#if he could just see how loved he REALLY was

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There���s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[jjunieworld]

THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤͏ ⨾ 박종성 ▸  part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing, alcohol, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, jealousy and possessiveness, arguing, size training, marking, inexperienced!reader, blowjob/handjob, riding, corruption kink, jake is a munch, pussy eating, oral fixation?, cum swallowing, slight fingering, petnames (baby, pretty, good girl), name calling (slut, whore), praise, reader gets talked through it, creampies, degradation, hair pulling (both m. & f. rec), dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, slight manhandling, body worship, dumbification?, cockwarming, service top!jake, pussy drunk!jayke, pictures & videos taken during sex, cumshots/facials

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ literally went through hell trying to get this part two out but here we are!!! once again, this is for the lovely @jjunberry ♡ literally this wouldn’t even be here without you so i hope you like it!! (⁎˃ᆺ˂) thank you to all of you for being on this (very long) journey with me! hehe ^^ i hope you all enjoy this!! ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

∿ [ 27.5k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

[ BEFORE — ONE MONTH SINCE LAST SUMMER ] 𓇼 the salt in your wounds still lingers.

just when you thought your life was finally getting better, finally getting back on track after the summer you’ve had, everything comes crashing down with just one phone call.

it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, your mother’s face. you knew from the start that your grandma wasn’t going to make it, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. a mere month since you left… would things be different if you and your mom stayed in her seaside hometown like originally planned? deep down, it felt like it was all your fault.

two more months passed before your grandma passed on. “from the sea i came and to the sea i shall return,” she always told you. “don’t be sad when i go, when you see the ocean waves that will be me saying hello.” the day it happened your mom had already booked the next flight out for her funeral.

going through your belongings as you pack your bags makes your guilt run deeper and all it does is make your mind flash back to just three months ago when you were by the sea and everything felt too much. your eyes travel to your dresser—jake’s note and all the developed pictures sat safely in an old jewelry box that you haven’t touched since putting the items in there. you didn’t even look at the pictures after you had gotten them developed, it just hurt too much.

still, your mind was muddled and as you finished packing your suitcase to the brim nothing became clearer. these three months gave you plenty of time to think over the entirety of last summer with detached emotions—a new perspective.

do you still love jake? of course you did, it’s most likely that you always will. how could you not? he was your first love. do you forgive him for everything that he put you through last summer? you still weren’t sure.

but damn if you didn’t miss him.

for the first time you felt the urge to look at the pictures you and him took—fingers twitched towards the jewelry box. with a sigh, you stood from your bed and grabbed it, the soft music playing as you opened the lid. carefully, you grabbed the pictures and made your way back to your bed.

as you flipped through all of them, a memory came to the forefront of your mind with each photo.

a smile pulled at your lips at the photo, it was of you with a shocked smile next to a brightly smiling jake. his arm was around your waist and the two of you were almost chest to chest. “i want my first memory to be of you.”

another of the two of you, a wall of graffiti behind you—right after your first kiss. jake was pressing a kiss to your cheek and you looked flustered. “you said you wanted physical memories, right? say cheese!”

the last one you looked at was of you, jake, and sunghoon before you noticed the tears blurring your vision. the three of you smiling as jake pulled you all close together for the camera. “group picture!”

you glanced over to your phone on your bed. even now, jake still contacts you everyday—even if you don’t answer him. mainly it’s been him checking up on you and making sure that you’re okay, asking how your day was. you haven’t answered a single one of them, yet he hasn’t stopped. against your better judgement, you read every message that came in—the most recent being his condolences.

you don’t know what to say to him. so many things have been left unsaid that every time you go to type a message your fingers freeze and your mind runs with everything you want to tell him. then you decide to just not say anything at all. besides, you didn’t think you'd ever see him again, so what’s the point?

if you were being honest, a part of you is still closed off, untrusting of him. you didn’t want to give your heart to him in fear he might break it again. you refused to feel like that again.

with a heavy and shaky sigh you put the pictures back where they belonged and made your way downstairs with your suitcase.

the next day you were on a flight to your mother’s seaside hometown, just like you were three months ago. jake’s letter filled your mind and your dreams surrounded him.

“i love you. i love you. i love—”

your mom nudged you awake just as the plane was beginning to land. you rubbed your bleary eyes and blinked rapidly to try and get your eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. nudging you again, your mom said, “wake up, we’re about to land.”

deja vu hit you and hit you hard. rolling out your sore neck, you prepared yourself for the landing. you still hated planes.

the drive to your aunt’s house was silent, as you got settled in and prepared for the funeral it was even quieter. your ears practically rang with the sound of silence and your body felt like it weighed a ton with the heaviness lingering in the air.

you all were dressed in black in the living room. your aunt was desperately trying to lighten the mood, and it was only half working. “come on everyone, you know she’d come back from the grave and kill us if she saw our faces right now! she wouldn’t want us to be sad.”

your mom nodded sadly, reciting your grandma’s words. “don’t be sad when i go, when you see the ocean waves that will be me saying hello.”

“exactly! now let’s go and celebrate the life she lived instead of being sad it came to an end!” your aunt smiled softly.

it was a lovely service, your grandma’s funeral. you think that she would be happy with it.

you and jungwon decided to walk back home after the funeral. honestly, you both didn’t think you could be in a car with the dark cloud surrounding you all, it felt too claustrophobic.

on the way home you both stopped at a food place since you were still hungry. the two of you ate silently before jungwon looked behind you and suddenly stood to his feet, murmuring a quick “i’ll be right back.”

you looked behind you at his retreating figure, confused. just as you were turning back to your food you saw it out of the corner of your eye. your heart stopped. you could barely see with jungwon blocking the way but you could spot him anywhere.

it was jake.

you continued eating. you weren’t ready to face him, especially not right now. you don’t think you could even look at him right now. instead, you opted to watch the scene from the corner of your eye.

you could barely hear jungwon and jake’s conversation, only managing to hear jungwon say, “she really doesn’t need any drama right now, man…” jake backed off, but not before you turned and the two of you made the briefest of eye contact before you quickly looked away, taking another bite out of your sandwich.

all you managed to catch was the blonde of his hair that he pushed off his forehead as he turned.

now you wished you took the chance to get a good look at him. it’s only been three months since you last saw him, but already you were forgetting the exact color of his eyes and the way his voice sounded. were they more of a honey brown or a mahogany? you didn’t remember.

it was eating away at you how much you already forgot.

you and jungwon finished your food in silence. before the two of you walked back home, he asked if you wanted to swim before you left. you shook your head as you stared out to the sea. it was a sunny day, but you just couldn’t bear to step off the boardwalk. “maybe next time i visit,” you said, though you didn’t know if there would be a next time.

[ RETURN — A YEAR SINCE YOU’VE TOUCHED SAND ] 𓇼 two hundred seventy-four days since you’ve last seen him.

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. on one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer? what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and you could barely wrap your head around it still.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

your hands shook as you quickly made your way downstairs and out the front door. your heart raced and your breathing was labored as you let your feet guide you. the more you thought about jake the faster your feet carried you towards him.

you felt the smile grow on your face as you caught a glimpse of the sea and the sand, the grittiness already finding its way into your sandals. you were moving so fast that you didn’t notice the person in front of you until you smacked directly into their chest.

“oh my god!” you exclaimed as you came to a sudden halt, eyes wide, “i’m so sorry, i wasn’t paying attention to where i was going!”

“we’ve got to stop meeting like this,” a familiar voice joked. you looked up, the smile on your face widening more as you stood face to face with jay again. his smile matched yours and you laughed out of disbelief.

“jay!” you laughed, “it’s been a while, how have you been?”

jay ran a hand through his damp hair. “same old, same old. how have you been? i heard you left this place for dead! never thought i’d see you back here again.” the teasing in his voice was obvious but you could see the concern in his eyes. flashes of the last time you saw him ran through your mind. funnily enough, you ran straight into him just a year ago while running from jake.

your smile faltered slightly but you tried your hardest to not think about last year. “well, let me be the first to tell you that i’m back for good!” jay’s eyebrows raised in shock and you nodded. “just moved back with my mom! you’ll be seeing me around a lot more now,” you continued playfully.

“i’m sorry about your loss, by the way,” jay said, expression suddenly serious. you waved a hand in the air, letting him know that it was okay. time and place. “well, i’m glad you’re back! this place really sucks without someone like you around,” jay added.

laughing you shook your head slightly, “then we should hang out sometime!”

“text me the plans and i’m there!” jay replied and pulled out his phone. he passed it to you with a “new contact” screen opened and you quickly filled out your information.

“i gotta go, but we will be hanging out sometime this week!” you waved as you began to step away. jay nodded with a smile. “clear your schedule!” you tossed over your shoulder as you walked away. behind you, you heard jay’s laugh.

“wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

you shook your head, continuing on your path to you and jake’s “spot.” this time you took your walk slow so you wouldn’t run headfirst into anybody else.

jake nodded along absentmindedly to whatever sunghoon was saying to him, not listening at all as he stared out at the people swimming in the ocean and the calm ocean waves.

he was bored out of his mind.

suddenly his phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. jake blinked a couple times to make sure what he was seeing was real. once he saw that it was you who was undoubtedly texting him, he jumped to his feet.

you: meet me at our spot.

“—and then i told her that i already warned her. this is the relationship that she—hey! what the fuck, jake?” sunghoon called behind him as jake suddenly took off.

jake could care less about sunghoon right now when you were here. you’re finally back, and not only that—you’re asking to see him. jake feels like his heart might explode. nine months since he’s last gotten the tiniest glimpse of you. nine months since he last had his breath taken away. a whole year since you’ve slipped through his fingers.

he wasn’t letting you go this time.

“where are you going?” sunghoon yelled, yet jake made no efforts to stop or even slow down. distantly, he could hear sunghoon shout, “asshole!”

like always, jake made it to your spot before you did. it’s only mere seconds until you’re arriving after him, taking his breath away once again as he goes to turn and sees you standing there.

you look so different, yet the exact same as when he last saw you. all jake can do is stare at you wide-eyed, mouth agape as his head completely empties.

“y/n,” jake finally breathes.

in response, you inhale sharply. “jake…” you notice that his hair is it’s natural color—a dark brown. the blonde hair he had last year is nowhere to be seen whatsoever and his hair is even longer than it was, half of it disheveled and touching the top of his lips and the other half tucked semi-neatly behind his ear. and his eyes… how could you ever forget?

brown moonstone. they look just as they did when the two of you laid under the stars together.

without thinking the two of you rush towards each other before abruptly stopping just inches away. hesitantly, jake closes the gap as he reaches towards you and gently places his hand on your cheek. you can feel the way it tremors—as if his hand might go through you. he takes a small step towards you until you can almost feel his breath fan across your cheeks as your eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments.

as they open you look up at him, at the eyes that put you through so much. you pressed your lips to his softly.

instantly, jake is kissing you back. in it, you can feel everything that he’s been wanting to say to you for the past year. the kiss is desperate, searing, and passionate. it rips the oxygen right from your lungs and still you wrap your arms around jake’s neck to pull him closer. like if you stopped kissing him the world would crumble beneath the two of you.

only when you both can’t stand the suffocation anymore do you pull away—just barely. your heavy breathing mixes and your eyes are still closed. your grip on the back of his shirt tightens and jake leans his forehead against yours heavily.

“i missed you,” he says, just above a whisper. “i missed you so fucking much, you don’t understand. i’m so sorry.”

you kiss him again because it’s the only way you can show him how much you missed him too. jake’s hands move to your waist and pulls you closer so you’re completely pressed up against him.

memories of last summer force it’s way through your clouded mind. the two of you standing in this exact spot as he begged you not to leave.

abruptly, you broke away from him, hands pushing against his chest as you took several steps back. you turned your back to him as you tried to catch your breath, running your hands down your face. inhaling sharply, tears sprang to your eyes at all of the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. exhaling, you tried to steady your heartbeat that filled your ears.

being in this place wasn’t helping. as you looked around the rocky walls, more and more memories flowed through your mind. “i hate you,” you spoke, turning completely to face jake. your voice lacked the punch the phrase needed. instead, it sounded almost… defeated. a tear slid down your cheek.

“i know,” jake replied. he knew what you were really saying, could feel it in the same desperate way you kissed him back.

“and i hate you for what you’ve done to me,” you added while drawing closer to him.

“i know.”

you drew closer until your tight fists we’re resting against his chest. you avoided his eyes as more tears fell. “and i hate that i spent the entire year we were apart only thinking about you—i hate you.”

jake could feel the way your body shook against him. he took your closed fists into his hands. “i know, baby, i know.”

and he did. he knew that “i hate you” really meant “i love you.” and you did. you really did love him.

jake moved your hands back to your sides, letting them go but having his hands still hovering near them. “walk with me?” he asked, moving to wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumbs gently. you nodded in response as you stared at him finally. jake dipped his head down towards you and softly pressed a kiss against your lips before guiding you out of the cave-like opening.

silently, the two of you walked side-by-side in the sand through less populated paths. you both didn’t speak, and it was probably for the best as you both processed everything between the two of you.

you were walking along an empty part of the beach, the sun just beginning to set, when you decided to break the silence. “i missed you too,” you spoke, your eyes following the way your feet left footprints in the sand.

you looked to your side at jake, “i really missed you.”

the two of you came to a stop. jake looked at you with furrowed brows, like he still couldn’t believe if what he was experiencing right now was true or not. he kissed you.

if even possible, this kiss was more passionate and desperate than the last. your already swollen lips were hot to the touch and no matter how much the two of you pulled each other closer, it wasn’t close enough. the kiss then turned feverish and you both pulled away to breathe. a silent question hung in the air and you nodded ever so slightly.

jake then intertwined your hands, pulling you off into some direction you weren’t familiar with until he was pulling you into a house that you could only assume was his. you barely even wrapped your head around the fact that you were actually in his house for the first time before he was pulling you up the stairs and into his room.

his lips met yours again and finally all the unsaid things spilled out from between the two of you as you pulled each other’s clothes off. jake laid you on the bed, fingers just barely gripping the waistband of your shorts and underwear. you were under him in just that and your bra.

“yes or no?” he asked you breathlessly, voice low.

“yes,” you responded. just as fast as you did, you were half naked underneath him. jake didn’t wait as he unclasped your bra with one hand and tossed it somewhere out of sight as his lips smashed against yours. he pulled away and you barely got to blink before the both of you were completely naked.

you watched as jake reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the ponytail off of it. he messily tied back his hair before placing hot kisses down your stomach. you fought the urge not to moan. he continued slowly down your stomach and just when he reached right above where you needed him the most, he looked up at you with his signature smirk.

you inhaled and his lips attached to your core, causing you to gasp loudly. his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep them apart as his tongue pulled you closer and closer over the edge. you almost broke completely when he pushed his fingers inside you, curling them at just the right angle that made you see stars.

your hands were in his hair—messing up his already messy ponytail—and your moans filled his bedroom, not even worried that someone else could be in the house. all you cared about was how good he was making you feel and how much you missed his body on yours.

it didn’t take long until the rope was snapping and you shakily told him that you were about to cum. moments later jake’s fingers and mouth was dripping and he was licking them clean while you hazily stared at him, mind too foggy until his lips were suddenly on yours again and his hands were trailing up your sides.

“i need you,” you whined softly as you stared into jake’s eyes, “please.” you clawed at his back in attempt to bring him closer, your body on fire and he was the only way to bring down the heat.

jake pressed a soft kiss to your lips and looked down between your bodies as he lined his hard and dripping cock up with your entrance. he looked up, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you nodded in return, bucking your hips up slightly and gasping when the tip of his cock grazed your sensitive clit.

slowly, jake pushed into you and it was much less uncomfortable than it was the first time. he waited a moment, eyeing the way your body reacted before looking at you in a silent question. you nodded and slowly he began to move.

high-pitched moans and whimpers left your mouth the more and more your body adjusted to him, and the more and more euphoric you felt. you and jake left love bites all over each other’s bodies without a care of the fact that it was in places people could definitely see, you were too caught up in the feeling of him surrounding you and jake was too caught up in the fact that you were finally in his arms again.

he barely let you out of his grasp, body firmly pushed against yours, as he moved in and out of you at a steady pace. his head was cloudy with your pretty sounds and his lips nipped at any skin he could. jake wished the both of you could stay like this forever, just the two of you together. he was scared of what would happen when he pulled out of you and it all ended.

would you regret it? say it was a mistake and that he should pretend like it never happened? or would this push the two of you back together again like he hoped? after all, you were the only one for him.

you inhaled sharply, brows drawn together and back arching off the soft blankets, and jake knew your body well enough before you started to clench down on him that you were about to come undone on him again. “j-jake…” you whimpered as your eyes squeezed shut.

“shh, baby, i know.” he moved so his thumb was now rubbing circles into your clit and watched the way you tried to shut your legs with a soft chuckle. he held them apart with his free hand. “let go for me,” he murmured, continuing his pace.

jake moaned and bit down hard on his bottom lip the more you clenched down on his poor cock. he felt like he was going to lose it at any moment as he tried to bring you closer and closer to the edge. “that feels good, yeah?” he asked you, accent thick and low. that sent you right over the edge, incoherent words falling from your lips, and you made a complete mess on his cock.

“shit,” jake said sharply before a moan escaped him. the sight went straight to his dick and it was almost instant with the way it twitched and he was cumming inside you, filling you up even more. his hips moved lazily, watching the way the cum spilled out of you and around him, painting his cock a pretty white.

slowly he pulled out of you and you whined at the loss of him, fingernails digging into his shoulders. more creamy white spilled out of you in a thick load and jake fought the urge to not push himself back into you and fuck you again.

he kissed your inner thighs and slowly made his way up your stomach and until he reached your lips in a heated kiss. your fingers raked through his hair, causing it to fall from the ponytail and spill out around both of your faces. once the both of you pulled away for air, you couldn’t help but giggle.

“what?” jake said, looking down at you with a bright smile. you shook your head. you were honestly just glad to be with him. you leaned up to catch his lips in another kiss. it felt like you were addicted to his lips and you cursed yourself in your head for ever putting you in the situation where you might’ve never been able to kiss them again.

jake looked at you fondly. “stay here, i’ll get something to clean you up.”

after a brief moment he came back with a damp cloth and a towel and gently wiped you down, making sure not to press too hard since you were still sensitive. once he was satisfied he laid down next to you and pulled you to his chest. “you did so good for me, pretty.”

your heart swirled at the familiar petname.

you weren’t sure when the two of you fell asleep or for how long, the sun’s golden rays just peaking above the horizon and starting a beautiful sunset, before you woke up. jake was still sound asleep next to you, the two of you still naked, and you slowly and quietly got up from the bed. you decided to take a look around his room since you’ve never been in it before.

he had old trophies and medals for various things, one of them being swimming, along with pictures of what you assumed to be an old swim team. there was pictures of his family and friends around that brought a smile to your face the more you looked at them. one in particular caught your eye. it was a polaroid of jake, jay, and jake’s bestfriend sunghoon.

you eyes widened. you thought jake and jay hated each other—if last summer was anything to show. why did they have a picture together? under it you saw that somebody wrote “swimming buds for life!” you checked the other pictures he had around again but this was the only photo that included jay. it made your head spin.

a familiar picture on his desk caught your eyes and you moved towards that instead. jake had gotten the pictures you took last summer developed too and had even dated them on the back. gently, you took the stack into your hands and looked at the picture on top.

it was the two of you at the abandoned skate park where you had your first kiss together. your head was tilted against his as you both smiled for the camera. a smile made its way onto your face and continued to grow as you continued flipping through the pictures, making your way to sit on the edge of jake’s bed.

you felt movement behind you and suddenly arms were wrapped around you as jake leaned up behind you to look over your shoulder. you gasped lightly when his hands rested at the lowest part of your hips and he placed feather-light kisses along your neck. “your awake,” you smiled as a chill ran down you, causing jake to chuckle lowly, sleep still at the edges of his voice. “i am.”

suddenly you were reminded at the fact that you both were still naked and the way your pussy now throbbed at his sleepy voice. you swallowed thickly and turned your attention back to the pictures in your hands. flipping the picture on the top to the back, you gasped and turned to jake in slight shock.

in your hands laid multiple pictures of you completely fucked out and dripping cum on a picnic blanket, illuminated by the moonlight and the flash of the camera. “asshole!” you nudged jake with a shocked smile and pulling a laugh from him. “i can't believe you took pictures of this!”

you looked back to the pictures with wide eyes as jake laughed more. “not funny…” you mumbled with a pout. you held one up where you were in full view of the camera along with jake’s cum covered cock hovering above you, “i look so out of it.”

jake took the photo from you and inspected it with a grin. “you were.”

you nudged him again, hard. jake laughed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you into him, placing kisses along your jaw. “it doesn’t matter,” he started, leaning his head against yours so his lips were near your ear, “these ones are for my eyes only.”

you giggled sheepishly, pushing him away from you as you tried to not let a wet patch form beneath you. you looked towards the window through the barely opened blinds. the sun was just about to set and you knew your mom was most likely wondering where you’ve been all day. jake followed your stare and you heard him sigh softly. “i should probably head home,” you stated quietly.

you turned to look at him, seriousness suddenly seeping into your features. “we’re gonna have to talk about this… about what this all means…”

“we can go slow,” jake said, cupping your cheek with one of his hands. “it’ll mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“bit too late to go slow,” you chuckled and he followed. you looked down to your lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the towel next to you. “i really don’t want drama this summer, jake.”

you glanced up to look him in the eyes, those pretty brown eyes of his. “i don’t think i can take another summer full of it,” you continued. jake nodded in agreement.

“this summer is just for the two of us. i promise.”

you let his words sink in before leaning up to place your lips against his in a soft and slow kiss. “now…” jake said as he pulled away, “are we just gonna stay naked, or what? because i’m really starting to lose my mind over here.”

heat crept across your face, especially as his eyes dropped to your nakedness. you covered your face with your hands as you turned away, jake’s laughter behind you, and moved to where he threw your articles of clothing. “timeout!” you muttered, as you pulled your panties on.

jake laughed more, “again?! hm, we’ll see…” he got up to get clothed as well. “let me walk you home.”

[ SUMMER — THE TIDES ARE PULLED BY THE MOON ] 𓇼 and you are pulled by him.

you almost jumped out of you skin, fingers grabbing at your pajamas, as you opened the bathroom door and were immediately face to face with your cousin jungwon. “jesus!” you nearly screeched as you held onto the door.

“so… jake walking you home, huh? what’s that all about?” jungwon asked. he took a few steps back to let you leave the doorway of the bathroom and you leaned against the wall nearest to it.

it was dark outside now and your face heated at the mention of jake. fumbling over your words slightly, you replied, “we were just… talking things from last summer over. he wanted to apologize in person.”

more heat spread across your face. it was surely one way to apologize…

in order for jungwon to not see your flustered face, you turned and made your way to your room, jungwon following in tow. you opened your door and walked around the room as you got ready for bed. discreetly, you tried to hide all of the love bites on you, suddenly regretting being so careless about where jake marked you.

“hm,” jungwon hummed, “are you planning on getting back together with him?” he sat at the edge of your bed, eyes trailing your movements. you saw the way his eyes stared too hard at a spot on your neck with a raised eyebrow.

you sighed softly. truly, you weren’t sure quite yet. you had just arrived and it was too early to tell how this summer was going to fair. and you really didn’t want this summer to be a repeat of the last one. you wanted to get more settled in before you decided to make any rash decisions—even though you and jake had already slept together just mere hours after you arrived.

you sighed to yourself again. maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas.

“i don’t know,” you replied, plopping down onto your bed next to him. “after everything… i-i just don’t want to be caught in another web. i can’t go through that again.”

jungwon nodded solemnly and rested a comforting hand on your back. “whatever you choose—be careful, y/n.”

this time you felt the gravity of his words—the same words he told you last summer when he tried to warn you in meddling in things you were unfamiliar with. in getting involved with jake and his and his friends’ game. when everyone tried to warn you.

even if jake claims that he’s changed, you needed to see it for yourself. not just through words, but through actions. and then, and only then, would you consider giving your whole relationship another chance.

“whatever happens, i’m here for you,” jungwon continued. you gave him a warm smile. “i will. and thank you,” you replied.

after talking to jungwon you decided to text jake with your requirements. your thumbs fiddled with each other and your heart raced as you waited for the three little dots that indicated he was replying to show up.

jake: i promise you i’ll do anything it takes to earn your trust back. anything. i’ll show you that giving us another chance will be worth it, that giving me another chance is worth it.

“everything is exactly the same as before, so there shouldn’t be any trouble,” mrs. song said as she led you back towards the front of the juice bar. you nodded in response as you followed her. “can you start later this week? say… wednesday?” she added in question.

“yes!” you nodded again politely. “wednesday is good! oh—can i ask you a quick question?”

“shoot,” mrs. song replied while waving off some kid trying to climb over the counter for more of the candy that sat in a bowl.

“last summer, a girl named hana worked here with me… does she still work here?” you asked as you looked to the floor with furrowed brows. pain stabbed through your heart and your mouth felt like it was full of sand just from saying her name. you hated the feelings her name evoked in you.

to think that you had an actual friend here in her… when all she wanted was to use you for her own gain. you knew it would be a ridiculous hope with how small the town was, but you still hoped you never saw her face again. never heard her name again. never felt these feelings that she caused. if you ever saw her again it would be too soon.

“oh, hana?” mrs. song questioned while focusing her attention back on you. “fired her not long after you left. horrible employee—i don’t know why i didn’t fire her sooner. or hired her in the first place.”

you let out a small sigh of relief that mrs. song seemed to pick up on. there was no way you could spend another summer sharing the same space as hana. it was impossible.

“you had problems with her too, yeah? hm,” mrs. song snorted.

after a bit more chatting and going over your future schedule you began to head out, trailing slowly along the shore. water lapped at your feet and your sandals swung limply from your fingers as you stared out at the calm waves. you think you could like it here after all.

“y/n!” you heard your voice being called.

breaking your attention from the sea, you turned in the direction of the voice. a smile grew onto your face. “jay!” you called back as he jogged up to you. “nice seeing you again!”

jay stood in front of you, holding a hand up to block the sun from getting in his eyes while he used his other hand to push his hair off of his forehead. you guided him away from the shore and towards one of the empty tables on the boardwalk. “was just getting ready to start my shift!” he replied.

you then noticed the outfit he was wearing—red shorts and a white tank top that read “GUARD” in bold red capital letters. a red lanyard with a whistle attached hung around his neck and he had a red visor tucked under his arm.

the two of you sat at the empty table and jay placed his visor onto it. he leaned forward slightly, a big smile on his face, “but i still have time to chat.”

and just like that it felt as if you were back at that campfire talking about anything and everything—like you and jay had been friends for forever now and it hasn’t been a year since you’ve last seen each other. the two of you just fell into such a natural sync.

you were even opening up to him about everything that happened last summer. mainly because you really couldn’t talk to anyone about it but him. he already understood all of the context and it was just so easy to talk to jay. you hadn’t realized how much you just needed a friend. and jay listened to it all attentively, not missing a single beat and inquiring about things you haven’t even realized.

“but enough about my past…” you murmured sheepishly, turning to the side to try and hide how warmth spread across your face. you just spend ten minutes talking about yourself and your problems without regarding the fact that it was probably coming off as extremely rude. “so how has the past year been for you?” you asked him.

you then gave him a cheeky smile. “any girls you’ve been seeing? interested in? tell me!”

jay laughed and shook his head a little. “no, i haven’t been seeing anyone. pretty much everyone here i’ve known for forever now… not the best candidates.” he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as he looked at you through his lashes. the corners of his mouth rose and he looked off to the side. “there has been this one girl, though… she’s definitely caught my interest.”

you gasped and leaned forward with your hands flat on the table. “what?! why didn’t you say anything sooner? i’ve been over here talking about my pathetic love life when we could've been talking about how good yours is going! have you talked to her yet? what’s her name?” the words flew out your mouth a mile a minute.

jay held his hands up as he chuckled, “woah, woah, slow down. i’ve talked to her a couple times now—but only briefly! i think she’s new in town, probably been here just a little bit longer than you have, actually.”

you grinned, “i’m excited for you! you gotta let me know how it all plays out. and don’t think i didn’t realize how you didn’t tell me her name!” jay’s face quickly turned red.

he stood from his chair, “ah, well, it’s all very new… haha, oh look at the time! my shift is about to start! bye, y/n!” he turned quickly as his words blurted out, throwing his words over his shoulder.

you rolled your eyes and stood to your feet. “whatever, i’ll get it out of you soon enough…”

jay pulled you into a hug as he nervously chuckled. “i seriously doubt it!” he mumbled under his breath before he jogged off.

“i will get her name out of you!” you called as you shook your head at him and watched his retreating figure, smiling softly.

you turned and continued walking aimlessly through the sand, feet sinking into the grains and leaving footprints. you watched as kids laughed and played with each other, darting around you and muttering passing apologies.

you were focused on the kid that almost ran into you running after their friends, not focused at all on the way jake crept up on you. “boo!” he shouted by your ear. you nearly jumped out of your skin, a loud yell erupting from your mouth. once you realized that it was just him, you hit him in his chest hard.

“jake?! are you serious!” you scolded, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. you covered your face and he pulled you into him as he laughed hysterically. you buried your face in his chest briefly before turning out of his grasp and quickly walking away from the scene, trying to ignore the pairs of eyes that were on you.

jake trailed behind you and you heard him laugh more. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! but that was so funny!” he said as he caught up to you. “you should’ve seen your face.”

he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. “what are you doing here?” jake asked as he glanced down at you.

“getting my old job back, what are you doing here?” you asked in response, “besides scaring me half to death?”

his smile grew, “came down here bored, until i saw you.” his eyes lit up suddenly. “oh! we should make another bucket list for this summer! since… since we didn’t get to finish the one from last summer…” he trailed off, eyes looking to the side briefly in regret.

you smiled at him, trying to diffuse the sudden awkward tension. “we should!”

jake guided you near the shore and the two of you sat in the sand. the two of you debated what to do this summer for a while, only managing to come up with a couple of things. one of which was going to this year’s summer splash event since you left last year before it happened.

“you’ll still be my date, right?” jake asked shyly. you chucked and nodded. “if you’ll still have me!”

jake gave you that same fond stare that he gave you before you left his house and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “of course i do,” he said.

it was such a simple sentence filled with so much. your brows knitted together ever so slightly and you watched the way his eyes darted towards your lips. it then seemingly felt like it was only the two of you on the beach, and you swear that the two of you slowly moved closer to each other.

the sudden shrill of a child’s cry broke the two of you out of your trance and you both snapped towards where a kid was crying over the way the sea messed up his sandcastle. you turned towards jake again and gave him a sheepish smile.

“uh—how about swimming! um, you teach me how to swim… since i can’t…” you sputtered awkwardly, hands waving in the air at the ocean. jake chuckled at the way you suddenly reverted back to your timid nature around him and nodded.

“yeah… i can teach you how to swim!”

you nodded after him. jake began to stand to his feet and you looked at him confused. “i can teach you now, in fact. do you have your bathing suit?”

you rose to your feet as well and nodded. you pulled the tank top strap off your shoulder and looked down to double check, nodding again when you saw the white fabric of your bikini.

jake tucked his finger underneath the thin strap that tied the bikini top around your neck. he pulled at it lightly before letting go and then smirked at you. “good,” he said simply.

your cheeks were already flushed with heat, but the heat just got hotter when you realized why he was smirking. it was the bathing suit you wore to the beach party.

playfully—and in an attempt to mask your warm face—you rolled your eyes and looked away from him. “get your mind out of the gutter,” you mumbled.

jake laughed, “all i said was ‘good!’”

“anyway,” you said, “we should add our names to that skate park! i feel like that would help me really cement my being here permanently.”

laughing harder, jake replied, “isn’t that vandalism? are you even good at graffiti?” he suddenly stopped laughing, expression serious. “wait—permanently? you’re here permanently?!”

still on the subject of the skate park, you shrugged. “it’s abandoned anyways, isn’t it? and how hard is it to use a spray can to write our names? it’s not like we’re tagging it, tagging it.”

jake grabbed your shoulders and your focus zeroed in on him. his eyes were wide as he looked into yours. “you’re here permanently?!” he repeated. you nodded, confusion shifting into realization at the fact that you haven’t told him yet. “yes, permanently. my mom and i moved here the day we met at our spot,” you said.

jake’s hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face. he then kissed you passionately, absolutely taking your breath away. you giggled when he pulled away and he started kissing you all over your face. “jake!” you giggled more, pushing him away from you slightly.

“i’m sorry,” he said a bit breathlessly, “you just don’t know how relieved i am to hear that.” he chuckled awkwardly as he gave you some space and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. “so, skate park? got it, anything you want to do! we have all the time in the world.”

you mind immediately snapped back to the skate park. “i feel like that’s not as adventurous as our last bucket list though!” you pouted.

jake pulled you towards where there were some free towels at the boardwalk. he turned back and cheekily smiled at you, “i can think of something adventurous.” you stopped in your tracks and swatted his shoulder. “i’m just saying!” jake laughed. “we’ve done a lot, but there’s still some things we haven’t done yet… you catch me?”

heat crept up the back of your neck and you crossed your arms across your chest. jake’s eyes darted down to the action. indulging him, you asked, “like what?”

jake stepped closer to you and reached up to mess with the straps of your bikini. he leaned more into you and dropped his voice so only you would hear what he was saying. “different places, different positions… there’s so many things i could do to you that you haven’t experienced yet.” your eyes connected with his.

“or you could do to me,” he added, lower.

you looked away, face on fire. jake dropped his hands from the straps he was fiddling with to his sides. he took another step closer to you until you both were almost chest to chest and grazed his hand along the side of your waist. jake leaned down until his lips were at the shell of your ear. “if you want,” he whispered.

he pulled away, smiling at you like he didn’t just insinuate what he did and cause arousal to pool in your bikini bottoms. he grabbed your wrist lightly and pulled you the rest of the way to the towels, handing you a rolled up one from the basket and taking one from himself.

you were still in shock, eyes wide as you stared at him. you then snapped out of it when you realized he was chuckling. tucking the towel underneath your arm, you used the basket of towels to lean forward towards him. discreetly, you slid your hand down his stomach and stopped right above the hem of his shorts. “sounds fun,” you smiled innocently. “i know exactly what i could do.”

you hand trailed lower before you backed away from him. you held in your laugh at just how quickly the bulge in his shorts was rising and his ears turned red. you looked towards the sea, “so where do you wanna start?” you asked casually. “i’m gonna have to strip these clothes off first.”

you turned back to him and smiled again, that same innocent smile.

the corner of jake’s mouth rose in a “two can play at this game” way. he opened his mouth to speak, but got cut off by someone suddenly entering your conversation. “look at what the cat dragged back in,” the voice said, mean and full of bitterness.

you almost instantly recognized that voice, and it seems that jake did too since his face instantly twisted into one of annoyance and hatred. he moved closer to you while also hiding his boner with the basket of towels.

hana walked up to the two of you with a sneer and a dripping popsicle in one hand. two girls you never seen before trailed behind her with a matching sneer. you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms against your chest, leaning your weight towards jake. “thought the two of you went up in flames last summer?” hana added.

she focused her attention on you, “don’t tell me you’re still falling for his ‘i love you’s’… how lame.”

jake scoffed, before either of you could say anything you noticed jungwon come up to you all. he pushed past the two random girls and shoulder-checked hana as he came to your side. “look what desperation dragged in. i know the saying is ‘misery loves company’ but this is just getting pathetic, hana. don’t you have a job to be at?” hana scoffed and opened her mouth, but jungwon beat her to it.

“oh yeah, you don’t. because you got fired. i think it’s time you go find one, don’t you think?”

hana rolled her eyes. “whatever,” she said, trying to pretend like she wasn’t bothered. she stuck the popsicle in her mouth briefly as she turned towards the girls. “didn’t want to stick around you losers anyways.”

she looked over her shoulder at you, “careful, y/n. you know jake’s still in love with me.” she then winked at him and jake’s face twisted further into disgust.

“you fucking wish. i was never even infatuated with you in the first place. you already know that sunghoon is the reason why i even stayed with you for those four months,” jake spit out, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “stop making my life fucking hell and just move on already. i know i already have.”

you saw the way hana’s face fell and how she quickly masked it with a sickly sweet smile. “keep telling yourself that, jakey,” she said before walking away.

you loudly scoffed at her retreating body and the way she purposefully swayed her hips back and forth as you turned towards jake and jungwon. “the audacity she has is honestly astounding,” jungwon said, face mirroring yours.

“delusional,” you added, “the lot of them.”

“forget her,” jake said as he pulled you and jungwon’s attention back to him. he then smiled, “let’s go swimming!”

“how hard is it to put one arm in front of the other?!” jungwon demonstrated how to use your arms to swim once again as a laugh was pulled from him. he swam out farther into the sea and then swam back, standing where you and jake were. “see? easy.”

“i’m doing the best that i can!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air in mild frustration as the remnants of a wave hit against your stomach.

jake then chimed in, “it’s actually not that easy!” jungwon turned to him in confusion and jake swam out a little from where the two of you stood. “there’s actually a certain way you want to move your arms in order to not hurt your shoulders.”

you turned to jungwon with a triumphant smirk. “see!” you said while crossing your arms. jungwon rolled his eyes.

jake continued demonstrating, specifically pointing out how to move your body to not hurt your shoulders. he also showed how to gain more speed and stay under the water for longer with breathing techniques. “here, let’s do it together,” he said, swimming towards you.

he made sure your positioning was correct and guided you slowly towards the deeper part of where you all stood. “like this! if you’re feeling any type of pain in your shoulders than you’re doing it wrong.”

after a couple minutes of adjusting and positioning, you really thought you were getting the hang of it. when jake was guiding you there wasn’t any pain in your shoulders at all, but as soon as you started to do it on your own you immediately felt the tightness in them. your face scrunched up as you instantly reverted back to doggy paddling, causing jake and jungwon to laugh.

with full shame, you doggy paddled back to where they stood. “you know… i don’t think swimming is for me, actually.”

“i tried teaching her last year,” jungwon started, amusement tinging his voice, “she literally almost drowned. it’s hopeless…” you glared at him and then rolled your eyes. you’d like to think that if it weren’t for the large waves that day that you would’ve been fine.

jake laughed and you glared at him too, though without as much venom. “it’s a good thing i was there!” he looked at you with the biggest smile on his face and you rolled your eyes at him too. they both laughed again as you tried to think of the quickest way to discard bodies on a public beach.

“we’ll try teaching you again another time,” jake continued. “you’re…” he trailed off trying to find the right word for what he was thinking. “horrible,” jungwon concluded.

“still a novice!” jake quickly corrected. you mumbled out a lame insult to the both of them and walked towards your towel on the beach.

they followed after you, still chuckling, as you wrapped the towel around your soaked body. “it’s not all your fault!” jungwon exclaimed. “your hometown didn’t have an ocean, or even a pool, really. don’t blame yourself!” you scoffed at his cheap attempt to make you feel better and the both of you laughed. your hometown barely had a highschool with a pool. you were never taught to swim in school because all the seniors poured so much gasoline into the pool as a prank that your school had to close off the area and it just never reopened.

coincidentally, that was one of the times jungwon was staying with you and your mom. on a dare, he made you venture into the closed off pool room and you almost didn’t make it out alive. yes, the two of you got in a huge amount of trouble by your parents. you made jungwon do all of your chores for the remaining two months he was there.

“we should probably start heading home though,” said jungwon, “i accidentally broke mom’s sculpture while helping auntie move in her stuff and might’ve insinuated that it was your fault…” your eyes widened as you slowly turned to him. he scratched the back of his head guiltily.

“what?!” you nearly shouted.

“yeah…”

you ran your hands down your face as you turned to jake. “i’ll see you later,” you sighed, moving into his open arms for a hug. “or maybe i won’t after this,” you added suddenly.

“i’ll see you later,” jake repeated as he laughed.

as you and jungwon walked off—more like ran since you were currently trying to smother him in the sand—he kept looking behind you and laughing to himself. you caught him the act again just as the two of you were about to leave the boardwalk. he looked behind the two of you, shook his head a little, and laughed. “what?” you asked him. he hummed in question at your response. “what’s so funny?” you continued, looking behind you as well. you couldn’t tell what could possibly be making him laugh.

“oh, nothing.” jungwon looked behind him again. you nudged him with your elbow, trying to get him to confess.

jungwon laughed again. “jake’s been staring at you this entire time with the fondest, most lovesick puppy look i’ve ever seen. i don’t think he moved from that spot or even blinked since we walked away.”

you whipped your head around and looked around until you saw him. indeed, jungwon was right. you smiled to yourself and gave him a little wave. the smile on jake’s face grew as he waved back.

“gross,” jungwon commented as the two of you turned out of jake’s sight.

jake had, once again, put himself in the position where he was forced to listen about sunghoon’s recent victim’s complaints about their relationship. ever since he met you, he questioned how he ever found any of this entertaining. listening to sunghoon go on and on about the girls he wronged just made him feel exhausted—and guilty. jake couldn’t even begin to imagine how the girls he fucked over must’ve felt. the only thing he could come close to was the image of your heartbroken face the day you left him a year ago.

he never wanted to see that face ever again.

“she wanted me to fuck her—i fucked her. i told her not to expect a relationship out of all of this—now she’s crying about how i was dragging her along!” sunghoon ranted to jake as they made their way down to the boardwalk. sunghoon turned to him with an exasperated expression, “i don’t know how more clear i can get!”

jake pulled the whistle from his shorts and put the lanyard around his neck. “have you ever thought of being in a committed relationship with someone?” he asked sunghoon. jake adjusted his lifeguarding outfit as they got closer to the boardwalk.

sunghoon made a face. “dude, be serious. i’m young! i’ll settle down with someone when i’m, like, thirty or whatever.”

rolling his eyes, jake laughed at sunghoon’s reluctance to commit to someone. “if you find anyone willing to be with you that you haven’t fucked over by then.” the two of them laughed and stepped onto the boardwalk. it wasn’t as busy of a day today, which jake was thankful for.

“alright, i gotta go. my shift’s about to start,” jake said and turned to sunghoon. jake clasped sunghoon’s hand and gave him a quick pat on the back.

sunghoon nodded his head over to the lifeguard who was coming off duty—jay. jake tried not to roll his eyes. “incoming, you know how he is,” sunghoon said. “see ya, man.”

they went on their separate paths and jake walked to where jay was so they could switch. jay looked over from where he was grabbing his towel off the elevated chair ladder. jay gave a tight smile to jake, which already made jake’s blood boil. the only thing he could think about when he looked at him was how close the two of you seemed that night at the beach party.

as jay cleared his things for jake, he tried to make small talk to make the tension less awkward and heavy. “have you heard y/n is in back in town? for good?” jay asked. why was he asking him about you?

jake tried to not let his fist meet jay’s face again.

he tried not to be possessive over you, especially since the two of you weren’t even together again yet. and he wasn’t one to try and keep you from your friends, but jay was a whole different story. jake tried to not let the jealousy seep into his voice, “yeah, duh. i’m the first one she saw.”

“hm,” jay hummed as he threw his bag over his shoulder.

what was that supposed to mean? jake side eyed him. he was the first one you saw when you landed, right? jake would absolutely recoil into himself if he wasn’t. surely it wasn’t jay who you saw first, right? jake ignored him and started to set his own stuff down.

“better hope you don’t fuck everything up again, never know who might swoop in and take your place.” there was the jay that jake knew. the asshole under this whole ‘nice guy’ act he had been playing.

jake turned fully to him. “who? you?”

jake almost laughed in his face. jay couldn’t be serious, but he promised you he would try his hardest to not let there be any drama this summer. even if his fingers itched to wipe that slight smug smirk off jay’s face.

jay just shrugged. “could be, who knows? she’s very likable and very beautiful. everywhere she goes she attracts the stare of some guy. and i would say that you know girls don’t like to be treated like garbage, but with your track record that clearly isn’t obvious to you. you already almost lost her for good once.”

jake’s anger boiled over completely and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second to try and calm himself. it did nothing. jake wryly laughed and stepped up to jay. “so you think you can take her from me? you?” jake laughed again. “i’d like to see you try. incase it wasn’t obvious—she’s in love with me, not you. don’t you hate being a pale imitation?”

jake wanted to bring up every way that he had bested jay—down to the smallest thing, such as being able to tie his shoes before him. he would always be the better man. and even if jake wasn’t in some aspect, he would make damn sure that at the end of the day he was. jay had nothing on him, you had to see that.

it angered jake that jay was even talking about you this way. in a way that suggested he could get close enough to you for the two of you to be together instead of you and him. ridiculous, it all was. the only thing jay would be is a lesser version of him, constantly chasing after anything he had that he could never have. jake should’ve put him in his place when he had the chance three years ago.

jay’s smug smirk grew. “i don’t have to do anything. all it takes is her finding out the truth about the piece of shit that you really are and the game you like to play. and what’s inept infatuation to true bonding?” jay patted jake on the shoulder and jake harshly glared at him and pulled his shoulder away. “best of luck,” jay said in a low voice before walking away.

as jake climbed up to his post, the heat of the sun was nothing to the scalding anger inside him. he knew one thing for sure—luck would not be on jay’s side if he had anything to do with it.

you and jake were meant to be together, and jay’s hollow words weren’t going to change that.

jay: hey, are you free? jay: cashing in that rain check to hang out.

you were on your way home, but it couldn’t hurt to hang out with jay. the two of you needed to spend more than twenty minutes together anyway and catch up more.

besides, the picture of him, jake, and sunghoon suddenly crossed your mind, reminding you that you had forgotten to ask jake about it. maybe jay would give you some insight on why the two of them had bad blood between each other when they were once “swimming buds for life!”

you: haha of course! jay: awesome, meet me at the boardwalk? jay: we can hang out at my place. you: i’ll see you there!

you turned around and walked back down the boardwalk, picking an empty table to wait at in a relatively clear area. the polaroid wouldn’t leave your mind as you speculated what could’ve possibly split them apart.

was it just a mere difference of opinion? or was it the two of them simply growing up and going their separate ways? your mind then replayed their interaction at the beach party last year, how angry they were at just seeing each other. it had to be something deeper than that. perhaps some sort of betrayal?

if that was the case, then who betrayed who? and why?

or maybe the reason was because of this game—the player’s game, as jay mentioned. the one that you have already been a victim of. his words crossed your mind, “there’s no winner in the player’s game. it’s best to know that before it’s too late.”

he had to be a victim of the game too, if he was saying that to you. were jake and sunghoon possibly a factor in it?

before you could speculate any further, jay’s voice shocked you out of your thoughts. “hey,” he smiled, grabbing your attention. you smiled back at him as you stood. “hey!”

as the two of you walked to jay’s house, he must’ve saw that your mind was elsewhere. jay nudged into you slightly as you walked side by side. “you’re quiet today, what’s on your mind?” he asked. 

you racked your mind for a way to bring up his and jake’s past friendship subtly, so as to not barge too into their private matters without permission. you decided to try and pose it a different way. “oh, sorry! i just got off work so i’m kind of everywhere right now…” you trailed off, before purposefully perking up as if you just thought of something. “hey, how do you and jake know each other?”

you then internally panicked, thinking that that was maybe too forward, and added, “i’ve been spilling my whole love story with him, and at the beach party the two of you seemed familiar…”

jay’s eyebrows knitted together as he thought over your question. you hoped that you didn’t hit a sensitive subject as you subtly wiped your sweaty palms onto the back of your jean shorts. “we use to be friends—best friends,” jay started, “and on the swim team together back in highschool. him and his friends were just really shitty, so i decided to distance myself from them for my own good.”

you nodded along at his words, trying to place them in the puzzle board in your mind. jay’s answer was vague, but at least it was something—a start. you’d just have to get your answers out of him and jake whenever plausible. 

a house that you assumed was his came up into view as the two of you continued walking. “so how did you get involved with jake? i know i kind of already asked you this before, but i’m still curious.” jay guided you towards the house as he spoke.

you told him about you and jungwon swimming in the ocean and how jungwon left to go get something to eat. about how you then mistakenly went further out despite not knowing to swim and how the waves kept beating you down. then finally about how jake had come and saved you.

jay gave you an incredulous look as he held open the gate to his backyard for you. you nodded in confirmation and his shock only grew. “i’m gonna have to teach you how to swim, then!” he exclaimed.

you looked around his backyard. he had a large in-ground pool with a nice patio set up filled with lounge chairs, tables, and an outside bar. jay’s backyard was absolutely beautiful. 

“apparently i’m a bad student, but it’s a deal!” you joked and jay laughed, leading you to where the lounge chairs were by the pool.

“show me what you got! you can’t be that bad at swimming.” jay then suddenly stripped off his shirt, leaving him in swim trunks. your eyes widened and surveyed the upper half of his body. jay slunk into the pool, going underwater for a few seconds, and surfaced. he slicked back his now wet hair and looked up at you expectantly. “well?” he chuckled.

you laughed, half of it full of shock and the other half full of nervousness, and stood from the chair. you began taking off your tank top and shorts as jay swam away from where you stood. once you were done, you dipped a toe into the water, face scrunching up at the coldness, and slid in completely. you shivered slightly as you slowly walked to where jay stood in the center of the shallow end of the pool.

jay motioned for you to swim a little and you ducked down until your chin touched the water. “jake taught me for a little bit last week, but it didn’t really stick,” you said as you swam around a little and showed off what you learned from him. you felt jay’s eyes on you as you swam and it made you nervous about your swimming form.

“well i’m a much better teacher than jake.”

you didn’t know how to respond to that, and you didn’t get the chance since jay swam up to you. jay’s fingers trail over your arms, positioning them as he told you how to move them effectively. he then had you swim around his pool more to see what else you needed to work on.

jay’s eyebrows were raised and he looked like he was holding back a laugh. “i told you i was bad!” you exclaimed, sulking down into the water as you swam to him.

“not bad, just…” jay trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow teasingly at him, “just…” jay laughed, not able to finish his sentence and you pushed him.

“see!” you laughed.

“it’s okay, we can fix it.” jay then came closer to you, instructing you to hold out your arms. he came up behind you, his chest almost pressing against your back as his hands slid down your arms. he began to move them in a swimming motion.

“this is the motion you want your arms to do—straighten your fingers more, you don’t want a cupping motion,” jay spoke. his hands moved to your shoulders as you continued moving your arms, moving them backwards and forwards and then down to your waist to do the same.

you heart rate picked up from just how close he was to you, his hands all over you, and his voice next to your ear. your breath hitched lowly as his hands moved to your hips. of course you noticed just how handsome jay was—you noticed when you first surfaced from the water and he scared you—but seeing it all up close was something different. being this close to him made you feel nervous, and it felt a little wrong, too.

you knew that you and jake weren’t together, but being this close to someone else after being so close to him felt a little dirty. like you were cheating on him in some way even though you knew that wasn’t true. it also—deep down inside you—excited you, being this close to another guy.

jay moved around your body until he was to the side of you. his eyes moved from his hands that left your hips and up your body and the way that it moved until his eyes locked on yours. a satisfied smile crossed his features. “just like that, you got it,” jay praised. you inhaled sharply at the way his praise went straight down to the pit of your stomach.

you hoped that your body’s reaction to him came off as nervousness. following his guidance, you gave a small leap as you swam around in a circle in the shallow end of his pool. you did another lap before swimming back to jay. he clapped a couple times as you reached him, a proud smile on his face. “i told you i was a good teacher!”

he grabbed your bare waist as you stilled and your eyes widened a fraction more than they already were. “next time, though, make sure you use your hips more. it makes the whole movement more smooth.”

the feelings inside you made you feel extremely guilty. jay was simply just trying to teach you how to swim, yet your mind was on anything but that. even now, with his hands sliding down to your hips briefly as he finished speaking, he was so close to you that you were practically chest to chest.

dumbly, you looked at him and into his intense stare, breathing hard. you nodded at his previous sentence, though you weren’t actually sure what he said to you. jay smiled, voice softer, “you did so good! you’ll be a pro in no time!”

all you could do was nod again.

there was then silence between the two of you, and this time you were sure that jay could feel the tension. the two of you held each other’s stare, unbreaking. suddenly, jay’s gaze flicked down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. you inhaled deeply as the look in his eyes shifted.

your phone then went off, the sound of a received text message seemingly louder than it ever was before. you and jay jumped apart, the tension in the air turning awkward as jay shifted away from you slightly. “uh, i’ll go get us something to drink…” he trailed off.

“oh—um, yeah…” you muttered awkwardly.

you both got out of the pool and you used the towel hanging off the back of the lounge chair to dry off before checking the message you received.

jake: hey, where are you? are you off work yet? you: yeah! i’ve been hanging out with jay. why?

the guilt ate away at you even more. you knew it was ridiculous—you didn’t do anything wrong, the two of you just swam around together. but everything just felt weird and off now, like it was a secret you now had to hide from jake. his next message didn’t make you feel any better either.

jake: hanging out with jay?! why are you with him? you: he’s my friend? and i haven’t really seen him since i got here… you: is that a problem?

jake didn’t immediately answer and it made you speculate about the friendship he and jay once had. your phone didn’t ping with his text message until right as jay was coming through the sliding glass doors with two cups in his hands. “i got us some lemonade, i hope that’s okay!” jay said, handing you one of the cups.

jake: no, not a problem at all.

instead of swimming more, you and jay decided to chill outside of the pool and soak in some of the summer sun and talk. the more you talked, the more the awkward tension that was between the two of you slowly dissipated and talking to jay again was easy.

the weird feeling inside of you didn’t disappear, though. as you talked, your eyes couldn’t help but be attached to jay. the way the sun beamed off his drying skin and how he kept pushing the long, damp strands of his hair out of his face. the way his whole face lit up when you said something funny and a smile broke out into a laugh. it made your heart race.

suddenly, it finally clicked in your brain. you were attracted to him.

guilt poured into you even more and you started to shyly avoid his gaze. if jay noticed the sudden shift in you—which you hoped he didn’t—he didn’t mention it. you made sure you eyes were focused on anything but him as you talked.

you tried categorizing jay in your mind as strictly a friend, but even then it felt like he didn’t fit into the box. like he belonged somewhere between “friend” and “potential romantic interest” and that alarmed you even more. so you did the only thing you could think of at the moment to metaphorically shove him back into the “friend” box.

“you know, you’re like my bestfriend, right?” you laughed, making sure to make eye contact with him.

jay’s smile grew. “i’m your bestfriend?” he teased, leaned forward on the lounge chair towards you. “write it in stone. get the friendship bracelets out!” a small sigh of relief escaped you and you laughed, glad that he didn’t give you a weird look or anything.

jay stood from his chair, a hand at his chest, “i feel like i have to say a speech now or something.”

you immediately waved your hands in the air in front of you. “no!” you dragged the vowel out, “that is not necessary!” jay laughed harder.

you checked the time on you phone and sighed. “i should probably head home now… my mom’s probably wondering where i got off to after work…” you stood to your feet, smile faltering on your face.

“no issue! ill walk you,” jay said.

you gave him another shy smile. it was probably best that you didn’t spend more time with jay at this moment until you sorted yourself out. you didn’t know whether it was that your emotions were still everywhere from the move and you haven’t quite settled in yet, or what, but you had to get it together and fast. 

“oh—don’t worry about it!” you quickly said, “i have to stop down by the boardwalk and pick up something for my mom.” it was a lie, but jay was standing so close to you that it was all you had.

“okay!” jay replied. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug, shaking you a bit. “we’ll hang out some more sometime later, bestfriend.”

you laughed, hugging him back and ignoring your racing heart. you looked to the sky at the way the sun passed through the leaves of the trees. it was a little past noon and you were ready to get out of your bathing suit.

jay walked you to his backyard gate and opened it for you, following you out. “see ya!” you waved at him. he repeated your words, waving goodbye.

just as you turned away from him, a rundown van that honestly looked on its last life pulled up to the walkway. behind you, jay scoffed and you looked at the oncomer curiously as you kept walking. you heard jay’s footsteps behind you walk towards the van.

as you turned towards the path to the boardwalk, you heard jay say, “heeseung, when are you gonna get rid of that beat up fucking van? shit is falling apart.” who you could only assume was heeseung replied, “don’t talk about betsy like that!”

you laughed to yourself as you continued on your way away from jay’s house. 

as you were walking, completely in your own world, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. you nearly jumped out of your skin as you turned and screeched. jake immediately held his hands up, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!”

you let out the biggest sigh of relief before hitting him on the chest. “asshole! this is, like, the second time you’ve scared me nearly to death!”

jake laughed before wrapping his arms back around your waist, pulling you into him. he pressed a kiss to your cheek and smiled down at you. “i tried calling your name, but you weren’t listening! what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head slightly and shrugged a little. you were just glad to be in his arms again. “nothing,” you replied, “just a little spaced out, i guess.”

jake hummed and the two of you continued walking together. you noticed how jake had subtly guided you away from the path to the boardwalk and onto one you remembered from when you first landed here—his house.

this was your chance. with jay only giving you a vague answer about their history, maybe jake would give you more insight. you looked at him, “hey, jake?”

jake hummed again, brows slightly drawn together as he smiled at you. it was time to bite the bullet. “you and jay use to be bestfriends, right? what happened between the two of you?” you asked. jake’s smile fell and he looked down to the ground before looking forward. there was almost what seemed to be a flash of anger that crossed his features at the mention of jay’s name.

“uh…” jake trailed, tucking a stray strand of his hair that wasn’t already tied up behind his ear. “i was a really shitty person back then. i hurt a lot of people—did a lot of things that i now regret.”

that was basically a regurgitated version of what jay had already told you, it wasn’t enough. you needed to know more. “yeah, i know that already. but what did you do to him that you guys aren’t friends anymore?” you said, trying to make yourself more clear.

“why do you want to know so bad?” jake asked, slight annoyance in his tone as he looked back to you.  “did jay say something to you?” his arm around your waist tightened.

jake had never gotten annoyed at you, so you felt the need to defend yourself. “no, but i saw that picture on your wall with you, him, and sunghoon. ‘swimming buds for life!’” you sarcastically mocked as you did air quotes. “and you freaked out when you heard that i was hanging out with him. should jay have said something?”

the annoyance in jake’s features only grew and he rolled his eyes at the mention of jay’s name. you didn’t understand why he was acting this way over a simple question. you told him you wanted no drama, and you thought he understood that. so why won’t he tell you what happened between him and jay? you thought that he would start being more transparent with you after last summer.

you didn’t realize that you were already at his house until he pushed the door open and took your hand in his to drag you up the stairs to his bedroom. “it’s not important,” jake said, pushing his bedroom door open. you followed him through, shutting the door behind you to muffle the noise. “but it is!” you insisted, voice raising as you stopped in your tracks.

jake turned around so he faced you, running his hands through the hair that escaped his ponytail that he sported before running them down his face in frustration. “he’s my friend and you’re—” you cut yourself off, sighing deeply and sitting on the edge of his bed. “why can’t you just give me a straight answer? what is it? what is it about me and him being friendly that has you acting like this?”

you looked at the way jake started to pace in front of you with a worried expression. was what happened between the two of them so bad that it couldn’t even be uttered? surely not, right?

“i—i just can’t fucking stand him! and i can't stand you with him,” jake began to ramble, face twisted into an expression you couldn’t quite read. “you not with me. i can’t stand how he spun all of this to seem like he is the innocent one in all of this—like he wasn’t part of the game too! like he wasn’t a shitty person too!”

jake continued, voice raising, but never reaching a yell, “and i can't stand—couldn’t possibly fathom losing you again because of him.” jake came to stand before you, desperately looking at you.

you shook your head in confusion. “what are you talking about—losing me? how would you lose me?”

jake slumped down next to you, leaning over to run his hands through his hair that had completely fallen out of his ponytail now. you glanced around his room, noting the pictures of the two of you hanging up on his walls that weren’t there before. he had replaced some of the previous pictures with one of the two of you. just then, a lightbulb illuminated in your head. “jake… are you… jealous?” you asked him quietly, brows drawn together.

“yes!” he exasperatedly shouted, falling back onto his bed and rubbing his eyes.

you turned, “you have nothing to be jealous about? jay and i are just friends!”

jake shook his head, eyes still covered. “you’re gonna find out how absolutely shitty i was in the past and how he’s so perfect and want nothing to do with me.” jake uncovered his eyes and looked at you sullenly. “i don’t know what i would do with myself if you wanted nothing to do with me.”

you laid down next to him so you were face to face and grabbed his hand. absentmindedly, jake rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand. you looked at jake and his kicked puppy expression, “you don’t have anything to worry about, jake. nothing.”

you looked at him firmly to make sure your words were really sinking in. you may have found jay attractive, but jake is the one who kept you up at night. who you can’t stop thinking about no matter how hard you try—who you spent a whole year thinking about. the one who you graciously let hold your heart.

“there’s no competition between you and jay,” you added in a low voice.

jake seemed to relax and the line between his brows smoothened. “a girl,” jake suddenly said. you gave him a confused look.

“he was in love with this girl, but she liked me instead of him. when he found out things didn’t go over so well… split the whole swim team in half with people choosing sides. it was a loss for both of us.” jake looked down at your intertwined hands, voice quiet.

“well i’m not her,” you stated. “you won’t lose me.” 

jake looked up at you and you scooted closer to him, lips mere centimeters apart. “you won’t,” you repeated, pressing your lips to his. jake’s hand raised to cup your cheek as his lips fell in sync with yours. the two of you stayed like that for a moment, the kiss growing more passionate and desperate as time went on.

you straddled him, lips still attached to his, and instantly jake’s hands came to your hips. pulling away, you breathed, “let me make you feel good this time.”

furrowing his brows, jake looked up at you with confusion. “you always make me feel good,” you started, crawling backwards until your hands reached the band of his loose shorts. “let me return the favor.”

you crawled all the way off of his bed and sat on your knees between his legs, your hands resting neatly in your lap. jake sat up, eyes widening slightly as he stared hard down at you. you looked up at him with big, hesitant doe eyes.

“you cannot look up at me like that, pretty.” a shy smile grew at his words and at the way you saw the tent in his shorts grow.

“will you teach me how?” you asked him. you’ve never given anyone a blowjob in your life, you barely even gave a handjob. nerves flooded you at the fact that you would possibly do something wrong and that would be the end of it. or that you didn’t do it well enough and it was just disappointing.

you ran your hands up jake’s thighs and played with the drawstring of his shorts. jake screwed his eyes shut and nodded a little, inhaling sharply before opening his eyes again. “are you sure?” he asked you, worry tinging his features. “you don’t have to—and i don’t want to hurt you.”

“i want to,” you stated firmly, fingers hooking onto the band of his shorts now. you tugged lightly at it.

“alright,” jake breathed out. “don’t do anything you aren’t ready for.”

you nodded impatiently, eagerly pulling down his shorts and boxers in response. jake lifted his hips so they slid off all of the way, his heavy cock springing free from its restraints. you took his cock in your hands and jake lightly put a hand on the back of your head to signal you to stop.

“go slow, and don’t try to take more than you can handle to try and please me,” he said seriously. “i don’t want you hurting yourself.”

nodding again, you nervously looked at his cock in your hands. you weren’t sure what to do first. wrap your mouth around him or stroke him first? your grip was feather-light and you looked back up at jake so he could tell you what to do.

he caressed the back of your head comfortingly, “you don’t have to be nervous, baby, it’s just me.” jake gave you a reassuring smile and you gave him a small nervous one back. “you don’t have to hold it so lightly either, don’t be afraid to grab it.”

inhaling deeply, you tightened your grip until it was firm, but not too tight that you thought might hurt. jake moaned lightly, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. “i-is that good?” you asked worriedly.

jake nodded, inhaling hard. “yes, yes, just like that.” drips of precum slid down the flushed tip of his cock. “now, just move your hands up and down while twisting back and forth a little.”

you did exactly as he said, moving you hands up and down his length while maintaining the grip you already had. your eyes were trained on jake’s face and the way soft moans left his parted lips and his head tilted back more and more.

“good, baby,” jake breathed out heavily. you felt the way his cock practically throbbed in your hands. “when you get to the top, grab harder.”

“harder?” you asked, slightly more worried. your grip was already firm and he wants you to tighten it? jake nodded more, brows knitted together as his eyes squeezed shut, “mhm.” his moans were louder now and his hand that was at your head moved to press down into his mattress with his other hand.

you kept stroking him, his precum making the motion a bit easier. when you got to the flushed tip of his cock, you squeezed down harder. a loud moan left jake’s mouth as his hips bucked up into your hands. “ah fuck,” he groaned under his breath.

you smiled. it was nice to see him twisted in pleasure instead of the other way around. it was especially nice to know that you were the cause of it. that you were making him feel this good. you wondered if this is how he felt when he made you feel this good. it made your skin heat up and arousal pool at your core the more you thought about it and the more he moaned and whimpered for you.

jake tried hard to keep his hips still, but it was as if he physically couldn’t control himself. “can i try my mouth now?” you asked timidly. breathing hard, jake nodded. he looked down at you with hooded, clouded eyes of lust.

you sat up on your knees a bit and leaned forward. you looked down at his reddened mushroom tip and started with some apprehensive kitten licks. above you, jake inhaled sharply. you looked up at him nervously and you saw something shift in his features. his pupils blew wide with lust and his fingers gripped his comforter to keep his hands at his sides.

“slow,” he intrustructed. it came out almost strangled.

hesitantly, you wrapped your mouth around the tip of his cock as if it were a lollipop, sucking your cheeks in a bit. another loud moan was ripped deep from within jake and he threw his head back completely. you pulled your mouth off of him, eyes widening, before preparing yourself to take more of his cock inside your mouth.

you wrapped your mouth around him again, going farther down his thick length before you suddenly gagged. jake’s eyes flew down at you and his hand grabbed the hair at the back of your head to pull you off of him. “are you okay, baby?” he asked, frantic.

you nodded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked up at him with watery eyes. his cock in you free hand twitched. you swallowed thickly, “sorry…”

he moved his hand at the back of your head to caress your cheek. “it’s okay, just take it easy. okay?” jake said softly. “okay,” you replied.

inhaling, you took him into your mouth again, this time taking jake’s advice and going slow. you went down inch by inch, stopping before you got the feeling of having to gag again. you wrapped your hands around the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit inside your mouth and applied the same pressure as before. 

slowly, you bobbed your head up and down, sucking inwards so your cheeks hollowed. “breathe—” jake spoke before getting cut off by his own moans and whimpers. “…through your nose.”

it must’ve been really difficult for jake, trying to control himself while talking you through what to do at the same time. even now, the more you sucked him off, the more you felt him struggling to still himself so he didn’t potentially hurt you. a part of you wanted him to just let go.

you didn’t even notice the fire in your lungs until he mentioned breathing. so you inhaled through your nose, the tension in your body immediately being relieved even though it took you a few tries to actually breath through your nose and suck at the same time. at the base of his cock, you moved your hands in the same up and down and twisting motion.

jake was practically panting now, knuckles white with the way he gripped his comforter. his moans and whimpers increased and his hips bucked up into your mouth lightly, signaling that he was real close to cumming. “shit,” jake cursed, half of it coming out in a whine.

his hand was at the back of your head again, using your hair to pull your mouth off of him. you kept moving your hands, this time bringing them up further—and squeezing at his tip—to accommodate the lack of your mouth.

you barely got to lean away before his cum was shooting out of him and all over your face and hands. drips of it landed on his thighs and jake fell back on his hands, a loud moan ripping through him as his head flew back. you kept stroking him, the remaining cum dripping down your hands, as you helped him through his high. jake’s hips lazily thrusted up into your hands as he tried to catch his breathing.

once jake was finished, his cock softening in your hands, he sat up to look at you. you looked at him with hesitant doe eyes again and his eyes widened to saucers as he took in the scene in front of him. “was it good?” you asked shyly, worry hanging on the edge of your words. you swear you felt his cock harden.

“perfect. it was perfect, pretty,” jake responded, gently grabbing your chin. you licked your lips and was surprised at the slight salty taste of his cum. jake smiled and chucked a bit, “if you could see yourself from my point of view right now…”

you smiled cheekily at him. “so take a picture and show me.”

that got him hard again.

jake raised an eyebrow at you, his smile turning into a smirk. he leaned down to his shorts pocket and fished out his phone, then he aimed the camera at you and you heard the click of a picture.

he still had his phone aimed at you. you giggled, “do you want me to pose?” jake laughed and you joined him. “if you want,” he smiled.

you lifted his heavy, half hard cock in your hands and placed your tongue at the side of his tip while you stared into the camera. “careful…” jake warned teasingly. “i don’t think i could control myself again.” you smiled before wrapping your lips around him, giggling.

a moan slipped past jake’s lips and you laughed, pulling away. he tossed his phone behind him and raised his brows at you. jake grabbed your arms and pulled you to your feet. “okay, little miss eager… let’s get you cleaned up. i don’t think you want to go walking around with my cum all over your face.”

being back at you and jake’s spot evoked emotions inside you that you weren’t quite ready for. being at your spot and laying under the stars with him caused a whole bigger tidal wave. it made you think of every moment that the two of you had here—good and bad. jake was right, this really is the best place to see the stars.

the last time the two of you watched the stars together, you were tucked into jake’s side, almost cheek to cheek. now the two of you were seperate—the only connection being the brushing together of your arms. you didn’t like how far away he felt, but you weren’t quite sure how to bridge the gap further.

you felt jake’s heavy stare on the side of your face and you looked over at him instead of the stars. you had spent the rest of the day together, roaming around the small town with your phones on record capturing every moment until the two of you ended up here. it felt like the day when you had stumbled into your shared spot and you and jake’s relationship changed forever. you quirked an eyebrow at him as the two of you stared at each other for a moment. you could tell that something was weighing on his mind.

jake exhaled, “i know you wanna take things slow, so i won’t ask you…” his eyes flickered to the stars before focusing on you again. you really appreciated how he was being open with his feelings with you, especially since he told you how difficult it was for him. “but, just know you’re the only one for me. no games, no lies, nothing. i want only you. you’re the only one i’ll ever want.”

you shifted so you were fully facing him, shocked at where this was coming from all of a sudden. you thought you curbed his earlier jealousy—maybe it was something else? “is this because of what hana said a few weeks ago? cause i don’t believe a single word out of her mouth. i know how you feel about me, i know that you aren’t a player anymore.”

“yes and no…” jake trailed. “i just want to make sure that you know. whenever you want to take things to the next level, i’ll be there. i don’t want you to think this is only about the sex for me, ‘cause it isn’t.”

jake then suddenly panicked, waving his hand in between the two of you. “though the sex is great—amazing, even, and i really, really enjoy it! so don’t think—”

you cut him off with a soft laugh, he is so cute when he is flustered. “i know, jake, i know.”

you sat up from the blanket you both are laying on. “turn around!” you tell jake. he smiled and turned towards the blanket while covering his eyes. “don’t look!”

taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. you thought now was as good as a time to take things to the next level. in the sand you nervously wrote out ‘boyfriend? yes or no’ with check boxes next to ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ 

you knew you prioritized taking things slow—which you definitely didn’t do—and having jake’s actions speak louder than his words, but you knew what you wanted. you knew the moment you landed here and ran as fast as you could to him. jake is the one that you want—the one that you’ll always want, and his actions have already proven to you that he feels the exact way.

moving to the side a bit, you told him to open his eyes. you took your lip between your teeth as you watched him read your words in the sand. you let out a small sigh of relief when his whole face lit up and he checked the ‘yes’ box immediately. giggling, you climbed into his lap and smashed your lips onto his.

“oh! we should take a picture!” jake perked up. he pulled his phone from his pocket and aimed it towards the words in the sand. “physical memories and all, right? well, not physical, but you know what i mean.” you laughed as he snapped the picture and one of the two of you for good measure.

as jake walks you home, the air between the two of you buzzes—almost glows with the help of the streetlights. your hand is intertwined in his and the world feels like it’s back in order. it’s electrifying—the way you turn and stare up at him just before you step onto your porch. you open your mouth to speak, but jake already knows what the words will be.

just then, the porch light turns on and you quickly look back at it before looking back at him. with a sheepish smile you tell him goodnight. jake’s heart can’t help but swell as he smiles back and kisses you on your cheek. “goodnight, baby,” he murmurs.

jake watches you walk to your porch and disappear into your house—not letting go of his hand until the distance physically breaks the two of you apart. he begins to walk home, thoughts of you flooding his mind. jake is so fond of you that it almost hurts. he’s so in love with you that it actually does.

he’s looking through the pictures and videos you both took today, a giddy smile on his face as he starts to send them to you like you asked earlier. then a thought crosses his mind. is it his jealousy and slight possessiveness creeping in? maybe. but his fingers are already moving before he can stop them.

jake just hopes that jay still has the same number.

attaching the imagine of you asking him to be your boyfriend and the selfie of the two of you, jake presses send. he waits a second before typing the message, “oops, meant to send this to my girlfriend. my bad!”

jay: read, 10:57 P.M.

jake smirks as he slides his phone back in his pocket. he knew that he was rubbing it in jay’s face, but he honestly couldn’t care less. how dare he try to come between the two of you? jake wouldn’t be surprised if he only started talking to you so he could get one up on him. pitiful, really.

it didn’t matter anymore, because now you were jake’s girlfriend—and you were all that mattered to him.

“you just can’t help yourself, huh?” a voice said behind you.

you were in the middle of wrapping up your shift—cleaning the counter and tidying up for the next person’s shift. turning, confusion written all over your face, you were then face to face with hana. anger coiled her features into a scowl and she looked almost… paranoid? mascara clumped below her lashes and she honestly looked a mess. your brows knitted together at her words. what was she on about now?

“jake is mine,” she said with fevered passion. you just rolled your eyes and continued tidying up, opting to ignore her. that didn’t stop hana. she slammed her hands down on the counter, leaning forward. you raised an eyebrow at her. “first jake, now jay—you just can’t help going after my sloppy seconds, can’t you?” hana continued, almost shouting. she was borderline hysterical and you genuinely started to get worried.

“what? what are you talking about, hana?” you asked, turning fully to her.

your response only seemed to piss hana off even more than she was. red-hot anger boiled behind her eyes and she was attracting the attention of people passing by, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “don’t ‘what’ me. you know exactly what i’m fucking talking about! what do they even see in you?”

you honestly had no words. hana stormed off, giving you one last glare. you stood in place frozen, rag hanging limply from your fingers.

the vibration of your phone knocked you back to your senses and you quickly finished tidying up. you clocked out and on the way home you opened your phone to see what the vibration was.

jake: lunch at your house with your mom today is still on right? you: yup! jake: see you there, pretty.

you pushed open your front door, gaining your mom’s attention. she must’ve walked through the door minutes prior since she was surrounded by grocery bags. you helped her bring them into the kitchen and unload them.

“so… you and that jake boy, huh?” your mother asked you innocently, putting stuff away into the fridge. you were next to her putting stuff into cabinets. “yeah,” you said sheepishly, “we’re back together now.”

she hummed, quiet for a moment. “i know last year the two of you had problems that hindered you from wanting to come back here—problems that i see have been resolved now. i can tell that he does really care about you, honey, so don’t be afraid to jump feet first.” she looked at you from where she stood in front of the fridge, a spacey look in her eyes. you can tell she was thinking about your father.

“thanks, mom,” you smiled at her. she snapped out of her haze, smiling back at you.

“and then—” you were cut off by a moan pushing itself out of your mouth, your back arching slightly off your bed. “and then she was just shouting like a maniac! the whole time i’m trying to figure out what she’s on about while everyone around us is staring.”

another soft moan left your parted lips and your fingers grabbed tightly onto your blankets. your brows drew together as your mind started to get hazy. you were just about to lose tract of what you were saying before the image of hana’s hysterical and angry face popped into your mind. “are you even listening to me?” you asked, flicking the blanket off of you.

jake looked up at you, lips attached to your core and fingers buried deep inside you. he hummed in question and it sent shockwaves throughout you—making your hips buck up into his mouth and your eyes flutter shut briefly. you pouted and jake pulled away from you, pulling his fingers out of you—the wetness coating them—and resting his hand on your inner thigh so your legs stayed apart.

“baby, i do not care about hana,” jake said. you scoffed and looked up at your ceiling, old glow in the dark stars sticking to it. jake chuckled and crawled up your body so you were face to face. “who cares what she said! she’s delusional and crazy—ignore her.”

you sighed and jake laughed more. “now, do you want me to continue or do you wanna rant more?” he asked you. you pouted more at him and he kissed your lips.

there was a knock at your door and you and jake panicked and he ended up falling off your bed and to the ground next to it with a loud thud. “one second!” you called as you pulled your panties back from the side and adjusted your skirt so it wasn’t halfway up your stomach.

turning to jake, you put a finger to your lips, motioning for him to stay silent. you went to your door and opened it up just enough to show your body. “what was that?” your mom asked you.

you furrowed your brows, pretending like it wasn’t jake falling on his ass, before acting like you realized what she was talking about. “oh, that thud? it was my suitcase—i still haven’t fully unpacked yet…” 

your mom tsked at you and handed you a dress. “found one of my old dresses while cleaning out grandma’s closet, i thought you might want it to wear to summer splash.” your eyes widened at you took it from her, a thankful smile forming on your face.

“it’s beautiful, mom,” you spoke as you examined it. she smiled before leaving you to unpack.

you laid the dress on the chair next to your closet before turning to jake. you held out a hand as you waited for your mom’s footsteps to retreat completely before rushing to him and helping him to his feet. the two of you smiled sheepishly at each other.

“i think i should go,” jake said in a low voice. he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck. the tips of his ponytail tickled your cheek. jake pressed a kiss to your neck, making you shiver, before looking back at you. “we can finish this later.”

heat rushed to your face and you nodded, fighting the urge to cover your face from him. jake’s smile turned to a half-smirk. he started to walk towards your door but you pulled him back towards you by his hand, a wild look on your face. “you can’t just go out the front door!” you whisper-yelled.

jake’s brows furrowed. “why not?” he whispered back.

you gave him an incredulous look. “jake, i snuck you in here,” you said before pointing to your window. “you were supposed to leave after lunch… you’re gonna have to use the window.” jake looked at the window and then at you, unmoving.

pulling him to the window, you opened it and the warm summer nighttime air hit you. you turned to jake and motioned to the window. jake raised his brows. he then intertwined your hands and rested his forehead against yours for a moment before kissing you gently.

“i’m going to be coming through your window all of the time now, i hope you realize that,” jake said lowly. you laughed softly at him, “i’ll leave it unlocked for you then.”

jake leaned on your open window, looking down at the grass below before turning to you. “you’re still my date to the summer splash event, right?” you rolled your eyes playfully at him, “duh! of course i am!”

jake smiled and kissed your cheek before stepping over the ledge of the window. he started climbing down before he unceremoniously fell on his ass again. you gasped and shouted in a low, worried voice, “are you okay?!”

jake gave you a pained smile and a thumbs up before getting up and shaking himself off. you watched as the living room light turned on. you and jake froze for a second, his eyes darting up to yours, before he took off—waving at you as he ran down the street.

you held in the urge to laugh as you quietly shut your window again, making sure to leave it unlocked. you were sure you were gonna hear about the “strange noises” tomorrow. you pulled your phone out and texted jake.

you: very smooth. jake: i know, i’m such a pro!

jake attached a blurry picture of him smiling while running that finally got you to laugh.

[ CHANGEOVER — THE SUMMER SUN SETS EARLY ] 𓇼 and a cold wind sweeps up the sea.

jake laughed—the vibrations traveling throughout your body as you laid on his chest—and scrolled to another video on his phone for the two of you to watch together. he had come through your window like he promised and the two of you had spent the night in the same bed. now the both of you were in the bare bones of your pajamas—you in a thin tank top and panties and him just in his boxers—the morning of the summer splash charity event.

after a couple more videos, jake shut his phone off and looked down at you on top of him. “as much as i enjoy you sitting on my cock, we should both probably get ready… today is gonna be a long day.”

you snuggled deeper into his bare chest. the simple feeling of being stuff so full already had your mind cloudy. “but i’m so comfortable!” you mumbled, glancing up at him. jake smirked.

jake’s hands trailed down to your waist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “hm, you’re so comfortable… how comfortable?” he asked, voice low. you sat up fully, a flirty smile crossing your features. you rested your hands on his chest.

“very comfortable.”

“let’s see, then.” jake’s smirk grew as his hands trailed down to your hips, head tilting to the side. his hands squeezed your hip slightly and you were practically already dripping.

you started rolling your hips, using your hands on his chest as leverage. both of your breathing started to get heavier. “like this?” you asked innocently, lifting your hips a little and dropping them again as you rolled them. jake’s eyes rolled back and his head fell back on your headboard.

“yes… exactly like that,” he breathed, voice almost hoarse.

the more you moved, the louder your moans grew and the cloudier your head got. at some point jake had to hold his hand over your mouth to muffle them. “shh, pretty,” he shushed in a husky voice. “i’m sure you don’t want someone to come in here and see us.”

you shook your head as you kept riding him. “f-feels so good, i can’t stop myself.” jake’s response was to kiss you instead, muffling your shared moans with each other’s mouths. he bit down softly on your lower lip and smirked at the way you moaned against his mouth.

the fabric between the two was seemingly too much for jake. before you could even chase his lips, your tank top was off and his lips were on your skin and his hands were exploring the new access to your body. you bit down hard on your bottom lip as his plump lips left love bites all over your skin.

a loud whimper left your mouth when jake adjusted your position so that he could easily fuck up into you. you buried your face in his neck to silence yourself, hoping that the loud sounds of skin slapping against skin didn’t alert any of your family members.

“f-fuck—” jake swore, voice stuttering as he suddenly stilled inside you. warm cum spilled into you and filled you even more. you looked up from jake’s neck through hooded eyes and watched the way his eyes fluttered closed.

jake exhaled heavily, his forehead resting against yours as his cum dripped out of you and down his hard cock. his lips sloppily connected with yours as his hips started fucking up into you again.

your brows harshly drew together as your moan was muffled by jake’s mouth. your nails dug into his shoulders and your body started to shake as each wave of pleasure hit you one by one like a tsunami.

“feels good, baby?” jake whispered near your ear, voice husky. you could barely answer him because if you did you would end up shrieking. all you could do was nod weakly as high-pitched whimpers and whines escaped past your lips.

jake swore again when you tightly clenched down onto him, body shaking like a leaf and nails so deep in his shoulders that you weren’t surprised if you drew blood. suddenly the floodgates opened and you were cumming harder than you ever did before as your body fully collapsed on top of jake.

stars swirled in your eyes as jake helped you through your orgasm, kissing your cheek and shoulder comfortingly as he rubbed circles onto your back. both of you were covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing heavily, the point where the two of you connected sticky with your mixed cum.

once your head wasn’t on cloud nine anymore, you shakily sat up. you gave jake a hazy smile and giggled. jake pulled you closer to him, chuckling, before he kissed you softly. “we might be in trouble,” he said in a low voice, accent heavy. you giggled again, ignoring the way your pussy throbbed from his voice alone.

you pulled away from him, almost fully naked body on full display for him. you both were definitely gonna have to throw away your respective panties and boxers after this. jake looked down at the mess you both created before caressing your waist with his thumb. there was that fondness in his eyes again. “you’re so pretty like this…” he trailed and you hid your face with your hands, heat rushing to your face as you shyly smiled.

jake pulled away your hands. “my pretty girl,” he said affectionately. you lifted your hips and pulled yourself off of his cock, more cum spilling out of you. you leaned back down to kiss him. “we should get ready now,” he said, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

you hummed before throwing his famous smirk at him. jake quirked an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth raising. “getting ready can wait another thirty minutes,” you murmured before trailing kisses down his body. jake’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut when your kissed stopped right where the band of his boxers were.

your smirk grew. it was nice to know that you had the same effect on him that he had on you. that you could get him all worked up so easily like he sat in the palm of your hand. it made you feel on top of the world. “we aren’t done yet,” you said, grabbing his cum-covered cock into your hand as you began to stroke slowly.

a whimper left jake’s parted lips as his eyes cracked open. the corners of his mouth were still raised, “i’m gonna make you eat your words.”

it’s safe to say that you and jake were a little late showing up to the summer splash charity event. all around the beach and boardwalk were people participating in various contests and competitions to raise money for the sheltered animals in town. you were in one of your mom’s old dresses—it was so beautiful and formal that you felt a little awkward and restricted despite its flowiness—and jake had on a nice suit that matched your dress. the two of you looked stunning, if you did say so yourself.

at some point jake got pulled away from you by his friends to participate in a competition and you wandered the boardwalk looking at all the competing people. you could see why this was held every year, everyone was buzzing with energy and there were smiles all around.

“hey… y/n?” you turned to see jay coming up to you. you smiled at him.

“oh! hey, jay!” you said, turning to face him. he had a serious expression on his face and your eyes knitted together in worry. “what’s wrong?” you asked him. jay inhaled deeply and a flood of words poured from his mouth.

“listen, i know you may think jake is the one, but he isn’t the saint you think he is.” jay gave you a firm stare. you looked away, sighing to yourself. “jay…” you trailed.

jay cut you off. “i have to say this before it’s too late. i like you, y/n. i really like you. and i’d never put you through all the things he has—lead you on or fill your head with lies and half-truths. if you’d give me the chance, i could show you that we’re a better match.” you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off again. “think about it…”

jay then left you standing dumbfounded and completely confused on the boardwalk.

later that night, there was a venue the coordinators booked where people could dance and mingle with each other over drinks. you and jake were on the dance floor, way past tipsy, but not quite as drunk yet. a slow song started to play and the two of you swayed side to side before jake spun you.

you smiled adoringly up at him and he mirrored your expression. you leaned closer to him and leaned your head against his chest as the two of you continued to sway. “you do know how much i like you,” you said to him, loud enough for it to be heard over the music but low enough that only his ears could hear and a bit slurred. you felt jake chuckle as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“i do,” he replied. “you do know how much i like you, right?” you laughed and pulled away slightly to look up at him. you pressed your lips against his softly.

there was something else hanging in the air between you that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. maybe your head was too misty from the alcohol, but it felt like it was on the tip of both of your tongues. you didn’t linger on it, mind distracted by the sudden need to use the restroom.

pulling away from jake, you told him this and made your way to the restrooms. jake watched you leave, a small smile on his face. his face dropped when he saw a sneering hana follow after you. in a quick second decision he decided to go after the both of you.

when jake caught up to the two of you, it felt like he was walking directly into a car crash. “the year you were gone he was with me!” he heard hana say as she shoved her phone in your face, swiping through various pictures. confusion spread through him. what was she talking about now?

your brows were knitted together as you took the phone from her, looking through all the pictures of her and jake. even with your clouded mind, you didn’t believe hana at first, but ask you kept scrolling you weren’t quite sure anymore. jake’s hair was almost the same length as it was now and when you checked the dates it said it was from a year ago.

“mhm!” hana said, and it felt like she dug her claws into your heart and ripped it out. “as soon as you got on that plane he came to me!” your heart dropped and you turned to jake, hurt written all over your face. you felt absolutely crushed.

“is this true?” you asked him, voice trembling.

after everything he said to you—he went back to her? when he said that nothing happened between them and nothing will ever again… was that all just a lie? did he take you as a fool again? you couldn’t believe this.

“i love you, you know id never go back to her when this whole time i’ve been waiting for you.” jake stepped towards you, still confused about what was happened. all he knew was that he didn’t want to see that hurt look on your face—he couldn’t take it. you quickly took a step back from him and he practically shriveled up and died.

in the background the coordinators were announcing how much money was raised tonight, but you could barely hear them with your heart beating in your ears. “but you went back to her,” you spoke, voice raising.

jake gave you an incredulous look. “you’re telling me you believe what’s coming out of her mouth right now? seriously? whatever she showed you—they’re fake. she probably edited them.”

tears welled up in your eyes, your emotions everywhere from that stupid alcohol you decided to drink. “i don’t know what to believe anymore! it’s always fucking something with you and i’m tired of it!” you exclaimed. you wanted to wrap your arms around yourself and disappear.

jake pleaded with you, “listen to me. listen to what i’m telling you! it’s not true.” he took another step towards you and this time you let him.

seemingly out of thin air, jay appeared next to the three of you, turning his attention to jake. “why don’t you tell her about what happened between the three of us, jake.” he motioned with a finger between him, jake, and hana. your brows drew deeper together as you looked between him. what is jay talking about?

“yeah, jake!” hana chimed it, a sickly sweet smile curling up the corners of her lips. “tell her.”

you looked back at jake and the bewildered look on his face as jay and hana pounced on him. jay then looked at you, “well, if you won’t tell y/n then i will.”

jay stepped closer to you and jake and wrapped an arm around jake’s shoulders. “you wanna know the real reason why jake and i aren’t bestfriends anymore?” jake pushed jay off of him but jay just shook his head, lips twitched up slightly into what looked like a sneer.

“believe it or not, we use to be close—me, jake, sunghoon, the whole damn highschool swim team. until jakey here—” jay poked a finger into jake’s chest “—decided to let it all crash and burn.” jay then turned to you. “now, i’m not the most innocent either. jake and sunghoon’s game they like to play—the whole player lifestyle—i use to be part of it all. we were all shitty, together.”

jay continued. “we would see who could get attached to us the fastest, and once they’d become too clingy… dropped. you see, we weren’t looking for anything serious, just some fun! we had just graduated and weren’t looking to settle down anytime soon. that is… until i was.” he then turned to hana, motioning a weak hand at her. “now i should've known better to fall for someone who was clearly still so obsessed with jake, but i thought it was young love. pathetic.”

hana rolled her eyes at jay before tilting her head at you, “you aren’t as special as you think. before he took your virginity, he took mine. i was you, don’t you see?”

jay snorted, “before he dropped you and barely remembered your name or who you were at all.” hana scoffed at him but jay ignored her. “hana and i started going steady and jake and sunghoon didn’t like that. it was always ‘oh, the two of you aren’t serious! you’ll just drop her like the rest!’ but months past and me not playing the game anymore only angered them more.”

jake finally seemed to snap out of his fog. “you’re such a fucking liar. we weren’t—”

“so they decided to get back at me, a harmless prank,” jay cut him off. “and clearly hana was using me to get back to jake, unbeknownst to me. they all thought it would be so funny if i found jake and hana together, to show me that she ‘wasn’t really worth it.’ and i did find them—only i didn’t find it funny, but to them the plan went off without a hitch so it was a success.”

jay turned from all of you. you could feel the anger radiating off of him as he retold the story and lived through all of the memories. shock grew on your face and you looked at jake with wide eyes.

“cue the big, disastrous fight that split the former swim team in half. lifelong friendships were broken, people were betrayed, and people chose sides. you get the gist.” jay turned back to you all, waving a hand in the air, face steeled.

he looked at you again. “you wanna know the kicker? despite not giving a single fuck about hana—not one—he then dated her after for four months. just to really stick it to me.”

your mind flashed to jake’s letter. about three years ago he said him and hana dated for four months but they “didn’t click,” so he broke up with her. he said that ever since she’s been making his life hell with her obsession with him and her trying to get back together. you felt like you were going to throw up. you hated hana, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t really dismiss the fact that jake took her virginity and then dropped her. it wasn’t an excuse, but it’s no wonder she’s so obsessed with him.

like she said, she was you. he probably made her feel like the only girl in the world for that one night.

“you’re just jealous of what jake and i had,” hana said, crossing her arms over her chest. jay’s gaze darted to her’s and wryly laughed. “sure, hana. you keep telling yourself whatever you need to help you sleep at night. jake never liked you the way you think he did. the only reason he dated you so long was because sunghoon dared him to see how long he could go before going crazy.”

hana blinked a couple times. clearly that information was new to her, too.

“i’m never one to forgive and forget, so now you can see why our friendship has long been dead and buried,” jay concluded. “i told you he’s not the saint you think he is.” jay sounded sorry for you and jake just stared at you with wide, fearful eyes. it was all too much for you to process.

“i need some space. i can’t… it’s over.” cheering exploded around you from everyone else at the party and you stumbled away, pushing through the door until you were hit in the face with fresh air. tears fell from your eyes and distantly you heard voices behind you calling your name.

you felt like no matter how hard you tried, oxygen wouldn’t reach your lungs. you pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to will yourself to breathe. you heard people arguing next to you and you closed your eyes to try and steady yourself as you inhaled sharply, air finally reaching your lungs. you turned to the voices as your ears suddenly heard them clearly.

“you just want everything i have, don’t you? can’t help yourself, huh?” jake shouted at jay.

jay got in his face and shouted back. “like you can’t help but throw the people you ‘care’ about to the side?” jay turned his focus to you. “tell me, y/n, who did he put over you this time? what lie has he told you to keep you crawling back to him?”

jake pushed jay hard. “don’t fucking talk to my girlfriend like that!”

“newsflash, you fucking idiot, she isn’t your fucking girlfriend anymore! you can’t help but ruin everything you touch!” jay yelled at jake. you felt your throat tightening again and you took a step back from them.

tears poured down your cheeks and a loud sob left your parted lips. they froze as their gaze snapped to your broken form. you turn and took off in a random direction that you hoped was towards your house.

you ran until you physically felt like you were gonna burst and gulped in a large breath of air. you heard jake calling after you as you swayed on your feet, vision blurring even more. jake put a hand on your shoulder, “baby…”

you spun in place, shrugging his hand off of you. “explain. explain right fucking now, or i swear we’re done for good. what else have you been keeping from me?” you asked through tears.

in the moonlight you could see the sparkle of tears welling up in jake’s eyes. “i swear there’s nothing else! i-i just didn’t want you to look at me like a monster when i’ve done everything in my power to not be that person anymore,” jake promised. you scoffed and looked away from him.

“i’m not gonna let you slip through my fingers again,” jake said. he sounded desperate but his words fell on deaf ears. “i already am,” you coldly replied.

jake grabbed your hand in his, intertwining them. suddenly you felt his hands all over you—his lips all over you and leaving the marks that were still on your skin, covered. “y/n… please just think this through. i haven’t seen hana at all until that day on the beach with you. i was a horrible person back then, but can’t you see that i’ve changed?”

you pulled your hand away. “i need time to know if i can trust you. we need to spend some time apart,” you replied, completely detached. the tears stopped falling from your eyes but your cheeks were still wet. all you felt was numb. you gave jake one last look before turning and walking away.

you haven’t been processing the past week and a half well—if at all. instead, you’ve been drinking a lot more than you care to admit. there practically hasn’t been a day where you weren’t at least a little bit tipsy. like today, you were just past tipsy and at the point where your mind was fogged over.

all you could think about was how hana said that she was you at one point and how that completely messed with your brain. what if jake was just seeing how long he could spend with you before going crazy like he did with hana? make you feel like the only girl in the world until the two of you “don’t click” anymore? it all terrified you, so you decide to not think about it at all.

you and jungwon were in your living room, lazily lounging on the couch as episodes of H2O: just add water played. you sighed deeply to yourself and jungwon looked over at you in question.

“everything reminds me of him,” you sighed again, watching as the girls raced to cover from the water.

jungwon side-eyed you. “be serious,” he said, eyes focusing on the tv screen again.

you stood from the couch, stumbling a bit. jungwon sat up. “where are you going?” he asked. you grabbed your jacket, there’s been quite the chill in the air lately, and slipped on your shoes at the door. “somewhere where i don’t think of him,” you responded.

opening the door, you stepped out before jungwon could say anything else.

truthfully, you didn’t know where you were going. you decided to wander and let your feet guide you hopefully to somewhere that jake wasn’t. that’s how you ended up a couple feet from jay’s backyard gate.

his words crept into your mind. maybe the two of you were the better match—and you were so, so lonely. at the very least, you just needed someone to comfort you. you knew drinking everyday wasn’t healthy, and jay was your friend. he would help you, right?

suddenly you heard his voice. “y/n?” jay asked and his face appeared in front of you. he looked worried and it took a second to realize that you were crying.

jay ushered you inside and to his room. he sat you on his bed, making sure that you were comfortable as he laid your jacket onto his desk chair. “what happened?” jay asked and all the emotions you tried so hard to keep at bay rushed forward.

it didn’t help that you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on jay’s door. jake’s love bites were just about healed—but you could still see them. it made you cry harder.

jay took you into his arms and you melted into them, crying into his chest. he rubbed comforting circles into your back and held you close until you were able to calm down a little. you looked up at him for a moment, still teary eyed, and softly pressed your lips to his.

you could tell that he was shocked—you were a little too, but he kissed you back nonetheless. the soft kiss between the two of you soon grew heated and you lifted yourself up onto the bed to sit in jay’s lap as his hand came to rest against your cheek. it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

deepening the kiss you grinded against jay’s thigh and he pulled away from your lips slightly, brows drawn together as his eyes remained closed. “y/n…” jay breathed, his voice low. “you're emotions are high right now and i don’t want you to do something that you’ll end up regretting. take a nap, we can talk more when you wake up and you’re sober.”

he pulled away more but you just shook your head. you needed this. “please…” you whispered, looking at him desperately before chasing his lips. whatever internal battle jay had with himself, he clearly lost as he kissed you back with more passion than before.

you grinded against his thigh more, low whines escaping your mouth as you tried to pull him closer. then, you blinked and you were under him. the two of you caught your breath, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. “do you want me to be nice…” jay trailed, breath fanning across the side of your neck, “…or do you want me to be mean?”

change is what you needed, and jake was always so nice when the two of you were intimate. “mean,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. jay smiled before dipping his head to kiss you again, this time rougher.

clothes were discarded and in a flash you were laying naked on jay’s bed. your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer as you grabbed his shoulders for dear life as he pushed into you. your face contorted into one of pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your moan.

jay pushed you back onto the bed so he could get a full view of you and shook his head. “so pathetic and desperate… i want to hear you moan for me.”

he thrusted roughly into you and you moaned loudly. “that’s it,” jay smiled, fucking into you at a fast pace.

your eyes rolled back and all you could do was let the moans and whines and whimpers spill from your open mouth. jay’s pace was so fast that you felt like you were being split in two, his thick length stretching you so good that you saw stars.

he bent down to the shell of your ear, grunting from the effort he was putting in as he held down your hips, “i bet he never made you feel this good.” your back arched off the bed as you started to tremble.

“never was able to have to have you act like a whore in heat for cock, has he?” jay asked. you couldn’t answer him, head too in the clouds to even form a coherent sentence. you felt too good and pleasure spread throughout every inch of your body. it made you forget what you even came here for.

you were flipped so that you were on your hands and knees. your face fell down into the pillow. suddenly, there was pain at your scalp. jay kissed the side of your neck, his hand buried in your hair. “show me how much of a good girl you are. how desperate you are.”

gulping, with shaky legs you fucked yourself on his cock. everytime your head would try to fall, jay would tighten his grip in your hair to keep you upright. the more you fucked yourself onto him, the more your legs shook at the feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. you were sent over the edge when jay pushed your head into the pillows and fucked you himself.

“too m-much!” you cried, tears springing to your eyes. “can’t…”

“awe, you poor slut…” jay cooed mockingly. his condescending words only aided the rope in your stomach further to snapping. “sweet, pretty little whore. be glad your head is in the pillows and i’m not making you ride me like i should be.”

you cried out again, rope completely snapping as you came around jay’s cock. he didn’t stop—of course he didn’t. he was gonna keep going until he got his fill too.

you writhed underneath him as his pace only grew quicker. he pulled you by your hair towards him and back onto his cock as leverage to rut into you quicker. your mixed grunts and moans filled his room and the overstimulation sent you spiraling.

jay twitched inside you and he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips tightly, holding them against his as he came inside you and filled you up more. a loud moan fell from his lips as you fell back into the pillows, your body feeling like complete jelly.

“fuck,” jay groaned. “that’s my little slut.”

pulling out of you, you felt as your mixed cum poured out of you and down the back of your legs in a thick load. jay cursed behind you again before taking two fingers and fucking your sensitive hole with them, groaning at the wet sound it made. you whimpered, trying to angle your hips away from him.

“so pretty… so pathetic.” jay chuckled to himself.

your mind was still hazy from the alcohol as jay pulled you up onto shaking legs to get you all cleaned up in his bathroom. you could barely see with the change of scene and bright lights making everything seem blurry. you didn’t even realize that you were back in his room now and he was helping you put your shirt back on.

it wasn’t until you woke up, who knows how many hours later, next to him in just your shirt and panties confused. your head felt like it was going to explode from the alcohol as you took a look around the room, eyes widening from the unfamiliar surroundings. you were even more confused when a sleeping, half-naked jay was next to you. a horrific expression set on your face.

the sun was just about to set and guilt and regret hit you like a freight train. slowly, you slid out of the bed, making sure that jay didn’t wake up. you hurriedly put the rest of your clothes and jacket on and rushed out of jay’s room as quietly as you could.

all of the memories rushed back to you all at once as you rushed down the path to the boardwalk. what have you done? kissing jay was one thing, but sleeping with him? that was something entirely else. now it was all tangled in your emotions regarding your relationship with jake.

head hung low, you ran all the way back to you house, wishing that you never stepped out in the first place.

you had just gotten off work and were on your way home when a hand grabbed your wrist and spun you around.

“so you slept with him?” jake asked, crossed somewhere between hurt and anger. your eyes widened and that familiar guilt filled you once more. “i-i was drunk, it was a mistake!” you quickly replied.

jake wryly laughed. “a mistake…” he trailed, shaking his head and looking to the ground.

“yes, a mistake!” you exclaimed, pulling your wrist from his grasp. “and i regret ever doing it. you’re acting like you’re the only one who’s allowed to make mistakes!” jake looked at you incredulously. “how did you even find out?” you asked.

you surely didn’t tell anybody, you had no want nor need to flaunt it around. it never should’ve happened at all. that doesn’t mean jake got to look at you like you betrayed him when the two of you aren’t even together anymore.

jake pulled out his phone and shoved the screen in your face. “because he sent me a fucking picture of you sleeping half-naked in his bed with the word ‘checkmate’ attached.”

heart dropping, you took jake’s phone as you looked horrifically at his screen. you weren’t half-naked—you were covered by your rolled up shirt and panties—but it was still way too exposed. you honestly couldn’t believe that jay would take a picture of you after—and send it to jake, no less.

the sudden realization hit you harder than all of the guilt and regret you’ve been feeling. jay used you to get a leg up on jake. how much of him liking you was just him trying to get back at jake through you. a second realization hit—they’ve both been using you to get back at each other in this years-long rivalry. you felt sick.

tears welled up in your eyes and you pushed jake’s phone into his chest to get it away from you. you ran your hands down your face as you tried to breathe. you then glared up at him, “don’t act like you care... you only want me to get a leg up on jay. you don’t actually want me. both of you have been using me to get back at each other. all of this has been meaningless.”

“that’s not true, and you know that’s not true.” jake sighed deeply. “if you want jay—fine. i’ll take a step back and i won’t bother you anymore. but you can’t keep dragging me along and toying with both our feelings because you can’t decide. we can’t do this anymore—i can’t do this anymore, y/n. you know that i’m in love with you, and i know that you love me too deep inside. i’m trying to tell you how you calling this all meaningless really hurts me.”

“you’d know a lot about hurting people,” you murmured. “and ‘dragging you along’? ‘toying with both of your feelings’? i’ve done nothing of the sort.” a single tear fell from your eye and you harshly wiped it away.

“if you can’t accept that it was a mistake sleeping with jay and that i deeply regret it—whatever. but, the only people dragging people along and toying with feelings have been you and jay.” with that you turned on your heels and stormed off.

[ AUTUMN — THE COLD AIR MATCHES YOUR HEART ] 𓇼 and it’s freezing to the bone—yet, there’s a spark.

your mind was everywhere lately, a complete mess. at least you had stopped drinking since sleeping with jay. only, things changed for the worse.

you felt like an echo of who you were when you first arrived in this town. in a couple of weeks you had managed to convince yourself that maybe this was the best you were ever going to get. that maybe letting people use you in such ways was the only way you would ever feel loved. at least, that’s how it seemed—and so far nothing was proving your thoughts wrong.

the relationship between you and jay was complicated. you didn’t even know how to describe it anymore. he went around acting as if you were his girlfriend, even going so far to plant kisses on your cheeks. however, the two of you haven’t even kissed since the day you slept with him.

on your end, he was still just a close friend—though you have been growing more distant from him. you didn’t know if he noticed, and at this point you didn’t care. the only thing you wanted to do these days were get up, go to work, go home, and sleep the rest of the day away.

you were walking home one day after work, completely out of it and not at all listening to what jay was saying to you, when he stopped you. jay sighed to himself, like something had been weighing on his mind. “i can’t,” he said suddenly. all your energy allowed was the quirk of your eyebrow in a silent question.

“this has to stop. clearly you aren’t interested and i like you way too much to have only a half-assed relationship. it’s either one-hundred percent or nothing at all.”

something clicked in your brain and you gave him a pleading look as you shook your head. you didn’t want to lose the only affection you had left. “what are you talking about?” you asked.

“i mean come on, the two of you are made for each other, it's clear as day!” jay drawled. “has anyone told you what he was like when you left? even i was shocked to see him look like a shell of himself. and you act like i can’t see it—even when you’re with me you’re imagining you’re with him…”

tears poured from your eyes as you shook your head more. “no… no, that’s not true!”

deep down you knew it was true. you spent all your waking hours thinking about jake. thought about how royally you both fucked everything up. and to think that you didn’t want drama this summer… all your summer was filled with was drama—and it was creeping into your autumn too.

all you wanted was to be in jake’s arms again, but you didn’t know if that would ever happen. not after how much the two of you hurt each other. maybe it was for the best that you weren’t together if all it was going to cause was pain.

jay nodded at you solemnly. “go. be with him. stop delaying the inevitable when we both know the two of us won’t work out.”

“but-but i like you!” you exclaimed. another lie, but it was your last attempt at the love you so desperately clung to—even if it was false.

“not in the same way you love him, y/n.”

jay gave you a sad smile before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone as tears slid down your cheeks. you wrapped your arms around yourself as the cold autumn breeze draped over your body and made you shake. you sniffled and kept walking to your house, trying not to cry harder.

later that night you were even more of a mess than you were before. you sat in the dark of your room as you cried even more and even harder, the tears just seemingly never ended.

all you thought about was how you fucked everything up. how nothing will ever probably be the same again. and worst of all—all you wanted was someone who most likely didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

to make matters worse, the subconscious part of your brain was working overtime and you didn’t even register the ringing of the phone pressed to your ear until it was too late. 

“y/n?” jake’s voice asked softly, slightly groggy. shit.

your eyes widened to saucers and you fumbled with the phone in your hands as you tried to quiet your sobs. you finally pressed the ‘end’ button and threw your phone across the room. seconds later you heard your phone buzzing with a missed call and texts from jake. 

“shit…” you trailed, realizing your mistake. all you did these days were make mistakes. “shit, shit, shit!” the tears fell from your eyes faster and you desperately wanted to scream—and you would’ve if it wasn’t so late in the night and your family was asleep.

a few minutes later, you heard the familiar opening of your window. jake stepped over the window ledge, clad in his pajamas and his long hair tousled like he got attacked by wind despite there not being even a breeze outside. shocked filled you as your eyes met his after so long.

you quickly wiped away your tears and turned your back to him. “i-i don’t want to talk to you!” you lied, sniffling hard to stop the sob trying to fight its way out of your body. you hated to admit it, but jake’s mere presence already made you feel immensely better.

the sound of your window closing behind you made you jump slightly. “then don’t talk,” jake said. behind you, the bed dipped. jake pressed his back against yours and you could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing. “but i’m not leaving you alone right now.”

slowly, jake intertwined his hand with yours. “you can be as angry as you want with me. be as silent as a mouse until you want to talk again… but i’m not leaving your side.” the pad of his thumb rubbed the back of your hand and you broke down completely.

sobs wrecked through your body and you could no longer hide them from him. hot tears ran down your cheeks—more tears than you felt like you’ve ever cried in your entire life. you completely unraveled. you could tell that jake wanted to turn around and comfort you—you felt the turn of his head as he tried to look at you and the twitch of his fingers—but he wanted it to be on your terms. that just made you cry even more.

you’ve cried so much today that you were sick of crying forever.

it was shocking that even for a second you thought differently. jake was the one for you. it was always going to be jake, no matter the up and downs the two of you went through. it was never going to be anybody but him. you burned for him like you didn’t for no other.

finally, you managed to get yourself together enough to speak. half coherent apologies fell from your lips. “i-i’m sorry,” you finally managed. “i’m so sorry. i… i ruined everything and—” jake shushed you and you felt him shake his head.

you continued anyway, “i was acting like… like…” you just couldn’t find the right words.

jake shushed you again, this time turning to face you. you turned too, blistering tears still falling from your eyes. jake shook his head and cupped your wet cheeks with his hands, using the pad of his thumbs to wipe them away. you stared at him again for the first time in so long, still not quite believing that he was in front of you again.

you both seemed to be worse for wear. there were dark circles under jake’s eyes and they were red-rimmed like he had cried recently. still, he looked at you with that certain look in his eyes that he always had, and you were finally able to put a name to it—love.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” jake said softly, but firmly. “nothing at all. if anyone is sorry, it’s me. you don’t know how sorry i am for making you think that i was dragging you along and toying with your feelings. i would never do that to you.”

your brows knitted together. you didn’t understand how he was so forgiving of you. you shook your head, “you deserve better than me.”

jake just chuckled. “i don’t want anybody but you.”

jake rested his forehead against yours before pulling you closer to him. you rested your head against his chest, hearing the soft thumps of his heartbeat, as you wrapped your arms around him. jake held you tightly—like if he let you go you would completely disappear.

slowly, you felt yourself begin to drift, the taxing emotions of the day finally catching up with you. you gripped the back of jake’s pajama shirt, scared that once you fell asleep you would wake up and he would be gone and this was just all one big dream. but the more you tried to say awake, the further your eyelids drooped.

“come here,” jake whispered, moving into a lying position. you cuddled up into his side, your head on his chest. jake rested his chin on your head. “sleep,” he said. “i’m not going anywhere.”

it didn’t take you long to drift into darkness, the sound of jake’s heartbeat aiding you. still, you grabbed onto him like your life depended on it the entire way—even after jake had covered the two of you with your blanket.

in the morning, jake awoke to you still tucked into his side and to the creek of your bedroom door opening. jungwon poked his head inside, a worried look on his face, before nearly jumping ten feet in the air after seeing jake.

jake held a finger to his lips, silently telling jungwon to keep quiet since you were still sleeping. with wide eyes, jungwon nodded. slowly, he shut the door and left the two of you alone.

looking down at you, jake made sure that you were still sleeping and was relieved to find that you still were. the sun peeked through your closed blinds, lighting up your room ever so slightly. jake held you closer to him and softly cradled your face with his hand, careful to not wake you. you stirred, but only to move closer to him, making jake smile.

later, you stirred again. this time jake knew you were waking up since your grip on his shirt suddenly tightened again as you stiffened. jake rubbed circled onto your back before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, the actions visibly relaxing you.

your eyes cracked open, adjusted to the change in brightness, and looked up at him before you buried your face back into jake’s chest. jake’s smile grew and you felt the vibrations of his laugh. “good morning, pretty,” jake said.

the cold autumn weather was only getting colder, but that didn’t stop you and jake from going to your spot.

you were giggling as jake wrapped his scarf around you, purposefully covering more of your face than he needed. he then pulled the scarf down to chastely kiss your lips, returning the scarf back to its former position of covering your face. you giggled more, “you gonna get sick!”

“all that matters to me is that my girlfriend doesn’t get sick,” jake replied. 

you pulled him closer to you by his jacket and pressed your lips against his. the two of you moved your lips in sync before you pulled away, serious. there was something that you’ve been meaning to tell him since you’ve got here, and you felt that now was finally the time.

almost nervously, you said, “i love you, jake.”

jake stared at you for a second with wide eyes, like he thought he didn’t quite hear you clearly. when you smiled nervously at him is when it finally clicked for him. jake’s whole face lit up and he kissed you so passionately that the two of you almost fell over. “i love you,” he said before kissing you again.

you pulled away for air, giggling at his reaction. he started kissing you all over your face and you pushed him away, laughing more. “jake!” you exclaimed. he pressed a couple more kisses to your cheeks before kissing your lips again. “what?” he asked innocently, “i was just warming you up.”

you rolled your eyes and stood to your feet. you pulled him to his feet as well and the two of you dusted off sand from your clothes. “well, we should probably move away from the sea,” you smiled at him. your face then lit up.

there was still one more thing on your shared bucket list that you and jake still didn’t do. you completely forgot about the bucket list in general with everything that happened. “the abandoned skate park!” you exclaimed. “we still haven’t added our names to it!”

jake intertwined your gloved hand with his. he looked at you with eyes full of love. “let’s go then!” he smiled at you, kissing your cold cheeks. you scrunched your nose at him before dragging him out of your spot and towards the skate park.

on the way there, the two of you bought a disposable camera and a can of spray paint in your favorite color—at jake’s adamance. the two of you seeked out a good place to add your names for a while before finally finding the perfect spot.

“okay, go!” jake said, aiming his phone towards you. you turned and sprayed “y/n + jake = forever” into the spot the two of you had picked out before running back to where jake stood. the two of you switched—you taking the phone to record and him the spray can. jake then ran over and sprayed a wonky heart around your names, causing you to laugh.

jake looked back at you and laughed. “i told you you should’ve done the heart!”

you came up to him and he wrapped his arms around you as you got the two of you and your names in the camera view—kissing him briefly with an adoring smile—before ending the recording all together. jake then pulled the disposable camera out of his jacket pocket and snapped a picture of it and then of the two of you next to it. “to more memories!” he said.

after, jake turned to you. “do you remember what happened here?” he asked you. you nodded, “of course i do! this is where we had our first kiss!” jake smiled at you, kissing you like he did so long ago again, completely setting you alight and making your heart race even after all of this time.

“say it again,” jake said, his forehead against yours. you smiled. “i love you,” you replied.

you could practically feel the smile on jake’s face grow larger. “again,” he said. you giggled at him and the way he pulled you closer to his chest. “i love you, jake.”

“i love you, too.” jake kissed you again. 

you felt as if your world was back on track now, no longer was the axis all out of place. you were here in jake’s arms where you belonged, his lips against yours as the two of you giggled at each other. you would never love anyone like you love jake. “i love you more,” you finally replied to him.

jake shook his head at you. “impossible,” he laughed. “nobody can love anyone as much as i love you.”

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[itneverendshere]

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

──────────────────────────────

The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not. I took your virginity. Are you saying I never used fuck you good enough?”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “No, I’m saying you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

He blinks, surprise and a flicker of emotion crossing his gaze. “The last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.” He whispers. 

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.” 

He leans back slightly, eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.” 

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

He gazes deeply into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “Are you on the pill?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and concern.

You shake your head slowly, feeling a potent mix of frustration and longing swirling within you. The heat between your bodies is almost unbearable, every inch of your skin alive with anticipation. “I want you,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands. His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” you affirm, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “I need you. I’ll take the morning-after pill.”

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

──────────────────────────────

authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[smileysuh]

fuck your ex - TEASER

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

tw/cw. Protected sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, hand job, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, threesome, bathroom sex, using a shower head as a vibrator, multiple sex scenes, multiple reader orgasms, slight cum kink, Cheol cum’s on reader’s chest, size kink, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.3k 

🍭 aus. Non idol au, cop au, poly au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know cops are a touchy subject, but I've had this idea for months, and I figured it's fan fiction so hopefully it's just a fun au :)

“Anyways, I bet you’re wondering about the conditions that make threesomes work,” Seungcheol sighs, returning to the topic at hand.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. When you and Mingyu gave me your numbers, you did say I could have both of you if I wanted.”

“You still can, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you wanted to stick it with Mingyu. It wouldn’t offend me. He’s better with girls than I am.” You love how direct Seungcheol is about this, and it shows a good sense of self for him to be able to admit he’s not as much of a lady killer as his friend.

“Why do you think he’s better with girls?” you inquire.

“Most girls like that whole puppy dog thing. He’s a giver, and I respect that.”

“And you’re not a giver?” you toy, cocking a brow.

“More of a taker really,” Seungcheol admits, flashing you a grin. “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the booth. “That might be just what I need right now.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.5k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr September 27th, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact to be tagged, replies and reblogs are prioritized, tag space is extremely limited

[reshinless]

Hear me out..Jealous!kinich x reader smut...also I love your writing style it makes me wanna explode🤭

──── bet you feel it now, baby

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. you didn't have to laugh that hard at his joke. it wasn't even that funny. he's better, it's fine, he'll just show you how much better he is.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader, !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. posting wip list in a bit plus brief overview of 800 special fic (it'll probably be genshin/hsr :3)

۪ ⠀✧ warnings. possessive behavior (kinich), jalosi /j, kinda ass/pussy eating (see to it however you like, i used no real specific term, reader is blindfolded for some parts, jealous behavior, rough sex, sex itself, y'all get walked in on (be ready for this to be implied into more of my kinich works LOL), establish relationship

"ahhn- kinich i said 'm sorry.. pleasef- slow down!" your face in the pillows, your words muffled and long gone into the night. the black-haired man's raspy voice spoke from behind— your boyfriend, kinich, of course. "he wasn't all that entertaining, why laugh like how you do with me?"

it was torture to him, seeing how it went from an awkward laugh, a polite smile, to a more genuine appearance to the stupid guy that just had to come up to you while he was busy getting a little snack for ajaw— even ajaw wouldn't comment on how his face looked this time, keeping his own silence as he ate the delicious candy.

"fffuck- he was an old classmate i had at the akademiya- 'm sorry, i-i really am kin-!" he almost laughed at your words. classmate? doesn't mean you should be playfully hitting shoulder like that. or teasing him like that. it's all his, no one else should be able to have it.

you shuddered, what felt like cumming again for the umpteenth time in a row, he hadn't stopped pinning you against the wall, and making you see stars over and over again ever since you saw your "classmate".

"doesn't matter." he groans, finishing inside you once more, your eyes were blindfolded by his headwear, previously on his forehead. he carries you onto the mattress, laying you down a little roughly. "w- what are you doing?"

you shivered once more, feeling warm exhales near your entrance, his cheek resting suddenly on one of your thighs. "all mine, right?" the blunt tone present in his tone definitely made it out as if you couldn't tell him anything other than yes (because it was true). his lips start to scatter a plethora of glossy little kisses all over your thighs, the sensation of getting him to cover every inch of your legs felt like a fever dream.. was this really a punishment?

you could feel his other hand snake to one of yours, which was somewhere on the bed. holding it tight as he started to place wet pecks over your hole. "hhnnn.. kin stop- ... stop teasing me.." you felt yourself moan into his touch, your other hand reaching out for wherever his head was. your fist grabbing at his hair, almost trying to push him into you further.

you felt him groan into you, you could sense he was whipped for your taste. the way you moaned his name. his.. name. "ahh- ahhh fffuck!— kin it's all yours, i promise!" his hand left yours, and stopped lapping at your hole for a moment- you heard a small grunt, and two things landing on the floor.. was he taking his gloves off?!

you could feel him sitting you up with one of his other hands, arms setting you down onto his face, arms locking around your thighs. straddling you over his mouth, as he started to devour what was his. no other guy could do this to you, not without making you feel as good as he did.

shit and he definitely did, the way he made you feel wasn't like the stupid losers who'd try to hook up with you back in the akademiya. or tried to pick you up in the streets. they can't make you feel turned on as much as you did when kinich blindfolded your eyes with something he doesn't usually take off and hear his belt buckle start to come off- ahhh nothing was better!

oh you felt yourself almost creaming on his face just thinking about it. not to mention how good he worked his tongue into you, definitely tasting every little bit, every little nook & cranny his tongue could reach.

he made a small sound, looking up to see you slowly riding his face as is, trying to rub yourself near against his nose. his authorative hold was more than enough to stop you from moving again, one of his palms moving over your stomach to feel the way his tongue moved inside you.

his head busily buried itself more into your scent, glossing his tongue so carefully, making sure you feel it. you started to feel something pool in your stomach- ssshit you were gonna cum again! your hands trail back down to his hair, gripping it harshly again, him seeing signs that you're close, he fastens his pace, licking as much as he could, no longer concentrating on the taste, more on your facial expression.

"ahhn- kin i'm g'na-!" "mmm there it is, such a good kitty." were the words he moaned into your hole, as he gladly lapped up every inch of your delicious juice/cum.

as he placed a kiss onto your entrance once more, he places more than just one kiss onto your lips, making out with you for a bit. letting him taste what he's been tasting for the past hour, the shared, mix of both of your cum.

your lips finally parting from his, your eyes still shut close 'till you feel a fist of your hair being gripped, "not done yet." is all kinich whispers, his voice a little coarse as he continues to kiss you. "all.. yours," you feel him take your hand, putting it over his heart while you both pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva being created. "and all mine, please?" he points to where your heart is in your chest.

his blunt attitude could only make you laugh, planting a kiss onto his head, and nodding to an agreement. "mmm- yeah. all yours."

"you guys are reaaaaaaalll corny! you're lucky i like your partner this time!" ajaw butts in as you laugh, while kinich simply scoffs- looking the other way and burying his face into your chest.

not as cool as my other works, and it's more cringe if i keep looking back on it, cute request tho !!!!<3333

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Cleve gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[strwberri-milk]

Can i request lnd boys talking it through with us during readers first time 🥰 soft praises and reassurance 🥰🥰

im gonna do a thing where its just. what he's gonna say to you bc the act itself is p standard - def missionary and him being so so so gentle with his movements to prevent hurting you + lets him watch every expression you make - this is also just making me realise how like. my dialogue for smut really doesnt change too much omg they sound so similar erfeafoaf

His focus is primarily on your your face the whole time, looking at you intensely with every movement of his hips. He doesn't want to hurt you so he's going to take it slow, holding your hands as he gently whispers praise at you.

"You're doing perfectly for me. Yes, just like that."

"You feel perfect wrapped around me like that. I don't think I'll be able to last long. Hmm? No, that's a good thing. It means you're doing good."

"Please - just a little longer. I'm almost there."

"Don't hide your noises. I need to know if you feel as good as I do."

Xavier is very hands on. He's holding you tightly, keeping you in place as much as he can despite your squirming. His pace is unintentionally teasing, long slow grinds as he really savours every movement of his body against yours.

"No, I promise I won't hurt you. I'll take good care of you, I promise."

"You're so warm - I don't know how long I can hold back."

"Look at me. I want to see what faces you make."

"Just a little bit more. I know you can do it."

Rafayel is so sensitive to your touch - more than you ever thought he could be. He's always been receptive but the way he's acting right now, face buried in your neck as he slowly fucks you really takes the cake. You can't escape his presence at all - he's holding you tightly as he absolutely devours you.

"Don't look away from me - I've been dreaming of this moment for far too long."

"You - don't do that - I want to take my time with you."

"I need you so bad. Please don't hold back."

"Yes - yes, just like that. Keep going - you feel so good."

Sylus seems like he'd be rough with you but when you finally end up in his bed he's holding onto you tightly, keeping you pressed against his chest as he showers you in kisses. He loves everything about you and he really wants to make sure you know that.

"Yes kitten, just like that. I knew you could do it."

"Don't worry if you get tired. I told you I'll take care of you."

"Just lay back for me. You don't have to do anything - I'll make sure you feel good, I promise."

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[giannaln4]

I Missed You

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You missed seeing Lando being happy after a race, and you couldn't wait to tell him how proud you were.  (1.4k words)

warnings: fluff, stablished relationship, a bit of mclaren slander

a/n: when i tell you i loved this idea SO SO much. i’m not too sure i’m happy with how this turned out but i really hope you guys enjoy it 🩷 i apologise for posting this just before the race but it was a bit hard to get started for some reason 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

check out the original request here!

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The weekend in Monza was one you were hoping to forget. The tension in the air reflected not only in the team but also in the comments people were making about it, having even sports commentators and content creators question McLaren’s entire strategy to keep their fighting position in the WCC and also have a shot at the WDC. 

Lando’s demeanour immediately after getting off the car was something you would never forget, though, even if you tried. It was pretty obvious for everyone, even if he tried his hardest to never say something bad about his team and his teammate. That team was his home anyway. He had been with McLaren even before his F1 career started, and even after weekends like this one, he would never doubt he wanted to achieve great things with them.

That is probably what made it harder for him. This year they were competing not only for points and podiums but for something bigger, and after knowing what he is capable of, ending up in that position absolutely crushed him, and you hated to see him debating with himself. 

Once the weekend was finally over and you were leaving Italy, you wanted to make him feel better, telling him how great he was and how proud you were. You even shot some comments at McLaren for everything that went down, but he didn’t want to hear it; he barely wanted to talk about it, so you just dropped it. You understood him anyway, so you had to leave everything behind and just be supportive of your boyfriend.

You were hoping this weekend would be different, better, everyone was, and there was a lot of talking in the team that they would make the right decisions to keep fighting now that they had the chance. This, of course, would only mean something until they actually proved it during the race. 

Lando was in a better mood coming into this weekend; he trusted his team and he was confident they were backing him up. That was until the qualifying came. A yellow flag being pulled out by mistake during Q1 caused him to lose the opportunity to even put up a fight, and he ended up being P17. It wasn’t even his fault, but you knew he was beating himself up for that result. 

“Lando,” you called him right after he came back to the garage to watch the rest of the qualifying. He looked at you with a disappointed smile. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I know.” He pulled you into a hug, not wanting you to worry about him too much. “There’s nothing I could have done. We just have to wait and see what we can do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” you replied into his chest, rubbing small circles in his back to let him know you were there for him, no matter what. 

“We’ll see. The car felt okay, but it’s hard to overtake on this track. It’s quite a long straight.” He let out a nervous giggle as he pulled away; he didn’t sound as confident as you were hoping, but you knew he was right. “Some of it is just going to have to cross our fingers.”

There was no point in fighting him when he got like that, so you just nodded. “I’ll be crossing everything I have then.”

He went off with the rest of his team as you stayed back to watch the rest of the cars complete the qualifying. The air was starting to get tense again, and even though you knew everyone was nervous with Lando’s result, you weren’t sure if it was just your own feelings talking. But like Lando said, you were going to have to wait and see what the team could come up with, you were just hoping they would do the right thing.

Race day was finally here, and with Lewis starting from the pit lane due to a new power unit and Pierre being excluded due to fuel flow rate, Lando had been promoted to P15. Sure, it would have been better if Lando had the chance to fight for his starting position, but at least that was something. 

You could see he was still not completely confident in how the race would go, but you trusted enough for the both of you. 

Watching the race from the garage was something that always made you incredibly nervous, but especially in this position. But Lando managed to get to P12 by lap 2, and everyone was incredibly excited by his overtakes. 

As the race went on and he felt more confident with the car, he started to climb his way up to the top 10, trusting the team’s decisions with the strategy they were sticking to, and you were so glad everything was falling in place. 

The rest of the race still made you bite your nails at how nervous you were, but the bliss in the entire garage when he overtook someone was indescribable. He was driving the race of his life, and even the radios he exchanged with the team radiated that. As always, the last few laps were nervewracking, but the fact that he made it all the way to P6 and was even helping Oscar with his own race left everyone with a good taste. Not a complete terrible weekend after all. 

During the last lap, however, an unfortunate crash between Carlos and Checo pushed him to P4, meaning he gained 11 positions during the race; not that you ever doubted him, but seeing him end up there with the fastest lap after an absolute mess of the qualifying made you excited to see him. After confiming everyone was okay, you took the liberty to celebrate your boyfriend’s race.

Lando got out of the car and went to greet his team, cheers and smiles all over the place. Everyone was praising him for the incredible work he made, and his smile didn’t go away for a second the entire time. 

You knew you would still have to wait to congratulate him; he still had to do media before coming back to his room, where you were waiting for him, but seeing him so happy in the monitors made you grow impatient. 

It felt like it had been a while since you saw him so happy after a race.

After what felt like forever, you heard him come back to the garage. You stoop up from the small couch and opened the door, where you were greeded by your boyfriend. 

“Hey, you.” You said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, smile so big you could see his dimples.

“That was amazing, Lando. I knew you would do amazing, but I can’t even describe how proud I am.” 

He smiled even more at your words. He closed the distance between you when he took a few steps, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You could even feel him smiling then, and that filled your heart.

“Thank you; it was a good day,” he said when he pulled away, looking down at you with loving eyes. “I think everything worked out.” You just nodded as you admired him.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you brushed a few curls that fell on his forehead.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together the last three weeks. You saw me just before the race." To say he was confused was an understatement, and you could see it in his face.

“I mean you, this. I missed seeing you so happy and smiley. Looks good on you.”

Lando was a bit embarrassed by your confession; he thought he did a better job at hiding how much the results affected him, at least to you. It was never his intention to be so down when he was with you, but man, was he endeared by your words. “I needed this,” was all he said, and you know he was right. And it wasn’t only him; you knew the team needed this as well.

“I know, and I know you hate to hear it, but I told you.”

He let out a laugh, not a nervous one this time. “Yes, you did,” he hugged you again, much tighter as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. “Thank you for being here and supporting me, even during my bad times.” He spoke with so much sincerity. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of another woman in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro: He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji: Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace: He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets you you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo: Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law: Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid: He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[darnell-la]

I can't stop thinking about how Logan would be like "yeah those boys are not enough for you you need a man like me to take care of you" pleeeese do a story based on that <3 Love you guys works btw

note: Logan Howlett is an eater.

———

Logan had originally come to y/n’s apartment to drop off dinner. Wade had told him she hadn’t been eating proper food because of her study hours, so he cooked and packed it, ready to foul her up.

When he arrived, he heard noises from the young woman’s room. Two voice. Hers and someone else’s. A man’s. A boy.

He held himself together, understanding that she was young and experimenting. At least she better be. She shouldn’t be dating right now. He won’t allow it.

The man went to turn around and leave, maybe come back in an hour, but he heard a moan. Her moan. “Fuck no,” the man said, changing his mind about experimenting after he heard her with another man.

“Y/n!” The man knocked on the door hard, making the two jump in the bed. “Fuck, that’s Logan — M-My friend’s friend. My friend. J-Just get dressed,” y/n got up quick as well as the boy.

“Goddamnit,” he cussed, angry that he didn’t get to finish after touching y/n for the longest to get her wet. “Can you just like shoo him away or somethin? I’m fucking hard,” the boy said.

“I can’t, he’s like family. And he wouldn’t leave anyway,” she said, making the boy roll her eyes. “Get him outta here or I ain’t comin’ back,” the boy said, making her roll her eyes, but she was also horny now. She needed something.

Y/n cracked the door, hoping to talk with Logan for a quick second before sending him off, but he pushed open the door, causing Y/n to fall back.

“You ain’t comin’ back. Get the fuck out,” Logan snapped at the boy. His attitude was unacceptable. Even his appearance in her room was unacceptable.

“Dude, get out of here — We just got-“ Before he could say anything, Logan grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him out of her room. “Don’t come back, or you’ll regret it,”

Logan shut the door and then turned to look at y/n who was embarrassed. “Logan, I-“ she went to say but he cut her off. “You what? Fuck boys during your study time?”

“What!? No, I- I mean — Logan, why are you here?” She asked, trying to switch the conversation which made him chuckle. “To give you dinner that you never have time to eat. Now I see why,”

Y/n felt bad. Now Logan knew she didn’t show up on Friday nights because she was fucking some random boy.

“You ditch family for a boy that can’t respect you? Let alone, properly make you wet!?” The man asked, shocking y/n. “H-He does make me wet,” y/n said, not knowing why she would tell Logan that. She just felt defensive.

“Oh, really? You know I can smell ya, Bub. Right?” Logan asked the young lady as he placed her dinner down on a desk before walking towards her. “And you’re already all dried up,”

“Logan that’s- That’s very inappropriate,” she said as she backed up, the back of her legs hitting her bed. “Is it? Then I must be a nasty son of a bitch, because I smell for you every time I’m around you,”

Y/n didn’t know how that got her on her bed, spread open for him, but she was, legs spread and cunt leaking as he stuffed his face in between her legs.

“So fuckin’ tasty. Gotta lick that son of a bitch off of you,” Logan groaned onto her heat as her hands tangled in his hair. “Oh god, Logan,” y/n threw her head back as her bud swole.

“Sweetest pussy that lives, baby. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t stop eating at her. He lifted a hand up and used two fingers to push at her entrance until he could curl in the right spot.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried, making him lean back to watch her as he finger fucked her cunt. “You like that?” Logan asked as she nodded, head still leaned back and eyes closed.

“Yeah? Gonna start callin’ me instead of the boys?” He asked her, making her nod quickly. “Yeah, these boys aren’t enough for you. You need a man like me to take care of you,”

Y/n whined as she grinned at his fingers, chasing her orgasm. She was close, and he had just started. He was definitely better than any boy she’d been with. He was even better than herself.

“Give it to me, baby — Cum on my face — Need my face drenched,” the man looked into the girl's eyes and began to cross and roll back.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me — Give it to your man,” Logan kitty licked her bud to give her a better sensation that Wii jot sent her over the edge with a loud moan.

Logan latched his lips around her lips as he continued fingering her, humming into her cunt to get this amazing feeling in.

She tried to push the man off and close her legs, but he kept slapping her hands away and speeding her legs further with his free hand.

“G-God, Logan,” y/n cried out, feeling a bit embarrassed, and he felt it. He slightly loved the idea of her being shy from now on. The animal in him loved the look of a deer in headlights.

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.