wooyoung joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of chewing gum. With a swift motion, he popped one into his mouth, the minty scent wafting between you. You couldn't help but smile at his playful response, feeling some of the tension dissipate. The casual act of chewing gum somehow made him seem more approachable, and less intimidating than before.

Taking another deep breath, you decided to answer honestly. "At first glance, maybe. The tattoos, the piercings, the whole vibe... it's intimidating," you admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "But talking to you now? You seem more... complex than that. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" You surprised yourself with your boldness, but something about Wooyoung made you want to dig deeper, to understand the person behind the intimidating facade.

Wooyoung smirked, raising one of his eyebrows as he popped a bubble with the gum. "Are you a psychiatrist in the making?" he teased. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but he didn't give you time to answer. "'I'm no bandit, first I've heard of it,'" he said, putting his hands up as if he were surrendering. "You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to say that." His words carried a hint of frustration beneath the playful tone, and you found yourself wondering about the experiences that led him to make such a statement. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the ladies think I kill, but at home, I walk in pink slippers." He paused, letting the image sink in before continuing, "And all the grannies yell when I step out on the street." His gaze locked with yours, a mix of amusement and challenge in his expression. You couldn't help but laugh at the contrast he painted. The image of this intimidating figure in pink slippers was both absurd and oddly endearing.

"What else do you do at home?" you tease, finally relaxing into your seat, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Isn't that a very personal question?" he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful expression. "Well, you did invite me to make this train ride more interesting," you countered, your confidence growing with each exchange. "Besides, I'm curious about the man behind the tattoos and pink slippers." Your eyes met his, a silent challenge in your gaze, daring him to reveal more about himself.

"As for the tattoos, I just fucking like them, that's all," Wooyoung said with a shrug. His nonchalant attitude towards his tattoos made you wonder about the stories behind each one.

You found yourself drawn to the intricate designs adorning his skin, each one likely holding a unique significance. "Do any of them have special meanings?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Wooyoung's eyes lit up at your question, a mix of surprise and appreciation crossing his features.

"I'll save the answer to that for a second date," Wooyoung said with a wink. He nonchalantly popped another gum balloon before spitting it into the small trash bin.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement at his flirtatious response. "A second date? Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?" you teased back, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. The easy banter between you two was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Wooyoung leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, I consider this our first date, ever since you agreed for me to sit here," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The boldness of his statement caught you off guard, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Oh really?" you replied, trying to match his confidence. "And here I thought first dates usually involved dinner or a movie, not a chance encounter on a train."

Wooyoung's grin widened, "Who says we can't be unconventional?" he countered, his gaze never leaving yours. "But if you want all of that," he continued, his voice taking on a playful, almost challenging tone, "then it's my pleasure to take you on such a... boring date without anything extraordinary to it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly closer. "Though I have to warn you, even my idea of 'ordinary' might surprise you."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Who says I'd even agree to go out with you in the first place?" you challenged, your tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You're making quite a few assumptions there, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting your response. He leaned back, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his features. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. "Touché," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "I guess I got a bit ahead of myself there. My apologies." He paused, his gaze softening. "But can you blame a guy for trying? You're not exactly easy to resist."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, but you maintained your composure. "Flattery will get you nowhere," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But I appreciate the apology. Maybe we should start with getting to know each other a bit better before planning any dates, hmm?"

Wooyoung's eyes lit up with amusement at your suggestion. "Why waste time if we can get to know each other on the date?" he countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "After all, isn't that what dates are for?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "You don't even know my name," you pointed out, shaking your head in amusement at his bold flirtation.

Wooyoung's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I don't need that to know you're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words, caught between flattery and disbelief at his audacity. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be charmed by his confidence and smooth talking.

You decided to play along with his flirtatious banter, feeling a mix of amusement and excitement. With a coy smile, you leaned in slightly and said, "I hope my beauty isn't too distracting. We wouldn't want you to miss your stop, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Oh, darling," he drawled, his voice low and rich, "I'd gladly miss a hundred stops if it meant spending more time with you."

You couldn't help but giggle, turning your face away in embarrassment, not able to continue with the banter. You felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the intensity of Wooyoung's flirtation. As you turned back to face him, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with his bold exterior. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be caught in his gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. As the silence stretched between you, you noticed how Wooyoung started playing with his lip ring, his fingers absently toying with the small metal hoop. His eyes, which had been locked with yours, briefly dropped to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable, sending a small thrill through you. You found yourself wondering how that lip ring would feel against your own lips, the thought was both thrilling and intimidating. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Wooyoung, his bold confidence and mysterious aura drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering on the silver ring that adorned them. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the cool metal against your skin. Catching yourself, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. But the image remained, tantalizing and forbidden, at the edges of your mind. You tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, a silent acknowledgment of your growing desire.

Wooyoung's whispered words sent a shiver down your spine. "If there's something you want to do, you should act upon it," he murmured, leaning in closer. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing as the space between you diminished. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and you found yourself drawn to his lips, that tantalizing lip ring catching the dim light of the train. Time seemed to slow as you hovered on the precipice of decision. Should you give in to the desire that had been building since this chance encounter began? Or was this moving too fast, too soon?

Wooyoung smiled lightly, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. The proximity made the lump in your throat grow, your heart racing with anticipation. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper as he asked, "Is it alright for me to touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the thrill of the moment and the rational part of your mind reminding you that you'd just met. Your body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. But it wasn't enough for Wooyoung. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he whispered, "I need to hear you actually say it." His voice was low, almost husky, sending a shiver down your spine. The anticipation hung thick in the air between you, every second stretching out like an eternity.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yes," you breathed, barely audible even in the quiet of the train car. "You can touch me." The words left your lips, a mix of nervousness and excitement coloring your tone. Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in even closer. Wooyoung's hand moved to your jaw, his touch gentle yet electrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his thumb over your lower lip, the sensation causing you to tremble involuntarily. Your breath hitched, caught between anticipation and nervousness as you felt the intensity of his touch and gaze.

You closed your eyes, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your heart raced as you whispered, "You can kiss me now." The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. You waited, breath held, for him to make his move. Wooyoung's breath hitched audibly, a soft exhale that you felt against your skin. There was a moment of stillness, the world seeming to pause around you. Then, with agonizing slowness, you felt him lean in. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, testing. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a jolt through you, contrasting with the warmth of his mouth.

As if emboldened by your response, Wooyoung deepened the kiss. His hand cupped your face more firmly, fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss was a perfect blend of gentle and passionate, leaving you breathless. You could taste the hint of his earlier gum, with a hint of cigarettes. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, all thoughts of the train and your surroundings fading away.

Suddenly, a jolt from the train brought you both back to reality. You pulled away slightly, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in short gasps. Wooyoung's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed at you, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment hung between you, charged with the thrill of newfound connection.

You looked out the window, suddenly realizing with a jolt that you recognized the station passing by. "It's my stop!" you shouted, jumping to your feet in a panic. You quickly unplugged your phone, then grabbed your suitcase and bag, heart racing as you rushed towards the doors.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your sudden movement. "Wait—" he started to say, but you were already halfway down the aisle.

As you reached the doors, you turned back briefly, catching a glimpse of Wooyoung's bewildered expression. A mix of regret and excitement coursed through you as the train began to slow. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out onto the platform, your mind reeling from the whirlwind encounter you'd just experienced. You stood there, catching your breath as the train doors closed behind you. Your heart was still racing, not just from the rush to exit, but from the intense encounter you'd just experienced. As you watched the train pull away, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever see Wooyoung again, or if this magical moment would remain just that—a fleeting connection in the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[peeweemimi]

As an SLP in training (aka a giant language development nerd), here’s my masterlist of child development standards to help with agere!

Disclaimer: I am not a professional. I just started taking classes for my major this year. This info will not be 100% correct

🍼1 year🍼

First word at ~12 months

Most sounds will be p, b, h, m, n, w (errors can occur up to age 3)

Common words are nouns and verbs

No plurals or past tense

Common errors are reduplication (wawa for water, baba for bottle), gliding (putting w and y instead of l and r (wead for read)), cluster reduction (less consonants in a row (back for black)), final consonant deletion (ba for ball) AND MORE in the picture below. Babies make basically every error possible

🧸2 years 🧸

Two word sentences mainly

Add sounds k, g, t, d, f, y (errors up to age 4)

Learning -ing, -s, past tense

Adding words like “is,” “on,” “a,” “the” “will”

Like negatives (no, not, don’t)

Still have a chance to produce all phonological process errors

🧃3 years🧃

~2-4 words average

Sounds r, l, s, z, ch, sh (errors up to ~ age 7)

All vowels developed

Should know many morphemes (-s, -ed, etc) with occasional errors

Multiple clauses! Two simple sentences can combine with “and,” if,” “because,” etc

No more reduplication :(

🪁4 years🪁

~4-5 words average

Sounds j, v, th (basically all of them by now, but errors still occur with most)

Beginning to sound like adult speech

No more cluster reduction or deleting syllables in a word (di-saur for dinosaur)

So what if you need a sound you don’t have?

There are a couple common rules that you can follow to substitute sounds. (Or just delete them. That’s good too. Especially if there are two consonants touching)

Voice, place, manner. All consonants have these three characteristics. Usually, it’s the manner that’s tricky for kids. Stops (p,b,t,d,k,g) nasals (m, n, ng), and glides (w, y) are mostly developed first, while affricates (j, ch), fricatives (f, v, s, z, sh, zh, th), and liquids (l, r) are later.

As a rule of thumb, trade out a sound that’s made at the same location. For example, if you were going to say “vase,” you’d say “base,” because both v and b are produced with the lips. “Then” becomes “den”, because the stop that’s produced closest to the teeth is d.

Secondly, play attention to whether a sound is voiced. This means that your vocal cords are vibrating when you put your hand on your throat. If they are, choose a sound that is also voiced. Many sounds have a voiced and voiceless pair (b and p, t and d, etc). They’re produced in the exact same place. The only difference is whether you’re using your vocal cords.

Finally, r and l are always replaced by w and y. This is called gliding and it’s my favorite thing ever.

[leviathanleva]

Sugar Bomb

Pairing: Findlay 'Hazard' Docherty x Fem!Reader

Description: After months of dancing around each other, you and Hazard come to one last draw before your inevitable departure.

[3.7 k words]

Chapter 7

Early February morning, the snow has partly melted by now. Out on the second-story balcony, the vapor coming from your coffee isn’t the only visible steam. Your breath is as well, it comes out in puffs before rising above your head and dissipating.

The air is crisp and refreshing, the sky is clear and the sun is shining brightly. For a moment, you close your eyes and let the rays warm your frozen, runny nose.

The coffee mug is scalding against your chest, it’s comforting, brings you solace and helps you think clearly about the conversation that is to come. You rest against the railing of the balcony, taking in the city beyond, Maisie is sniffling at your feet, already walked and fed because that’s the first thing you do in the morning, even before showering.

Your feet are cold despite the thick woolen socks and slippers you have on. You think it is what it is and decide to just live with it, your extremities have always been cold during the winter.

The sliding door behind you opens and you look back to see Findlay’s disheveled form standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawns and stretches, the thick muscles under his tank top flexing and expanding, it’s a sight to behold for sure, but sadly you won’t be a witness to it for much longer. And he’s never cold, a part of you has always been jealous of that trait of his.

“Hey.” You call softly, voice still heavy with sleep. You keep your eyes on him for a bit longer before turning them back to the city.

“Ey.” He responds in kind and comes to your side, your elbows collide when he leans on the railing next to you, following your gaze towards the cluster of skyscrapers in the distance. There’s a brief moment of silence before he asks. “Is everything a’right? Ah didn’t expect you leavin’ a note f’ me out of all people.”

You take your time sipping coffee before speaking up again.

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you. Just wanted to talk in private.”

Deep, steady breath and a calm mind were how you were going to get through this encounter. You just had to stay level-headed, that’s all, be friendly but keep him at arm’s length, for both your sakes.

“Was this about?” He doesn’t even seem bothered that stray snowflakes are falling on his bare shoulders, meanwhile, you’re shaking, but whether that’s from the cold or from anxiety is uncertain.

You take a breath, then another, then finally manage to string together the words.

“I found a place.” You begin and glance at him anxiously. “Y’know, to move into and finally stop being a freeloader here.” He doesn’t react and you take it as a bad sign so you continue, trying to lighten the already heavy atmosphere. “It’s already furnished so I won’t be stealing any of your things.”

“You can take wha’ever you wont, you know I don’t care.” He rasps, you hear the strain surging in his voice, the pebble stuck in his throat, the weight suddenly pressing down on his chest, a weight you had just put there. “You can take the whole place wi’cha, if y’ wanted. Still won’t care.”

“Fin…”

“Why?” You stiffen at his question, the rawness of his tone, the betrayal he’s trying to hide but is still so visible in those honeyed eyes you’ve come to love. It’s painful to watch him at a loss, not knowing how to combat your decision and ultimately having to let you go.

He looks like he’s been slapped.

You’d been preparing for this talk for days and it was hard for you, you couldn’t imagine what it was like for him. But you were set on your words, you couldn’t stay any longer, you didn’t want to.

“Because – ”

“ – Is someone botherin’ you?” He finally turns to face you. “Did someone do someth’n t’ you? Y’ can tell me, I always listen.”

“No, it’s not that.” You avert your eyes and stare into the blackness of your coffee instead, trying to find the right words in the murky caffeinated water. “Of course, nobody’s done anything, I love you all like family.”

A breeze blows past and manages to force a shiver up your spine. His first thought was to take you in his arms and bade the cold away, but just as abruptly as his hands lifted to reach for you, they fell back to his sides.

You wanted to cry… protest and have him continue, tell you that everything was going to be okay and that he’d take care of things like he always did. But now wasn’t the time for weakness. Because the hug would end, then he’d ruffle your hair and leave, nothing more. He wouldn’t hold you like a lover but like a sibling, a friend.

And you didn’t want to leave. You had to.

“Wot is it then? Yer room? Too small?” He asks abruptly, wracking his brain and trying to figure out your reasoning while simultaneously coming up with solutions. Anything to keep you from leaving him. He couldn’t bear the thought, not after everything. He’d move with you if it weren’t for his family depending on him, he didn’t care where in the world he was as long as it was with you. “You can have mine, Ah don’t care.”

You shake your head and his world shatters a little bit more.

“No. Fin, please listen to me.”

“Why den? Why leave?” He’s at a loss, completely forgetting that you can speak for yourself and he doesn’t need to play a guessing game. So he goes quiet and stares at you pleadingly, ignoring the ache in his chest and focusing solely on you.

“Please…Please, tell me what’s wrong…”

You take one last stressed sip of your coffee and set it down before turning to him properly, no longer leaning on the railing but instead facing each other in your full stature.

He at least deserved a proper reason and to look him in the eyes when you giving it.

“Because it’s not right to stay.” You say, then motion towards your chest as your brows knit together, an angsty expression bittering your features. “I don’t benefit you guys in any way. The best I can do is make food and clean up, help you with some tasks and run errands. I don’t fit in here. I’m not phreak, I don’t have any skills.”

Even in dire moments like these, you’re still so pretty to him. His little angel…

The way the sunrays cascade over your form, giving you an otherworldly glow, it takes his breath away and balms over his turbulent feelings and racing thoughts.

You always did have a way of soothing him. Soft words and gentle touches, that’s how you were, those are some of the many things that made you perfect in his eyes. Always caring for others, especially him who’s been alone in shouldering the unfairness of the world for so long.

“That never mattered.” He shoots back with confidence this time because it’s true. You’ve been a vital part of their team since you first came to join them. It didn’t matter that you weren’t a skilled hacker or couldn’t shoot a gun. Civilians had their own set of irreplaceable skills. Even if all you wanted to do was be Maisie’s sitter, you’d still be doing more than enough. “We all love you, we do. Couldn’t have made it dis far without ya.”

“Findlay…”

Why did he have to fight back so hard? Why couldn’t he just make things easy on you? You were already suffering with regret and the agony of separation before you’d even left, and seeing him this desperate, this sincere in trying to keep you from slipping away was just adding salt to the wound.

You wanted to hug him close and coo at him until he was calmed, tell him that this wasn’t goodbye forever. You’d come to visit, have dinners as a family again, take walks with Maisie and him, just the three of you. You just wouldn’t be constantly around.

That’s all. It wasn’t that serious, you weren’t moving to another city.

“So is not just tha’ then.” He scoffs to himself, rips his eyes off you to stare into nothingness. “Someone did do somethin’.” There’s a brief pause before his gaze rises again to meet yours, you see the bleak fire within it, still the combative spirit persists, refuses to let you go without a good tussle. “Tell me who, I’ll have a talk with ‘em, can resolve this right now.”

“No…” you rub at your eyes to massage away the tears.

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t his fault, it was yours. You’d fallen for him, not the other way around.

“What then? Why d’ ya wanna leave so badly?” His anguished, sullen words are like razors to your neck. You can’t breathe properly anymore. The sobs are beating down on your throat and you can’t fight them off for much longer.

“I – ”

“ – Don’ leave.” He says, begs you as much as a man of his character and ssize can. Your knees weaken at his pleads and you bite down viciously on your bottom lip to keep from breaking down completely. “You cannae leave me. Won’t let you.” He takes your hands in his, sucks in a long inhale and pulls you a bit closer, shielding you from the glare of the sun, from the cold, from the world, everything. “Please. Stay.”

You’re crumbling in front of him as he stands there silently and lets you speak. Mentally drained and emotionally at the brink, yet you refuse to let go of his hands and that’s enough to tell him that you don’t want to leave, but something is making you. And the worst part is that you refuse to tell him to keep him unburdened while you take on all of the weight and try to carry it away with you silently.

A part of him is enraged by this. How dare you try to take all the blame and let him demonize you for simply wanting to abandon him? How dare you take his job of carrying the hefty loads? He was the strong one, he was the tank, he was the shield that was supposed to separate you from all danger and problems.

He’d failed you…

He couldn’t stand it…

“I just…I can’t do this anymore, Fin.”

His thoughts come to a screeching halt.

“Do wha’?”

“This!” You let go of one of him long enough to motion between the two of you. “Whatever this is, whatever we are. I just… I can’t…”

He’s almost relieved to hear you confess your woes finally.

“Tha’s it?” He quirks a brow and you see the strain in his shoulders vanish. “Okey, aye I get it.” He rubs at the stubble on his chin, presumably in thought, but not really. The answer to your problem was right there. “I’s no problem. I’ll leave ya alone. Won’t hear a peep from me.” Despite the rejection that had been thrown in his face, he smiles wide. If this meant keeping you, he was willing to sacrifice. “Should’a said something earlier, lass. I just thought you – ”

“ – No!” You protest, yell nearly loud enough to wake up everyone still asleep. You want to rip your hair out with how exasperatingly daft he is. “You don’t get it!” You grip the straps of his tanktop, then tear your hands away from him only to hug yourself out of frustration. “I want – I – ”

This is the perfect moment, but again you’re left with a lump at the base of your mouth, a lock on your tongue, unable to speak the words. Beyond desperate to explain, you do the only other thing you can think of, you act before your self-sabotaging mind has a chance to talk you out of it.

You kiss him.

Stand high on your toes, pull him down by the neck, and link your lips to his. It’s a brief kiss, a sloppy and uncoordinated one, your mouths don’t even fit together properly.

Gasping for air, you pull away as abruptly as you’d leaned in and search his eyes for anything to hint at rejection.

He’d not done anything when you’d locked lips, hadn’t reeled back, but hadn’t reciprocated either so you were left in a standstill until he made up his mind.

He stares at you dumbly with his mouth agape and eyes wide and unblinking.

A minute passes and the doubt is already munching at your sanity. However, then you’re unceremoniously picked up and hoisted against his broad chest. He guides your legs to wrap around his toned torso, has your arms locked around his neck and mapping out what skin you can reach as he molds his lips back to yours. You feel your back being gently pressed into a wall to make sure you had support on both ends.

A meek mewl slips past you and his reply is a pleased grunt as he rubs needy patterns into your thighs.

He pushes his tongue past your teeth and twirls it around yours, beckoning you to play. The muffled moan that erupts from you is music to his ears, a noise unparalleled by anything he’s ever heard in his life. He presses harder against you, squishing you between his warm chest and the cold wall behind so there’s nowhere for you to run anymore. This was it, you were stuck with him now.

No more running, no more denying, no more beating around the bush.

He was certain now that you wanted him as much as he’d wanted you and he’d not let anything stand between you anymore.

And to think this was why you’d wanted to leave…

His baby stubble grazes your skin deliciously, a single compliment from you months ago and he’d started keeping it instead of shaving it off every morning.

He kisses you with suffocating need, bruising your lips and making them swell as he nips and licks and tastes, and explores every inch of your mouth. He indulges himself, gives into you like you’re a peace of Heaven on Earth, a sinful delight that’s been dangling before him for months, just out of reach.

The skin on his back ripples to life under your touch, awakens into eager goosebumps that you ghost over with flattened palms. You cross your ankles over his waist, your toes curling in delight the longer he smothers your mouth with his own.

A thin trail of saliva still connects you when Hazard pulls away long enough to take a breath before diving for your neck. You lean your head back willingly, rest your crown against the cement wall and crane your neck to the side to give him more room to explore. Your thighs begin to quiver when you feel his sharp canines grazing over your sensitive skin. His tongue works wonders into your flesh, makes you both giggle and choke on moans, completely forgetting about the cold or the exposure.

“Findlay…” You wail weakly, then gasp when he automatically bucks into you, spurred on by the call of his name. Sparks fly behind your lids and you rake your nails over his shoulders, riling him up even more.

“Shite…” He groans and struggles for air as his grip on your legs tightens. “Don’t do tha’, luv.”

“Why?” You question dumbly, too drunk on him to truly care for the answer. All you want is to keep feeling him, keep hearing his voice, and smelling his scent.

“Makes me go wild.”

You laugh out an apology, note the grin, the widest one you’ve ever seen, listen to him pant heavily through his nose and rest his forehead against your collarbones as he comes down from his high.

“I love you…” You blurt out and thump a fist weakly against his back. Your legs untangle from his waist without your consent, but every muscle in your body has turned to jello and you’re given no choice. You’ve turned to mush in his brutish embrace and you’d have it no other way. “You moron…I love you so much…”

It comes out so easily now like you’ve been saying it forever. It’s smooth on your tongue, feels right, deserved.

“I thought..” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief and the tips of his hair tickle your nose.

“You thought wrong.” You’re all too eager to interject, cutting off whatever idiotic, self-detrimental bullshit he was about to spit out.

Hazard brings his gaze away from the soft comfort of your sweater, and watches you from beneath his brows as the passion darkening his features morphs into the gentlest love. He readjusts, gives you a bit more movement space, but has no intention of letting you go. His hands are still palming at your legs, you can feel the heat coming off them and seeping over your skin even through the thick leggings hugging your thighs.

“Cannae blame me.” He says softly, words only meant for your ears. And despite the twinge of a joking tone, you know he’s serious, that he doesn’t think very highly of himself in terms of appearance. “Who’d wanna wake up t’ this ugly mug every mornin’.?”

It’s sad to think he’s been denying you and himself for so long because of self-doubt, thinking that you deserve better, that you should find better. Someone who has a stable life, can provide you with comfort instead of dragging you into a war and offer you a safe and calm life. Someone who didn’t have half his body replaced by cybernetics, a man fully human who wasn’t littered with battle scars.

“I would.” You combat tenderly and glide your hands down until they’re resting over the steady beat of his heart. “I want this.” You tap his forehead next. “And this. Everything that’s you, I want, Fin.”

“Don’t deserve a pre’y bird like you.”

It’s a compliment for you and an insult towards him, it’s unbearable to hear such bitter-sweetness. You press the cushions of your thumbs against his lips to shush him.

“None of that, please.”

He kisses you then, having forgotten for a moment that now he was free to do that whenever he wanted. The puppy love flares, lashes out, needing more of your essence on him. He wanted to have a piece of you always with him, hell, he’d carry you around in his pocket if that was an option, show you off to anyone who crossed his path.

You smile in contentment against him, cling to him with one arm as your free hand travels up to comb through the soft tuft of hair you’d helped him bleach not too long ago.

Serenity isn’t something you take lightly, you know it’s a gift to feel at peace, and he’s brought you so much of that this morning. You caress his cheek, both look over and trace his features with the tips of your fingers, committing every dip and line to memory.

He stands still for you, closes his eyes, and leans into your touch like a man who’s never been touched with tenderness before, never been handled with care.

Your very own hazardous beast turned pet by a drop of affection. It was as cute as it was tragic.

He deserved so much more. He deserved the world.

“Whenever we were together.” You begin, drawing his attention from studying your kiss-bruised lips to your eyes where he lets himself get lost. You shake your head at the confession, nearly cringing, but it was only natural, for which couple didn’t have their cringe-worthy moments? “Outside that is, running errands. I’d always watch you closely to see which women you’d look at. Wanted to know what you fancied.” It’s a silly little confession, but you want him to know, you want him to know everything about you, be your lager of sorts and from the way he’s focused all his concentration on you, you can tell he’s more than willing to be put to the task. So a smile etches itself onto your winter-chilled features and you continue. “But you never looked at anyone…I had to guess what you liked.”

The answer is simple in his mind, he spits it out without even having to think it through.

“Da’s cuz I only got eyes fer you, daftie.” He shrugs as if his words didn’t melt your core and nearly give you baby fever. “Don’t need ta be lookin’ at other birds.”

It’s been such a long game of denial and restraint and now that all cards have been laid face up on the table, you’re not sure what follows. You didn’t expect things to turn out as they did, the bags in your room were ready for departure, you’d thought this morning would be goodbye.

You kick your feet nonchalantly, still propped up several feet above the floor. He holds you as if you weigh nothing and compared to his usual load, you probably don’t.

“What do we do now?” Is the only thing you can muster to ask next, looking to Hazard for guidance as if he wasn’t just as lost as you were.

Mischief twinkles in his honeyed orbs, a certain thought pulls a smirk onto his lips before he answers:

“Shag.”

“Findlay!” You exclaim. You’re mortified while he just laughs. Anticipation makes your skin tingle. The image of peeling off his clothes and witnessing everything you’ve only dreamed of is both nerve-wracking and enticing. But his choice of words couldn’t have been more unattractive, he went straight to the point though.

“I don’t shag.” You say and cup his face gently, rub your thumbs over his cheeks and smooth down his cocky smirk. You make sure to catch his eyes and draw his attention out of its bubble of lewd images. “I make love.”

He blinks blankly at that, processing your statement, before showering you with suffocating pecks. He leaves no surface untended in his kiss crusade. You fight him off weakly, turning your head this way and that, eyes squinted shut at his loving assault.

His excitement is unmatched, he’s like a pup at a pet store.

When he’s satisfied with his work and you’re left visibly breathless, he pulls back.

“Le’s get some breakfast first doe, ‘m starvin’.”

<<< Chapter 6

Masterlist