#second time posting this lets hope it works this time

[korrasera]

So, I read through those articles because my first thought was that jadeharleyinc was scrambling to find anything that might bolster their position and likely weren't being careful about it.

And I was right. It wasn't the slam dunk I was hoping for, but it turns out the cited articles demonstrate the same bias as the rest of the pro-AI crowd.

These are two opinion pieces from a single author. Before I get started, that's the first red flag. Opinion pieces by single authors are low on the credibility* ranking list. While this is presented as the opinion of the EFF and while I'm sure they stand behind their writers, this is someone's opinion rather than the opinion of a group or organization.

*means look at the footnotes section at the bottom of my post, for anyone unaware.

Let's get into it. In detail.

Article #1 [link]

There isn't much to the first piece, it's mostly just making the argument that the courts are incorrect in their interpretation of plagiarism, because the author interprets what AI models are doing as fair use.

The author isn't actually reporting on the court's opinion, they're explicitly siding with AI companies to say that what those companies are doing falls under fair use. No argument, no reasoning, just an assertion that you're supposed to read as fact. Meanwhile, they offer no criticism of AI and this doesn't elaborate on any of the warnings already raised.

An important point is this right here:

It's early in the case—the court was merely deciding if the plaintiffs had alleged enough to justify further proceedings—but it’s a dangerous precedent.

That's said in response to the court ruling in Anderson v Stability AI Ltd. that held that the law should continue to evaluate training models to make a reasoned determination as to whether or not they promote infringement given the model's ability to produce exact copies of copyrighted material.

Let me translate that for you, without the author's bias trying to manipulate your perceptions:

"It's dangerous for courts to try to ask if AI models might be infringing on people's copyrighted works. They should be left alone and not questioned as to whether or not they're engaging in plagiarism, no questions asked.

Why? Because it's dangerous. Why is it dangerous? Because I said so."

Does that seem like a neutral, unbiased position?

Does it seem like a good idea to argue companies who have been accused of plagiarism shouldn't be investigated?

If you suspect someone is committing a crime, like an actual crime that hurts people, what do you think when someone tells you that crime shouldn't be investigated? Does that sound like someone giving you some good advice?

So.

We've already got a clear example of bias. The author is in support of gen AI and isn't talking about any of the concerns people have already raised. They're arguing that we shouldn't investigate further.

All in all, sounds pretty suspicious already, but just wait. The second piece is even worse.

Article #2 [link]

The second piece demonstrates a much stronger bias. It's basically a propaganda piece that defends AI by painting it as a liberating, democratizing force that empowers people to create art and content. Here's an example of what I mean:

Generative AI tools like text and image generators are powerful engines of expression. Creating content—particularly images and videos—is time intensive. It frequently requires tools and skills that many internet users lack. Generative AI significantly expedites content creation and reduces the need for artistic ability and expensive photographic or video technology. This facilitates the creation of art that simply would not have existed and allows people to express themselves in ways they couldn’t without AI.

That's another way of saying the author believes that people who write prompts for AI are every bit as much artists as the artists those AI plagiarize from.

To be 100% clear, this is what pro-AI propaganda looks like.

Writing a prompt does not make you an artist. It means you're sitting at a machine that copies other people's art and produces something for you to benefit from.

Or, in other words:

It's a capitalist simulator. It lets you feel like you're profiting from your own work while you're actually exploiting the work of people whose labor you're stealing while you do nothing.

Particularly egregious is the way that the author cites gen AI as being of the same lineage as African American art forms that remix existing ideas, going so far as to even argue that gen AI will somehow act as a liberating force that frees black artists from copyright limitations.

All of which is, in a word, horseshit.

As gen AI expands, more artists will have more of their work stolen and will struggle even more to make a living through their artworks. A secondary market for AI driven art will emerge (and already has) to further profit from the work of the artists being stolen from.

There is a chance that this could lead to a significant loss of future artists as people are encouraged to seek other professions as making art becomes wholly unsustainable for the individual.

Let's pivot and look at the way the author criticizes AI:

Expanding copyright will not mitigate these harms, and we shouldn’t forfeit free speech and innovation to chase snake oil “solutions” that won’t work. We need solutions that address the roots of these problems, like inadequate protections for labor rights and personal privacy. Targeted, issue-specific policies are far more likely to succeed in resolving the problems society faces.

Oh, wait, that's not actually critical of AI. That's someone saying they're critical of AI while painting any attempt to regulate it as 'snake oil solutions'.

The author softballs the concerns about AI:

People 'worry' that these problems may exist, they aren't real existing issues.

These are real problems, but we have to carefully look for a solution, nothing we're doing now can help.

They cause harm to the environment! But also the pro-AI camp already think that the science proving it is made up, so it's a bit of a gimme.

These aren't real criticisms of AI, they're just framed that way to make it sound like the author is being fair and balanced. Look at what the author is actually saying and she's basically arguing that we can't try to regulate AI or else!

It's fearmongering meant to discourage you from wanting to see AI regulated in any way.

It's someone saying that we need to consider it in committee and never actually do anything about the problems. Because they don't see them as problems and would rather just delay any attempt to fix said problems.

And keep in mind, attempts to regulate AI haven't even started yet.

These people are already whining loudly about how any attempt to regulate AI is going to bring down doom on our heads. They're fearmongering about all of these issues to convince people to support them out of a kneejerk sense that danger! and Disney! = must defend gen AI!

That's not a defense of a useful and socially beneficial tool, that's corporate shills working hard to try to get in front of the regulation before it's even had a chance to regulate.

Conclusion

So, we all know Disney is the bad guy, right? Well, so is gen AI.

The people who are supporting aren't actually supporting artists or the community or society in general, they're just a new crop of corporate shills who are signing up with the next new company coming along to exploit us for profit.

Scratch the surface of their arguments and you'll see the bias and manipulation.

They're just trying to sell you on how great it will be to serve this New And Improved Dark Lord.

Pay no attention to that massive glowing eye sitting atop Barad-Dur.

That's just a sign that the Dark Lord cares about you!

Y'all take care now. Stay skeptical, don't let people sell you on propaganda.

---

Footnotes

*A quick aside on credibility. A single author writing an opinion is relatively low on the ranking list when it comes to credibility because it's one person giving you their opinion and it's very hard for one person to control for their own biases. That's one of the reasons we build larger and more resilient structures to share information, because it helps us correct for these problems and share accurate, reliable information with one another.

Take climate change science as a good example of this. The scientific research into climate change is published by teams, organizations, and entire fields of scientists who work to collaborate one another's research and reduce bias in the work. Because they come from many backgrounds and institutions, it also helps to counteract any bias that could be introduced by a profit motive. This process produces results that are highly credible.

By comparison, research on the health impacts of smoking released by Philip Morris aren't very credible. As a company that has a very strong profit motive that benefits from people using tobacco products, they have a strong motivation to release biased material that minimizes the harm caused by smoking. The only way it would be credible is if they released research that damningly confirmed the worst health outcomes of smoking.

And it turns out that they did that throughout the 20th century! And probably into the 21st! They buried any of their own material that demonstrated the harm that smoking did while also releasing fake data that suggested that it had health benefits.

You really, really don't need to be cheerleading Disney and Universal here. It honestly doesn't matter how much you dislike AI art — if the court rules in favor of the corporations, the implicit expansion of copyright law will do a million times more harm to the arts than fucking Midjourney ever could.

Like. There is no definition of copyright that does not permit AI training, but does permit fanworks. The latter is much more clearly derivative than the former. You do fanart? Fanfic? Disney's pointing a gun squarely at your head and you're cheering because it might hit the AI artists behind you too.

And beyond that, do you know what happens to AI generation if Disney/Universal win this? They aren't opposed to the technology in principle! They'll be able to use their exclusive rights to a vast corpus of art to make their own AI, for their own purposes. Who does this help? Companies who want to reduce employment costs and disenfranchise the working artist. Who does this hurt? Well, it hurts independent AI users. Congrats, your anxiety over commission prices is gone now, not that it was well-founded to begin with. It also hurts anyone who wants to make use of fair use doctrine forever, so I hope none of what you were selling was fanart of copyrighted characters.

I've never made a secret of being rather more open to generative AI as a technology than most people in these online spheres. But for fuck's sake, you really don't need to like AI to realize that this lawsuit's success would be a terrible thing to happen to art! If you've found yourself on the same side as Disney, that should be a clue that you might wanna review your thinking!

[starlitkitten]

♡ Giving or getting head? ♡

(Its a kinda most to least thingy, featuring *my* opinion on them. And it's also 18+ so the characters are AGED UP and this post is MDNI)

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Warnings: fem!reader, blowjob, face-sitting and pussy eating mentioned, 69 mentioned, if i left anything out please tell me :)

Loves giving

1. Bokuto Kotarou - you cannot tell me he doesn't like to eat pussy. I think he almost does it for himself. For his enjoyment, because he gets off on being between your legs every. Damn. Day. He is allowed. He is messy and desperate. He doesn't stop until you push him away. His thick arms around your thighs pushing apart while he licks and sucks eagerly. He is obsessed with you.

2. Nishinoya Yuu - the second place is his. Because he seems like the kind of guy to worship his woman. Actually, i think he likes having you on his face. He has that eager to please written all over him. He's like... "I had a horrible day today baby...sit on my face?" And when you have a horrible day? Don't even have to ask. Besides pampering the shit out of you, you will have him between your legs at least for one orgasm. (If you want to of couse.)

3. Wakatoshi Ushijima - he does it for the sake of pleasuring his woman. He praises, softly pulling away and only using his fingers while talking to you or kissing your thighs. Thats why he's third place. He loves to eat you out, but he equally loves to use his fingers. Switching between having his fingers inside you and mouth on your clit, and gently rubbing your clit while he uses his tongue gently. He also loves to press down on your lower belly. I just know.

Equally loves getting and giving

Kuroo Tetsurou - that man is a freak. His favorite position is 69, laying back, on the side, every way he can, he does. He loves to give and get plesure at the same time. Having you sit on his face as he eats you out, enjoying having you give him a blowjob? The peak point of his day. He would do this every day.

3. Iwaizumi Hajime - i think he loves to lean back after a tiring day, having you, his gorgeous woman on her knees, softly working on him, as he drinks a beer or tells you about his day, gently caressing your hair. Maybe he doesn't even want you to make him come. He's like, "That's enough, sweetheart, come here." He murmurs, and pulls you into his lap, and just kisses you, or makes you ride him, or whatever he needs that day.

2. Sawamura Daichi - it's not that he's lazy. He always takes care of others, so this time, he prefers someone taking care of him this way. He loves having you on your knees, softly taking him deeper. You're so warm and so good at this. He praises, grunts softly, fingers in your hair/on your head. This is his favourite thing. Maybe sometimes he even lets his hips roll up, asking if you're okay with it.

1. Suna Rintarou - in my opinion, he likes to get head the most. While playing guitar, or smoking, or just chilling, he loves it. Anytime, anywhere, he doesn't say no to a good blowjob. He loves to grip your hair, roll his hips, and talk dirty while letting out the prettiest moans ever created. He also loves risky places (if you're into that), like the changing room showers, in a cleaning toolroom, changing stalls in shops, or even the last row in a cinema. He just loves it, you're so pretty <3.

Enjoys getting

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

I hope y'all liked it ♡

[k-hippie]

SIMS 3 WORLD - LOST COVE 2025 ( bold redux )

First, few words related to howto with Lost Cove ;)

There will be 2 posts : one general about the World itself, the ANTS ( Absolute Necessary Things & Stuff ) - the CC used - the stories around Lost Cove - the DL link ... And then a second post related to Lots ( both residential and community ) - the credits - our own CC we made ( yep ... we made some xtra stuff for your eyes only ) <- incredible isn't it ? :D But let's start with some pictures ;)

No way to avoid it, this is a boldy bold update for the 10th anniversary, of Lost Cove, because it has been completely remade from scratch, based on an alternate Isla Paradisio, with new textures, new lots, new ( almost ) everything, and old cc fully remade to be sure to not loose anything this time ;) We tried to re-compose the old Lost Cove. But this time, we cleaned everything which had to be and left the Hidden Lots, the Dive Spots, 4 Ports, and even the Smuggler's Lair :D

Lost Cove has a whole story. And Lost Cove IS a whole story in itself ;)

Lost Cove is born in 2015, from a simple picture posted by SimCookie of their world : the famous and fantastic Sunset Died, an apocalyptic Sunset Valley world, 12 years ago. At this time, I never approached CAW and sims 3 worlds creation before. And frankly, I had no time for this. But the picture of the broken Twinbrook Hall was like an appeal … to do more with the best Sims franchise :D

I wrote to SimCookie to ask them if I may use the same way to place the Twinbrook broken Hall but into a complete different kind of world. They agreed. And so, I began working on Lost Cove during my vacations, based on an empty Isla Paradisio maxis world. I called it the Red Path project.

6 weeks long, I learned intensively the basics of CAW. My world was not intended to have a lot of lots, so I concentrated my efforts on textures, trees and objects. I failed a lot of exports. I used both CAW and Super CAW. I woke up at 6 in the morning each day, and worked on Lost Cove hours and hours, all days long :D And then, on a summer hot day, Lost Cove was there. At last ... May we say proudly Lost Cove is the natural child of Sunset Died ? YES !

Lost Cove is a post-apocalyptic world, swallowed by nature, forgotten by time. It all began 28 days after the Sunset Died event : no more electricity, no more roads, no more comfort. Just ruins, silence … and survival.

Like in every sci-fi book or movie, the Sims went too far. Maybe. It was an experiment gone wrong. Or a slow, quiet collapse under the weight of pollution and hubris. A virus ? A comet ? Nuclear fire ? No one really knows. The old world didn’t end with a bang, just a thousand overlapping catastrophes. And Before was over.

The world cracked open. The sea rose like a hand closing around the archipelago. Bridges collapsed. The downtown core sank. Entire neighborhoods vanished underwater. Only one broken road remains now : winding, overgrown, half-erased by time. The islands are no longer connected. No ferries. No cars. Just water, and what courage it takes to cross it. Most Sims never dared.

But nature didn’t wait. It took back everything. Technology ? Forgotten. Trees pushed through asphalt. Ferns choked stairwells. Roots claimed living rooms. Earthquakes opened old wounds in the ground, and storms swept away what was left standing. Power grids failed. Satellites went dark. Digital voices fell silent.

And amidst it all … the Sims adapted. They hid. They learned.

28 weeks later ... By 2020, we released a small and quick update. Nothing fancy just a nudge forward. Something had shifted. Sims weren’t just scavenging. They were rebuilding. Lost Cove had once been a small, tightly-woven community before the Fall. When the end came, many fled inland. They disappeared into the continent in search of family, safety, a future.

But others stayed. Maybe because they couldn’t leave. Maybe because they wouldn’t. A few were stubborn. A few were hopeful. A few were just too tired to start over somewhere else. So they stayed and planted seeds, literal and otherwise.

They started small. A gathering spot. A drink shared under candlelight. A warm body next to yours by the fire. The Bloody Way Bar came first. A place to talk, argue, cry. A spark in the dark. From there, ideas ... Rebuilding, on their own terms. No rules from the old world. No pretense. No mayor, no tourists, no schedule. Just something real. Something possible.

The Nature School came next; rough, messy, entirely unorthodox. A place to pass on what they remembered, and maybe invent something new. Nothing is like it was, but it was a start. And in Lost Cove, a start means everything.

28 months later ... And here we are, present day ;) Life is ( just barely ) better in Lost Cove ... Some homes have been patched up with scrap. The Dispensary is cleaner, stocked with whatever tinctures, herbs or bandages locals could gather. The Nature School is functional, if improvised. The streets ? Still nonexistent. The power grid ? A dream. Forget supermarkets. Forget cars, Forget comfort.

Your Sims hike, every time. Miles of forest, frost, or scorching sun between them and their destination. Every trip is a decision. Every hike is a risk. There are no easy visits, no casual get-togethers. Lost Cove is beautiful, brutal, and endlessly wild.

Winter hits hard. Snow blankets everything. Lakes freeze. Frostbite is real. Wander too far and you might never come back. Even summer, with its open skies and lush overgrowth, hides its dangers. There are forgotten places in Lost Cove — old ruins, sealed bunkers, silent islands — waiting to be uncovered. Not all of them should be.

Some Sims dream of electricity returning. Of clean water, instant noodles, digital music. Others say that dream is over. That the future lies not in recovery, but reinvention. A new way to live. One that belongs here, to this broken place. Tensions rise. Power is shifting, slowly. Questions are whispered in every fire-lit home : Can this fragile community hold together? Will the lights ever come back ? And what will the children of Lost Cove believe in ?

This 2025 Lost Cove update is more than just a patch: it’s a 10th anniversary redux ! As we previously said, we rebuilt Lost Cove from scratch using a heavily modified Isla Paradiso map. New terrain textures. New routing. New or remastered lots. More than 3500 hand-placed trees and plants. All previous custom content has been reworked, nothing lost this time ;D

Lost Cove has now 30 lots : 15 community lots ( + 2sheep fields ) and 15 residential lots. And there are still empty lots here and there :) Lost Cove is unpopulated. But we provide 2 save games :)

1 unpopulated file with very minor details change

1 populated file with different kind of families

The map retains its soul : the hidden islands, the dive spots, the collapsed downtown, and the iconic broken Hall. But there’s more. More decay, more discovery. More survivor hubs, weird spaces, overgrown secrets. We added new spots, simple gathering places for Sims to talk, dream, share — maybe even rebuild something better than before.

Play Lost Cove your way :

Long summers, short winters — for a gentler survival game ...

Harsh winters and sparse supplies — if you want full-on post-apocalyptic realism.

No libraries. No grocery stores. You want to eat ? Grow your own food or barter for it at the tiny Freshy Market. You want to learn ? Grab any rare books at the Oldy Flee Market. You want to live on water ? Build a houseboat. You want to live in the wild ? There’s plenty of space. You want to change the future ? Start now.

You want a more grungy despair ambiance ? Uglify the world.

Lost Cove is yours to rewrite ... In Lost Cove, every journey is different ... Will you build a peaceful village ? A cult ? A commune ? Will you try to bring back the old world ? Or bury it for good ?

Freeze it, evolve it, change it. Make it breathe. And have Fun !

LOST COVE : ANTS & CC YOU NEED

We made a folder with everything which improve the Lost Cove gameplay :)

the ANTS are :

Cyclonesue | Airlock Doors, Windows and Decor

Cyclonesue | Banged Up! Prison Build Set

Cyclonesue | Barbed and Chickenwire Fences

Cyclonesue | Decor for Factory Windows

Cyclonesue | Factory Windows

Cyclonesue | Industrial Tanks and Silos

Cyclonesue | Porta-Potty portable toilets

Cyclonesue | Scaffold-Truss and Steel Columns

Murano - gazstation fuelcan

Murano - gazstation gasbottle

Murano - gazstation gaspump

ATS3 object_festival counter

ATS3 object_festival general register

ATS3 object_julesvernepark stairs

ATS3 object_uglifyyourtown concrete bench

ATS3 object_uglifyyourtown concrete barrier

ATS3 pattern_metal destroy

blackysimszoo-Fischnetz

blackysimszoo-Fischstaender1

blackysimszoo-Fischstaender2

blackysimszoo-FishermansDekoZaun1

blackysimszoo-FishermansDekoZaun2

blackysimszoo-Ruderboot5

blackysimszoo-Ruderboot6

BuffSumm LineaNatura Arch

Cemre PoorandHappy-OldSofa

Gosik Bordeaux Standing Glasses

Murfeel TW3 sheep pack

Granny Zaza Metro Floor1 by GZ

Granny Zaza Metro Floor2 by GZ

Granny Zaza Metro Walls4 by GZ

Granny Zaza Metro Walls5 by GZ

( we put both .sims3packs & .packages for those ones )

Store : AlFrescoMarketSet

k-hippie square Rabbit Holes

1 CC folder with packages to put into your mods/packages folder

( this one is not mandatory or ANTS since many things are encapsulated into the world and every lot via .sims3packs, but we strongly recommend to use it. It's almost the one we use in all our worlds :) Very useful indeed ! )

Due to the difficulty sometimes to get the good links for many things related to the Sims 3 stuff, most of the whole cc stuff is included into the cc folder provided. Some others are just links for a direct download :) So, always thanks the all mighty creators who made a fantastic work for our pleasure since 2009 :

Awesims - Blams - Bluefunk - Gamefreak130 - Jynx - Misty - Nilxis - Qahne - SimAddix - sweetdevil

A quick word for those who are used to play our Sims 3 Worlds : we almost always use the same cc. So you won't have to replace the whole cc ! Just have a quick look ... in case ;)

Inside the packages folder : there are our UPDATED patterns : they are not mandatory at all. We modified the old Lost Cove lots to be free cc compliant BUT ... We made a bunch of 46 walls and 2 floors in a full destroy/metal/oldstone style :D Have fun to use them to recolor containers and houses :D

Oh ! Almost forgot !!! Lost Cove ( and our other worlds ) have now their OWN loading screen ( see the related post ) ... We included the file into the cc packages folder. It's really really great :)

Gamefreak130_LoadingScreenOverhaul

And now ... Welcome to Lost Cove ! :D

Download Lost Cove ( World )

Download Lost Cove ( CC )

Download Lost Cove ( Save Games )

...

[bettainbarbados]

How to Persist + How I Use It

The term “just persist” is constantly used in this community, and by Neville himself, but it can be frustrating to hear if you're not sure what to do.

When it comes to persisting, you are not persisting in the hopes of getting something later. This is indicative that you are in a state of unfulfilled desire, and you need to move into a state of fulfilled desire. So, with that, you are persisting in the fact that you have already gotten what you wanted. As always, this is done in the wonderful world of your Imagination.

On June 11th, I went to see my favorite band live with my best friend. Here's my example on how to persist no matter what the 3d shows you:

Some time in March, I bought the tickets for the two of us. I wasn't going to go to the show without her; that was something I refused to budge on. That night, I imagined myself and her at the venue listening to my favorite song of theirs.

In April, my friend got her schedule at her new job and said she was working the day of the concert. She was unsure if she could get the day off. I said okay, and keep me posted. I then went into Imagination that night and enjoyed the two of us at the concert again.

Later, she told me she couldn't get the day off and to cancel the tickets. So, what did I do in this situation? I cancelled the tickets. If I had already gone to the concert in the 4d, it was law that it had to reflect.

Early May, my friend came back to me and told me she got the tickets at a different venue on a different day! She felt bad that we couldn't go for a second year in a row, so she bought them without saying a word to me.

See how things unfold without your physical self knowing about it?

Lovely story, right? Maybe you don't believe that this was a result of my imagination.

Before the concert, I had an earlier obligation at my internship, and had one hour to get home, change, and then pick up my friend and get on the road.

My car breaks down two hours before the concert in the parking lot.

You're probably thinking: “Okay, so what if you get there a little late? Concerts don't actually start until like two hours after the opening bands.” Oh no, dear reader. I wasn't there for the main band. My favorite band was the opening band. At most, we had 15 minutes of wiggle room.

I am not perfect, I am human like everyone else. Doubts started to creep in, and I was worried that, like my past attempts to see the band, was going to be futile.

While waiting for the technician and thinking, I realized my mental diet wasn't helping. So I once again imagined the concert and felt I had already gone.

The technician comes. My car needs to be towed. I have about an hour if I want to make there on time.

I get a message on my phone the tow truck will be an hour. I imagined the tow truck already here and me going to the concert. Not a future endeavor, but something in the present.

Two minutes later, the tow truck told me he was on his way.

We even had terrible traffic on the road and I still managed to get us there on time.

Imagination is your true reality. Notice how the 3d didn't stop me because I let it unfold how it needed to?

What you imagine yourself to be is what manifests in your physical world. You don't have to persist in trying to get a desire; that's not what the law is about.

Test it yourself. What's something you want to be or have? Start being or having that in Imagination. Do it because you like it. See what happens.

[afireintheflame]

Operation Long Distance Fake Girlfriend

Summery: Inspired by Caleb’s 4 star card Verified Rumor. Somewhat similar plot but imagine very early 2000’s romcom twist. Please be gentle this is my first time posting a fanfic in a long time so let me have my self indulgent fluff.

No warnings just fluff and silly stuff. Unsure of word count and not proof read

Caleb was so head over heels in love with you that even a blind man could see it. It drove him mad how oblivious you were to his advances. You always framed it as a favor for a friend or found some kind of “mutual benefit,” never once looking deeper into it.

Once, Caleb had asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend to keep other female admirers at bay. You didn’t even bat an eye. No hesitation, no confusion—just an enthusiastic, “Time to initiate Operation Long Distance Girlfriend!” followed by a dramatic pose and an even more dramatic giggle.

He laughed, of course. Because how could he not? You were adorable. Effortlessly so. But the laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes, not when his heart was busy doing somersaults and trying not to fall out of his chest. Because you made it too easy to fall for you. And even easier to believe—just for a second—that you actually wanted to be his.

Caleb knew it was his own fault. He’d never really told you. He’d danced around it, couched his feelings in jokes and "just friends" favors. He was the king of playing it cool. And now here he was, watching you play pretend like it was second nature.

You were too good at it.

You laced your arms around his like you belonged there. Kissed his cheek “for realism,” not even blinking as you leaned in. The blush that exploded across Caleb’s face was painfully, unavoidably real—but you either didn’t notice or, worse, you pretended not to.

And at his basketball games? You were always front row, screaming the loudest, pumping your fists like a tiny hype squad in a hoodie. The second the buzzer rang, you were running down the bleachers with his towel and water bottle in hand, grinning like he’d just won the World Championship.

“Great job out there, babe!” you’d call, waving his bottle like a victory flag.

Caleb’s heart swelled every single time.

The way you said “babe”—so light, so natural—made it sound real. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t imagining all of this. Like you meant it.

And maybe you did. Just… not in the way he hoped.

That was the bittersweet part.

Because playing pretend with you was easy. Too easy. It was staying grounded in the reality of your friendship that made everything ache. cut

Caleb barely had time to wipe the ridiculous smile off his face after your last “Great job out there, babe!” before Gideon plopped down next to him on the locker room bench, giving him a long, withering stare.

“You’re pathetic,” Gideon said flatly, tossing him a towel like he was doing charity work.

Caleb blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Gideon crossed his arms. “You’re so down bad, it’s actually painful. I think I developed a secondhand crush on her just from proximity.”

Caleb groaned and leaned forward, burying his face in the towel. “Not today, Gideon.”

“Yes today. It’s every day,” Gideon said, completely unfazed. “You literally beamed when she called you ‘babe.’ I thought your soul was ascending.”

“I didn’t beam.”

“You beamed. You glowed. If this were a cartoon, hearts would’ve floated out of your eyes like steam.”

Caleb rubbed his face harder. “She doesn’t see it that way.”

“That’s because you’re the one treating it like a game of emotional charades,” Gideon said, exasperated. “You asked her to pretend to be your girlfriend. And then you got mad that she’s… pretending to be your girlfriend. Like you asked her to.”

“That was just to keep people off my back,” Caleb muttered.

Gideon leaned in. “Okay. Let me get this straight. She holds your hand, she kisses your cheek, she brings you snacks and screams your name like a sports wife, and you’re the one who keeps saying ‘we’re just friends’ like you’re trying to win a medal in denial.”

Caleb said nothing. Mostly because… none of that was wrong.

Gideon stood up with a dramatic sigh. “You’re not just in the friendzone, Caleb. You’re building a condo there.”

“She’s never said anything,” Caleb argued weakly.

Gideon scoffed. “Neither have you. Because God forbid you do something crazy like communicate.” Then, after a beat, he added, “Seriously, man. Just ask her out. Before one of her fake kisses gives you a real heart attack.”

Caleb didn’t respond, just stared down at the towel in his hands like it held the secrets to life, love, and the female brain.

Gideon started walking away but paused at the door, throwing over his shoulder, “Also, if you don’t make a move soon, I’m telling her. For my own health. I can’t keep watching this slow-burn romcom without losing brain cells.”

Caleb let his head fall back with a thunk against the locker.

Yeah. He was definitely in love.

And maybe… it was finally time to do something about it.

You were sitting cross-legged on the bench outside the locker room, scrolling on your phone and munching on apple slices—the post-game snack you always packed “for the both of you,” even though Caleb always claimed he wasn’t hungry and then ate half.

You’d just finished cheering your voice hoarse and embarrassing yourself doing a victory shimmy when Caleb sank that last shot. Totally worth it. He was still inside, probably icing his shoulder and pretending he wasn’t smiling like an idiot every time you called him “babe.”

You didn’t even look up when someone stepped out.

“Nice job, Miss Apple,” Gideon’s voice drawled.

You blinked. “Miss what?”

“Miss Apple. You know, handing out sliced fruit, calling him ‘babe,’ launching yourself down the bleachers like you’re in a romcom montage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s called being supportive.”

“Mm-hm.” Gideon leaned against the wall with the same energy as someone watching a train wreck in slow motion. “Just wondering when the wedding is, or if we’re skipping straight to the honeymoon.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not dating, Gideon.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said with zero conviction.

“I’m serious!”

Gideon gave a mock-thoughtful nod. “Right. You’re just fake dating. With hand-holding. And cheek kisses. And snack-sharing. Totally normal friend behavior.”

You opened your mouth to argue—then paused.

Wait.

Wait.

Cheek kisses. Snack-sharing. Victory towel-running. Calling him “babe.” You literally used the phrase “Operation Long Distance Girlfriend” without irony. You carried his spare hoodie in your bag like a sports girlfriend from a teen drama. He blushed every time you touched him, and—oh god. The look he gave you when you giggled.

Your brain short-circuited. Slowly. In stages. Like a buffering video of your own life.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m his fake girlfriend.”

Gideon raised both eyebrows. “That’s your takeaway?”

You stared at him. “No, I mean—I am his fake girlfriend. Like. I’ve been living in the plot of a K-drama and didn’t realize.”

Gideon made a grand sweeping gesture. “Welcome to the rest of our reality. The Caleb Pining Olympics has been going on for months.”

Your jaw dropped. “Caleb’s pining?”

“Oh my god.” Gideon clapped a hand over his face. “She gets it! Everyone, she gets it!” He said it like he was announcing a birth.

You sat there in stunned silence, processing everything like a slow software update. And then it hit you—every soft look, every time he let you wear his hoodie, every time he got flustered when you got too close.

“…He likes me.”

Gideon tilted his head. “There it is.”

You grabbed your phone and stared at your background photo—Caleb with a smoothie in each hand and the dumbest heart-eyes grin aimed at you.

You whispered, “Oh no. I’ve been accidentally flirting with my best friend for a year.”

Gideon patted your shoulder solemnly. “No worries. Just go kiss him and end the suffering. Before I have to.”

You just sat there. Completely frozen. Apple slice still in hand. Brain… offline.

Caleb liked you.

Caleb had liked you.

Caleb had been liking you this whole time.

You weren’t just a fake girlfriend. You were a fake girlfriend in love with her real best friend who was fake-dating you because he actually wanted to be real dating you.

Your thoughts looped like a Windows error message.

Cheek kiss… hoodie… Operation Long Distance Girlfriend… "babe"… HE LIKES ME—

ERROR. SYSTEM OVERLOAD. PLEASE REBOOT.

Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard a door swing open and footsteps approach.

“Earth to pipsqueak,” Caleb said, his voice warm and teasing. A hand reached out and gently ruffled your hair. “You alive in there?”

You blinked at him slowly, like a malfunctioning NPC.

He tilted his head, amused. “You look like someone just told you your pet hamster is a government spy.”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“…You like me,” you said, dazed.

Caleb froze mid-head pat. “Uh. Excuse me?”

“You like me,” you repeated, eyes wide and glassy like you’d just been hit by romantic lightning. “Like… in the face. The whole time. And I—” You pointed vaguely at your own body. “I’ve been out here like some kind of clueless golden retriever girlfriend hybrid.”

Caleb blinked. “…Are you okay?”

You stood up abruptly, still holding your bag of apple slices like a weapon. “No! I just realized I’ve been flirting with you for months and you were secretly in love with me the whole time!”

Caleb went red immediately. “I wasn’t secretly—”

“Gideon said you were pining.” You narrowed your eyes. “Pining, Caleb. That’s, like, one sad scarf away from tragic romance novel.”

Caleb groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course Gideon couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You stepped closer, suddenly very aware of just how real everything felt now. Your heart did a weird cartwheel when you looked at him.

“So,” you said, softly. “You like me?”

He exhaled. Gave you a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Yeah. I do.”

You nodded slowly. Then: “Cool. That’s cool. I was just checking because I also… might… y’know… like you. Back. In a real, not-at-all-platonic, kiss-you-for-fun-and-not-for-mission-cover kind of way.”

Caleb stared at you like you’d just given him the final puzzle piece to life. Then, slowly, his smile spread wider.

“Well,” he said, taking the apple slice from your hand, “guess that makes things a little easier.”

And he popped it in his mouth like he hadn’t just wrecked your emotional balance again.

You stared. “Did you just eat my apple slice as a romantic gesture?”

He grinned. “Better than stealing your hoodie.”

You swatted his arm—softly. And just like that, you weren’t fake-dating anymore.

You were just… finally dating.

And about twelve months late to the realization.

You stood in the hallway as Caleb sauntered off, casually munching the apple slice he stole from your hand like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in your heart.

Your pulse was still tap dancing. Your brain, still buffering.

He liked you.

He really liked you.

And then—like a lightning bolt of panic—you gasped.

“We missed our anniversary.”

Caleb stopped mid-step and turned, confused. “What?”

You rushed up to him, eyes wide. “Our fake anniversary! We’ve been fake dating for, like, a year and we didn’t even celebrate it. That’s terrible.”

Caleb blinked at you. “You do realize we weren’t… really dating?”

You pointed at him with pure, righteous indignation. “Caleb. We committed to the bit. I used you as my lock screen. You carried my chapstick like it was part of your military gear. You kissed my forehead after I fake-cried in front of your ex. We were invested.”

Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly replaying every memory you just listed.

“…Okay, fair.”

You huffed. “We owe ourselves a proper date. One with an actual restaurant. Candles. Maybe a playlist. I want ambiance, Caleb.”

He tried—tried—to play it cool, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You want ambiance?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding firmly. “Because if we’re doing this for real now, we have to retroactively honor the chaos we built our relationship on.”

Caleb laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are the most unhinged romantic I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the poor sap who’s into me. So guess what?” You beamed at him. “We’re going on a first-anniversary-that-wasn’t-a-real-anniversary date. Saturday. Dress nice.”

Caleb raised a brow, amused. “Should I bring an emergency cover story in case someone thinks we’re faking it again?”

You shrugged, smirking. “Only if it ends with another forehead kiss.”

He stepped closer, leaned down, and whispered, “This time, it ends with the real thing.”

And before you could respond, he winked, turned on his heel, and walked off down the hall like he hadn’t just short-circuited you again.

You just stood there, clutching your empty apple bag, absolutely doomed.

Operation: First-Anniversary-That-Wasn’t

Saturday arrived faster than expected, and with it, an absurd amount of nerves. You’d insisted on dressing nice—proper date nice—so naturally, you spent two hours convincing yourself to commit to a dress and another thirty minutes panicking over which shoes said, “I love you but just realized it last Tuesday.”

Caleb showed up on time. Too on time. Suspiciously punctual. You opened the door to find him standing there in a button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, holding a single flower (because of course he would), looking like every Pinterest board tagged “soft boy but make him tall.”

“You clean up nice,” you said, pretending not to internally combust.

He looked you up and down, eyes wide with actual awe. “You clean up terrifyingly nice. I almost dropped the flower.”

You took it from him with a smirk. “We love a man in crisis.”

He offered his arm like a gentleman from a period drama. “Shall we, Miss Fake Girlfriend?”

You linked your arm with his. “Miss Formerly Fake Girlfriend. Get it right.”

Stop #1: Dinner That Was Never Casual

He took you to a rooftop restaurant. Rooftop. With candles. And string lights. And one of those jazzy acoustic cover bands playing in the background.

“I told you I wanted ambiance,” you whispered.

“I deliver under pressure,” he said, smug.

You ordered your food, clinked glasses, and immediately started reminiscing like the ridiculous couple you were.

“Remember when you told my ex I was ‘emotionally spoken for’?”

“You started crying and I panicked!”

“You kissed my forehead!”

“I blacked out emotionally!”

At some point, you both stopped laughing. The candlelight flickered between you, soft and warm. Caleb looked at you like he was seeing you all over again.

“I really did like you the whole time,” he said quietly.

You swallowed. “I think I knew. I just… wasn’t ready to be right.”

He smiled, just a little sad, just a little soft. “You were worth the wait.”

Stop #2: “Spontaneous” Fairy Light Walk

After dinner, he led you to a little park nearby, where fairy lights were strung from tree to tree like something out of a romcom fever dream.

You turned to him, squinting. “Okay. This was not spontaneous.”

Caleb shrugged, bashful. “Gideon said this place had ‘good main character energy.’ I didn’t argue.”

You both wandered slowly beneath the lights. You kept catching him sneaking glances, like he still couldn’t believe you were here. Real. His.

You stopped walking.

“So,” you said, voice low. “What now?”

He turned to you. “Now we stop pretending. No more fake girlfriend, fake anniversary, fake anything.”

You stepped in closer, heart racing. “So if I kissed you right now…”

“That’d be very real,” Caleb said. “Highly encouraged.”

So you did.

And it was soft, and slow, and just a little awkward because your noses bumped, and you both started laughing, but neither of you pulled away.

Because for once—finally—you weren’t playing a part.

You were just two idiots in love, celebrating the weirdest first anniversary in history.

And honestly?

It was perfect.

[lunesviolettes]

Void - 09.

(This series was originally posted on my Wattpad, so I’m bringing it over here)

pairing: MCU!bucky barnes x MCU!female reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: Y/N was far from any normal girl in Brooklyn during the 1940s. Her physical and mental strength were far from ordinary and her mother and father were nothing short of strange, just like her. Secrets and strange occurrences were all that she had ever known and with the approach of a second global war, it seemed that everything would only become stranger. A powerful organization, a target on the back of a young girl, a serum, and an infinity stone were all that it would take to change everything she knew about her world.

chapter warnings: none

a/n: This fanfic follows the course of the MCU movies (The First Avenger - Thunderbolts). It’s more focused on the story aspect of the MCU and is very much a slow burn type of story with not a lot of focus on smut.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

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"Alright, can you hear me, Y/L/N?" You adjusted your sleeves, staring up at the glass pane that overlooked the ground floor. "Loud and clear, Stark." If he sensed any unease or worry in your voice, he sure didn't show it. His attention was instead directed to his command board. "We're gonna start with a short burst and work our way up, try your best to match what I'm telling you." You were sure you had nodded, but based on how your entire body had gone numb, it was unclear whether or not you imagined it.

The lights faded to a low dim and only then could you make out the projection of your vitals on the glass in front of Howard's face. At the end of the room furthest from you, a target appeared, clearly painted on the wall by his own hands. "Okay, I want you to aim for the center and release as little energy as you can."

"Easier said than done." You muttered to yourself. You puffed your cheeks out and let the air escape, hoping it would ease your rapidly beating heart. Part of you had come to recognize the sensations of willing that energy forward. It was subtle at first. Nothing but the low buzzing in your ears, limbs growing warm and fuzzy.

Then, all at once, the weightless feeling. Your arms lifted on their own accord, bright waves of light seeping from your palms. They traveled up, crawling along your skin. You frowned, brows furrowing as you focused on that tether within you.

It was felt in the depths of your chest, something swirling and pulsating. You concentrated on that pulse, willing your mind to release it. A sudden gasp escaped you as a burst of energy lept from your palm, scattering into the air above. It flew high, simmering away just as quickly as it had come.

"Don't get frustrated. Just try again and don't focus so much on making it work. I've seen what you can do and I know you've got it in you."

With a sigh, you lifted your hands again, clenching your eyes shut this time. Come on. Give me something. You thought to yourself. You pulled at it again, calling upon the warmth - the light to make its appearance. You pictured it within your mind, flowing down your arms. You flinched, your entire body jolting as it erupted from within your chest.

The entirety of your skin lit up with a glow, bright, like the sun. “Only a little bit.” Howard reminded you, his gaze narrowed. You exhaled slowly, a deep furrow appearing between your brows. The thrum of it within your ears was mind numbing. Your knees wobbled as if the force of power was too great. It shook the ground beneath you, energy piling up around your shoes as it spilled from you effortlessly.

“Focus, Y/N. Don’t let it overwhelm you.” You shivered, a grunt escaping you as your arms shook. The target was just up ahead, but you could barely see it within your swirling vision. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to focus. To will that power into something you could use. Come on, come on.

With a shout you turned, throwing your arm forward. A burst of bright blue light lept from your grasp, spiraling toward the target. The building shook, lights flickering above as it struck. The target split into two, falling onto the floor. A steaming black mark was left on the wall, a single crack within it that snaked its way up the concrete.

Crackles echoed from the loudspeaker, Howard’s voice not pleased in the slightest. “Y/N, you’re letting it get to you. You can’t let it control you.” You sighed, frustration adamant in the rapid rise and fall of your chest. “I’m trying, I just…I can’t.”

“Yes you can. We’re gonna try close up combat okay? Maybe you’ll find this a little easier.” You furrowed your brows, looking up at the glass pane. “Close up combat? With who?”

“Prototypes, not real people.” You tried to ignore the ache in your bones, the twinging behind your eyes. Your ears rang, the thrumming of energy almost too much to bear. With a drag in your stride, Howard knew you were becoming fatigued. He would’ve liked to have taken it easier on you, but neither of you could afford those luxuries.

Hydra, still a prevalent force, was fiercely determined for power. Should you be left defenseless with abilities stronger than you could understand, one could only imagine how they would take advantage of that.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to walk through the metal doors, but it certainly wasn't what came rolling towards you. It was a scrap of metal upon first glance. A quickly assembled metal torso attached to a pole, leading down to a set of wheels. This metal contraption held no eyes, bearing no resemblance to any living being. It advanced towards you at surprising speeds.

With a surge of courage and determination, you threw your hands out to your sides, brows furrowed as you called upon it again. The small little flicker of a flame within the depths of your chest. As light ignited from your palms, you lit up with a warmth unlike any other. It spread from your chest, down the entirety of your body until you felt alive with the force of a thousand suns.

You stepped out of the prototype’s path, flicking an arm out as you turned. A flash of blinding blue light advanced towards the droid, striking its back. The force of that blast of energy had sent it spiraling to the other side of the room. You eyed it, chest heaving, hands curling into fists. As you took a step forward, you heard something within the distant depths of your mind.

A whisper. You paused, palms growing cold as you recalled that night. The glowing orb that was alive and seemed to be calling to you, whispering unintelligible things. It was within you now. Living and existing off of your body. You were unnerved. Unable to see a future in which you could live like this. Constant whispers within your mind would surely bring you to the brink of insanity.

A small shiver crawled down your back, but there was no time to focus on what you just heard. The quick shout of your name brought you back down to Earth and you just narrowly avoided the prototype as it came barreling towards you. Your shoulder collided with the metal torso, nearly knocking it onto the ground. “You okay, Y/L/N?” You nodded, sucking in a harsh breath and you forced your apprehension away. “Just got distracted for a second.”

"Okay, just don't let it happen again. When you get into the hang of fending it off I'm gonna send in another so be on the lookout." The prototype spun back around when it hit the wall, moving towards you with a purpose. You were aware that it was close-up combat but still, it was startling to see the prototype lift a dangling metal arm swinging it towards you.

You spun out of the way with a yelp, swiping this arm away with what you believed was a short burst of energy. It was not. Energy curled its way down your body. Bright blue light that nearly consumed you within it. The droid was sent flying into the wall with a crack. It crumbled to the ground, reduced to a tangle of wires and metal. You sank to a knee, head spinning, eyes taken over with a blinding white light. Your arms shook as you fought to keep yourself upright.

In this state you were reminded of one thing. You were undeniably human. You contained a power unlike any other. Something that had not been seen in any recorded history and you were simply too weak to contain it. For a moment you considered that it may just end up killing you.

You couldn’t control it. A simple human. You grunted, frustrated by the words that seemed to infiltrate your mind. Your thoughts reflected nothing but the truth, though. As the blue waves of light flooded from you, you realized that it was stronger than you. There was no super strength within you. No super soldier serum that kept you afloat amongst the power that threatened to drown you.

The ringing in your ears had returned, drowning out the worried shouts from Howard. You’re weak. Your jaw twitched, teeth clenched together as you moved to stand. Your legs wobbled and you felt your vision swarming in and out of focus. Raw, uncontained power still curled around you, moving in and out of your skin. You knew that you couldn’t let it consume you. You had to overcome it, force it to submit to you. It was a living breathing force within you and you had to beat it down.

A shaky breath escaped you as you finally stood. Your teeth were bared, hands clenched into tight fists - knuckles turning white. It rippled around you, drowning out the world with its low reverberations in your ears. You couldn’t let it win. You knew you couldn’t

Fight or die. You repeated it until you could think of nothing else. It curled around you like a predator coming down on its prey. The power of it was suffocating, but you couldn’t let it overwhelm you. I am in control. You let that one single thought fill your head over and over until the whispers could no longer be heard. Howard watched with wide eyes, leaning against the glass. The glowing blue light that once surrounded you began to dim. It appeared to shrink back, crawling its way back into your skin.

You emerged within the depths of its light, anger evident on your face. The brightness within your eyes had dimmed a fraction. “Send them in.” You said, looking up at the glass. Howard obeyed without another word, sucking in a single breath as he flicked up the nob.

The doors flew open, swinging as two of the prototypes entered. You redirected your focus, eyes narrowed at one. That warmth - that beautiful and sickly warmth flooded from your palm, a burst of light striking against the nearest one. It spun back, but the other came at you. Your arm reached forward, fingertips pressed against the metal torso. Energy sank within it, and it, too, was sent soaring across the room.

A creak of metal came from somewhere behind you and you spun, unprepared for the metal arm that flew through the air. It snapped against your cheek, your head thrown to the side. Holding tight to the side of your face you rose to your full height. Rage bubbled up within you, frustration evident in your expression. You threw your arms out, sending both prototypes spinning to the far ends of the room.

"Nice thinking there, Jazz Hands. Let's see if you can fight off three." He assumed you could handle it. He thought you were fine, that you got it perfectly under control. And so did you. Already out of breath, you just barely mustered a nod and turned to the door. The third entered and they circled you. Your knees were bent just slightly, arms tensed, fingers itching to release it. Your posture was guarded, eyes alert.

One came zipping towards you, and while you were distracted fending it off, another approached. Your head snapped back as the metal arm struck your jaw, but you quickly recovered. A flash of light struck the droid's face but whatever damage had been done was unimportant as another took its place. You kicked the second droid back, mouth agape as you sucked down mouthfuls of air.

Each burst of light released made your skin grow cold, head swimming and each step became more difficult. It was fading away. You could feel it - see it. It was dimming, turning translucent instead of its usual dazzling blinding blue. The light within your eyes was gone and your skin was flushed with a thin layer of sweat.

Moving out the way of each attempted blow suddenly seemed impossible. You just narrowly dodged a prototype’s arm with a duck, but your weak knees caused you to stumble and brought you face to face with the newest prototype.

The room became a cacophony of gasps and the clash of metal as you fought to keep up with their unwavering speed. You were distracted and dazed, and a particular burst of energy had you stumbling onto your hands and knees. Howard halted the prototypes, leaning over the control panel to get a better look at you down below. “Need a break?”

He asked, and you nodded with your head hanging low.

“You know,Hydra is not going to give you a break.”

“I’m aware of that. Don’t you think I don’t realize that?” A sardonic laugh came from you as you looked up. Frustration grew within you once more. Your hands were tensed tightly into fists - so tight that you swore your fingernails broke skin. Your skin was hot, boiling the longer you sat there thinking over your inability to keep up. You were just a human.

“Then you need to try. You need to fight for your life because that’s all you can do.” You grunted, head shaking as you fought off the darkness that threatened to cave in. You were moments away from collapsing. That sense of dread and anxiety grew within you. The kind of feeling you got when you couldn’t catch your breath and suddenly your limbs would feel all too fuzzy.

Nevertheless, you pushed yourself haphazardly to your feet. You stumbled, chest heaving, a pained look on your face as you faced the droids. “Don’t doubt yourself.” Howard said, though it seemed more like a warning as he sent the prototypes hurtling towards you.

You were outnumbered, not only literally, but your own strength couldn’t match them. Your arms were sore, limp as you tried to lift them. Your face stung from the two blows that managed to strike you. You are weak. You cannot win.

There it was again. The infiltration of a thought that felt like nothing you had ever experienced in your life. It sat within the back of your mind - sending a chill down your spine. You clenched your jaw, wincing as a high pitched ringing filled your ears. It drowned out the low rumble from the wheels of the droids.

A single huff of breath escaped you as you threw your arm out, a blast of blue light just barely striking against one of the prototypes. It spun away, and the other two took its place. Crush them. Break them apart. Your face turned to a scowl as your focus waved in and out. A bit of light spilled from your fists, curling up the length of your forearms. As you blinked, your eyes flashed with blinding golden light.

It grew brighter as you moved towards the nearest droid. Your hand stuck out and you sent it hurtling back against the wall. Its trajectory had been stopped and there it remained - held against the wall by a forcefield of energy. Destroy them. With your remaining free hand, you pointed it at another.

Bright tendrils of blue energy encompassed the droid, a low hum filling the air around you. Your teeth were bared, a single grunt escaping you as you tightened your hand into a fist. The low groan of metal came next - creaking, cracking. The droid burst with a screech, the crackle of electricity sputtering onto the ground as it fell.

You turned, eyes wild and crazed - like an animal. Howard's hands had left the controls as he watched the deep burgundy liquid ooze from your nose. It was halfway down your chin when you drew her arm back. You were no longer visible within the dazzling blue light. If one squinted, they would catch the flickers of gold that shone within it. The final remaining prototype was lifted from the ground.

The walls shook - rumbling softly. You had come to life with power, rage bursting from your chest. Tendrils of shining blue light wrapped around the two remaining droids. Your hands were tensed, fingers twitching ever so slightly. Tear them apart. A single breath fell from your lips. The horrid screech of metal had Howard clamping his hands over his ears. They cracked at first, a split moving down the torsos of the droids.

Then, they were pulled apart - ripped into two. Wires stuck out from within them, hanging limp before you flicked your hands and sent them flying into their respective walls. The thrumming of energy faded away all at once.

You fell to the ground, just barely able to hold yourself up. Your teeth were stained red from the blood that dripped down and your eyes were squeezed shut. Whatever laid ahead of you was blurred. You could no longer register the battered and destroyed prototype on the ground.

When Howard ran from the booth and crouched in front of you, you couldn’t see him - couldn’t hear him. You could just faintly recall the events that occurred prior, but in no way could you fathom or explain what it was. The voice within you. The thoughts that filled your mind.

In one single moment, it was as if you had changed entirely - become something else in a matter of seconds. You were conscious and could see everything happen, but it was almost an out of body experience. Like you were staring down at this person causing all that destruction. A hand pressed against your forehead and you groaned, pulling yourself away from it.

Whatever had been spoken to you from the dark mass in front of you was a mere mumble in the back of your mind. Your head was buzzing, skin tingling. You could see the brightness of light slowly moving underneath your skin - casting a gentle glow across its surface.

Howard could not understand what happened. You had moved with precision, your posture tall and sure. It seemed to have come to you effortlessly - the ability to control and contort the energy into a usable force. Very quickly had he realized that they were all in over their heads.

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“I don't think it's a good idea for me to be out. What if it happens again?" You asked, holding a hand over your eyes to block out the sun. "It won't. You and Howard have made tremendous progress." Over the course of the past few weeks, while Steve was off touring as his new identity; The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan, you were working directly with Howard Stark to adjust to your new power.

During that time, you’d suffered from three…fits. Blackouts were what he decided to call it - the state that would leave you behaving like an entirely different person. Almost as if the power inside you was taking over and leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

It would leave you drained, unfamiliar with what had just occurred. In those moments, you were unrecognizable. Spurred on by blinding rage. As far as they knew, that side of you was urged by your emotions - fear, anger, frustration. But it wasn’t you. It was the power. It took over and defended itself, seeming to use your body as a vice…a vector. In the end, you’d be drained and left fighting for each breath.

It was those blackouts that had led Howard Stark to believe it was best if they found a way to extract the power entirely. There was only a slight problem. They could not gain any understanding of your power. Any attempts had it defending itself - sending any potential threats rearing back as if they’d been burned.

That discovery had Howard Stark locked up in his personal labs, constructing a device that would allow them to safely extract the power. With your body stuck in a state of frozen unconsciousness where your emotions could not be accessed, the power inside you would not feel urged to defend itself.

It would take a lot of work and there were no guarantees of its success. But he had to try - for the sake of you living any semblance of a normal life. You were amenable to the suggestion, eager for anything to relieve you of this constant fear. Fear of yourself. Anything to get rid of the power that seemed to be drawing on your life force to strengthen itself.

The only one concerned had been your mother who did not exactly trust Howard’s experiments. No one knew about the experiments other than those closely involved with the SSR and the active movements against Hydra. They kept it that way to ensure your safety. After the events that took Abraham Erskine’s life, they could no longer afford to misplace their trust.

Despite your predicament, you were somewhat thankful to have those few individuals you could trust. Those you could vent to in your moments of weakness and despair. There was only one who wasn’t entirely aware of the extent of the situation. That particular man was stuck - frozen on stage in front of at least a hundred U.S soldiers.

"What is he wearing?" You asked as you dropped down from the military vehicle. Across the field, standing on a stage was Steve dressed in what appeared to be the outfit for his Captain America persona. It was particularly form fitting, showing off yours, Dr. Erskine’s and Howard’s handy work. It was mainly blue, accessorized with bits of red and white - like the flag. Captain America…a red white and blue outfit…a flag shield - it was all very on the nose.

The soldiers sitting in front of him didn't seem too entertained by the performance. They were men actively fighting against the forces of Hitler and Hydra. Their friends were dying, they were getting injured. Many of them were not particularly fond of seeing a man in a one piece cheering them on about the war.

"How many of you ready to help me sock ol' Adolf on the jaw?" There was no response from the men, but a few seemed to be stifling their laughter at the pitiful sight in front of them. "Okay. Uh...I need a volunteer."

"I already volunteered! How do you think I got here?" The shout from deep within the crowd had caused a ripple of laughter to erupt from the soldiers. "Bring back the girls!" An uproar of cheers drowned out all chances of Steve gaining their undivided attention and it was clear to both you and Peggy that he was completely humiliated up there. It was not at all what Dr. Erskine had imagined for him, and certainly not you.

You could only wonder how different things would’ve gone if Erskine never met his end that fateful day. “I think they only know the one song. But um...let me...I'll...I'll see what I can do." Steve was turning red, his voice shaky as he fought to improvise as best as he could. "You do that, sweetheart."

"Nice boots, Tinker Bell." Another soldier shouted, bringing back the cacophony of laughter. "Come on, guys. We're all on the same team here." One man stood up from his seat on the dirt, his back facing Steve. "Hey, Captain! Sign this!" Your face scrunched up as the man yanked his pants down, revealing his entire backside to Steve.

All the soldiers around him had gotten a real kick out of the act and unfortunately, there were no chances for Steve to gain his dignity back. If he even had any at that. Food was thrown from the crowd, meekly blocked by the prop shield. With his reputation tarnished, Steve fled from the stage. Cheers had followed his departure as the chorus girls entered from behind the curtains.

Long after the show had ended, you and Agent Carter embarked on your hunt to find the blonde dressed in red white, and blue. That blonde, in particular, was seated on a platform furthest from the stage, a pencil in hand as he whisked it across the page in gentle strokes. "Hello, Steve." He turned, expression clouded with confusion when he spotted the two of you. "Hi. What are you two doing here?"

"Officially neither of us are here at all." You parted from Peggy's side and crouched behind him - a gentle hand placed upon his shoulder. As you came closer, it crossed the distance to his other shoulder and you squeezed him lightly. He sank into your embrace, the smallest of sighs escaping his lips.

Clearly, the extent of his touring was exhausting and overwhelming. It was a tough few weeks for all of them. "That was quite a performance."

“Yeah. Uh...I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I'm used to are usually more uh...twelve."

"I understand you're 'America's New Hope'?" Your brows furrowed as you reached over to pluck the journal from Steve’s hands. He willingly released it and you couldn’t help but grow woeful for the man. His opinions about the performances were something he had strong negative feelings toward. In fact, his drawings displayed quite well what he truly felt like being up on that stage.

A monkey sitting atop a unicycle. The clothes the monkey wore left little to the imagination - this was how Steve felt. How he viewed himself. A display of entertainment rather than giving himself to a greater cause.

This knowledge disappointed you. Dr Erskine never wanted this for Steve. There was a reason he was chosen and it sure as hell wasn't for him to prance around on stage like some sort of party clown. He saw it in the recruitment facility. Hope. As clear as day. Someone who had a good heart and wanted to make the world a better place. "At least he's got me doin' this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab."

"And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey? You were meant for more than this, you know?" Steve's lips parted as he stared off into the distance, a mild shake of his head following. "What?" Peggy asked.

"You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I'm wearin' tights." Instead of a response, a series of honks filled the rain soaked air. A military vehicle had returned, kicking up mud with the speed of its arrival.

The soldiers that exited from the back were quickly escorted into medical tarps. The true sights of a war soaked country. Death. A sight most wouldn’t ever have to see. "They look like they've been through hell."

"These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-o-seventh. The rest were killed or captured." You stilled, heart lurching to a near stop. There was a deep worried furrow in between your brows as you looked up. For a moment you thought you had heard her incorrectly - until you looked to Steve and found the same expression mirrored on his own face.

Blood pulsed through your ears as you stood on shaky legs. Please no. You thought to yourself, racing through the rain - stomping through the mud. Bucky was in the one-o-seventh. The two of you said nothing, opting to take off towards the tent that Steve knew housed the Colonel.

Your palms were slick with sweet, heart beating almost painfully as the three of you stood in front of the Colonel’s table. He was distracted, tapping away at his typewriter with a purpose. If he had noticed your arrival, he showed no signs of it.

"Colonel Phillips." Steve finally announced. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan. And what is your plan today?"

"I need the casualty list from Azzano." Colonel Phillips shot him a glance and shook his head. "You don't get to give me orders, son." You moved to Steve's left, hands braced on the table as water dripped onto the table from your hair. "We just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh." You pleaded.

A pen was pointed toward Agent Carter from where she stood, a stern look on the Colonel’s face. "You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."

"Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-" Steve began, only to be cut off. "I can spell," The Colonel said. He stood with a sigh and flipped through the papers of all those who had been presumed dead. All those papers signified someone who was once living…breathing. You knew you would never get used to it - the solemn realities of war.

"I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." Your face fell, and you swore you could feel it shaking. As if you couldn’t believe what the Colonel was saying. He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be.

The idea of loss was something that seemed so foreign to you…until recently. Your father…and now - you couldn’t accept it. You wouldn’t. Your vision funneled, darkness creeping up within the back of your mind. Peggy followed you as you fled from the tent, your breaths coming out quick and unsteady. You just barely managed to brace yourself against the nearest vehicle, eyes squeezed shut.

You could only think of all the things you should’ve done. You should’ve spent more time with him, you should’ve accepted that dance - should’ve told him how you truly felt. Before the whispers could approach - before the ringing could fill your ears, a hand was placed on your back, drawing you back to real life.

Steve exited the tent not longer after, moving with a purpose. You were dragged into motion by Peggy, just barely trailing after them. Your eyes were trained on the mud, praying desperately it had all been a dream. Maybe you would wake to find yourself taken back to a year ago - when everything was right with the world.

"What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?" Agent Carter shouted, entering the tent as she pulled you along. The silence that followed, free from the rain outside, had you coming to once more. You could see Steve fighting it off. Grief. It had come in hot and was burning through the light within you. He couldn’t let it stop him though. His determination and hope had only been enhanced by the serum.

"If that's what it takes." Was all he said, refusing to meet her eyes. "You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead."

You shook your head, eyes dull as you looked to the Agent. You couldn’t imagine it - couldn’t accept it. “We don’t know that.” You said softly, lip quivering.

Your fingers drifted along the brown leather jacket slung over the back of the chair. With a tense jaw and a finally steady hand, you held the jacket out to Steve. He looked at you, eyes softening. The hints of a grateful smile was on his face as he accepted the jacket from you. "Even so, he's devising a strategy. If he detects-" Peggy began.

"By the time he's done that, it could be too late." Steve held tight to his shield as he departed from the tent, followed closely behind by you. Ignoring the calls of your name from Peggy, you continued after him to the unoccupied vehicle sitting outside. "You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?"

"Every word." Peggy nodded. "Then you gotta let me go." Only when Steve was inside the car had she crossed to his door, hands clutching onto it. Your eyes met hers, a solemn and pleading look on your face. Finally, Agent Carter nodded."I can do more than that."

Next Chapter

[sissylittlefeather]

True Love Travels on a Gravel Road

Chapter 2

A/N: I may or may not be working on a x reader series to post concurrently with this one, but in the meantime, have chapter 2! I know we're all on the edge of our seats to see what happens between Elvis and Leona!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, cussing, drinking alcohol, she slaps him

Word count: 2.8k

Elvis is back in New York for the Ed Sullivan show in September. Unlike his performance in July, he actually enjoys himself and puts on a good show, even if they do only film him from the waist up. He makes his way backstage to the press area with the singular aim of finding Leona. That article has haunted him for far too long, and he needs to know why she wrote it, needs to hear it from her own lips. 

He scans the room quickly, but doesn't see her on his first sweep. After answering a few questions from other publications, he stops and asks if there's anyone there from the Starlite Press. The crowd parts, and a shy little blonde thing in a light yellow dress raises her hand. 

“You're from the Starlite Press?” She nods. 

“Yes, sir. Is that okay?” His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, but he tries to slap on a plastic smile. 

“Of course, honey.” She relaxes a bit and giggles obnoxiously. 

“I promise to be a little nicer than the last article we published about you.” A hush falls on the room. Everyone read the scathing indictment that Leona wrote, and the air buzzes with awkward anticipation. 

“That'd be good, doll. Thank you.” He looks around at the rest of the crowd and smiles again. “Now, who has questions?”

Outwardly, he's as cool as a cucumber, but his insides are burning. Where is she?

******

Leona is in the bath with candles lit and a cigarette in her hand, trying to do anything but think about Elvis. She takes a sip of her red wine and sighs deeply. Tonight is one of those nights when she wishes she hadn't written that stupid article. Since then, her editor has been on her to write about him again because it sold so well, but she refused. She wrote it out of anger and hurt and a healthy dose of fear. That's not a feeling she's hoping to replicate. 

That's why she told her boss to eat shit when he demanded she go to interview Elvis tonight as he recorded his performance on the Ed Sullivan show. She made him send the new girl instead and headed home to try to get him off her mind. It's not working, though, and she drains her glass of wine with a huff. 

She's leaned over the side of the tub, pouring herself a refil,l when there's a knock on her door. Her heart jumps, but she tells herself there's no way it's him. He probably doesn't even remember where she lives, and even if he does, he doesn't want to see her. Not after what she wrote. Just when she thinks whoever it is has given up and gone away, there's another knock, louder this time. 

“Leona!” She freezes. There's no mistaking that voice. But what is he doing here? 

She slips out of the bath and quickly dries off, pulling her robe on and blowing out the candles. When she finally gets to the door, she takes a deep, steadying breath and then opens it. 

For a second, he just stands in the doorway, silent and breathless. He hoped he might be immune to her this time, but he absolutely isn't. Her eyeliner is a little smudged, and her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the bath. It takes everything inside him not to just sweep her into his arms right then and there. 

“What are you doing here, Presley?” Her voice is sharp, and it's clear she has her defenses up. 

“‘Hillbilly cat? More like hillbilly puppy.’” He quotes the article, spitting it at her like acid. “What the fuck, Leona?” 

She sighs and walks away from the door, letting him follow her inside. “I had a job to do.” 

“Bullshit. That wasn't about doing a job.” She's faced away from him, emptying the bottle of wine into her glass. 

“I don't know what you want from me.” 

“I want to know why!” She closes her eyes and takes a big gulp of her drink. He raises his voice even louder. “Damn it, Le, look at me!” 

She still refuses to turn around. “You knew I was a journalist. This is as much your fault–”

“THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT.” He's yelling now. “GODDAMNIT, TURN AROUND AND LOOK ME IN THE EYE. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME YOU MEANT WHAT YOU SAID.” 

She looks at the ceiling to try to keep the tears from sliding down her face. They burn the corners of her eyes. 

“TELL ME THERE’S NOTHING BETWEEN US. TELL ME YOU FORGOT ME. TELL ME YOU DON’T–”

“I can't!” She finally rounds on him, her eyes on fire with everything she's not saying. “Damn it, Elvis, I can't!” 

“Then I want to know why. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me why you did it.”

She walks up close to him, shaking her head. “No.”

“No?” He looks down at her with his nostrils flared, rage burning in his veins. 

“In case you haven't noticed, I don't do well with being told what to do.” 

“And I don't do well with being called a ‘sorry excuse for a gentleman’! Why, Leona?!” She scoffs and turns to walk away from him, but he grabs her arm to drag her back. Instinct takes over, and in a flash, she whips around and slaps him hard across the face. He stumbles back a step and raises his hand to his cheek. When he speaks, his voice is frighteningly soft. “I have done nothing to you. What the fuck is your problem?” 

Leona stands with her chest heaving, her robe open to her waist. They stare at each other in heated silence, and the air crackles between them. 

And then they slam into each other like two runaway trains bound for hell. 

His lips crash into hers with a force that is matched only by the power of her tongue in his mouth. She tears at his shirt, ripping it off of him as buttons fly around the room. He has her robe off and thrown in a corner in seconds, pushing her back up against the wall and pinning her hands above her head. She moans loudly as he mixes kisses with bites on her neck and collarbone. His hand slides roughly to her center and he makes hard circles on her clit before pushing two fingers up into her wet heat. 

“You're mine, Leona.” She yanks her hands down and shoves him backwards with both palms on his chest. 

“I don't belong to anyone.” She keeps pushing him back until he falls onto the bed. Her hands rips his pants open and she pulls them down and off, his rock-hard cock bouncing free. She licks the tip of it aggressively and then arranges herself with a knee on either side of his hips. “If anything, you're mine.” 

He grunts as she sinks down onto him, taking him in fully, slamming her hips into his. “Fuck, Le.”

She moans and whimpers as she rides him hard, but he doesn't let her win for long. His hand slides to her lower back, and he flips her quickly without pulling out, dropping her back onto the bed and pounding her with every ounce of anger he's held onto since the article came out. 

“Tell me why, Leona.” 

“I can't.”

“Look me in the eye right now and tell me why you felt the need to hurt me like that. What did I do to deserve–”

“I was scared!” He freezes and then looks down at her, his mouth open in shock. Of all the things she could have said, he didn't expect that. 

“Scared?” And then she can't keep the tears in any longer. They slide down into her hair, hot and uninhibited. 

“Yes!! You ripped me wide open and made me feel things I've never felt before. I was raw and exposed, and you were just gone.”

“You made me leave!”

“I know! And I just– I just– oh god, Elvis!” He slips out of her and rolls onto his side, pulling her into his arms as she cries against his chest. 

“Shh. Baby, it's okay. I'm right here.” She lets him stroke her hair and kiss her forehead as the sobs come tearing out of her. He holds her close and breathes deeply, trying to help her regulate. It slowly begins to work, and she's able to calm down enough to look up at him. 

“I'm so, so sorry.” He nods and wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. 

“I know, honey.” She sighs deeply as he kisses her forehead and nose and both sides of her face. He pulls back and looks her in the eye. “I forgive you. Okay? It's forgotten.” 

She nods and kisses him softly. Then, he rolls onto his back and pulls her on top of him to straddle his hips. He reaches up to hold the side of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair. 

“I’m yours if you want me, Le. And I know you're scared. I am, too. Let's be scared together.” 

She sniffles and gives him a soft smile. “Together.”

“Together.” He muffles a moan as she sinks onto him again, rolling her hips to push him deeper.  His hands go to her hips, but he lets her take the lead. “Fuck, Leona, you feel so good, baby.” 

She rides him like this, slow and deep, the energy building between them, until it feels like they could both die, it's so good. Elvis starts to lift his hips to meet hers, and they pick up speed, both of them panting and groaning, sweat forming on their foreheads and chests. She feels her orgasm start to gather in her belly and throws her head back as the pleasure reaches a fever pitch. Elvis is so lost in her, lost in the overwhelming satisfaction of loving her, that he forgets himself and they fall, sailing over the edge into oblivion. They shudder and pulse and quake, and he empties himself deep inside her while she throbs around him. She collapses onto his chest, and for a moment, there is only shared ecstasy. 

And then she sits up, and he inhales sharply. “Fuck.” 

She looks down at him, her mouth open in shock. “You just–”

“I know.” They stare at each other in stunned disbelief. And then he whispers. “I don't really care.” 

She laughs and lays back down on his chest. He makes lazy circles on her back with his fingertips, basking in the afterglow. She sighs contentedly. “I don't either.” 

“Come to Memphis.” She sits up again. 

“What?”

“Come home with me. Please.” Her eyes search his, but all she finds is sincerity. 

“I can't.”

“Why not?” He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“I have a life here, El.” And I'm not ready for this. She doesn't have to say it for him to know. 

“Someday, then. Just think about it.” She nods and then settles into his side, her hand on his chest. 

“I will.” 

******

Elvis stays with Leona until the last possible second, and the rest of the time is spent in the kind of softness that only comes with early love. They talk and laugh and share things they haven't said out loud to other people. They make love two more times before he leaves around noon the next day. He's exhausted, having only slept for a couple of hours after she fell asleep, and he watched her breathing quietly, his heart full to bursting. But when he returns to his life, he's permanently changed. She's a part of him, stitched into his soul, and he wouldn't have it any other way. 

******

When he comes back in October, it's like they were never apart. She actually squeals when she opens the door to him in a suit, leaning against the frame like he's coming home after a long day at work. This time she cooks for him, her Nonna’s recipe for meatballs, and he imagines her in a white dress. They make love as many times as they can stand, and he never pulls out. They know it's a risk, but they're both secretly hoping for something to force their hand. But again, she turns down his request for her to come with him when he leaves. He kisses her cheek and whispers. “I'll be waiting.”

And he does. He goes out with other girls, but none of them come close to what he feels when he's with Leona. She'll change her mind eventually, and they'll have the future he imagines in the midnight hours when he can't sleep.

The first time he gets a letter sealed with a red lip-print kiss, he's almost giddy. He tears it open and reads it, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

Hi El,

Miss me yet? Burnt some bacon the other day, and I couldn't help but think of you. Wish you were here right now. It's raining and I think you'd enjoy the view from my apartment. Something about the city being wet and sparkling makes me lonely. Come back soon, yeah? 

Yours,

Le

The first time he calls her, they're on the phone for 4 straight hours. And in between calls, there are letters. Sometimes they're short and sweet, sometimes they're long and deep, and occasionally they're dirty and filled with lines that would make any good girl blush. Leona doesn't. 

Somewhere around November, they're arguing on the phone, and he can't hold the words in any longer. 

“I love you, you stubborn little woman!” He half-yells it at her. She laughs, the argument forgotten. 

“Well, I love you too, crazy man.” They never stop saying it. 

In January of 1957, he's back in New York for another appearance on Ed Sullivan. By now, he's too famous for regular places, but the seedy Italian places Leona frequents are used to dangerous men. Elvis Presley is nothing to them, and he loves it. He tells her all about his plans to buy a new house and the movies he's scheduled to make. She listens and sips her Manhattan, trying not to get distracted by his lips. This time, he's carved out two days to spend with her, and they're in bed for most of it. 

At one point, they fight over the fact that he asks her to marry him. They yell and scream, and she throws a shoe at him, but it doesn't take long for them to end up pressed together, naked and tumbling. The ring that he bought sits forgotten on her nightstand. 

The second he's gone, she slips it onto her finger and cries. Why can't she just say yes?

Instead, she puts it on a chain and wears it every day, sitting just over her heart. Someday she'll be ready to settle down. She prays he can wait that long. 

The letters and phone calls continue, and always she turns down his offers to move to Memphis, even after he buys Graceland. But every time he asks, more of her breaks open, and she gets closer and closer to yes. 

And then, a few days before Christmas in 1957, something is different in his voice when she picks up the phone. 

“You alright, El?”

“They drafted me, Le.” The silence stretches between them as her heart stops. 

“Drafted? But there's no war?” 

“I know. But I'm going to Germany. Colonel says I don't have a choice.” She tries to swallow her tears. He doesn't need to comfort her while he's dealing with this. 

“Germany? How long?”

“Two fuckin’ years, Le.” She holds the phone over her heart for a second and rocks back and forth. Then she takes a deep breath and puts it back to her ear. 

“It'll be over before you know it.” 

“Yeah.” But he's so defeated. They end the call, and he doesn't even ask her to come to Memphis. He just whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, El.” Leona hangs up the phone and lets the tears slide down her cheeks. And then she decides. 

******

Elvis is sitting at the piano, fiddling with a melody, when the doorbell rings. It's Christmas Eve. No one is expected to arrive, so he's a little unsure as he stands up from the bench. He walks slowly to the door and pulls it open. 

“Leona?” There she stands, suitcase next to her on the porch. Snow falls softly behind her, emphasizing the silence that hangs between them. She holds up her left hand and shows him the ring that she's wearing there now. 

“Yes.”

******

Is she serious?!

Taglist:

@ccab @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222 @iloveelvis2 @epletsplayhouse

[metukika]

i wish this fic would write itself

[cescalr]

Oooh, definitely glee for the fandom asks! <3

Always with the hornets' nests with these ones, I see! Though i don't think there's a fandom out there that isn't in some way a hornets' nest once it gets large enough... hm. Alright. I'm just gonna be as honest as i can be about this, and tag accordingly.

Glee:

my favourite female character: augh. argh. ouph. so difficult. so hard. Since I'm working off of half-remembered show and half recently-rewatched show... its a tossup. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn. Probably Mercedes. She did nothing wrong ever in her entire life <3 well okay maybe except that one time she smashed kurt's car windows (but it was a banger song, though). Can't say Santana because of the Biphobia TM and other things like excessive use of bigotry-based insults, and Quinn. Oh god girl. Cheating is not cool! Funnily enough! So I find them really interesting but 'favourite' is hard to say. Mercedes. Mercedes for sure <3

my favourite male character: Blaine sam blaine sam blaine sam yes. I am imitating ripping petals off of flowers and coming to a conclusion based on which is the last name i said. So I guess that means Sam! But really this is a tie.

my favourite book/season/etc: Mannnnn idk. I don't like shows for seasons as-a-whole. Also i could not tell you what happened in any given season if you held a gun to my head. I'm not good at that. The only shows i know 'seasons' of are Buffy and Teen Wolf because i've watched them like 100000000000 times (exaggeration) for various reasons (mostly fanfiction research).

my favourite episode (if its a tv show): I can tell you my LEAST favourite episode (blame it on the alcohol, thank you Kurt king of biphobia! this is a persona foible it's not the worst episode in the show. by far. by far. it's kind of an average one. I'm just angry at it.) BUT er. Favourite? Idk. Genuinely some of the earlier Kurt-centric stuff was really well done (his convo with Burt... <3) and the Quinn giving birth accompanied by bohemian rhapsody was obviously iconic, but if I'll be honest I couldn't name any episodes of this show (other than That One previously stated, anyway). And yeah most of the time they were named after song titles and No i don't remember those song titles either. I'm just so bad at this. My memory is that of a goldfish's being haphazardly bounced around on a sieve.

my favourite cast member: it would be really funny if I said Demi Lovato [she counts!] but the truth is N/A: i don't know these people !!! They are strangers!! (i don't. follow celebrities. at all. I couldn't even name most of them. They're just people doing a job and their lives are irrelevant to me beyond their ability to perform that job well. I do not need to know where they live and what coffee they drink. Stalker shit tbh. I'm kind of a very private person myself, so rpf-adjacent stuff just... creeps me out. I've never watched a single cast interview in my lifetime and I'm not about to start!)

my favourite ship: Difficult to say! Grave and obvious lie. Blam. It's blam. Quintana is a close runner up though Santana really needs to stop dating people who cheat on the regular (I'll accept Quinn has grown enough not to do this by the time a Quintana coupling would be viable - and satisfying in terms of character arcs - narratively speaking).

a character I’d die defending: Blaine Anderson did something wrong for sure but like Kurt did it first so shrugs. Cancels out. Bad for each other! Case closed!

a character I just can’t sympathize with: genuinely don't remember if I had one of those the first time around because I was like 10 and just didn't pay attention if I didn't care, but Terri and her racist self take that 'prize' this time, alongside the obvious predator in the room [original choir teacher. Sandy? I forget his name immediately after hearing it. He doesn't deserve to be remembered]. Also JBI is just.... a yikes character all around. I mean, he's a blatant stereotype for one, in a the people who wrote this person don't like jews kind of way. Unfortunately common stereotype too, for the era, so not only is he that, he's also lazy. Just a one-note pervert who's the butt of various antisemitic 'jokes' you've heard from era-peer shows a million times over, tired and awful and a sour reminder of bigotry that continues to this day. Really regrettable character who's lack of redeeming qualities was probably purposeful. (I know Rachel and tina are also jewish, but this comes up very rarely and mostly only when santana needs to say something kind of fucked up, as is her modus operandi, for 'comic relief'. Tina's jewish-ness wasn't even canon for several seasons, because she didn't have a surname or a family or anything resembling complex character depth for several seasons. The one time I really remember Rachel's religion being important was when she was pressuring Kurt into believing in some kind of god, which??? don't do that. Bad example. Trying to guilt trip a friend into faith sucks. I take back what i said earlier Mercedes did that too. Boo. Girls try again that was a bad showing all around. Though i have no idea why Kurt went the acupuncture route as his 'secular' option but i think that has to do a lot with the writers doing literally no research ever once in their lives (you can tell they don't by the way they write the football segments of the show, which make no sense according to football fans who watch Glee, of which there are numerous because real life isn't like fiction where you can only like music or sports. Most of the kids in my school year were doing the most of everything ever if they were the 'popular' ones - we do that differently; popularity isn't really based on who know know; for some bizzare reason literally everyone knew who I was? Even people I'd never spoken to?? - but more about like... how much you can do, I guess. Overachievers, but I'm not saying that negatively; these people were generally - generally - very nice, and surprisingly chill for people who had no spare time whatsoever. I'm not entirely sure when they slept; A* across the board, at least one sport, at least one instrument, several extracurriculars, parties every weekend, dozens of friends and an s.o. . Eh? Way too much going on. Scary lifestyle! Impressive burnout rate, probably. Er. Tangent! Back to the scheduled programming).) There's uhhhh there's a lot of bad characters on the show, but i'd say Sandy and Terri and her equally but more loudly racist sister are truly completely irredeemable ones. Like they're not interesting or anything, they're just there to be narrative annoyances (which, in the case of Sandy specifically, is insane. Arrest that man!!! He has actively sexually assaulted minors!!!).

a character I grew to love: difficult to say because I tend to just make an opinion and stick to it. Also i don't remember who i liked at first and who i didn't, this show came out when i was eight. I didn't watch it until I was a little older than that, of course, but I frankly have spotty memory until my late teens, so! I'm not sure!! Quinn, probably. Pink-hair-era Quinn helped me understand her more, and seeing the moments of kindness hidden behind practical cruelty, when you understand her family and situation, makes things make a lot more sense. It takes a lot to get me to sympathise with a cheater, but I can see where Quinn was getting all turned around in her head about life because of her upbringing and socialisation, not to mention the profoundly negative impact cheerios had on her mentally and that the school's culture in general was not exactly a breeding ground for empathy and optimism.

my anti otp: can you tell (klaine). I don't dislike Kurt!!! Please let him have a fun chillaxed boyfriend in new york with his vogue friends. But also please stop attempting to control other people's diets thank you!! Thank you!! I'm of mixed feelings. Blaine and Kurt both did at least one bad, relationship-ending thing, and proved over and over again that they just weren't on the same wavelength in regards to life goals and ways of living it. They can't even share the same living space, which is kind of required for a functional marriage. I don't know, it just seems like they settled for their first proper, serious boyfriend even if that's not really the best match, and I... wish they'd just got to see more of life first, you know? They got married at like 20! Or something! I'm 23, I cannot imagine getting married at 20. That's a baby. Let them live first!

(same for Santana and Brittney, imo. I also don't really like them together because Santana and Brittney have very different ideas regarding monogamy, which is just never going to go down well in the long run. If your girl cheats on you like twenty times and tells you to your face its not cheating in her view of things, but you think it is, break up with her because you'll just make each other miserable. Brittney sort of seems incapable of feeling guilt but if she were, this kind of moral pressure would be Not Good, and obviously Santana isn't comfortable with the idea and doesn't have to be!! Just move on!!! Find other people!!!! Don't marry your first girlfriend if you've broken up like ten times this is simple!!!! Please!!!! But Klaine wins out over Brittana because - in my opinion, glee fandom please do not persecute me, I am known for this specific thing - I see... interactions that verge on abusive between Klaine that I don't see in Brittana. So. Oof? Ex; use of public perception to disguise attack; deliberately hurting Blaine in a stage-combat fencing match (you are not meant to make actual contact in these) and thus using Blaine's own dislike of making his difficulties common knowledge against him in order to 'punish' him. This is no good! Don't do this!!.[Also just to err vaguepost about a comment.... that is. not. what i would call passive aggressive. Physically attacking someone with a sword - no matter the type of sword, fencing foils hurt just as much, they're just not stab-you sharp... er, these days - is just straight-up aggressive.]).

Note that negative things stick in the mind better than positive ones; on a rewatch I may well alter my opinion!

But also I'm really, really stubborn. So it's not likely. Klaine.

[apocalypticdemon]

hmm. spiraling. fun.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[savage-rhi]

been trying to conjure the words for a while, but as someone who’s got family who’s also going through some really tough shit involving mental health work, i just wanna say i’m so sorry you lost your job—but you won’t ever have to work with these people again, at least!

definitely look into legal routes, don’t be afraid to ask for support, and don’t give up. and be sure to rest and recuperate, etc. ableism is insidious as fuck, but you can rise above the lows it throws your way!

(hopefully that all was worded somewhat gracefully. i just am so sorry you’re experiencing this shit, man. but you’ll make it out alive! ❤️)

You don't have to worry about wording things gracefully hon. I know you mean well and didn't see anything here that was warranted as an offense.

Thank you for the condolences. This is one thing I'm hanging onto, that I don't have to work with these people ever again.

I will do everything within my skillset and empathy to never dehumanize or treat anybody the way I was treated as a mental health provider. I'd like to think I do a good job of that already, creating a brave space for people, and this experience nailed it in that I won't allow myself to stoop to this level of being insidious as fuck to a human being.

I don't know the full context of what your family member is going through, but hearing that, I hope they get through the ordeal especially if they are dealing with folks who do not have their best interests in mind.

Thank you again for the condolences and for checking in 💙🫂

[arolesbianism]

Combining ego gifts is my favorite activity. You have six ego gifts? No you don't. Get stylized idiot

[valiasims]

Wisteria Whisk - Part 2

Hey everyone!

The second part of the Wisteria Whisk collection is here! This time, I wanted to add lots of decorative food to help fill up your bakeries. I made new shelves which can showcase all basket and tray pastries I made for this set. As I mentioned in an earlier WIP post, I tweaked the wood colors a bit, so I also went back and updated the previous set with the new shades. If you want everything to match nicely, please redownload the first set!

Some additional information: The tray holder has slots that fit the tray items perfectly! It might be a bit tricky to find the exact placement, but the slots are in the center of each layer, so aim for that.

The baskets of baked goods and tray of sweets have multiple mesh variations, so changing the swatch will not only change the color but also the object itself. This way they don't take up too much catalog space.

The shelves include rotated slots, which I had to set as fixed so if you place there an item it stays rotated. If you want to reset the rotation of a slotted item, just place it somewhere else first, then it will return to its default straight position.

I hope you’ll enjoy this set as much as I enjoyed making it, though I have to admit, working on all these food items made me very hungry during texturing. :D

As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be starting the third part of the collection a little later, since I’ll be walking the Camino de Santiago next week. So there won’t be any WIPs during that time but once I’m back, I’ll jump into working on the next (and probably final) part of the bakery set. Though who knows, that might still change depending on how I feel.

For the next part, I’m planning to add kitchen items and a coffee bar that matches the other display pieces. I’m really excited to get started on it!

Let me know what you think of this set or if you run into any issues! I was so frustrated today, was almost done when I spotted a small problem and ended up spending hours fixing it. So I really hope everything works smoothly now!

Lastly thank you so much for reaching 20 000 followers on Patreon! I'm so thankful for all of you!

The Set Includes

Display Shelves (2 sizes)

Basket of Baked Goods 1 (bagels, 2 types of buns)

Basket of Baked Goods 2 (pretzels, croissants, breads)

Big Basket of Baguettes

Tray Holder Trolley

Tray Sweets 1 (cream puffs, eclairs, empty tray)

Tray Sweets 2 (croissants, pastries, empty tray)

Menu Board (2 sizes)

Wall Basket Baguettes

Wall Basket Buns

New York Rolls

Pretzel Stand

Wall Tiles

Wall Tiles and Paint

-DOWNLOAD HERE- Public release on the 17th of May 6PM CET

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[shy9-29]

Love, Lies, and Sim Jake

심재윤 x reader - enhypen campus series

You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice.

wc. 16.4k

a/n. This took me so long istg but lwk wanted then to be endgame @sheseung

masterlist | req open

It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. You were careful—or at least you thought you were.

Sure, maybe you stared a little too long when Jake walked into class late, hair still damp from a rushed shower, backpack half-zipped like he couldn’t be bothered. Maybe you laughed a little too loud when he made a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny. Maybe your friends caught you scrolling through his Instagram more times than you could count—but you had never said it out loud.

But somehow… everybody knew.

It started small. You remember the moment it all began to slip. One afternoon in the library, your best friend nudged your arm and whispered, “You’re staring again,” followed by the most annoying smirk you’d ever seen. You blinked, cheeks warming, then looked away quickly as Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching in that way he had to know showed off his arms.

“It’s not like that,” you’d mumbled. Lie. Straight lie. But it was your go-to line.

Then came the whispers. The way people started looking at you just a little differently whenever Jake was around. In the dining hall, one of his teammates nudged him and said something under his breath, both of them turning your way right after. You pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat in your face, the tightening in your stomach. You hated it.

It was like high school all over again. Like a crush you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to play it cool.

And the worst part? Jake noticed.

He started looking at you a little longer in the hallways. Smirking when you’d pass by. Saying “hey” like he hadn’t ignored you for two semesters straight. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite—or playing with you. Still, every time your name left his lips, something fluttered in your chest and you hated that you let it.

Then, one night at a party, it all came out.

You were standing by the kitchen, holding a red solo cup you barely sipped from, when you heard it—your name. Jake’s voice.

“She’s cute,” he said casually, too casually, and the room seemed to go quieter around you. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into me.”

Laughter. Someone said, “Bro, everyone knows she is.”

Another voice chimed in, “You’re the first thing on her mind when she walks into class.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your stomach flipped.

They were talking about you like you were an object, like your feelings didn’t matter.

You tried to shrink back into the corner of the room, hoping no one noticed your face burning hotter by the second. But Jake didn’t miss a beat.

He didn’t stop them. Didn’t correct them. Didn’t even seem surprised.

You were supposed to be doing your sociology reading. That was the whole plan. Laptop open, textbook to the side, highlighter in hand—every prop perfectly in place. But instead of notes, your screen was filled with him.

Jake Sim’s Instagram page.

His latest post? A blurry mirror selfie at the gym, captioned something dumb like “light work.” His abs were obnoxiously sharp, his hair pushed back by a sweatband, and there was a cocky little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t even like gym pics—and yet there you were, zooming in like a creep and biting your lip like an idiot.

You were halfway through stalking his tagged photos when Yuna burst into your room.

“Oh my god,” she said, before even setting her bag down. “Are you stalking him again?” You jumped, slamming your laptop shut like it was something illegal. “No.” She raised a brow. “You literally jumped like I caught you watching illegal shit.”

“I was doing research,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing.

“Research on what? His jawline?” Yuna flopped onto your bed, grinning. “Girl, you need help.”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “I know. It’s so bad. I can’t stop.”

“Yeah, no kidding. This is like… phase five of a full-blown Jake Sim spiral.” You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think he knows?” Yuna blinked at you. “Girl. Everyone knows.” You groaned again, louder this time, flopping back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so pathetic.”

“Not pathetic,” Yuna said sweetly. “Just tragically whipped.” She laughed and tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the embarrassment. Because yeah—you were absolutely whipped.

And the worst part? You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.

Yuna stayed sprawled on your bed, scrolling through her phone while you reopened your laptop—this time pretending you were actually going to study, even though your fingers hovered dangerously close to Jake’s profile again.

“I swear, he’s getting hotter by the day,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to her.

“Don’t do it,” Yuna warned without even looking up. “Don’t go back to his highlights. You already watched his Europe trip twice last night.”

“I just like the aesthetic,” you defended weakly.

“You like his face.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm, eyes drifting back to his latest Story. Just a casual boomerang of him walking into a party, surrounded by people, drink in hand, that same effortless confidence radiating off of him. He looked like he belonged there—like the world bent to him just slightly wherever he went.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t even bend your willpower long enough to not stalk him for one damn night.

“He’s at that rooftop bar again,” you murmured. “That one near campus.”

Yuna glanced at your screen. “With the LED lights and overpriced drinks? Ugh. Of course he is. He’s always out. Does he even do homework?”

“He’s passing econ somehow.”

“Probably because he flirts with the TA.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Yuna tossed her phone aside and sat up. “Okay, real question. What are you actually gonna do about this?”

“Do?”

“Yes, do. You’ve been drooling over him for months. Either shoot your shot or block his page and join a monastery. This in-between spiral is destroying you.”

You hesitated. The idea of talking to Jake—really talking to him—made your heart race in a way that was more panic than excitement. He was just so… untouchable. Like a poster boy for bad decisions wrapped in designer cologne and half-smiles. And you were just—you.

“I don’t even think he knows my name,” you said quietly.

Yuna gave you a look. “Oh, he knows.”

You blinked. “What?”

She just smirked, grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna leave that there. You think about it.”

And with that, she disappeared out the door, leaving your heart racing in the quiet. Because if Jake did know your name… what did that mean?

You sat frozen for a solid thirty seconds after Yuna left, her last words echoing in your head like a fire alarm.

“He knows.”

She had to be messing with you, right? Yuna loved a good dramatic exit. She lived for chaos. There was no way Jake Sim—resident heartbreaker, campus lenend, the guy with a rotation of girls longer than your Spotify playlist—actually knew who you were.

…Right?

You glanced back at your laptop. His story was still up.

Tap.

Next slide—him laughing at something, dimples on full display, head tilted back like life was just that easy for him. You paused on it, your stomach twisting in that way it always did when you saw him smile. It was gross. You hated how much you liked it.

You shut the laptop again. This was getting out of hand.

Grabbing your phone, you opened your group chat with Yuna and your other two friends.

You:

i hate you why would u say that

Yuna:

what did i do NOW

You:

“he knows” ??? why would u say that and then LEAVE like some cryptic little drama gremlin

Kazuha:

HELP what’d she do

Minju:

this is about jake isn’t it

Yuna:

ok first of all. i am a drama gremlin. second of all. i didn’t lie.

You:

YUNA.

Yuna:

look he asked about you once okay?? don’t freak out

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart thudding so loud you almost didn’t hear the buzz of another message.

You:

he what.

Yuna:

like two weeks ago. after class. he was talking to beomgyu and i walked up and he was like “hey that girl you always hang with, she’s in my stats class right?”

and i said yeah. and he nodded.

that’s it.

Minju:

girl that’s not nothing

Kazuha:

he definitely knows. also why do i feel like he’s been looking at her lately???

You:

guys stop

i’m sweating wtf

this is too much

You dropped your phone on the bed and covered your face with your hands again, half-screaming into your palms. This couldn’t be real. Jake noticed you? He remembered you existed?

You thought about the times he held your gaze a second too long in class, the lazy way he said “hey” when passing you on campus, the smirk you always thought was meant for someone else.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. That was dangerous. That was how people got hurt. But still…

Just maybe…

This crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.

Jake leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out and sunglasses pushed up into his hair as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. The quad buzzed with weekend energy—students lounging on the grass, music playing from someone’s speaker, that kind of lazy chaos that only ever happened when no one felt like doing real work.

Jay sat beside him, twirling a straw around in his iced coffee, eyes scanning the crowd like he was picking out a movie to watch.

“You know what I was thinking?” Jay said suddenly, eyes still tracking something in the distance.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a terrifying sentence.”

Jay smirked. “We’ve never been in a real relationship. Like ever.”

Jake scoffed. “And your point?”

“My point is,” Jay said, sitting up, “we should see who can actually do it. Lock in. Longest relationship wins.”

Jake blinked, amused. “That’s the dumbest bet you’ve ever made—and you once bet Beomgyu fifty bucks you could throw a slice of pizza on the dorm ceiling and make it stick.”

“It did stick,” Jay pointed out.

“Yeah, and the RA made you clean it off.”

Sunghoon, who’d been quietly watching some random soccer game in the distance, sighed like he was already regretting his life choices. “This is so stupid. Why would you guys want to date someone just for the sake of it?”

“Because we suck at it,” Jay shrugged. “We’re trash at commitment. Might as well make it fun.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking for a second. “So what, we just pick someone and… date them?”

“Exactly,” Jay grinned. “No hookups, no games. Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless. Seriously.”

Jake was about to respond when Sunghoon suddenly nodded toward a group of girls laughing across the lawn.

“What about her?” he said, jerking his chin in that direction.

Jake followed his gaze—and immediately shook his head, a tight, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Heeseung would kill me.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. Sunghoon just shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.

Jake leaned back again, lips pressing into a thin line. His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to you.

He didn’t know why, but your name floated to the surface, soft and unspoken. He pictured your face for a split second—how you always seemed to be laughing with that same small circle of friends, always just there on the edge of his world.

He said nothing.

Instead, Jake pushed himself off the bench, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Where you going?” Jay asked, glancing up.

Jake just smirked and threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

“Nowhere. Just remembered something.”

Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked off, head down just enough to avoid the glare of the sun but not enough to miss the way people turned to greet him as he passed. He gave the usual half-smile, a couple nods, but didn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just didn’t feel like sitting there talking about bets and fake relationships when his mind was suddenly, annoyingly, stuck on you.

Not in a romantic way—God, no. Jake Sim didn’t catch feelings like that. Especially not for girls he barely talked to. That wasn’t how he operated. That wasn’t how this worked.

You weren’t the hottest girl on campus or the loudest or the one constantly throwing yourself into his orbit. If anything, you stayed out of it. And yet… you’d started showing up in his peripheral vision more often than he liked to admit.

Every time you passed by him in class, you did that little thing—tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to him for half a second before you looked away like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You weren’t subtle. And Jake wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.

It was kind of… cute.

He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the grass.

He didn’t know why you popped into his head when Sunghoon pointed out that girl. Maybe it was because you felt like the opposite of a challenge—someone easy to talk to, someone safe. Not messy. Not loud. Not tied up in anyone else’s drama.

And maybe, he thought, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to win a bet.

He stopped walking.

But then again… this was stupid. It was Jay’s idea. It wasn’t that deep. And you? You were just a thought. A maybe. An option.

Nothing more.

Jake smirked to himself and kept walking, brushing the idea off like it was dust on his sleeve.

No feelings. No strings.

Just a game.

Jake didn’t think about it again—at least, that’s what he told himself.

The next day, he walked into stats like he always did: five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, phone in the other, no apology in sight. He dropped into his seat near the back, legs stretched out under the desk, and immediately tuned out the professor’s monotone voice.

But then he saw you.

You were in your usual spot, two rows ahead and just slightly to the right. Laughing at something Kazuha whispered to you, pen twirling between your fingers, that same focused-but-not-really expression on your face.

Jake leaned back, tapping his pen against his lip.

You looked soft. Not in the cheesy romcom way—just… not sharp like most people. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t dressed to impress. You just were. And Jake had a strange moment of clarity where he realized: that might be why he’d thought of you in the first place.

Predictable. Low drama. Quiet.

Someone he could control the narrative with.

Jay’s dumb idea floated back into his head again: “Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Jake exhaled slowly, like it would push the hesitation out of his lungs.

This wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t like you. He didn’t want to text you goodnight or hold your hand at parties or any of that romcom garbage. But maybe you were safe enough to play the part. Someone who wouldn’t make things messy. Someone who already had a soft spot for him.

He glanced at you again, just as you looked down to write something in your notebook, your brows furrowed in concentration.

He could do it. Just a few weeks, some dates, a little effort. Easy.

Jake grinned to himself, resting his chin on his hand.

He didn’t realize he was already watching you too closely.

Didn’t realize he was starting to wonder how you’d react if he actually said hi.

He just thought,

Yeah. This’ll be easy.

Jake caught himself watching you again.

It wasn’t even on purpose—at least, that’s what he told himself. You weren’t doing anything special. Just taking notes, occasionally glancing at the board, the corners of your mouth twitching every time Kazuha leaned over and whispered something dumb. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away for long.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of it.

Jay:

pick someone yet or u backing out?

Jake smirked, thumbs tapping quickly.

Jake:

working on it

Jay:

clock’s ticking

Jake rolled his eyes, tossing the phone facedown on the desk.

The truth was, he already knew. He’d made up his mind the second he walked into class and saw you laughing like you didn’t have a single clue how close you were to becoming part of something you didn’t sign up for.

But he wasn’t going to tell Jay yet. He wasn’t even sure why.

Maybe because part of him felt like once he said it out loud, it would make it real. More real than it needed to be. And despite how casual he was pretending to be, this wasn’t like hooking up with some girl from a party. This wasn’t sneaking out of someone’s dorm room at 2 a.m. before things got too serious.

This was… a role. A performance. One he’d have to keep up if he wanted to win.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes drifting toward you again.

You didn’t even know he existed—at least, not really. Sure, you might’ve looked at him a few times, maybe had that little crush people liked to tease about, but you didn’t know him. Not the version he showed at parties, not the bored one in class, not the one who smiled when he needed something.

You were still clean.

Jake wondered how long that would last.

When class ended, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder, lingering by the exit just long enough to watch you gather your things. You laughed at something Kazuha said again, then turned to wave goodbye to Minju.

And for half a second, your eyes met his.

He gave you a slow, easy smile—one he’d used a thousand times before—and this time, you didn’t look away so quickly.

Jake walked out of the room, his smirk growing.

You couldn’t focus the rest of the day.

Jake Sim had smiled at you.

Not just a polite, passing one. Not the half-distracted, probably-at-someone-behind-you kind. No. It was at you—slow, smooth, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he meant it.

And stupidly, pathetically, you’d smiled back.

Your stomach was still fluttering from it hours later. Even as you sat at your usual café table with Yuna, Kazuha, and Minju, pretending to listen to their convo, all you could think about was that look. That damn smile. The way his eyes had lingered just long enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Yuna caught you zoning out and kicked your foot under the table. “Earth to lover girl.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been checked out since class,” Minju said, sipping her iced latte like she wasn’t stirring chaos.

“Let me guess,” Kazuha added, leaning forward with a smirk. “Jake smiled at you?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but Yuna cut in with a dramatic gasp. “He did?! Wait—you smiled back?!”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know what it was, okay? He looked at me and—ugh, I probably imagined the whole thing.”

“You didn’t,” Minju said casually. “He looked at you. I saw it.”

You peeked through your fingers. “Was it like… a weird look? Or just, like, a normal thing?”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “Does Jake Sim ever look at someone normally?”

Yuna leaned her chin on her palm, suddenly serious. “Okay, but real talk. If he did look at you, like, look at you… be careful.”

Your heart sank a little. “What do you mean?”

“He’s Jake,” Minju said. “He doesn’t date. He flirts, he parties, he makes girls fall for him and then disappears.”

“I’m not falling for him,” you said too quickly.

Three sets of eyebrows went up at once.

“I’m not!” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through, completely ruining your case. They all exchanged knowing looks, and Kazuha patted your hand like you were already a lost cause.

You sat back in your seat, sipping your drink in silence, trying to calm the chaos in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Jake smiled at a hundred girls a day.

But still, the way he’d looked at you…

It didn’t feel like nothing.

And somewhere not too far from that café, Jake Sim was leaning back against a wall outside the library, scrolling through his phone.

He hadn’t told Jay yet. He hadn’t told anyone.

But your name sat quietly in the back of his mind.

Like a string he’d just started tugging.

Like a move he hadn’t played yet.

And tomorrow? He planned to say hello.

The next day came quicker than you expected.

You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to pick out your outfit with him in mind. Tried not to rehearse fake scenarios in your head where Jake Sim actually acknowledged you again—maybe said hi, maybe made a joke, maybe even asked you a question. Nothing big. Just something. Anything.

But deep down, under the nervous energy and second-guessing, a small, traitorous part of you hoped.

You walked into stats early, which never happened, your notebook hugged to your chest like it might protect you from your own delusions. Kazuha and Minju were already there, chatting quietly, and you took your usual seat beside them, eyes scanning the door more times than you cared to admit.

You told yourself you weren’t checking for him. Just being aware. Just… existing in the same room.

And then he walked in.

Jake didn’t look at anyone at first. Just strolled in like always—relaxed, unbothered, his usual drink in hand. He scanned the room casually, his eyes drifting past people without really stopping.

Until they landed on you.

And this time, he didn’t look away.

A lazy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he met your gaze. Not rushed. Not accidental.

Intentional.

Your throat went dry.

And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—Jake Sim nodded at you. A simple, subtle gesture.

But it felt like the whole room paused around it.

You blinked. Your lips parted, surprised, and then instinctively—you nodded back. Small. Shy. Like your heart hadn’t just punched through your ribcage.

Jake held your gaze for half a second longer, then turned and walked to his usual seat near the back like nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Kazuha leaned in immediately. “Okay, no. That wasn’t normal. He totally looked at you.”

Minju blinked. “Did he just nod at you like you guys are friends or something?”

You couldn’t even answer. You were too busy trying to regulate your breathing, too focused on the way your hands suddenly didn’t know what to do.

Across the room, Jake sat down, stretched out, and didn’t say a word.

Jay nudged him. “You good?”

Jake didn’t look away from the front. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Just watching something.”

Jay raised a brow, confused, but let it go.

You felt it the second you walked out of class—like a magnet at your back.

You didn’t have to turn around to know he was behind you. His steps were slower than yours, but just close enough that you could hear the occasional scuff of his sneakers on the pavement. And even in the noise of campus—people laughing, bikes zipping by, someone blasting music from a speaker—you felt him.

Jake Sim. Still walking behind you. Still very much a mystery.

“Okay,” Kazuha whispered beside you, leaning in with the most obvious side-eye imaginable. “Do not freak out. But he’s right there.”

“I know,” you hissed, eyes forward.

“I mean right there, like five steps back.”

Minju, on your other side, kept her voice casual. “What do you think he wants?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Probably just going the same way.”

“Oh, sure,” Kazuha drawled. “Because Jake Sim always just happens to walk behind girls he makes eye contact with for five seconds straight.”

Your face was hot. You hated how your brain had started keeping track of these things—every glance, every nod, every smile like it meant something.

You turned the corner with your friends, and for a second, it felt like maybe that was it. Maybe he was just walking the same direction.

“Hey.”

One word. Smooth. Easy.

Him.

You stopped. Your heart didn’t.

Jake slid into view beside you like he did this all the time, like you weren’t already halfway to spiraling.

He looked straight at you. “You’re in my stats class, right?”

You blinked. Your mouth opened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”

He smiled like he already knew the answer.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “What’s your name?”

You told him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nodded, like he was tucking it away. “Cool. I’m Jake.”

Like you didn’t already know.

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His grin widened slightly. Not cocky, not smug. Just… amused.

“Right,” he said, a little laugh in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he was gone.

No flirting. No teasing. No over-the-top pickup line.

Just your name on his lips. Like he planned to use it again.

Your friends were staring at you with open mouths.

Kazuha grabbed your arm. “I am going to pass out.”

Minju fanned herself. “You talked. To Jake Sim.”

You stood there, blinking at the space where he used to be, your heart still racing.

You didn’t know what just happened.

But whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing.

Jake didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to. He knew you were still standing there, probably replaying the conversation in your head, maybe wondering if you’d said something weird or if he’d meant anything by it.

He hadn’t.

Not really.

(Kind of.)

He let his smirk fade the second he turned the corner, jaw tightening slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel Jay’s voice in his head already, mocking him—“So? Who’d you pick?”

He wasn’t going to tell him yet. Not until it was set in motion.

And it was now. Officially.

He’d spoken to you. Broke the fourth wall. You weren’t a background presence anymore—you were the option. The one he was going to test this theory out on.

Not because you were a challenge.

Not because you were hard to get.

But because you were… interested.

He’d seen the look on your face when he asked your name. That flicker of nervous excitement, like you’d been caught in the middle of something you didn’t want to end. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. Dozens of times.

But this time? He wasn’t here to break hearts. He was here to win.

That was the bet.

Longest relationship.

Play the part. Make it believable.

Easy.

Jake walked into the dining hall like nothing had happened, spotting Jay already sitting with a tray of fries and a bored expression.

“Yo,” Jay said. “You look like you just committed a crime.”

Jake slid into the seat across from him, swiping a fry. “Maybe I did.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You pick someone?”

Jake chewed slowly, then shrugged. “Thinking about it.”

“‘Thinking about it’ or already made up your mind?”

Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Let’s just say… I’ve got a good feeling.”

Jay laughed. “You’re gonna lose.”

Jake grinned back, calm and sure of himself. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile, two buildings over, you were still stuck in place—your name echoing in your ears in his voice.

Jake Sim had talked to you. Asked your name. Smiled like he’d meant it.

And you?

You were already in trouble.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You floated through the rest of your day in a haze.

Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, unintentional walking distraction, the guy you’d spent way too long overanalyzing from a distance—had not only spoken to you, but said your name. Like it belonged in his mouth. Like he planned to say it again.

You replayed it on loop.

“What’s your name?”

“I’ve seen you around.”

“Cool. I’m Jake.”

You. Were. Doomed.

Yuna nearly screamed when you told her.

“HE WHAT?” she shrieked in your dorm room, slamming her phone face down on your bed. “Okay, no. Wait. Start from the beginning. Word for word. Breath for breath. Blinking pattern. Everything.”

“I already told you everything!”

Yuna gave you a flat look. “You barely told me anything. You just stood there in a daze and whispered, ‘He talked to me’ like you were in some kind of Jake-induced coma.”

“I was in a Jake-induced coma,” you mumbled, falling back onto your pillow dramatically. “I think I still am.”

“Okay but why now?” she asked, sitting at the foot of your bed and stealing one of your chips. “Like, what changed? You guys have had stats together for weeks and he’s never even looked at you.”

You blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe he just… noticed me.”

Yuna gave you a look. “Guys like Jake don’t ‘just notice’ girls. It’s either because he’s bored, he’s interested, or he’s got some kind of motive.”

You sat up a little. “You think he has a motive? Like… what? What kind of motive?”

Yuna paused, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But Jake doesn’t make small talk unless he’s getting something out of it. Trust me. He’s hot, yeah, but there’s always something else going on in that beautiful, toxic little brain.”

You rolled your eyes, but a tiny part of you held onto her words. You didn’t want to believe that. You wanted to believe maybe he was just… curious. Maybe he thought you were cute. Maybe—by some miracle—he wasn’t playing a game.

But then again, Jake Sim was known for a lot of things.

Genuine interest wasn’t one of them.

Still, your heart refused to care.

He said your name.

He smiled.

He looked at you.

And for now, that was enough to keep you wide awake at 1:42 a.m., staring at your ceiling, whispering his name once just to hear how it sounded in the dark.

You told yourself it wasn’t for him.

You were just in the mood to look nice today—normal girl behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what if you curled your hair instead of your usual half-tied bun? So what if you put on a little gloss and swapped your hoodie for a top that fit just a little better than usual? You weren’t going to see him anyway. Probably.

(But you left five minutes earlier than usual… just in case.)

You blamed Yuna for the way your nerves spiked as soon as you stepped onto campus. Her voice kept looping in your head like a warning bell.

“Guys like Jake don’t just notice girls out of nowhere.”

You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but it stuck. Still, when you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror outside class, a small smile tugged at your lips. You looked good. Confident. Not for Jake—but if he noticed? That wouldn’t be the worst thing.

He did.

You felt his gaze before you even stepped into the classroom. The weight of it. Heavy, warm, lazy like he wasn’t in a rush to look away. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not right away—but your heart was already beating in your ears.

Kazuha whispered a teasing, “Oooh, someone came dressed to kill today,” as you sat down, and you tried to play it cool, brushing her off with a laugh. But you couldn’t ignore the glance Jake threw over his shoulder.

And the small nod. Again. Just like before. It was subtle. Barely there. But intentional. And that was enough to keep you smiling through half the lecture like an idiot.

Later that day, back at your dorm, you were practically humming as you kicked off your shoes. Yuna looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and said immediately, “Okay. Spill. What happened?”

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

“You wore lip gloss,” she deadpanned. “You only do that for confidence or crushes. And knowing you? It’s both.” You flopped onto your bed with a dreamy sigh. “He looked at me again.” Yuna groaned. “Girl. You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your stomach.

“No, you’re in the delusional phase,” she said, sitting up. “Where you think he’s texting you with his eyes and secretly planning your wedding. I’m telling you, this is how he gets girls. He makes you feel seen.”

You stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of your pillowcase.

“I’m not saying he’s evil,” Yuna went on. “I’m saying he’s not… safe. He’s not consistent. And I just don’t want you to be another story where he gets bored and leaves.”

You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when your heart was still soaring.

“I get it,” you mumbled. “But it’s not that serious. It’s just a crush.”

Yuna stared at you for a long moment. “That’s exactly how it starts.”

But you didn’t answer. You just kept smiling to yourself. Because Jake Sim looked at you again. And in your head, that meant everything.

Jake saw you before you saw him.

You were sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, legs crossed at the ankles, earbuds in, flipping through your notes with a furrow between your brows like you actually cared about the quiz tomorrow. The afternoon sun hit your face just right, lighting up the gold in your lashes, and for a moment—just a second—he forgot this was supposed to be a thing.

A game. A bet. A joke between him and Jay.

He shook it off.

“Go say something,” Jay muttered from beside him, nudging Jake with his elbow.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? Bro, you were just talking about how easy this was gonna be,” Jay said. “You smiled at her, got her name. Step three is conversation.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He just watched you.

You looked like the type who wrote in a journal at night. The type who doodled on worksheets, who had a playlist for every mood and a favorite pen that no one else was allowed to touch. You weren’t like the girls at parties who clung to him for the thrill of it, who liked the idea of Jake Sim more than Jake himself.

That made it interesting.

Or maybe risky. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I’m giving you three seconds,” Jay said. “Then I’m picking someone else for you.”

Jake scoffed and stepped off the path.

He took his time crossing the grass, casual but with purpose. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever study playlist was pulsing through your ears. He tapped the back of the bench once with two fingers, and you startled slightly, pulling one earbud out as your eyes lifted to meet his.

There it was again—recognition. Surprise. That soft little tilt to your lips like you were trying not to smile too much.

“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of the wall. “You always study out here?”

You blinked. “Only when it’s nice out.” He nodded, eyes flicking to your open notebook. “What’s the subject?”

“Stats,” you said, grimacing. “Trying to pretend I understand anything from today.” He laughed a little—easy, smooth, practiced. “Yeah, same. I zoned out after the first ten minutes.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You sit in the back. You always zone out. He raised a brow, impressed. “So you’ve been watching me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, then faltered, clearly realizing what you’d just admitted.

Jake grinned. Gotcha.

“I mean—not watching watching,” you rushed to say. “Just, you’re… kind of hard to miss.”

He let the moment hang between you, his smirk lingering before he glanced down at your notes again. “You want help?” he asked suddenly. You blinked. “With stats?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t guarantee results,” he said, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “But we could suffer through it together.”

Your eyes searched his face for something—for a sign he was messing with you. But he didn’t look away.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Yeah. That’d be… cool.”

Jake nodded once, then stepped back. “Tomorrow. After class?”

You nodded.

He turned without another word, heading back toward Jay with that easy gait that made people move out of his way. Jay raised his brows at him like well?

Jake just said, “Locked in.” And didn’t explain further.

Didn’t mention how your voice had sounded a little shy when you said yes. Didn’t mention the part of him that liked that.

He told himself he wasn’t catching feelings. He was just playing the role. That’s all this was. Wasn’t it?

The next day, you didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to stats.

You’d barely slept. You kept rewriting yesterday in your head—Jake walking up to you, Jake talking to you, Jake offering to help you study like it was nothing. Like that wasn’t the most surreal part of your entire week.

You were half convinced it was a fluke. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was some joke. Or maybe—maybe—you dreamed it and none of it actually happened.

But then he slid into the seat next to you like it was his usual spot.

Like it had always been his.

You looked up at him in surprise, your voice caught in your throat. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” he said easily, tossing his phone on the desk and leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You still down to study after this?”

You blinked. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice low enough that only you could hear it. “What’s your Instagram?”

You froze.

You knew this moment was coming. Like, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. But not this fast. Not like it was casual.

“Oh—um,” you fumbled with your phone, screen lighting up as your fingers clumsily opened the app. “It’s just—my username is kind of stupid, don’t laugh.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “Now I have to see it.”

You turned your screen toward him, and he leaned in slightly, shoulder brushing yours for a second too long. His fingers grazed your phone as he typed it into his own, brows furrowed in concentration.

“There,” he said a moment later. “Followed.”

Your phone buzzed instantly, the notification lighting up like a siren:

simjyn started following you.

You tried to stay calm. Cool. Normal.

But Jake? Jake was already scrolling through your feed like he had nothing better to do. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute in this one.”

You almost choked.

He was pointing to a picture Minju had taken of you a couple weeks ago—your hand resting on your cheek, smiling softly at something off-camera. You’d only posted it after three days of deliberation.

“You—what?” you said, breathless.

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re cute. You don’t agree?”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the way he’d short-circuited your brain. Then he leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent your pulse into orbit.

“Stats,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook. “Then coffee. That’s our deal, right?”

You nodded slowly, your cheeks on fire.

He didn’t say anything else.

But your phone buzzed again under the desk.

simjyn: looking forward to it

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. So you did both. Internally.

You didn’t even have to type it in.

The second Jake said, “What’s your Instagram?” you already knew where this was going. You played it off so well—bit your lip like you were thinking, fumbled with your phone a little like you needed to search for his account too.

But you didn’t. You’d known it for months.

@simjyn.

No numbers. No punctuation. Just clean, simple, cool. Like him.

You’d visited it more times than you’d ever admit out loud.

You knew the exact photo he’d posted on New Year’s Eve—black button-up, rings on his fingers, drink in hand, smirk sharper than his jawline. You remembered how his captions were always short, effortless. Sometimes just a song lyric, sometimes a single word. Always just enough to keep people guessing.

You’d watched his stories religiously. Even the ones that weren’t interesting—clips of skateparks, random memes, grainy concert videos. You once spent an entire night reading through the comments on one of his old posts, heart dropping every time a girl left a flirty emoji and he liked it.

And now? That username lit up your phone for real.

@simjyn followed you.

@simjyn ❤️ your story.

@simjyn sent you a DM.

You nearly forgot how to breathe.

What made it worse—or maybe better—was how normal he made it all feel. Like he hadn’t just stepped out of the fantasy you’d kept locked behind your phone screen. Like this wasn’t your real life crashing into the version of Jake you only knew from filtered posts and captions.

You tried to keep your cool, acting like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you hadn’t already scrolled back to his 2019 posts at least once. Like you didn’t already have his account bookmarked under a folder labeled “Just Vibes” (because “Jake Sim” felt too on the nose).

Still, when the class ended and you stepped outside, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your notifications again. And there it was.

@simjyn: looking forward to it.

Like it was just the beginning.

And maybe, terrifyingly, it was.

The days that followed felt like they were moving in slow motion, each one dragging longer than the last as you waited for something to happen.

The moment you’d been hoping for—the one where Jake would finally make it real, where the playful back-and-forth would shift from flirtation to something else—wasn’t happening.

Instead, he kept it casual. Too casual.

Too normal.

He kept up the conversations. Stats class? He would lean over, whispering about the notes, joking about the professor’s monotone voice. He would always walk with you afterward, or grab coffee with you. Nothing over the top. Nothing overtly romantic.

But your heart still raced every time he smiled at you. Every time he leaned a little too close. Every time his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your coffee or his shoulder bumped yours when you were walking together. You could tell he was making it seem easy. Comfortable. Like you were just friends.

But you were barely holding it together.

Your phone buzzed late one night while you were finishing up homework. You glanced at it, heart skipping when you saw his name pop up in your notifications.

@simjyn: Got a minute?

You stared at the message for a solid minute. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation creeping in. Should you play it cool? Or be honest and show just how interested you were?

You took a breath, tapped the screen, and typed back:

You: Of course, what’s up?

It took a few seconds for him to respond, and when he did, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle excitement surge in your chest.

@simjyn: You free tomorrow after class? Thought we could grab lunch or something.

You stared at the message for a long second, rereading it just to be sure it wasn’t some joke. But no—he’d actually asked. He’d really asked.

And you, being entirely unable to contain the flutter in your stomach, replied without hesitation:

You: Sounds good. What time?

It didn’t take long for him to send the reply, casual as ever:

@simjyn: 1 p.m. sharp. See you then.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to play it off to yourself. You were going to lunch.

With Jake Sim.

Just lunch.

Still, as you set your phone down, the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. It twisted, deepened, and tightened with something you couldn’t ignore.

This was different.

You weren’t just some girl caught up in the attention of a guy.

This time, it felt real.

The morning of the lunch, you barely made it through your classes. Every few minutes, your mind would wander back to the text. You tried to focus, to pay attention to the lecture, but all you could think about was what you were going to wear. You settled on something comfortable—nothing too dressed up, but something that still made you feel good. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you didn’t care.

When the bell rang, you gathered your things and tried to move quickly, but not too quickly. There was no way you were going to be that eager.

You got to the café a little early, scanning the tables, heart racing as you waited. And then, just as you began to think he might be late, you saw him walk through the door. Jake Sim, effortlessly cool in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly messy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it.

He glanced around and spotted you almost immediately. The moment your eyes met, he gave you that signature, crooked grin. The one that made your stomach flip.

“Hey,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from you. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

You shook your head, trying not to act too flustered. “No, not at all. I just got here.”

He gave a nonchalant nod, then leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the menu on the wall. “So, how’s the studying been going?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Lots of work, not a lot of results.”

Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “I can relate. Stats is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve had to rely on the internet a lot.”

You laughed, genuinely this time. “I can’t believe you’re just now admitting that you’re using Google.”

“Hey, it works,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Why make life harder?”

The conversation flowed easily after that, lighthearted banter about classes, the terrible food at the campus café, and random bits of gossip you both knew. Nothing serious. But somehow, it felt… different. He was relaxed around you. More relaxed than he’d ever seemed before, and it made you wonder if this was just another casual thing to him, or if something else was starting to shift.

Then, after a while, Jake’s tone softened. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. More… put together, you know?”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged slightly, his eyes still focused on you, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been pretty chill, but you’re, like, shining now. What’s up with that?”

Your heart skipped, a small nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting better at balancing everything.”

Jake leaned in just slightly, his gaze narrowing with interest. “I think it’s more than that. You’re definitely pulling it off.”

You stared at him for a second, not sure what to make of the compliment. He said it so casually, like it was just an observation. But it felt different, like he was actually noticing you—really noticing you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “Well, thanks. That’s… sweet.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, Jake broke the tension with a grin. “You know, I’ve got a theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “A theory?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he was about to say something way too casually. “I think you might just be trying to impress me.”

The words hit you like a bolt of electricity, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, blush, or run away. “What? No—no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but… I don’t think I need to impress you.”

Jake smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh? I’m not that impressive, huh?”

You bit your lip, not sure how to play this. “No, you are. I just—” You cut yourself off, suddenly realizing how much you’d revealed in a single sentence. But Jake didn’t press. He just chuckled, clearly having fun with this.

“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Your cheeks burned at the comment, but you quickly composed yourself. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything to impress you with. I’m just… me.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes locking with yours in that way that made your heart race. “That’s all I need to see.”

His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, you thought you might actually fall for the idea that this wasn’t just a game.

But then, just as quickly, he sat back, picked up his coffee, and took a casual sip like nothing had happened.

You blinked, trying to clear the confusion in your head. Was he playing with you? Or was this real?

Before you could ask, Jake grinned, his eyes flicking to your phone. “Hey, I’ll hit you up later. I’ve got to go catch up with Jay about something.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll see you later, then.” He stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table before flashing that same carefree smile. “Yeah. See you around.”

As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t figure out if he was just being Jake, or if something else was going on. But one thing was clear. He had your attention, and it felt like you were already in this deeper than you wanted to admit.

The next few days were a blur of moments that felt too good to be true. Every time you saw Jake, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. He was suddenly everywhere, his presence more noticeable, more… intentional.

It started small—an unexpected text, just a random meme or a “How’s your day going?” message. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends usually exchanged, not unless they were really close. But he made it feel effortless. Like it was normal. Like you were supposed to be texting each other.

When you sat together in class, Jake would lean a little closer, whispering jokes in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He’d brush your arm with his when reaching for a pen or hand you a piece of paper as if your hands weren’t already close enough to touch. And every time his gaze met yours, there was this flicker in his eyes—a hint of something that made you feel like you were both in on some secret that no one else knew.

“You’re wearing that sweater again,” he’d say, a grin pulling at his lips. “I like it.”

You’d laugh nervously, trying to act casual, but inside, your heart would race. Every time he called you out like that—whether it was for something you wore, the way your hair fell across your face, or the way you bit your lip when you were nervous—it felt like a compliment. A tease. And you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed.

But then, you’d notice the little things—like how his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual, how his smile reached his eyes, and how he seemed to make every conversation feel like an inside joke. You could feel it. The playful flirty energy was unmistakable.

One afternoon, you were walking across campus together when Jake leaned in and said, “You know, you look really cute when you’re thinking.”

Your mind went blank. “What?”

He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “When you get all quiet, just staring at nothing. You’re cute, I can’t help it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stop it.”

But his grin only widened. He didn’t stop. Not this time. His arm brushed yours as you walked, the skin-to-skin contact sending an electric jolt through your entire body. He kept close, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, just close enough that it started to mess with your head.

“Really,” he continued, “You should smile more. Makes everything better.”

You couldn’t think straight. He was being so Jake about it—teasing and flirty, but there was something in the way he said it, something deeper, like he was trying to get closer to you than just casual flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying it—he was turning up the charm.

The worst part? You liked it. You liked it too much.

But as much as you were getting drawn into the flirty energy with Jake, your friends noticed. Especially Yuna.

“Hey, you’re pulling away,” Yuna said one day as you walked with her across campus. “You’ve been hanging out with Jake a lot lately. Like… more than usual.”

You tried to brush it off, but the protective tone in her voice was obvious. “What are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, YN. I mean, I’ve seen the way he’s been acting with you lately. Don’t let him mess with your head. He’s—”

“Stop,” you snapped, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing.”

Yuna stopped walking, eyes wide as she stared at you. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said quietly. “Jake’s not exactly the type to take things seriously. You don’t want to end up hurt.”

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. But instead of feeling gratitude for her concern, you felt something else—a weird, unexpected irritation.

“I said stop,” you repeated, this time quieter but no less firm. “I don’t need you to remind me every five seconds that Jake’s a bad idea. I’m fine.”

Yuna opened her mouth to argue, but you held up your hand, cutting her off. “Really, Yuna, just drop it. I can handle myself.”

You could see the hurt flash across her face, but you didn’t care in the moment. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear about how Jake was playing you, how he was just a game to him, how everyone saw it coming except you. Because you didn’t want to see it. Not now. Not when things were just starting to feel… good.

You walked away from her then, your mind in a whirl. But even as you pushed away your concern for her words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just with Jake.

And as you thought about it more, as you thought about his flirty comments, the way he leaned in too close when you were talking, the way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t, you wondered if maybe Yuna was right after all.

But then again… why would you care?

After all, he was giving you attention. He was talking to you. It felt good. And sometimes, that was all that mattered, right?

Later that week, you found yourself standing in front of Jake’s apartment door, the cold metal of the handle pressing against your palm. You didn’t know exactly how you’d gotten here, but somewhere along the way, you’d ended up accepting his invitation to hang out. It wasn’t even that late. You’d just had a weird day with your friends, and now, you were here.

Jake’s voice came through the door before he even opened it. “Hey, come on in!”

The door swung open, and he flashed you that familiar grin that you still weren’t used to, despite how many times you’d seen it. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.

You didn’t even have it in you to give a smart remark back. Instead, you just walked in, kicking your shoes off as you stepped inside. The apartment was just as you remembered—lived in, a bit messy, but still comfortable. Jake had that careless confidence about him, the kind that made everything feel like it was in its rightful place, even when it wasn’t.

You plopped down on the couch, dropping your bag beside you, feeling suddenly exhausted. Your shoulders slumped, and Jake’s eyes followed the movement with a curious look before he sank onto the couch beside you, casually stretching his arms out along the backrest.

“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but his tone was light, trying to keep things casual, like everything was fine.

You took a deep breath, then sighed heavily, letting it all spill out in a way that surprised even you. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you said, your voice a little softer than you expected. “I mean, Yuna’s being… overprotective. She thinks you’re just playing with me. And I get it. She’s looking out for me. But it’s like, I can’t get her to understand that I’m fine. That I’m not… that stupid.”

You glanced at him for a moment, but he was just listening, his focus on you in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you you were overreacting. He just sat there, waiting for you to keep going.

“I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like one side wants to just… enjoy it, you know? You’re fun, you’re everything I thought you were. But then, there’s this other side, where I can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not looking for anything serious, and I’m just… falling for it. But I can’t stop myself,” you vented, your voice starting to tremble slightly.

Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, his gaze shifting to the floor for a brief moment before looking back at you.

“You’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said softly, the words coming out slower than usual. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself. Yuna’s just trying to protect you, but you can handle it. If you’re not ready to hear what she has to say, then you don’t have to. That’s your decision.”

There was something in his tone that was different—something almost… comforting. It wasn’t the usual cocky Jake. This was the version of him that actually cared.

You let out a shaky laugh, unsure of whether it was from nerves or relief. “I don’t know if I can handle this… It’s all just so confusing. I don’t even know if I’m reading everything wrong, or if I’m just imagining things.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in just slightly, the casual distance between you both shrinking. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, you know? You don’t have to be perfect. Not with me.”

And before you even realized it, you were leaning toward him. You didn’t even think about it, didn’t even second-guess it. Your body just reacted, your forehead resting against his shoulder, your exhaustion seeping out of you all at once.

Jake didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed still, his body tense for only a second before relaxing, letting you lean on him, letting you take the weight off for just a little while. His arm slowly reached up, resting gently on your back, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was only the sound of your breathing and the steady, comforting presence of Jake beside you. And in that space, you didn’t feel confused or vulnerable. You just felt… safe.

But Jake? Jake felt something he wasn’t prepared for.

His chest tightened as your weight shifted against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred in a way he wasn’t used to. The easy, flirtatious banter, the teasing touches, the smiles—it had always felt like a game, a light distraction. But now, with you leaning on him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had crossed some invisible line.

Jake wasn’t the type to let his guard down easily, especially not with someone like you—someone who was already too easy to get attached to. He’d always prided himself on being able to keep things light, keep things easy. But now, as you sat there with your breath steady against his chest, he felt something shift in his chest. It was too strong, too real, too unfamiliar.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. He knew he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close, this comfortable. But there was something about the way you were so trusting, so open, that made him rethink everything. Maybe he didn’t have to keep things light forever. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let things get a little deeper.

But Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t push forward. He just stayed there, letting the moment stretch out, wondering what it would mean if he allowed himself to feel whatever this was.

And for the first time in a long time, Jake Sim wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him.

The next day, you were walking with Minju and Kazuha when the conversation inevitably turned to the topic you were avoiding. Your friends had been whispering behind your back, but now, they were cornering you about it, and you knew exactly what was coming.

“YN,” Minju started, her voice soft but firm. “We know you’re close with Jake now, but Yuna’s just trying to look out for you. She cares about you.”

You tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted inside you, but it was impossible to shake off. You had felt bad about snapping at Yuna, but right now, you just weren’t ready to deal with it. Not when everything with Jake was still so… new, so uncertain.

“I know, okay?” you said, your voice slightly more defensive than you intended. You slowed your pace, unwilling to keep walking any longer. You could feel their concerned gazes on you. “But I don’t need to hear it right now. I don’t want to think about it.”

Kazuha frowned, tilting her head as she studied your face. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, YN,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. “We know you like him, but… Jake doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to relationships.”

You clenched your jaw. Not this again.

“I don’t need anyone else telling me what I already know.” Your words were sharp, but it was hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine. I’m not an idiot. I know the risks.” You paused, your voice quieter now. “I just… I’m not ready to have that conversation with anyone, especially Yuna. So, can we just drop it?”

Minju gave you a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “We’re just looking out for you, YN. It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about the fact that we’ve seen this kind of thing happen before.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, but… I’m not asking for advice right now. I just want to figure things out on my own. I don’t want to hear how this is going to end before it’s even really started.”

Kazuha took a step closer, her tone easing as she tried to lighten the mood. “We’re not trying to ruin the fun, YN. We just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

“I know you care. But please… not now,” you said, holding up a hand to stop any further discussion. You didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to let your friends down, but you just couldn’t handle it at that moment. You needed time to figure out where you stood with Jake before you could process any of their warnings.

Minju and Kazuha exchanged a glance, and even though they both wanted to say more, they stayed quiet, sensing that you weren’t in the right headspace.

“Okay,” Minju said finally, her voice softening. “But we’re here for you when you’re ready to talk. Just don’t shut us out completely, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and relief. “I won’t. I promise.”

The conversation ended there, but the lingering tension between you and your friends stayed in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were worried about you, and that made your chest tighten. But as much as you knew they were just trying to protect you, a part of you didn’t want to listen. You just wanted to figure things out on your own.

And for now, that meant staying focused on Jake and whatever this thing was between you two. Even if it meant pushing everything else aside, at least for a little while.

Jake wasn’t one to let his guard down easily, but over the past few days, something about you had begun to chip away at it. The easy flirtation, the playful teasing—it was all still there, but there was something more now. Something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how the little things seemed to matter more when you were around. The way you laughed at his jokes, even the ones that barely made sense. The way you smiled at him when no one else was watching. It felt too easy, too natural, like he’d always known how to make you smile. But lately, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt… real.

And that, in itself, was dangerous.

Jake found himself thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. His friends, Jay and Sunghoon, had made jokes about him getting “soft” or “whipped,” but it was hard to shake the feeling that they were right. He did feel something for you. Something he didn’t quite know how to name.

It wasn’t that you were different than the others—no, you were different in a way that made him uncomfortable. You made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Stability. Connection. More than just a fleeting encounter.

And it was killing him.

He didn’t know why he let himself get closer to you. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to understand him, like no matter how far he pushed, you’d still stick around. Or maybe it was the way you made him laugh even when he didn’t feel like smiling.

He found himself texting you more, asking if you wanted to hang out, even if he had no real reason to. He’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, noticing the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, the way you’d tilt your head when you were thinking. He even started texting you just to hear you laugh, just to see your name pop up on his screen. It was stupid. It was complicated. And, most of all, it made his stomach twist in ways that were both unsettling and addicting.

That night, things were different. You’d come over to his apartment again, this time without any of your usual defenses. You were quieter than usual, your eyes slightly more distant. He could tell something had been weighing on your mind, and despite all his usual nonchalance, he couldn’t help but want to comfort you.

You were sitting next to him on the couch, a slight distance between the two of you, but it felt like there was something pulling him toward you. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the way you looked tonight, or how vulnerable you seemed, or maybe it was just the growing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, no teasing, no playfulness. Just concern.

You met his gaze, your lips forming a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. Just… stuff with my friends. You know, the usual drama.”

Jake felt his heart sink at the emptiness in your voice, like something was off. But he didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he leaned closer to you, watching as you pulled your knees up to your chest, clearly lost in your thoughts. Without thinking, his hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly resting there.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter, gentler than before.

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to hear it. It’s just… complicated.”

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing along your shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m listening.”

You met his gaze then, and for a moment, something passed between you. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Jake felt it like a jolt of electricity between you. The weight of the silence was thick now, and the space between you felt too small.

Without thinking, Jake moved closer, his hand shifting from your shoulder to the side of your face, cupping it gently. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. You just stared at him, eyes wide, like you were waiting for him to make the next move.

Jake’s pulse quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been here before—flirtation, attraction, all of it. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn’t just about the thrill or the chase. It was about you.

You leaned toward him, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, like neither of you quite knew what was happening. But then, something clicked. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, and Jake’s entire world seemed to narrow down to that single moment.

It was everything. And it was nothing like he expected.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together as if you both were grounding each other.

Jake’s mind was racing, but his body felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t know what had just happened. Didn’t know if it was just a moment or if it meant something more. But for the first time in a long while, Jake Sim didn’t want to walk away from something. He didn’t want to pull back.

And he didn’t know how to explain it, but it scared him. More than he cared to admit.

The night of the party, you were already feeling a little on edge. Jake had invited you, and for the first time, it felt different than all the other times. There was a part of you that had been hesitating, unsure of how things were really between the two of you. His texts had been more frequent, his touches lingered a little longer, but you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You were getting ready when your phone buzzed—Jake had just texted to remind you about the party. He seemed excited about it, but something felt off in the way you were receiving it, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and had no idea what would happen if you jumped.

As you walked into the party later that night, the music thumping in the background, you tried to shake off your nerves. People were scattered around, some dancing, others talking in smaller groups. You spotted Jake almost immediately—his usual confident grin, that cocky air about him, but tonight there was something different. He waved when he saw you, and his eyes lit up as you approached.

But before you could make your way over to him, you overheard Jay and Sunghoon talking in the corner, standing just out of earshot from where you were. You froze, hearing your name mentioned, and despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the urge to listen.

“Yo, Jake is really into this girl, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, but you caught every word.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sunghoon replied, a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s been all over her. This bet’s got him acting like a different person.”

You felt your heart drop, but you didn’t move, too stunned to turn away. You tried to act casual, but everything inside you tensed. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your stomach sinking.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Jay asked, his voice skeptical. “I mean, it’s Jake we’re talking about. He doesn’t do ‘serious’—he’s just playing it for the win. He’ll probably drop her after.”

Sunghoon didn’t sound so sure, though. “I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It’s not like the other girls he’s been with. He actually seems invested.”

You wanted to walk away then. You wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear, but their words were like a knife twisting in your gut. The truth was, you weren’t stupid. You knew something was off. You had seen Jake be playful, you had felt the connection, but hearing his friends talk about it like it was a game… it made everything you had been feeling seem so much more meaningless.

“But it’s still a bet, right?” Jay said, the doubt lingering in his voice. “That’s what I don’t get. Is he really getting attached, or is he just playing the part? I’ve never seen him act like this with a girl. Not once.”

There was a long pause before Sunghoon replied, his voice lower now, more serious. “I don’t know. It’s Jake. Who can say for sure? But… I think he might actually care. Just a little bit.”

You didn’t stay to hear more. You didn’t need to. The damage had been done.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected this, not like this. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jake had been different with you—maybe more than he’d been with anyone else. The thought that this could be a game, a bet, was suddenly so clear. You couldn’t just ignore it anymore.

Your heart was pounding, but you forced your feet to move, walking over to where Jake was standing. You pasted on a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it felt harder than ever before.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. He smiled, his usual confident grin appearing on his face. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, teetering between what you thought was real and what you had just overheard.

“Hey, you made it!” Jake’s voice was light, happy, as if nothing was wrong. But something in his eyes made you pause.

Maybe it was time to figure out just how deep this bet really ran. And whether you were just part of it—or something more.

You stood there with a smile stretched across your face, but your heart was pounding so hard you swore Jake could hear it. His grin was easy, his eyes soft when they landed on you, like he had no idea you’d just overheard everything. Like you hadn’t just heard your name tossed around like a prize in a bet.

So, you smiled back.

You smiled even though your hands were trembling at your sides. You leaned in closer when he talked, nodded when he joked, even laughed—though it was a little too sharp, a little too forced. Because you weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. Not when everything finally made sense.

If this was a game to him, then fine. You’d play.

You could act too. You could flirt back, make him think he had you wrapped around his finger. You could give him exactly what he wanted—attention, affection, maybe even more—just to turn it around on him later. Just to prove you weren’t some stupid girl who didn’t know what she was getting into.

“I missed you,” Jake said, brushing your hair off your shoulder as he leaned closer to be heard over the music.

Your breath hitched slightly, just for a second. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, eyes wide and soft—just how he liked them. “Yeah?” you replied, your voice light, teasing, even though it shook at the end. “You’re not just saying that because I finally came out tonight?”

He laughed, completely taken with you. “No. I mean it.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe part of you still wanted to. That was the most pathetic part. But you just nodded, playing along like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t breaking and piecing itself back together all in the same breath.

Jake kept talking, leaning in like he couldn’t get enough of you, and all you could think about was the sound of Jay’s voice—He’s really into this bet. And then Sunghoon’s, Or maybe it’s real.

You hated how badly you wanted that second part to be true.

But you pushed the thoughts down, deeper than they’d ever gone, and played your part. You looked up at Jake like he was the only person in the room, like your voice hadn’t just betrayed you a few moments ago. Like you didn’t feel like the punchline of some cruel joke.

Because if he thought you were falling for him—then you were already winning.

You’d play along. Smile. Flirt. Fall—just enough to make him think he won.

But neither of you realized that somewhere along the way, Jake had already stopped pretending.

The party had started to blur around the edges—music thumping, people laughing, the usual chaos of a Friday night. But all Jake could focus on was you.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, half-listening to some conversation you clearly didn’t care about, your arms crossed and your head tilted like you were already somewhere else. Like maybe, you didn’t belong in this room full of noise and people pretending.

Jake found himself watching you a little too long. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to snap out of it, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away. The bet. The damn bet. It had been fun at first—a dumb challenge between him and Jay to see who could last longer in a relationship. A joke. Something to pass the time. But now, with you standing there looking like everything he didn’t know he needed, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slipping past the crowd.

“Hey,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against your arm. You turned, a bit surprised, blinking up at him.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice still a little unsteady. You were trying to keep the act up—Jake could tell—but he didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know that you had already heard the truth.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jake smiled, but something in his chest twisted.

“Cool. Just—go ahead to my car, I’ll be right there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front door.

You gave him a small nod and slipped away without another word, your steps a little faster than usual.

Jake exhaled, then turned around and made his way through the crowd until he found Jay and Sunghoon standing by the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh.

“Yo,” he called out, stepping up to them.

Jay glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. With YN.”

Jay smirked. “You’re really committed to this whole long-game thing, huh?”

But Jake didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them.

“I’m ending it,” he said plainly.

Jay blinked. “What?”

“The bet,” Jake said again, firmer this time. “I’m done.”

Sunghoon straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Jay. “Seriously?”

Jake shrugged, but his voice was tight. “Yeah. It’s not fun anymore. I’m not… playing.”

Jay frowned, the smirk fading. “You caught feelings.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Sunghoon just nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. “Good. About time.”

Jake didn’t wait for more. He turned and headed for the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself. He just knew one thing:

He didn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.

When Jake stepped out into the cool night air, his heart was beating fast—but not with excitement, not with adrenaline. It was something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t used to.

He spotted you leaning against his car, arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the night sky like you were looking for answers. You looked calm, but you weren’t. You were still hearing Jay’s voice in your head—He’s really into this bet—like it was playing on loop.

Jake walked up slowly, unlocking the car with a soft beep.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You didn’t look at him right away. “Took you long enough.”

He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jay wouldn’t shut up.”

You gave him a tight smile and slipped into the passenger seat, still playing your part.

The drive was quiet. The city lights passed in a blur outside the windows, but inside the car, the silence stretched. You were trying to act normal, casual, maybe even a little detached. But Jake felt it. The difference.

And maybe that’s what made him speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not looking away from the road.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push.

A few more minutes passed before your voice broke the silence again. “Why’d you invite me tonight?”

Jake glanced at you. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

You turned to him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just… like being around you.”

You held his gaze for a second longer than you should have, but your heart ached. Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

When the car pulled up in front of your place, you unbuckled your seatbelt, hand hovering near the door handle. But you didn’t open it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said quietly.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Then, “YN, wait.”

You looked over, and before you could ask what, he leaned in.

His hand gently found your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His touch was warm, careful. And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t cocky or playful like you might’ve expected. It was slow. Almost unsure. Like he was feeling everything for the first time.

And for just that moment, the noise in your head stopped.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

You just stared at each other—confused, shaken, caught somewhere between a lie and a feeling that had started to feel too real.

You opened the door quietly, stepping out. Before you closed it, you leaned in just a little, voice softer than it had been all night.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

He watched you go, the echo of the kiss still warm on his lips.

And for the first time, Jake Sim wasn’t sure who was playing who anymore.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.

Jake had kissed you.

And worse?

You had kissed him back.

You touched your lips absentmindedly, remembering the way he held you like you were fragile. Like you meant something. Like you were real.

But you weren’t falling for it. Not again.

No, you told yourself, turning over in bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You are not doing this.

He played you. He made you feel seen, chosen, like maybe—just maybe—you were special. All the soft smiles, the subtle touches, the “accidental” run-ins, the way he said your name like it was his favorite word. All of it had been leading to this. The kiss. The final act in his perfect little performance.

You gritted your teeth and swallowed the lump rising in your throat.

Never again.

You weren’t going to be that girl—the one who got strung along, who ignored every red flag, who made excuses just because he looked at her like the sun rose in her eyes. No. That girl was gone. You buried her the moment you heard Jay’s voice echo in your head: Jake is really into this bet.

This was all a game to him.

So now? You were going to play too.

You’d play the part of the clueless, lovesick girl. You’d give him exactly what he wanted—until you flipped the whole damn game back on him.

And when the time came, when he was fully convinced he had you wrapped around his finger, when he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore—you’d confront him. You’d look him dead in the eyes and tear the mask right off his face.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d watch his heart shatter the way yours almost did.

But the worst part—the most frustrating, infuriating, confusing part—was how damn convincing he was. The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he smiled like he meant it. The way he touched you like he cared.

He seemed so in love with you, it made your chest ache. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all a lie.

And you hated that part more than anything.

Because for one small, dangerous second… you wanted it to be real.

It was one of those rare moments when everything felt almost normal again. You’d been home alone for a few hours, scrolling through your phone, when the text from Jake popped up.

@simjyn: Hey, I was thinking of coming over. You free?”

You stared at the message for a moment, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You had been trying to keep things light with him—after everything that had happened, after hearing about the bet, you couldn’t let your guard down. But part of you still wanted to see him. Maybe part of you was still pretending things could be okay.

“Sure,” you replied, biting your lip. “I’m alone, so come on over.”

Not long after, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, and there he was, standing outside with that familiar smile. He wasn’t dressed any differently from the usual, but there was something in his eyes today. Something that made your heart skip in a way you hated.

Jake stepped inside, pulling you into a quick hug before you could even react. His hands lingered at your waist, warm and firm as he squeezed you close.

“You look good,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Thanks,” you muttered, stepping back to break the hold, though you could already feel your heartbeat accelerating.

You led him into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“So, what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.

He grinned up at you. “Just wanted to see you,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

You nodded, though the words felt too heavy in your chest to speak. He wasn’t here just for a visit—he’d been clingier lately, texting you more than usual, wanting to be around you all the time.

It should have felt nice, but it felt suffocating. Every time he smiled at you, kissed your cheek, leaned in close like he couldn’t get enough—it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been… kind of different lately,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words had more bite than you intended.

Jake furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to something more concerned. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, frustrated by how easily he could shift his tone. “You’re being… clingy. All the time.”

He tilted his head, eyes widening in confusion. “Clingy? I just like being around you. Is that a bad thing?”

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, the frustration bubbling over.

“Jake,” you began, voice trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not some… some toy for you to mess with. I’m not a prize, and I’m definitely not some girl to play along with your little bet anymore. If you’re really into me—then fine, but if this is just some fucking joke, then get the hell out.”

His face faltered for a second, just a flash of confusion before his gaze softened, his hands reaching for you. “I—what? No, YN, I’m not playing any game—”

You took a step back, hands trembling at your sides, the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment threatening to spill out.

“I know about the bet, Jake,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know exactly why you started all this. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m not going to be the one who falls for this, okay? Not when you don’t even know what you want.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Jake didn’t move, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in them—something that looked like regret.

But it was too late.

You turned your back on him, pacing toward the window, your heart pounding in your ears. “Just go,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t want you here. Not like this.”

“YN, wait—” he started, his voice softer, like he was trying to make you understand. “I’m not lying. I’m not playing games anymore. I—”

“Just go, Jake,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty that had never been there before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to soften. Not when he had already crossed the line.

With one last look, Jake slowly stood up, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, the weight of the moment sinking in with every step.

And just like that, he was gone.

You sank down onto the couch, your mind racing. You told yourself you wouldn’t trust him again, you reminded yourself. You wouldn’t fall for it.

But deep down, there was a part of you that still wished this wasn’t the end.

Still hoped, somehow, that Jake would come back. But you didn’t trust that part.

The next day at school was chaos.

You barely made it ten steps into the building before you heard your name—sharp, urgent.

“YN!”

You stopped, heart clenching as you turned to see Jake storming down the hall toward you. His eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of desperation and something dangerously close to hurt. You froze in place as he reached you, his voice already rising.

“You knew.” His words sliced through the tension in the air. “You knew this whole time and you were punishing me, weren’t you?”

Your breath caught.

Students slowed around you. Some stopped walking altogether. You could feel the shift—phones slipping out of pockets, eyes glinting with curiosity. You tried to step around him, but Jake moved with you.

“You acted like nothing was wrong,” he went on, voice getting louder. “You smiled, you kissed me, you looked at me like—like I meant something to you.”

You snapped. “Yeah? Well, welcome to my world.”

His expression twisted like you’d hit him.

“You were playing me from the start,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered with the weight of everything. “I heard Jay. I heard everything. And I kept going, Jake. I kept smiling, kept letting you in, because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”

He blinked like he couldn’t process it, like he hadn’t thought you’d actually know.

“You—” He shook his head. “You kissed me back.”

“You made me believe it was real.”

“I didn’t fake any of it!” he fired back, stepping closer. “You think this is just about a bet now? You think I haven’t lost sleep over this—over you?”

The hallway was dead silent except for your voices. Students were openly filming now, whispering like wildfire spreading through the air.

“Jake Sim and YN?”

“She’s actually yelling at him.”

“I heard it was a bet. Is that true?”

You glanced at them, your fists clenching at your sides, your chest rising and falling fast.

“Jake Sim chasing someone like her?” someone murmured nearby. It stung. It always did.

You turned back to Jake. “You had your fun, right? You got what you wanted. Just leave it alone.”

But Jake didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

“I didn’t fall for you because of a bet,” he said quietly, voice raw. “But I might’ve lost you because of it.”

That did something to your chest. You hated it.

You hated him for saying the one thing you weren’t ready to hear.

Without another word, you turned and walked away—past the stares, past the whispers, past Jake.

And for once, you didn’t look back.

The next day, you didn’t expect to run into Jay—especially not when you were still raw, still reeling, still angry. But there he was, leaning against the lockers near your homeroom, like he’d been waiting.

The second he saw you, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up, his expression unreadable.

“Why did you chew him out like that?” he asked, no greeting, no hesitation. His voice wasn’t angry, just confused—tired, maybe. “In front of everyone?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

Jay crossed his arms. “Yeah. Because the guy’s been a mess since yesterday. You acted like he’d—what, humiliated you? Like he was still playing you or something.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “The audacity to ask that when this whole thing started as some game between you and him.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “Game?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” you snapped. “I heard you and Sunghoon at the party. You literally said he was invested in the bet. What else was I supposed to think? That everything he said and did was real?”

Jay went quiet for a second, then shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Wait—wait,” he said slowly. “You thought the bet was still on?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Jay exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of it all had just hit him. “YN… Jake called it off. He called it off way before he asked you out. He told us it didn’t feel right anymore. That you weren’t just some challenge or a joke—he wanted something real.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“No, he didn’t,” you muttered, barely audible.

“He did,” Jay said. “I swear on everything. He told us it stopped being about the bet a long time ago. That he wanted to be with you for real, no games. And honestly… we could all tell. He wasn’t faking anything.”

You looked away, suddenly cold all over. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word. Had it all been real? Had he actually cared?

The guilt hit like a truck.

You chewed him out in front of everyone. You looked him in the eye and threw his feelings back at him because you thought he was still playing. Because you were scared.

Jay’s voice was quieter now. “He was falling for you, YN. He still is. But after yesterday… I don’t know if he’ll try again.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You just stood there, heart cracked open, with nothing to say and everything to feel.

You didn’t go to class that morning.

Instead, you found yourself sitting alone behind the school gym, knees pulled to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Everything felt like it was collapsing in slow motion. You were the one who was supposed to have control now. You were the one playing him—so why did it feel like you were the one who lost?

He ended the bet.

He wanted something real.

And you… you’d shoved it all back in his face, right in front of everyone. You humiliated him for something he had already walked away from—because of you.

The worst part? He hadn’t even defended himself.

He just stood there, took it, because maybe he thought he deserved it. Or maybe… because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

You remembered the look in his eyes—the way they didn’t hold that smug glint anymore, the way they softened when he looked at you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to break.

And you had shattered it first.

You rested your forehead on your knees, eyes burning. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him. Promised you’d get even. And maybe you had.

But it didn’t feel like winning.

It felt like you’d pushed away the one person who had tried—really tried—to love you, in the only way he knew how.

Maybe he messed up. Maybe you both did.

But somewhere between the lies, the games, and the dares, something real had bloomed. And now?

Now it was buried under everything unsaid.

But feelings don’t just disappear. Not like that.

So maybe… maybe this wasn’t the end.

Maybe it was the part right before you decided what kind of story this was really going to be.

here to be added to permanent tag list PART TWO OUT NOW