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guess what? my actuall name is anna!! I wanted to use saki as my name online cuz i honestly liked it, but i just wanted to use anna cuz the last username was long asf
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
synopsis. jake is hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with his girlfriend. coming home after a long day of practice to find her asleep waiting for him only makes him realize one thing: he’ll never get tired of being loved by her—and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving her right back.
pairings. downbad!bf!jake x gf!reader
cw. tooth rotting fluff, jake is extremely downbad and head over heels inlove with reader like stupidly ^_^
✿𓈒ॱ⬭ᩙ malia’s note. I miss my future bf. n I wish it was downbad obsessed jake. :/
YOUR sweet boyfriend jake had come to three conclusions after dating you for almost two years. the first was that he loved you. the second was that he loved you very much. and the third was that perhaps loving you had made him a little stupid.
he doesn’t think it’s his fault, really.
how was he supposed to act normal when his girlfriend existed?
he couldn’t.
it was scientifically impossible to him.
his best friend, sunghoon, had once told him that the way he talked about you was concerning. even more, it got to a point that riki once threatened to throw jake's phone into the han river if he saw another picture of you as his lockscreen.
which was unfair, because ni-ki simply didn’t understand art when he saw it.
everyone was simply jealous that he had the prettiest girlfriend in the world.
you were currently occupying every single wallpaper on his phone. his notes app was filled with things you liked that you’d casually mentioned six months ago: he was simply a man in love.
a very, very in love man.
but the thing about jake was that he never realized he was being sweet.
remembering how you take your coffee wasn’t sweet, it was common sense. carrying hair ties in his bag because you always lose yours wasn’t sweet either.
that’s just what boyfriends do, don’t they?
at least, that’s what he’d always say whenever you’d point it out.
today wasn’t much different.
practice had ended much later than expected and although jake had told you repeatedly not to wait for him, he should’ve known better than to think you’d actually listen.
you’d sent him a text three hours ago saying:
i’ll wait for my handsome boyfriend!!
i stole your hoodie btw.
ok i miss you :(
his favorite notifications were always the ones from you. unlocking the door to his apartment quietly, jake smiled softly at the sight before him.
there you were, curled up comfortably on the couch wearing his hoodie that looked far too big on you. your laptop remained abandoned beside you alongside a half-finished assignment and two empty snack wrappers.
you’d fallen asleep waiting for him. his expression softened almost immediately.
god.
you were so pretty.
he wondered if people would judge him if he cried at the sheer sight of his adorable girlfriend sleeping on his couch.
probably. he didn't care at all though.
placing his bag down quietly beside the door, he crouched down beside the couch to move a strand of hair away from your face. you’d waited all this time just to see him.
that thought alone made his heart feel impossibly warm. sometimes, jake wonders what he ever did to deserve loving someone as wonderful as you.
and perhaps more importantly, what he’d done to deserve being loved by you too.
you shifted slightly in your sleep, reaching instinctively for his hand the moment your fingers brushed against his.
“…jake?” you whispered sleepily, eyes barely opening.
“go back to sleep, pretty girl.”
“you’re home.”
he laughed quietly at the smile immediately appearing on your face despite being half asleep.
“i am.”
“I missed you.” you let out quietly.
three simple words.
three words that somehow still managed to make his heart skip a beat after all this time.
“i missed you more, pretty.”
“that’s impossible.”
“is it?” he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’ve been missing you since breakfast.” jake chuckled, his hand meeting your face as he cupped your cheek. you giggled sleepily at his response.
you laughed quietly as he sat down beside you, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist while you buried your head against his shoulder.
it was moments like these that made him realize he’d choose this life over and over again if he could.
he took a second to just look at your face, how could anyone be this beautiful? he thought to himself, "my beautiful girl..." he muttered under his breath, his thumb gently stroking your face.
coming home to you. holding you after long days. watching you fall asleep in his arms while rambling about your day.
“did you eat?” you suddenly asked, looking up at him worriedly despite being half asleep yourself.
“i did.”
“really?”
“you know... 'cuz half a sandwich counts, right?”
you sat up immediately.
“SIM JAKE.”
“MY BABY I’M SORRY.”
he smiled helplessly as you began lecturing him about proper eating habits for what was probably the hundredth time this month. he wasn’t listening particularly well, admittedly.
mostly because he was busy thinking about how pretty you looked when you cared about him.
perhaps he was concerning. because if loving you this much was concerning, then he had absolutely no intentions of getting better.
after all, you were his favorite person in the world. and jake thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.
every single day.
thank you for reading cutie. 🧁I want a bf like this ts aint fair jake pls come into my life bai :/
IT’S JUST A SHAME, THAT’S ALL — THROUGH THE LENS FROM OUTSIDE
➪ pairing : ot5 cortis x 6th member reader
➪ summary : a continuation to part one , part two , and part three. life's been different without you but what a loss is to a family, it's a new job for someone else.
➪ other notes : if the last part drove me insane, this one demolished me. i hope you guys like it because i really did try my best. creds to @/norvixa6 on tiktok for the analog horror imagery. also this is barely edited it's like 4 am but i tried my very best to check any typos.
“how has it been two months already and still the same information since the first week ?!” your mother screams, hands slamming down on the table. “ma’am please calm down,” officer park tries to deescalate the situation. “no, my daughter went missing two months ago and all any of you do is twiddlƒe with your thumbs instead of looking for her !” your mom cries. “we are doing everything in our power to find y/n, not a day goes by when we aren’t.”
tears start running down your mom’s face, there hasn’t been a single day where she’s had a moment in peace. her whole life halted by your disappearance. “i promise you, we will find y/n,” officer park gently pats your mom on the back, handing her a box of tissues. “we have a new detective working on the case, we are not giving up.” from a few feet away, your brother watches in silence. he’s grown used to how your mom constantly cries.
the car ride home is uncomfortably silent, your brother’s become the chauffeur of the family. your mom hasn’t been able to drive since you disappeared. home isn’t any louder. your shoes are still by the door, slowly collecting dust. your jacket still hangs over a chair, one your mom forgot to move when you forgot it after your last visit. now no one moves anything, how can they ? “mom go lie down for a bit, dinner is on me,” he says, mimicking the same soft tone she used on both of you as children.
“how about we get thai takeout instead ?” she suggests, a lump forms in your brother’s throat. “…yeah of course, whatever you want, i’ll let you know when it gets here,” he forces a smile, nodding. your mom makes her way upstairs before calling out, “oh and chul, if there’s anything new, let me know please.” chul nods, “yeah i will.” but he knows deep inside that there won’t be any updates, it’s just a waiting game with no prize to win.
chul spends most of his days like he did before everything. he attends his classes at his university, works as a cashier afterwards, and goes home to sleep. nothing about his routine has changed yet it feels 10 times more tiring. he can distract himself from thoughts about you during the day but as soon as night falls, everything hits him like a truck. he doesn’t cry, but he’s lucky if he gets three hours of sleep. he hates himself for just thinking of this but a part of him has grown to resent you.
not because you ran away, no that would have been easier because at least you would have told someone. but what is he supposed to think when you suddenly disappear ? he knows what the company said, but he doesn’t care. he knows you, he knows his sister, you would’ve never left. though he knows that making a claim against a multimillionaire company with no proof would only result in loss, financial and emotional.
and with the way finances are going, he’d rather not start anything. almost immediately after you disappeared, the company cut off any source of income, claiming that you had breached the contract. royalties you had been receiving for years even before debut were all cut off. with a mix of mom’s medicine, her medical bills, mortgage, groceries, and miscellaneous bills, chul tried his best to pick up as many shifts as possible.
not because they’re about to go completely broke, but because life was starting to become less comfortable. it’s weird to think that the youngest person in the family was the one responsible for most finances. when mom stopped working after her chronic pain became worse, you told her not to worry about it, that you’d take care of it. now instead of just worrying about his tuition payments, he has to make sure expenses don’t fall through the roof.
one night, chul stares at your bedroom door before opening it. he winces at the creak, remembering how you’d complain that he never oiled the hinges. he walks in, closing the door behind him. he doesn’t bother turning on the light, just sits on the floor next to your bed, letting his back feel the plushness against your mattress. even though you hadn’t lived at home in a long time, your room still looks the same as it did years ago.
the only difference now is that you’re not coming home at all. his hands dig into his hoodie pocket, revealing three things. nicotine gum, nicotine patches, and cigarettes. before you even debuted, chul had the habit of smoking cigarettes on a weekly basis. it helped with his stress as much as he didn’t want to admit he was addicted to it. you’d immediately cover your nose when he walked by, harshly scolding him. “you’re so disgusting chul,” he’d just roll his eyes, “well it’s a good thing you’re not the one doing it huh ?”
it would always end in an argument, until one day when he stopped altogether. “you know, second hand smoking is also bad, how am i supposed to sing if i’m breathing in your smoke ?” chul raised his eyebrows in confusion. “i smoke with the window open, what the hell are you talking about ?” “that doesn’t matter, that shit penetrates the walls !” you stomped your foot in frustration. “you won’t even live here in a month, you’re moving to the dorms.”
“okay then if it’s only a few weeks until i leave, quit for now and then you can continue ruining your lungs,” you crossed your arms. “are you worried about your lungs or mine ? make up your mind.” “i’m worried about all of us ! you know mommy can’t be breathing it in either,” you stated, flailing your arms. chul hummed, you made a good argument. so he finally made the decision to go cold turkey.
“okay, just until you leave, i’ll stop smoking and i promise that any future smoking will be done outside, how does that sound ?” chul smooshes his cigarette into his ash tray. you blink at him before smiling brightly, “really ?!” chul rolled his eyes, “yes really.” you immediately wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “i knew you loved me !” your voice muffled against his shirt. “don’t get ahead of yourself,” he awkwardly patted your back.
it’s been almost three years since that conversation and since then, chul hadn’t smoked. the first two weeks without smoking were absolute hell, just the aspect of not having anything to wind down after a hard long day sent cold shivers down his spine. yet, he kept his promise, doing everything to fill that void. his oral fixation was satisfied when he shoved a chapstick between his lips, a little gross but it sufficed.
after you left, he challenged himself to try one more month of not smoking, just to prove to himself and to you that he wasn’t addicted. eventually that challenge became his lifestyle, clean lungs and no lingering smoke smell on his clothes. but now chul looks down at the floor in front of him. “fuck,” he curses to himself, biting his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. he just needs something real, anything to make that ache go away.
he picks up the gum packet, reading the instructions on the back, effective in 10-15 minutes. “who the hell waits that long ?” he drops them on the floor again before grabbing the patches, turning it over, effective in 2-4 hours. “are these fuckers trying to kill me or something ?” he scoffs, throwing them on the floor, this time with more force. he sighs, turning his gaze to the pack of cigarettes. he can’t, he can’t just give it all up right now…but he needs it.
“just one,” a wobbly smile forms on his face, shaky hands ripping off the plastic wrapping. then- BUZZZZ. “shit,” chul jolts, dropping the pack. he reaches again into his pocket, now pulling out his phone. it’s an unknown number listed under the police department. he immediately answers, “hello ?” an unfamiliar voice speaks, “good evening, is this chul l/n ?” chul sits up straight, reaching for the nicotine gum. “yes, this is him.”
“my name is detective kang hyeok-jin, i was assigned to your sister’s case about a week ago,” detective kang introduces himself. “i know it can be very frustrating and repetitive to answer the same questions but i’d like to get some details about y/n so i can understand her disappearance as best as i can.” chul shoves three nicotine gums into his mouth, face contorting in disgust. “yeah of course, i’ll answer anything if it helps you guys find my sister.”
across town, a sleep deprived hyeok-jin asks chul several questions. he writes them down in messy handwriting, just enough for him to understand. “thank you mr. l/n, this was very helpful. i’ll dedicate myself to finding your sister,” hyeok-jin grips the phone tighter. “you’re not the first one to say that…but i hope that you’ll actually help,” chul sighs into the phone, obviously tired out by these two past months.
“i’m sorry to hear that, i know it hasn’t been easy for your family, i’ll do everything i can to get her back,” hyeok-jin sets his pen down. a small pause comes from the other line “yeah…thank you for calling anyway.” even though they aren’t face to face, hyeok-jin can sense the hesitation and defeat in chul’s voice. “i’ll let you rest then, i’ll keep you updated on anything and everything, please save my number into your phone, and have a goodnight.”
“alright, thank you, goodnight,” without another beat, the line is cut. hyeok-jin lays his phone face flat onto his desk, rubbing his hands over his face. he’s been looking over this case for only a week and he’s beyond confused. everything that should be there is there but your case file is small to say the least. the longest document is the company’s statement and proof that you breached your contract and could even be sued.
everything else is just…there. “hey boy, you should head home, you’ve been here two hours overtime,” lieutenant baek sun-woo calls out to him. “i’ll go home soon ! i was just reviewing the case you gave me,” hyeok-jin gives his supervisor a tired smile. “don’t you have a wife and a kid to get home to ?” the lieutenant asks. “i actually don’t have a girlfriend sir,” that statement is immediately welcomed with an up and down stare, “well that explains a lot.”
hyeok-jin tilts his head in confusion, but doesn’t have enough time to reply before lieutenant baek bids his goodbye. “go home before any chance of having a girlfriend disappears completely.” hyeok-jin forces out a laugh, “yes sir !” a few minutes later, the office falls completely silent, the only sound coming from the light over his head. hyeok-jin looks back down at your case, furrowing his eyebrows. missing person report. photos of the cctv footage. company statement. lack of witness statements.
the more he thinks, the more he’s confused. he flips through the interviews of different people you were close with, your family, your members, even workers from your favorite stores. they all said the same thing : you would have never left out of your own will. except for one person. when asked by the police if it seems likely that you’d run away, edwards martin stated “i would like to say no but y/n has always been a complicated person, so i’m unsure.”
hyeok-jin leans back in his chair, it would’ve made sense if everyone or most people had the same idea of you but to only have one person, specifically the last person that saw you ? “hey you’re not heading out yet ?” a familiar voice grabs his attention, it’s officer kim. “i’m about to leave, was just looking over some things,” he smiles at her. “good, don’t overwork yourself,” she nods, walking closer to him. “actually since you’re here, were you at the scene during the investigation with that one idol ?” he asks, pushing the case file to his friend.
“no, i was off that day but i did hear some things about it, why ?” she flips through it. “it just seems weird, almost like it wasn’t…thoroughly investigated, everything is so short,” he hesitates on his words, not wanting to overstep a line. “i can’t say much about it honestly, missing person cases are always weird to handle especially when her company is contradicting it as a whole,” officer kim frowns. “yeah…i’ll look more into that, thanks though,” hyeok-jin sighs, grabbing the file from her.
“also, shouldn’t you also be going home too ?” he asks officer kim. “normally yes but they changed me to night shift, just until one of the guys gets back from paternity leave,” she shakes her head. “oh i see, well make sure to stock up on energy drinks and coffee,” he cracks a joke making officer kim snort. “will do, thanks, now go home and sleep before your brain gives out,” she clears her throat, giving him a small wave. “thanks, have a good shift !” once left alone again, hyeok-jin exhales. he’s tired and confused but he does know something, tomorrow’s a new day.
when chul wakes up, he groans in pain. how did you even sleep on your bed every night when you were little if it’s harder than a rock ?! your unicorn plushie is directly under his neck, your lion plushie is tucked between his armpit. he sits up, rubbing his eyes. on your nightstand is his nicotine products, unopened patches, opened gums, and half unwrapped cigarettes. he looks around your room now that the sun is peeking beyond the curtains. it almost makes him sick, he hates being here during the day where he can see the remnants of your memory as a child.
almost immediately, he fixes your bed before grabbing his things and leaving the room. he thinks he’ll die if he stays in there for another minute. when he goes downstairs, he sees mom, buttoning up her bright pink vest. “mom you’re already leaving ?” he asks, grabbing her purse. “early bird gets the worm honey,” she smiles, looking at him. “seeing you go out like this every day worries me,” chul expresses his discomfort.
“not knowing where your sister is worries me,” she ends his argument. “please be safe then, and don’t stand or walk for too long,” hyeok-jin gives the older woman a tight hug. “walking is good for me, you know that,” she shrugs him off, walking to the front door. mom’s been avoidant lately, less affectionate and more sad, not on purpose but because her mind is clouded by worrying about you. he wishes everything could be normal again.
when lieutenant baek invites hyeok-jin out for lunch, he almost refused. it was weird, not in a suspicious way but he had never had a supervisor buy him lunch. yet here he is, stuffing his mouth with meat. “so hyeok-jin, you came from jeju island right ?” lieutenant baek asks him. hyeok-jin nods, swallowing his food. “how come you came to seoul ? i’d die to live on jeju,” the lieutenant chuckles, sipping a bit of his soup.
“i heard seoul is a good place for detectives to grow,” he replies, awkwardly smiling. “really ? i heard there was a lot of crime there,” he shakes his head at his superior’s words. “no, we just have a lot of tourists and most of them are respectful but there’s a handful that just ruin it for everyone. and even then a lot of the crimes are straight forward, a little burglary here, a little fight there, it’s all very simple,” he sighs.
“no wonder you’re going all in for this missing girl case,” the older man chuckles. hyeok-jin places his chopsticks down, wiping his mouth with a napkin “actually i wanted to talk to you about that.” the lieutenant looks at him, eyebrow raised. “why…did you put me on y/n l/n’s case ? i appreciate it of course, it’s an honor but it’s a big case for a newcomer no ?” he asks, looking off to the side. lieutenant baek hesitates to answer before exhaling.
“it’s a big case but it’s also a dead end.” hyeok-jin’s puzzled by his answer. “what do you mean ?” “you know how you had simple cases in jeju ? it’s similar to this one…whether her family and friends want to admit it or not, the girl probably ran away. there’s no proof otherwise and it’d be hard for her company to fake something like that so boldly.” lieutenant baek explains his thinking, it’s clear by now that he’s set on this idea.
hyeok-jin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what to say. “when you have your children, you’ll understand that this is the type of things teenagers do when they’re pent up,” his superior attempts to reassure him. “it doesn’t make sense though-” “please don’t think too much about it kid, digging into it will only waste your time.” hyeok-jin shuts his mouth, beginning to become irritated.
“besides let’s say worst case scenario, the company was involved since apparently that’s folks favorite theory, she’s probably living a good life down low. i mean, think about it, people do a lot for money, money talks and money runs the world.” the older man waves off the situation. instead of arguing and possibly losing his job, hyeok-jin calms himself down “if you say so…”
chul’s day was uneventful to say the least, the same long and boring routine. school and work, nothing to celebrate but nothing to complain about. that is until he had to pick up mom’s medicine. he walked in and out of the pharmacy three separate times, waiting for his check for that week to hit his bank account. when it finally does, he’s only left with a few thousand won afterwards, even with the coupon the pharmacist offered.
as fucked up as it sounds, he’s glad that only a few people know that he’s your brother. he can’t imagine the looks of pity and people whispering under their breath “poor guy, it must suck being him” or even “wow he’s an idol’s brother but he could barely afford medicine.” he’d probably die out of the embarrassment. when he reaches home, the sun’s already gone down.
he’s about to reach for his keys, but having the habit of checking if the door is unlocked gets to him first. surprisingly, it’s open. chul furrows his eyebrows, did mom forget to lock it ? he quietly steps inside, just in case something’s happening. “i wouldn’t possibly be able to accept that,” chul hears mom talking in the kitchen. “it’s really okay don’t worry, you’re basically my second mom,” oh it’s martin.
chul stands outside of the kitchen, listening quietly to the conversation. “y/n isn’t here but i know she would have wanted me to help,” martin tries to persuade mom on something. “but it’s so much money…” mom sighs. “exactly, and i’m guessing chul’s been paying for your medicine, so think about it like this : i’m not only helping you, i’m also helping him,” so that’s what this is about, mom’s medicine.
chul remembers the first time you met martin. it was during a hot summer day in august, both of you were sweaty in boiling heat. martin had approached you, offering to push you on the swing after seeing you fail to get momentum which later led into a game of tag. it was cute and wholesome. what chul didn’t expect was for this to blossom into a friendship, the kind every kid desires to have.
as years passed and both of you grew, martin still chased after you, almost like a person running alongside a butterfly. wherever you went, martin soon followed. he liked martin for the most part, especially because you also never had a bad thing to say about him. when chul found out you’d be in the same group, he was relieved you’d have a best friend beside you and also someone he trusts fully.
chul steps back when he hears footsteps approach the doorway. martin is startled back when he sees chul, “you scared me sorry,” he laughs, a smile forming on his face. “nice to see you too,” chul nods, leading him to the front door. “oh by the way,” chul stops martin just as he’s about to leave. “the police assigned a new detective to y/n’s case.” martin doesn’t turn around, he pauses for a second.
“is that so ?” he asks in a low voice. “yeah,” “that’s good,” martin nods, “let me know if they say anything new.” chul hums, “i will don’t worry, goodnight martin,” with nothing more to say, martin opens the front door and leaves. chul doesn’t blame martin for acting weird, everyone handles bad situations differently. he knows it’s been hard on martin, he can only hope the members are all united on this.
it’s been a month since lieutenant baek took hyeok-jin for lunch. over three months since you’ve been gone. hyeok-jin knows that his lieutenant told him not to dig around but can he just stay still ? unfortunately however, hybe and bighit have not cooperated whatsoever. not outright refusing, rather just not responding at all. phone calls to higher ups in the company lead to an hour wait only for the call to suddenly hang up.
he doesn’t have any luck getting paperwork from them either despite the multiple attempts of contact. public records were extremely shortened and difficult to find. it’s just been a full month of frustration and lack of response. he crumbles up a piece of paper, throwing it into the trash can next to his desk. “why even have a phone number if no one fucking answers,” he grumbles to himself. he leans his head against his hands, letting out an exasperated sigh.
hyeok-jin thinks of the lunch with his lieutenant, trying to remember every word from that conversation. he doesn’t think lieutenant baek meant any harm, but the conversation still bothered him. he thinks of something the lieutenant said at the end of their conversation. “money talks.” he doesn’t have anything else to go off of, just hopes and dreams. his fingers tap against his desk, eyes landing on his computer.
he remembers something his professor said years ago “if you can’t follow people, follow the money.” so he leans forward, clicking through different government sites. “if no one wants to talk to me or answer my questions, i guess i’ll ask the numbers.” it’s his very last hunch, otherwise he’d be just like the past detectives that were handed this case. he can’t give up this easily without checking every end of a clue, he promised your brother that he’d try his best.
chul’s morning started off extremely rough. he was already late for his class, one which he had a test for. mom screamed at him for no reason other than the fact that it’s officially been three months since you went missing. he doesn’t blame her or argue back, he just wishes that she could see he’s also struggling just as much as she is. “i’m sorry mom,” he apologizes even though he has no reason to.
mom cries, “just go to school, i want to be alone,” she sniffles. “okay, i love you,” he leaves before she can say anything else. he runs the fastest he can to his university, missing the first half of his class. he apologizes to the professor, earning a harsh scolding. “i’m so sorry, can i still do the exam please ?” “it’s your time, not mine,” she rolls her eyes, handing him a copy of the test and a scantron. he exhales in relief, sitting down at his seat. he takes a deep breath, putting his pencil to the paper.
grades are put into the system almost as soon as class ends. chul fails the test horribly. not barely, horribly. he got a 15 on it, the worst he’s ever done on anything. it’s so bad he even agrees to have lunch with his friends, anything to try and cheer himself up. but all his friends seem to ask him about is how his family is doing. before you debuted, he had commented to his friends that his little sister was going to be in a kpop group, a mistake he now realizes.
“we’re fine,” chul bites into his sandwich, one his friend had bought him a few minutes ago. “bro if you ever need our help, we’re here for you,” his friend with glasses says as the others nod. “have you, you know, been online lately ?” his other friend with dyed hair asks, earning a shove from chul’s favorite gym bro. “i don’t like reading any of that shit, just jobless nobodies saying shit about my sister,” chul shakes his head.
“that’s good man, i seen a lot of shit a-and i don’t think your sister was like that but like i don’t know people be talking,” dyed hair rambles on. chul ignores him, not wanting to continue talking about you. “do you think talking about her will do you some good ?” glasses asks in a softer tone. “if he doesn’t want to talk about her then let’s not force him,” gym bro comes to chul’s defense. chul gives him a small smile before looking back at his sandwich.
quiet fills the table until dyed hair breaks it with a scoff. “i’m sorry but i have to talk about it, your mom’s out there protesting that nothing is being done for your missing sister but you don’t want to talk about it ? instead of defending her ? do you know what people are saying about her ? that she ran away, not to mention they’re also saying she was the yoko ono of the group-” chul stands up, chair scraping against the floor.
“shut your fucking mouth.” chul warns his friend, the others shocked by his sudden demeanor. “just because your girlfriend goes out and fucks a new guy every weekend doesn’t mean my sister was like that. what do you want me to say huh ? oh i think my sister got kidnapped ! oh i think my sister might have been trafficked ! oh i think my sister might be dead ! it’s been three fucking months and i know nothing, she’s all i think about !” chul’s voice breaks at the end.
“and from what it seems, you don’t know anything about me, let alone my sister so the next time you say anything about her, i’ll beat you to a pulp,” chul warned dyed hair before grabbing his backpack and leaving the cafeteria. no one calls out for him or chases to stop him, not that he was expecting that to begin with. he soon leaves campus, jittery and overwhelmed. chul can feel tears brim his eyes, vision becoming blurry.
as soon as he’s off school grounds, he dumps his backpack out. pencils, notebooks, folders, even his laptop falling onto concrete ground. he frantically reaches his hand into his bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. he’s hyperventilating at this point, on the brink of having a panic attack. fuck being sober, fuck anything and everything. he puts the cigarette between his lips, lighter shaking in his hand as he lights it.
the first drag burns his lungs, almost like the first time he smoked. in 10 seconds, his heart rate and breathing slow down. but even when chul releases the smoke from his mouth, the ache in his soul and tears in his eyes don’t disappear, it only makes things worse. he thinks of you and how angry you would be at him right now. he reaches for his phone, trembling fingers scrolling through his contacts, pressing to call.
“martin,” chul’s voice is wobbly as the younger boy answers the phone almost immediately. “hey what’s wrong ?” martin asks, hearing quiet sniffling on the other hand. “i know that you might be busy but i really need to talk to you,” chul cries into the phone. “i’m on break, i have to go back soon but what happened ?” “today’s y/n’s three months since she went missing and everyone’s just talking about her like she’s gone forever and i don’t know what to do anymore, i just fucking smoked after quitting for three years,” he sobs, cigarette burning between his fingers.
“and you of all people know y/n wouldn’t have ran away,” he continues tethering between anger and heartbreak. when chul allows martin to talk, martin is silent to the point where chul think the call ended. “hello ?” “i’m sorry chul, i…i can’t say much, i…” chul doesn’t know why martin is responding so weirdly. “what are you saying ?” “i-i’m saying that i don’t know, everything’s just so…confusing- i’m sorry i have to go, i need to get back to practice,” martin cuts the conversation short.
“what ?” chul asks, softly hiccuping. “i put in the money for your mom’s medication, i’m sorry i can’t say anymore, bye,” before chul can respond, martin hangs up. chul looks down at his phone, “thanks anyway,” he mumbles to himself, tears running down his face. this isn’t the boy you talked so positively about. this isn’t the boy he’s known since martin was 12. chul can’t recognize martin anymore, the real martin would have fought for you.
that night, hyeok-jin stares at the papers in front of him, heart thumping against his ribs. the numbers didn’t add up. mixing or falsified tax records. training expenses that never existed or seemed exaggerated. payments to shell companies. contracts rewritten after signatures had been made. he was right, there was more than what meets the eyes, there’s years of fraud. how has no one noticed this ? …did they ever notice this ? his discovery is soon cut short when he hears running footsteps down the hall.
he snaps his head to the side, seeing multiple officers dashing. “detective kang !” officer kim sprints into the room. “you need to come with us right now,” she looks completely out of breath. “what happened, what’s going on ?!” his stomach drops as he gets up from his seat. “one of the cortis members…he had an accident,” she struggles to catch her breath. hyeok-jin’s confused, what does that have to do with him ?
“i mean is he okay ? but i’m not a cop so why do i-” “that’s not the reason why you have to come along,” she interrupts him. “we found y/n.” hyeok-jin freezes, eyes widening, “found ?” his friend nods. so many thoughts cross his mind yet he can only ask one question. “is she alive ?” his voice comes out quieter than intended. officer kim looks at him, her parted lips let out an exhale before pressing into a thin line.
"I can't live without you, what is my existence without you?"
Includes ─── angst, fluff, suggestive scenes, asshole sunghoon, player!sunghoon x reader, frat parties, bet, playing with feelings, yearner hoon, college au, non idol au, kissing, making out, drinking.
now playing ── tum hi ho
Sunghoon loved playing games, and hearts were his favorite toy. As the campus hearthrob, he was notorious for breaking hearts and effortlessly moving on without a second thought. But then he met you, what started as a cruel bet to break your heart completely backfired, leaving him desperate to be with you.
"Come on, Byeol, give that assignment a break—let’s go party!" Liya’s voice echoed from the bathroom over the steady hiss of the hairspray.
"Pass," you called back, your fingers still moving rhythmically across the keyboard. "I can think of a hundred better ways to spend my Friday than squeezed into a sweaty room while half the campus swaps spit."
"You are absolutely no fun," Liya said, emerging from the bathroom with a triumphant smirk. "Besides, word on campus is that Jay’s showing up tonight."
You hesitated for a split second—damning yourself for how easily his name got to you—before shaking your head back toward your assignment. "Still not worth it. Even for him."
"Aish, come on!" She darted out of the bathroom and grabbed your hands, tugging until she successfully hauled you off your seat. Before you could protest, she was already rummaging through her closet, hangers clicking wildly against each other.
"You are coming with me," Liya insisted, tossing a cropped top over her shoulder, "and you are looking hot."
You threw your head back and let out a long, dramatic groan, but deep down, you knew you had already lost this battle.
"Fine, fine," you surrendered, throwing your hands up in defeat.
You stood there like a mannequin, letting her parade dress after dress over your head until she finally settled on a sleek, stark-white dress—one that felt like it barely covered the bare minimum.
"Liya, don't you think this is a bit too immodest?" you asked, nervously tugging at the hem in a desperate attempt to gain an extra inch of fabric. "I can literally just grab something from my own closet."
"Oh, come on, Byeol," Liya scoffed, rolling her eyes with a grin as she grabbed her purse. "We're going to a frat party. Dressing like this isn't just an option—it’s a need."
The second you crossed the threshold into the frat house, the deafening music and thumping bass seemed to fade into background noise. Heads turned instantly. Conversations died in mid-sentence. Practically every set of eyes in the room locked onto you as if a bombshell had just stepped into the Love Island villa.
You shifted uncomfortably under the sudden weight of all that attention, but Liya just leaned in close, her elbow nudging yours with smug satisfaction.
"See?" she whispered triumphantly over the music. "I told you. You look hot."
Meanwhile, from the far corner of the living room, Sunghoon watched the front door like a hawk. A girl hung off his arm, laughing at something he hadn't listened to, but all of his focus had just been ripped away by the girl who had just walked in—wearing a stunning white dress. His favorite color.
A strange, sudden heat prickled under his skin.
"Yo, Jake," Sunghoon murmured, nudging his friend without taking his eyes off you. "Who is that?"
Jake looked over, letting out a sharp whistle. "That? That’s Byeol. She’s in our history lecture—the quiet girl who aced the exam everyone else tanked."
"Byeol," Sunghoon murmured under his breath, testing the name out like it belonged to a completely different world.
Jay chimed in immediately, nudging him. "Leave her alone, man. She's super sweet—don't go playing your usual games with her."
"Actually..." Jake cut in, a sharp glint in his eye. "Why don't we make a little bet?"
Sunghoon finally glanced away from your glowing outline in the crowd, eyebrow raising slightly. "A bet?"
Jake nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mr. Heartthrob. A bet."
"Come at me," Sunghoon challenged, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Jake’s grin widened, sharp and dangerous. "Since you claim you can get literally any girl you want... try her," he said, subtly gesturing through the crowd toward you. "Date her for three months. Make her fall completely down bad for you, and then break her heart into pieces. Should be easy for you, right?"
Sunghoon’s smirk widened, a dangerous glint flashing in his dark eyes as he held Jake's gaze. The idea was almost laughably simple to him.
"Deal," he said softly, clinking his glass against Jake's before turning his attention right back to you across the room.
The sticky heat of the room was already making you regret letting Liya drag you out, but standing near the counter brought a brief lull from the wall-to-wall crowd. You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, silently pleading with the universe that Jay might magically wander over.
Instead, a glass swept into your field of vision.
"You look like you're regretting every choice that brought you through that front door," a smooth, low voice purred beside you.
You turned your head, instantly freezing.
Standing right beside you, casually leaning an elbow against the sticky countertop, was Sunghoon. Up close, his sharp features and effortless confidence were almost disarming—and the dark, intensely focused look in his eyes felt like a heavy weight pressing into the room. In his hand, he held out a brightly colored drink filled with ice and fresh fruit garnish.
"Here," he offered, a small, charming smirk lingering on his lips. "It's clean—just mocktail punch. Thought you looked like you could use something cold."
You looked from the glass up to his face, a sudden flutter starting in your stomach that had nothing to do with Jay. "Thanks," you murmured, carefully taking the glass from his fingers, trying not to notice how his touch sent a faint jolt straight up your arm. "Sunghoon, right?"
"So you do know who I am," he drawled, his smirk widening into something impossibly dangerous. He took a slow sip from his own drink, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every trace of your hesitation. "I was starting to think you were the only person on this campus who didn't."
"Kinda hard not to when you're the leader of the frat," you said, letting out a dry, quiet laugh as you took a small sip of the mocktail. It was cold and surprisingly good.
Sunghoon tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling with quiet amusement as he watched you over the rim of his glass. He didn't step back; if anything, he leaned a fraction of an inch closer, effectively cutting off the rest of the noisy, chaotic party around you.
"Is that all I am to you, then? A title?" he mused, his voice dripping with an effortless, practiced charm. His gaze dropped briefly to the neckline of your white dress before snapping back to your eyes, far too sharp and far too deliberate. "And here I thought my glowing academic reputation in history class would precede me."
You almost choked on your drink. "Academic reputation? You mean the midterm you slept through?"
A slow, boyish grin broke across his face—the kind of smile that had probably gotten him out of every bad decision he’d ever made.
"Ouch. So you have been paying attention to me, Byeol."
You smile, taking a small sip of your drink. "You sit literally two seats down from me and Liya, Sunghoon," you say, looking at him like he’s the most forgetful person on campus. "I usually wear glasses and keep my hair up, so I guess I look a bit different tonight."
Sunghoon’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second. His dark eyes trace the curve of your face, taking in your bare shoulders, your soft expression, and the way the short white dress fits you like a second skin.
A quiet, dangerous shift happens behind his eyes. He takes a slow step closer, his tall frame looming over you just enough to block out the flashing party lights and the wall-to-wall crowd.
"Glasses or not..." he murmurs, his low voice cutting right through the pounding bass of the music. He leans in slightly, his sharp jawline mere inches from your ear as his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Trust me, Byeol. You're definitely not easy to miss."
"Last time I checked you called me by the wrong name once to ask me to help you with the transition questions"
Sunghoon lets out a quiet, genuine laugh, shaking his head as a light flush touches his cheekbones—a rare crack in his usually flawless composure. He swirling the ice in his glass, looking down at you through his dark lashes.
"Okay, fair point. I deserved that," he admits, a wry smile softening the sharp edge of his face. He takes a half-step back, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "In my defense, 'Bora' and 'Byeol' both mean something pretty, so at least I was in the right ballpark."
His grin turns smooth again as he leans against the counter, his gaze locking onto yours with undivided attention.
"Besides, I was desperate. History is clearly not my strong suit—unlike someone who managed to get the top mark on the last quiz." He tilts his head, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate. "So, how about a second chance? Let me make it up to you. Fresh start, no wrong names, no asking for homework help. Just me, actually trying to get to know you."
"Bora means purple and Byeol means stars," you reply, raising an eyebrow at him over the rim of your glass with a dry, knowing look.
Sunghoon’s grin widens, a soft, breathy chuckle escaping his lips. He doesn't look flustered at all—if anything, your pushback seems to amuse him even more.
"Purple and stars," he repeats slowly, the words sounding quiet and deliberate over the heavy bass echoing from the speakers. "I don't know, Byeol... sounds pretty close to me."
He shifts his weight, leaning one forearm on the counter behind him so he's angled completely toward you. His dark eyes trace your face with a lazy, focused intensity that feels almost dizzying.
"Though I have to say..." he lowers his voice, tilting his head as a playful smirk catches the corner of his lips, "stars suit you a lot better. Especially tonight."
"Thanks, my mom chose it"
Sunghoon freezes for a split second before another low, genuine laugh spills from his lips. He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at you with a mixture of disbelief and growing fascination.
"Your mom?" he echoes, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "So I should be sending her a thank-you note for giving you such a fitting name?"
He leans a little closer, his tone turning teasingly conspiratorial.
"You're remarkably tough on me, Byeol. Most people in this room are usually begging for my attention, and here you are, shooting down my best lines with facts about your name and your mom."
He takes a slow sip of his drink, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, dangerous intensity that melts the casual banter away.
"I kind of like it."
"And if you want to get to know me... I'm not that interesting"
"Not that interesting?" Sunghoon echoes, resting his chin on his palm as he studies you, a slow, intoxicating smile creeping up his face. "Byeol, you’ve shot down three of my best lines, called out my terrible history grade, and given me an etymology lesson—all within five minutes. You’re easily the most interesting person in this room."
He pushes off the counter, taking one slow, deliberate step into your space. The faint scent of expensive cologne and crisp air follows him, completely drowning out the stale smell of beer surrounding the rest of the kitchen.
"Let me be the judge of that," he whispers, his voice dropping an octave, rich and velvety against the pounding music. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heartbeat before rising back to meet your eyes. "Give me twenty minutes. If you still think you're uninteresting by the end of it—or if I prove to be too boring—I'll let you walk away and never bother you in history class again."
He extends a hand toward you, palm up, a silent, deadly inviting challenge.
"Deal?"
The moment your fingers slide into his palm, Sunghoon’s fingers instantly close around yours—warm, firm, and surprisingly gentle. A triumphant spark flashes in his dark eyes, the smirk on his lips turning into something deeply satisfaction-filled as he seals the trap.
"Smart choice," he murmurs, his voice a smooth purr.
Without letting go of your hand, he threads his fingers through yours and begins leading you through the dense, pulsing crowd. People naturally move out of his way—a mix of awe and habit—and you catch a glimpse of Jake across the room, watching the two of you with a raised cup and a knowing, competitive grin. Sunghoon doesn't even bother looking back at him; his focus is entirely locked on you as he steers you away from the chaotic main hall.
He pulls open a set of heavy glass doors leading out to the quiet, dimly lit back patio. The muffled thud of the bass fades into the cool night air, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the faint glow of string lights hanging above the lounge chairs.
Sunghoon finally stops near the railing, turning around to face you. He lets your hand slide slowly out of his grip, though his eyes never break contact with yours.
"Phase one," he says, leaning back against the wooden porch rail and crossing his arms, looking down at you with an intriguing, quiet intensity. "Getting you somewhere we can actually hear each other speak. So, 'uninteresting' Byeol... where do we start?"
The night had bled into the quiet, early hours of the morning without either of you really noticing. What was supposed to be a fleeting twenty-minute challenge had turned into hours of low-key conversation away from the chaotic noise of the house.
Sunghoon had leaned back against the patio lounge chair, surprisingly relaxed. Gone was the sharp, practiced charm he usually wore like armor inside the frat house; instead, he had listened—really listened—as you talked about your favorite artists, your stress over midterms, and the small, mundane details of your life. Every time you tried to brush off your thoughts as uninteresting, he’d ask another question, leaning in with a focused, quiet intensity that made it feel like you were the only two people on campus.
In return, he'd let a few cracks show in his own pristine image, joking about how much he actually hated taking history and complaining about Jake's terrible taste in music.
By the time the crowd inside finally began to thin out, the chill of the night air was setting in.
Sunghoon shifted, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and casually drape it over yours. The heavy fabric was still warm, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne.
"See?" he murmured, a soft, almost gentle smile curving his lips as he looked at you under the warm glow of the patio lights. "Told you twenty minutes wasn't going to be enough. And you're still trying to convince me you're not interesting."
He stood up, offering you his hand once more to help you off the lounge chair.
"Come on. It's late, and I'm walking you back to your dorm before Liya files a missing person report."
"Right yeah" You let him pull you up, the warmth of his jacket wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you both started the quiet walk back toward your dorm. The campus was eerily still, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights, a stark contrast to the thumping party you'd just left behind.
Sunghoon kept his hands casually shoved into his pockets, matching his long stride to your smaller steps. Every now and then, his shoulder would lightly brush against yours, keeping a steady, comforting presence at your side.
"You know," he started, breaking the peaceful silence with that smooth, low tone of his, "I usually don't spend entire parties hiding out on patios." He glanced sideways down at you, a soft, teasing smirk catching the corner of his lips. "You're bad news for my social reputation, Byeol."
"Oh, poor Sunghoon," you scoffed softly, shaking your head. "How will the frat leader ever recover?"
He chuckled, the sound low and warm in the crisp night air. "I'll manage. But only if you promise not to ignore me in history class on Monday."
As you reached the entrance of your dorm building, he stopped at the bottom of the steps, turning to face you fully. The ambient light caught the sharp lines of his jaw, but his eyes were surprisingly soft as he looked at you.
"Thanks for staying," he murmured, his gaze searching yours for a beat too long before he offered a slow, genuine smile. "I'll see you around... star girl."
When it came time for history class, Sunghoon noticed you first, giving you a wave as he gestured you and liya to sit in the empty seats by him and Jake.
Liya nudges your arm a little too hard with her elbow, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of Sunghoon waving you over—with Jake sitting right beside him, grinning like he already knows something you don't.
"Okay, since when do you sit with the frat nobility?" Liya whispers under her breath, trailing half a step behind you as you both head down the sloped stairs of the lecture hall. "And why is he looking at you like that?"
Sunghoon doesn't miss a beat as you approach. He shifts his bag off the empty desk next to his, tapping the wooden surface with a smooth, welcoming smirk.
"Saved you a spot," he says, his voice carrying that same low, easy warmth from the patio, completely unbothered by the quiet chatter of the classroom around you. He leans back slightly, resting his chin in his hand as his eyes lock onto yours. "Morning, star girl. I see you actually showed up—I was starting to think you were going to dodge me."
Beside him, Jake leans over, throwing a casual arm over the back of his chair and shooting a quick glance between Sunghoon and you, a subtle, knowing spark in his eyes.
"Hey, Byeol," Jake chips in, his tone light and playful, though there's an underlying edge of amusement. "Sunghoon here's been checking the door every thirty seconds. Thought he was going to have to do his history reading by himself."
Sunghoon smoothly rolls his eyes, kicking the leg of Jake's chair just enough to shut him up, before turning his full attention back to you. "Ignore him. Sit down before the professor starts rambling."
Liya gives you a frantic, silent "what the hell" face before taking the seat next to Jake, who immediately turns on his charm to keep her occupied.
You slide into the wooden seat right beside Sunghoon. As you pull your notebook out of your bag, you catch the faint trace of his cologne again, instantly bringing back the blur of late-night patio conversations and the warmth of his jacket.
Sunghoon leans in close, resting his forearm on the joint desk between you. His voice drops into a quiet murmur meant only for your ears, slipping beneath the noise of the rest of the lecture hall settling down.
"You look nice today," he says smoothly, his dark eyes trailing over your face with a lazy, deliberate gaze before settling back on your eyes. He taps his pen rhythmically against his notebook. "Though you look a little tired. Don't tell me I kept you up too late."
Before you can answer, the professor clears his throat loudly at the podium, clicking to the first slide of the morning lecture.
Sunghoon doesn't move a bit away from you. Instead, he tears off a small corner of his notebook paper, scribbles something down in clean, sharp handwriting, and slides it onto your desk.
Free after class? Let me buy you a coffee to make up for stealing your sleep.
You smile at the note before giving a little nod to him.
A tiny, satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Sunghoon’s lips as he sees your nod. He snatches the scrap of paper back, crumpling it into his palm with a swift motion before leaning back in his chair, suddenly looking far more interested in the lecture than a guy who hates history has any right to be.
For the next fifty minutes, he plays the part of the attentive student—mostly. Every few minutes, his eyes drift away from the professor's dull slides back to your page. When the professor drones on about a dry economic treaty, Sunghoon leans his shoulder closer to yours, nudging your arm softly.
"Translate?" he whispers out of the corner of his mouth, tapping your neat notes with his pen. "In plain English, please."
When the bell finally rings, signaling the end of class, the lecture hall immediately erupts into the chaotic sound of shuffling papers, zipping backpacks, and chatter.
Sunghoon doesn't rush. He casually slings his bag over one shoulder, standing up and towering over your desk as he waits for you to pack up. Beside him, Jake slings an arm around a thoroughly flustered Liya's shoulders, throwing a wink over his shoulder toward Sunghoon.
"We're heading to the dining hall," Jake announces loudly, casting a quick, sharp look at Sunghoon that carries a subtle, unspoken good luck on the mission before turning back to Liya. "Come on, Liya, I'll buy you a bagel."
As the two of them wander off ahead into the crowded hallway, Sunghoon turns back to you, stepping closer so you don't get swept up in the rush of exiting students. He offers a hand to help you lift your heavy bag, his dark eyes sparkling with that same intoxicating, calculated charm.
"Lead the way, star girl," he says softly, a devious little smirk playing on his lips. "Which coffee shop has the best chance of getting me on your good side?"
"I like the one by the west side of campus, the food is really good" you say
"West side campus cafe it is," Sunghoon says, his lips curving into a slow, approving smile. He smoothly takes your bag off your shoulder before you can object, throwing it over his free arm like it weighs nothing at all. "And you're ordering whatever you want. Food, coffee, pastry—it's all on me."
As the two of you step out of the humid lecture hall into the crisp campus air, he falls into step beside you, keeping a close, protective distance as students hurry past. The sun catches the sharp angle of his jaw, making him look effortlessly put together while everyone else looks half-asleep from morning classes.
"So, west side," he starts, glancing down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Does that mean you're going to judge my coffee order, or are you actually going to give me some recommendations? Because if their food is as good as you say, I might make you order for both of us."
"Have you never been to the west side of campus before?" You ask, doubting him
Sunghoon lets out a soft, low laugh, shaking his head as a light flush creeps up his neck—though his charming smirk doesn't fade for a second.
"Okay, caught red-handed," he admits, holding his hands up in mock surrender while still casually holding your bag in one arm. "Usually my day starts and ends on the south side between the frat house and the gym. The west side is practically uncharted territory for me."
He steps a little closer, leaning down slightly so his voice drops into a teasing, conspiratorial murmur just above the rustle of the surrounding trees.
"So, yeah... I'm completely at your mercy. You're going to have to make sure I don't embarrass myself—or order something terrible."
He offers you a playful, challenge-filled look, his dark eyes sparkling. "Lead the way"
...
You spent more and more time with sunghoon, catching feelings for him more and more as the days turned into weeks, until he of course asked you to be his girlfriend.
Those weeks felt like a whirlwind you never wanted to end.
What started as coffee runs on the west side of campus quickly turned into late-night study sessions in the quietest corners of the library, late evening walks, and Sunghoon showing up outside your lectures just to hand you your favorite drink. He was attentive, sweet, and somehow always knew how to make you laugh when midterms were crushing you. Step by step, every defense you had built up against the polished frat leader completely crumbled.
You had fallen for him—hard.
And then came the night he asked you.
He had brought you back to the quiet patio where it all started, away from the party noise inside. The warm string lights cast soft shadows across his face as he held both of your hands in his, looking down at you with an intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"I don't think I've thought about anyone else since that night in the kitchen," he had murmured, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. "I don't want to just be the guy walking you to your dorm, Byeol. I want to be yours. Officially. Be my girlfriend?"
When you said yes, the look of pure, triumphant joy on his face felt so undeniably real that any lingering doubts vanished into thin air.
Now, three weeks into being his girlfriend, you're sitting on the comfortable sofa in his room at the frat house, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. The room is quiet, the low hum of the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds. Sunghoon is downstairs grabbing drinks for the two of you, leaving his laptop open on the desk.
A quiet chime echoes through the room as a notification pops up on his screen. You don't mean to look, but the name on the preview instantly catches your eye: Jake.
The message preview sits right on the screen:
Bro, time's running out on the 3-month mark. When are you dropping the hammer on Byeol? The guys are asking about the pot.
You brush the thought aside, convincing yourself it must have just been some dumb joke or a miscommunication about when he was going to ask you out. Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to the open textbook on your lap, highlighting a passage as if you hadn't seen a thing.
A few moments later, the door clicks open. Sunghoon steps into the room carrying two iced coffees, a bright, genuine-looking smile spreading across his face the second his eyes land on you.
"Sorry that took so long, Jay was rambling downstairs," he says smoothly, walking over to hand you your cup. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his touch completely at odds with the chilling words sitting on his laptop screen just feet away.
He casually strolls over to his desk, grabbing his laptop and snapping the lid shut without even glancing at the screen. He sets it on the bedside table before sliding onto the couch next to you, pulling you back against his chest so your head rests right against his shoulder.
"Where were we?" he whispers against your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist, completely comfortable and seemingly without a care in the world. "Did you actually get any studying done while I was gone, or were you just missing me?"
"I got some studying done, Jake texted you earlier"
Sunghoon’s body goes imperceptibly still for a split second, the easy rhythm of his breathing catching in his chest before he smoothly recovers. His grip around your waist doesn't loosen, but the casual aura in the room suddenly feels a fraction tighter.
"Did he?" Sunghoon asks, his tone light, almost dismissive, though his chin rests just a bit heavier against your head. He reaches over, his fingers loosely playing with the hem of his oversized hoodie on your arm. "Probably just nagging me about fraternity stuff or tonight's plan. I swear he thinks I'm his full-time secretary."
He chuckles softly, but he doesn't make a move toward the laptop on the bedside table. Instead, he shifts slightly, tilting his head down so he can catch your eye, a smooth, warm smile playing on his lips.
"Don't worry about Jake," he murmurs, his dark eyes searching your face with effortless, quiet intensity. "My attention is right here. Anything interesting in that textbook of yours, or do you need a distraction?"
"It's just readings of stuff I've already learned"
"Then reading it again is a total waste of time," Sunghoon says with a light, persuasive laugh.
He gently slides the textbook out of your hands and sets it down on the coffee table, replacing it by lacing his fingers through yours. He pulls you just a little closer into his side, resting his chin on your shoulder while his thumb gently traces circles on the back of your hand.
"Since you're already a step ahead of your classes," he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek, "that means I get your full, undivided attention for the rest of the afternoon."
He leans in, pressing a slow, tender kiss to the side of your neck, his smile warm against your skin. "No textbooks, no Jake... just us."
You smack his shoulder a little "you're such a freak"
Sunghoon lets out an easy, low laugh, catching your hand before you can pull it back and pulling it to his lips to press a playful kiss to your knuckles.
"Hey, I prefer the term 'enthusiastic boyfriend,'" he teases, his dark eyes sparkling with that familiar, charming warmth. He pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping both arms around you so you're completely trapped against him, buried in the warmth of his oversized hoodie.
"Besides," he murmurs softly, resting his forehead against yours with a soft smirk, "you love it."
He adjusts his grip, comfortably settling back into the couch cushions with you. Everything about the moment feels perfect—his familiar scent, the relaxed rhythm of his breathing, the soft afternoon light spilling into the room—completely burying the memory of that unread message on the desk just a few feet away.
"Unfortunately I do love it" you joke
Sunghoon’s smile widens, victorious and soft all at once. He lets out a quiet sigh of contentment, pressing his forehead against yours for a second longer before leaning back just enough to look at you properly.
"Good," he murmurs, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. "Because I don't plan on giving you a reason to feel any differently."
He shifts so you're tucked comfortably under his arm, your head resting right over his heart. The steady, calm rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek is intoxicating, washing away any lingering thoughts of schoolwork—or anything else.
He reaches for his phone on the table with his free hand, absently tapping the screen before turning his gaze back down to you. "So, since you're officially done being a star student for the day... dinner? I can order us whatever you want"
"I'm craving some noodles"
"Noodles it is," Sunghoon agrees instantly, a soft laugh vibrating through his chest right where your head is resting.
He taps away on his phone, scrolling through a few delivery apps with one hand while keeping his other arm wrapped snugly around your waist. "Spicy ramen, pad thai, or are we talking proper hand-pulled noodles? Name your craving, boss, and I'll make it happen."
"Spicy ramen"
He leans his head back against the couch cushions, looking down at you with a gentle, completely relaxed expression. The cozy quiet of his room wraps around you both, making it shockingly easy to forget the rest of the world—and the quiet chime of his laptop—even existed.
"Spicy ramen, coming right up," Sunghoon says, his thumb quickly tapping the screen to finalize the order.
He tosses the phone onto the coffee table and wraps both arms back around you, pulling you in just a little tighter. "Extra spicy, soft-boiled egg, and extra pork belly. Did I get that right, or do I need to edit the order before they start cooking?"
He rests his chin on the top of your head, letting out a soft, contented sigh. "We've got about twenty minutes until it gets here. That means you're stuck sitting here with me until the food arrives."
"You always let me choose"
Sunghoon tilts his head down, a warm, subtle smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes meet yours.
"Well, yeah," he says, his tone softening into something dangerously sweet. "Because seeing you happy is pretty much my favorite part of the day. Plus, if I pick, we'll end up eating basic frat-guy food every single night, and I'm pretty sure you'd break up with me."
He gently nudges your shoulder with his, his arm tightening around your waist just enough to pull you a little closer.
"Besides, you've got good taste—I mean, you picked me, didn't you?" He winks, a cocky, effortless charm washing over him before he softens again, pressing a quick, tender kiss to your temple. "I like taking care of you, Byeol. Get used to it."
──𝄞𝄢──
Sunghoon’s gaze darkens, a slow, intoxicating heat settling between the two of you as his weight presses you down into the mattress.
It’s almost dizzying how quickly everything changed. Just an hour ago, you were sitting side-by-side on the floor, laughing over steam rising from cheap plastic takeout bowls. Now, you’re trapped beneath him, his chest heavy against yours, the scent of his cologne filling your senses until you can barely think straight.
"Look at you," Sunghoon whispers, his voice dropping into a raspy, hushed purr right against your ear. His fingers thread slowly into your hair, tilting your head back to expose the sensitive curve of your neck. "You look so completely overwhelmed."
His lips brush against your skin, feather-light and agonizingly slow, sending a rush of heat straight to your core.
"I bet if someone asked you how we ended up like this right now, you couldn't even give them a straight answer," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your collarbone. He shifts his weight, sliding a knee between yours as his hands trace a fiery path down your sides, gripping your hips with a quiet, possessive intensity.
He pulls back just a fraction, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that feels almost predatory—yet so tender it makes your heart hammer against your ribs.
"You just let me pull you right into my lap, didn't you?" His thumb traces your lower lip, pressing down gently until it parts. "So innocent... completely at my mercy, and you don't even care."
The words hang heavy in the dim room, thick with a tension that makes the air feel almost too dense to breathe. Sunghoon doesn't give you time to answer—not that you could find your voice even if you tried.
Instead, his mouth finds yours again, deep and unhurried, tasting like heat and sweet lingering spice. The kiss is possessive, completely consuming, until your hands instinctively find their way to his shoulders, clinging to him as if he's the only solid thing anchoring you to reality.
He lets out a low, satisfied hum against your lips, the sound vibrating right through your chest. His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you flush against him until there isn't a single breath of space left between your bodies.
"Sunghoon..." you manage to whisper against his mouth when he finally draws back a fraction of an inch, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He chuckles softly, a low, dark sound that echoes right in your ear as his lips trace down your jaw, dropping heavy, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin under your ear.
"Yeah?" he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the searing warmth of his palms making your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes flicker up to yours, heavy-lidded and burning with an intensity that leaves you completely breathless. "Tell me what you want, Byeol. Because right now, I'm not sure I can stop myself."
"I want you, Sunghoon"
Those four words seem to snap the last remaining thread of his control.
A sharp, ragged breath escapes his lips, and before you can process the sudden shift, Sunghoon's mouth crashes back over yours with a fierce, burning passion. The slow, lingering gentleness from before vanishes, replaced by a deep, breathless desperation that leaves your head spinning.
His fingers tangle tightly into your hair, holding you right where he wants you as his other hand slides up your waist, pulling you so close that every quick beat of his heart thuds against your own. The heat radiating off him is almost overwhelming, swallowing you whole in the dim, golden light of the room.
"You have no idea what you do to me," Sunghoon groans against your lips, his voice thick and impossibly rough.
He trails feverish kisses from your mouth down to your jaw, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to the sweet spot right beneath your ear that makes a involuntary gasp catch in your throat. He hovers over you, dark eyes practically glowing with possessive heat as his thumb traces the flush rising on your cheek.
"Say it again," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, his body pressing heavier, closer, demanding every bit of your surrender. "Say it so I know I'm not dreaming."
"I want you," you whisper again, the words slipping out barely above a breath, but in the quiet room, they hit like a spark to gasoline.
Sunghoon’s dark eyes darken even further, a heavy, triumphant breath shuddering out of him. "That's my girl," he growls softly against your lips, the words a intoxicating mixture of praise and promise.
He doesn't wait another second. His mouth takes yours in a kiss so deep, so completely consuming, that the rest of the world—the frat house, the noise downstairs, the passage of time—completely vanishes. His hands are everywhere, scorching hot as they trace the curve of your waist, lifting the edge of your top, his touch sending shivers shooting straight down your spine.
Every gentle shift of his weight, every frantic, breathless press of his body against yours pulls you deeper into the haze. He’s completely intoxicated by you, whispering sweet, desperate sweet-nothings between feverish kisses against your lips, your cheek, the pulse fluttering wildly in your throat.
Underneath the heat and the blinding thrill of the moment, he holds you like you're something priceless, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his heart hammers violently against your chest—a steady, chaotic rhythm that feels entirely yours.
The night bleeds into a blurred haze of quiet sighs, tangled sheets, and the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing against his chest.
Hours later, the room is bathed in the cool, deep blue of late night. The chaos of earlier has settled into a lingering, heavy warmth. Sunghoon lies on his side, one strong arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away the second he loosens his grip. His chin rests lightly atop your head, his slow, rhythmic breaths fanning through your hair.
His fingers trail lazy, comforting circles over the bare skin of your lower back, absentminded and incredibly tender.
"You asleep?" he murmurs, his voice a low, raspy rumble that vibrates directly through you in the quiet room.
He shifts slightly, leaning over to brush a soft kiss against your forehead, his eyes dark and liquid in the dim light as he looks down at you. The sharp, guarded edge he usually carries around the rest of the frat house is completely gone, leaving behind something so raw and vulnerable it almost makes your chest ache.
"I don't think I've ever felt like this before, Byeol," he whispers into the silence, his thumb gently caressing your hip. "I mean it."
The words seem to float in the cool night air, sweet and intimate, but as Sunghoon watches your tired eyes flutter shut, a cold, heavy knot tightens in the pit of his stomach.
I mean it.
Did he? He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against your temple, but the soothing rhythm of your breathing does nothing to quiet the sudden, deafening noise in his head.
Three months. A pot of money sitting on Jake’s dresser. A stupid, reckless frat house wager that was supposed to be easy, meaningless, and entirely under his control.
He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his arm involuntarily pulling you a fraction closer against him. The searing memory of Jake’s text message flashes behind his eyelids, mockingly reminding him of the ticking clock, of the bet he was supposed to win. Except every time he kisses you, every time you whisper his name with that completely unguarded, terrifying trust, the lines blur a little more.
He isn't acting anymore. And that terrifies him more than losing the money ever could.
His thumb stutters in its lazy circles on your hip before settling still. Looking down at your peaceful face in the blue twilight, a sickening realization settles over him: the lie was supposed to break your heart, but he's the one who's completely unraveling.
The quiet afternoon in the house felt almost peaceful until you walked down the hall toward Sunghoon’s room. The door was cracked open just an inch, a sliver of golden light spilling onto the hardwood floor, along with the muffled sound of voices inside.
"—you're running out of time, man," Jake’s voice drifted out, casual and laced with an annoying, playful taunt. "The three months are almost up. Are you actually gonna pull this off, or am I keeping the money?"
You froze, your hand hovering inches from the door handle. Your chest tightened, a strange, sudden coldness spreading through your veins.
A heavy silence followed inside the room before Sunghoon’s low, familiar voice responded. He sounded tense, entirely unlike the gentle, vulnerable guy who had held you so tightly in the dark just nights ago.
"Shut up, Jake," Sunghoon muttered sharply, the sound of papers rustling or a chair scraping against the floor cutting through the air. "It's not about that anymore."
"Oh, come on," Jake chuckled, completely unbothered by Sunghoon's tone. "Don't tell me you're catching real feelings over a stupid frat wager. You’re the one who agreed to the bet in the first place, Sunghoon. Don't back out now when the pot's this big."
Every word felt like a physical strike to your chest. A bet. A wager. Three months.
The memory of Sunghoon’s whispered promises, the intense way his eyes held yours, the warmth of his hand on your waist—all of it shattered in a single, brutal second, leaving you standing frozen in the dimly lit hallway, barely able to breathe.
You could hear sunghoons voice as he continued "besides I basically already won the bet, she's head over heels for me"
The words cut through you like a blade, cold and merciless.
Inside the room, Jake lets out a dark, whistle of a laugh. "There's the Sunghoon I know. Guess I'm out five hundred bucks, then."
"Yeah," Sunghoon’s voice comes again, but this time it lacks any real bite—flat, almost hollow, as if he’s forcing the words past a tight throat. "Yeah. You are."
Outside the door, the world feels like it's spinning off its axis. Every touch, every whispered 'you have no idea what you do to me,' every soft, feverish kiss in the dark replays in your mind, suddenly warped and ugly. It wasn't love. It wasn't even genuine affection. It was a game. A calculated, three-month performance designed to make you fall, just so he could line his pockets and brag to his friends.
Your breath hitches, a small, sharp sound breaking the silence of the hallway.
Inside, the light chatter instantly dies.
"Did you hear that?" Jake murmurs, his tone instantly shifting to cautious.
The floorboards creak inside as someone steps toward the door. The handle jiggles, and before you can force your frozen feet to move, the door swings open.
Sunghoon stands in the doorway, his confident mask slipping the exact second his eyes land on you. His tall frame instantly goes rigid. The smug, indifferent air he had moments ago completely vanishes, replaced by a sudden, sickening pale drain on his face as he looks at your eyes, reading the exact moment your heart broke.
"Byeol..." he whispers, his voice cracking, all the smugness completely gone. "How long have you been standing there?"
You don't say a word. You can't. The air feels too thick to pull into your lungs, and your throat is locked tight under the agonizing weight of the truth.
Behind Sunghoon, Jake's eyes widen in sheer horror. Realizing the colossal storm he just helped blow open, Jake quietly edges past Sunghoon, muttering a hasty, "I'm... I'm just gonna go," before scrambling down the hallway, leaving the two of you in a suffocating silence.
Sunghoon doesn't even watch him leave. His dark eyes are glued to yours, wide with a panic you’ve never seen in him before. The effortless, cool facade he always wore—the one he just used to brag about you seconds ago—is completely gone, replaced by a desperate, pale shock.
He takes a quick, eager step toward you, reaching out a hand. "Byeol, please. It’s—it’s not what it sounded like, I swear to God—"
"Is it true?"
Your voice is barely a whisper, hollow and trembling, but it freezes him in his tracks. His hand hovers in the empty space between you, trembling slightly before he slowly lets it fall to his side.
"Byeol..." he chokes out, his throat working hard as he swallows. He looks like he’s physically sick, the blood completely drained from his face. "It started out as something stupid, okay? It was just... a dumb joke with the guys months ago. But it isn't like that anymore. You know it isn't. Everything lately, everything between us—that was real. I swear it was real."
"A dumb joke," you repeat, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping your lips as tears finally blur your vision. The memory of his hands on your waist, his whispered promises in the dark, his thumb brushing your cheek—it all feels like poison now. "I was just a five-hundred-dollar bet to you."
"No! No, you're not!" Sunghoon closes the distance between you in two fast strides, his hands coming up to gently, desperately frame your face, but you immediately flinch away from his touch. The rejection hits him like a physical blow, his expression crumbling. "Please, don't pull away from me. I know I fucked up, I know I'm a complete bastard, but I love you. I fell in love with you, Byeol."
"I know what you heard," he suffocates on the words, his chest heaving as his voice fractures into something raw and desperate. "I know what I did. I was a sick bastard who thought I could play with you... but it's killing me. It's fucking killing me, okay?"
He drops his head, his fingers tangling wildly into his own hair as he drops to his knees right in front of you, the rain soaking straight through his jacket.
"Hate me. Slap me. Ruin my life—I'll let you do whatever you want to me, I swear to God I will. Just don't look at me like I'm nothing. Please... just tell me what to do to make you stay."
"You lied to me, you took advantage of me, for what? What did you gain?" You say, not even being able to look at him with how much he'd hurt you.
His breath hitches, the harsh sound slicing through the heavy silence between you. Every word out of your mouth hits him like a physical blow, but it’s the fact that you can’t even bear to look at him that truly destroys him. The utter disgust in your voice is a million times worse than if you’d screamed.
He takes a frantic step forward, his hands twitching at his sides, desperate to reach out and pull you back, but too terrified that touching you will make you run.
"Nothing," he chokes out, his voice a broken, hollow rasp. "I gained nothing. I lost everything the second I let them convince me you were just another game."
A harsh, bitter sob rips from his throat, completely stripping away whatever pride he had left. He closes the distance until he’s right in front of you, dropping his head into his hands as his shoulders shake violently.
"Look at me. Please... just look at me so you can see how dead I am without you," he begs, his voice cracking into sheer agony. "I was a coward. I was terrified of how easily you made me fall, so I pretended it was a joke. But it wasn't. It never was. I'm sick with it, I'm dying inside, and I don't care about the bet, I don't care about my friends, I don't care about anything in this damn world except getting you back."
He drops to his knees right on the cold pavement, reaching out with trembling fingers to gently, hesitantly touch the hem of your coat—like a sinner pleading at an altar.
"Ruin me," he whispers, dark eyes shiny with unshed tears as he finally looks up at you, completely unraveled. "Take everything I have. Make me pay for every single tear you shed. Just... don't make me live a day where you look past me like I don't exist."
"Right now I don't even know who you are sunghoon" with that you walk away.
──𝄞𝄢──
Two weeks pass in a excruciating, heavy silence.
The break hangs over the frat house like a dark cloud. Sunghoon is a complete ghost of his former self—he doesn't go out, he barely speaks to Jake or any of the guys, and the confident, smirk-wearing guy everyone used to know has completely vanished. The $500 pot was publicly called off, though Sunghoon made sure everyone knew he was the one who blew it, taking the full brunt of the blame without offering a single excuse.
Every day, your phone sits quietly on your desk. Sunghoon hasn't pushed your boundaries—he’s kept his promise to give you space—but he sends a single, simple text every morning at 8:00 AM
I’m so sorry, Byeol. I'm right here whenever you're ready to talk.
For you, the time away is a tangled mess of anger, grief, and a lingering, frustrating ache. Every time you try to convince yourself to completely cut him off, your mind wanders back to the vulnerable look in his eyes in the dark, the way his heart hammered against yours, and the sheer desperation in his voice when he begged you not to walk away.
You know the bet was real at the beginning. But as you sit staring at your phone, the ultimate question keeps repeating in your mind Is the person he became with you worth forgiving the person he was when it started?
The front door of the frat house feels heavier than usual as you push it open. The usual chaotic bass and chatter downstairs seem oddly muted today.
When you walk up the familiar stairs and reach Sunghoon’s room, the door is slightly ajar. Stepping quietly inside, you find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head resting in his hands. He looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his hair a bit messy, wearing an oversized hoodie as if he hasn't stepped out of this room in days.
The quiet click of the door closing makes him snap his head up.
The moment his eyes land on you, Sunghoon freezes. A sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion washes across his face—shock, disbelief, and a raw, trembling hope that makes his breath hitch in his throat.
He stands up immediately, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, but he doesn't dare step closer. He just stands there, looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast.
"Byeol..." his voice is low, scratchy, and thick with emotion. He swallows hard, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. "You're... you're here."
You take a slow breath, meeting his gaze directly. "I made up my mind, Sunghoon."
His entire body goes rigid, his dark eyes searching yours desperately, bracing himself for whatever sentence you're about to pass.
"I'm still furious about how this started," you say softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. "And it's going to take time for me to fully trust you again. But... I know what was real between us. I'm giving us another chance."
For a second, the words don't seem to register. Then, the tension holding him together completely snaps.
A choked, breathless sound escapes him, and in three long strides, Sunghoon closes the distance between you. He stops just inches away, his hands trembling as he gently, reverently reaches out to cup your cheeks, his thumb brushing over your skin as if making sure you're actually real.
"Thank you," he whispers, his forehead coming down to rest softly against yours. Tears glisten in his dark eyes as a shaky, relieved laugh breaks through his lips. "I swear to you, Byeol... I will spend every single day making this up to you. I won't ever let you regret this."
Six months pass, and the house—once a reminder of broken trust—has become the background to a completely transformed Sunghoon.
He didn't just apologize; he changed. The bet and the cold, smooth persona he used to hide behind are completely gone. In their place is someone who loves you openly, fiercely, and without an ounce of hesitation.
It’s in the small, quiet moments that he proved it to you. Like how he dropped out of the stupid house antics without a second thought, or how he instinctively reaches for your hand whenever you walk into a room together, proudly showing anyone who looks that you're the only person who matters to him. It’s in the way he listens—really listens—to every tiny detail of your day, remembering things you mentioned weeks ago just to surprise you with them later.
Tonight, the autumn air is crisp as the two of you sit on the back porch of the house, wrapped under a heavy blanket away from the party inside. Sunghoon sits behind you, his long legs wrapped around yours, pulling you flush against his chest just like he used to, but without a single shadow of doubt hanging over you.
He presses his lips softly against the curve of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin before resting his chin on your shoulder.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmurs softly, his arms tightening affectionately around your waist.
"Just... how different things are now," you say, turning your head slightly to look at him.
Sunghoon’s dark eyes soften, filled with an unbearable amount of devotion. He leans in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before stopping at your lips.
"I promised you I'd spend every day earning this," he whispers, his voice thick with sincerity as his fingers interlock with yours, holding on tight. "I'm never stopping, Byeol. You're my whole world."
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some tokkis are harrasing me for being a glitt+bunnie and also attacking me for saying that there dumb ahh accusations are inccorect(are they unemployed cause they all reply to me in under a minute😭)
some engenes having wars
a lot of ppl being disrespectful to lsrfm, hating them and even editing their performances claiming they can't sing(even tho they VERY WELL can)
synopsis✧˖° when you bring home buddy, a blonde mini dachshund with more opinions than sense, you expect your life to revolve around early mornings and chewed shoes. what you don't expect is for your best friend's coworker jake to fall in love with your difficult dog at first sight, or for buddy to fall right back. between saturday mornings at the dog park, texts about every dog he sees on the street, and a heart so warm it could melt butter, jake worms his way into your life one patient smile at a time. now if only you could figure out whether he's flirting or just being nice, and whether your emotionally constipated dog will ever let you hold him again.
contains✧˖° friends to lovers ; slow burn ; mutual pining ; yearning ; fluff ; detailed kissing scene (not smut) ; mentions of difficult dog behavior ; layla mentioned ; wc: 7.3k
notes✧˖° A BREAK FROM THE ANGST!!! so this is actually based off of my dog, buddy! hes in the first pic :(( HES SO BABYYYY. ive been wanting to do something like this for weeks so i finally put my mind to it and finished ts! please, if you like what you see here and want to see something specific, send an ask. i hope you enjoy!!
you're sitting in the passenger seat of chloe's car and you're trying not to cry but it's not going well.
"don't cry," chloe says, glancing over at you with a grin. "you're going to scare the puppies."
"i'm not going to cry," you lie, wiping your eyes already.
you look down at your phone, at the picture the breeder sent you three days ago. a tiny blonde mini dachshund, eight weeks old, ears too big for his head, looking at the camera with an expression that could only be described as judgmental.
you'd fallen in love instantly. you'd sent the deposit before you could talk yourself out of it. you'd named him buddy in your head before you'd even filled out the application, before you even knew if you'd get approved, before you even knew if he was still available.
"what if he doesn't like me?" you ask, the anxiety hitting you suddenly. "what if i pick him up and he's like, no, actually, i want someone else?"
"then he's an idiot with bad taste," chloe says, "and we'll find you a better dog."
"there is no better dog," you say, clutching your phone. "he's buddy. he's the one. i know he's the one."
"you've seen one picture."
"one perfect picture."
chloe laughs, but she's slowing down now, turning onto a residential street lined with trees. the gps says you're two minutes away. your heart is hammering against your ribs. you feel like you're about to meet a celebrity. you feel like you're about to change your entire life.
"there," chloe says, pointing.
the house is cute. yellow with white trim, a fenced yard, a sign that says "happy tails dachshunds" in cheerful lettering. there are flowers in the window boxes. it looks like a house where good things happen.
chloe parks and turns to you. "ready?"
"no," you admit. "yes. no. yes. let's go before i change my mind."
the breeder is a woman named marjorie, round and soft with gray hair and a smile that makes you think of grandmothers in storybooks. she leads you through the house to a sunroom at the back, and there they are. five tiny blonde puppies tumbling over each other in a playpen, yipping and wrestling and being alive in that perfect puppy way.
but you see him immediately.
he's in the corner, separate from the chaos, staring at a toy like he's trying to figure out if it's worth his time. his ears are ridiculous. his paws are too big. he looks like he's already tired of everyone's nonsense.
"that's him," you breathe. "that's buddy."
"the one in the corner?" marjorie asks. "that's the little male. he's got personality, that one. bit the vet tech yesterday. nothing serious, just a warning."
"he's perfect," you say, and you're already kneeling, already reaching through the bars of the playpen.
the puppy looks at you. really looks at you. his eyes are dark and considering. he takes you in, head to toe, and you feel judged. you feel seen. you feel like you're being evaluated for a position you really want.
then he walks over. slowly, like he's doing you a favor. he sniffs your hand. he sniffs your sleeve. he looks up at your face again.
and he licks your nose.
"oh," you say, and then you're crying. full on, ugly crying, tears streaming down your face while this tiny creature climbs into your lap and settles down like he owns you.
"he's yours if you want him," marjorie says gently.
"i want him," you sob. "i want him so much."
chloe is taking pictures. you can hear her laughing, soft and fond. "look at you," she says. "you're a mom."
"i'm a mom," you repeat, looking down at the warm weight in your lap.
the puppy, your puppy, buddy, sighs and closes his eyes. he's asleep in thirty seconds, snoring slightly, completely at peace.
you're in love. you're so in love it hurts.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the drive home is magical and terrible.
chloe drives while you hold buddy in a blanket in your lap. he's awake now, exploring, biting your fingers, trying to climb your chest to see out the window. he pees on the blanket. he tries to eat your hair. he barks at a stop sign.
"he's got opinions," chloe observes.
"he's got so many opinions," you agree, delighted by every single one.
you text your mom. you text your sister. you post a picture that gets three hundred likes in ten minutes. you don't care about any of it because you're too busy watching this tiny creature discover the world from the safety of your lap.
when chloe pulls up to your apartment, you realize you don't want to move. you want to stay in this moment forever, the first day, the beginning.
"you good?" chloe asks.
"i'm perfect," you say. "we're perfect. look at us."
she looks at you, at the puppy currently trying to chew your shirt button, and she smiles. "yeah," she says. "look at you."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the first three weeks are a blur of puppy pads and lost sleep and finding teeth marks on things you thought were out of reach.
buddy grows into his ears, sort of. he develops a personality that could best be described as selectively chaotic. he loves you with his whole heart. he once spent forty minutes barking at a balloon because it moved wrong.
you love him more than you've ever loved anything.
you cry when he does something cute. you cry when he does something frustrating. you cry when you look at him for too long because he's just so perfect and he's yours.
chloe visits constantly.
she brings toys, treats, advice you didn't ask for. she takes pictures of buddy constantly, fills her phone with them, shows them to everyone she knows.
which is how you end up where you are now, six weeks after bringing buddy home, sitting on chloe's couch while she scrolls through her phone and you try to keep buddy from eating her throw pillows. you're emotional and tired and so happy it almost hurts.
"by the way," chloe says, not looking up from her phone, "my friend jake wants to meet buddy."
you look up from where you're wrestling with your dog. "what?"
"my coworker jake," she says, like this is casual information. "i showed him pictures of buddy last week at lunch and he wouldn't stop asking about him. he loves dogs. he wants to meet him."
"why are you showing people my dog?" you ask, but there's no real bite in it. you're used to this.
chloe has been your best friend since college and her love language is showing people pictures of things she cares about. usually it's you. now it's buddy.
"i work with him," chloe says, shrugging.
"we were just talking. he saw my lock screen, which is buddy, obviously, and he asked about him. and then i showed him more pictures, because look at him, and now he's obsessed. he said, and i quote, 'that dog looks like he has opinions and i need to hear them.'"
you snort, pulling buddy into your lap. he immediately tries to bite your necklace. "so now your coworker wants to meet my dog?"
"he's not just any coworker," chloe says.
"he's great. he's got such warm energy, always smiling, probably cries during commercials with dogs in them. genuinely the nicest person. he has a border collie named layla, but she lives with his parents. he wants to meet buddy. we could go to the dog park this weekend. it'll be fun."
you think about it. you don't know jake. you know chloe works with a lot of people, marketing types who wear nice shirts and talk about engagement rates. but the idea of someone wanting to meet your dog specifically, not just tolerating him as an extension of you, is kind of nice.
also, buddy needs socialization. according to the internet. according to the vet. according to the passive aggressive notes your neighbor keeps leaving about "excessive vocalization."
"fine," you say. "but if he doesn't like jake, we're leaving immediately."
"he'll like jake," chloe says confidently. "everyone likes jake."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the thing about buddy is that he is not a people pleaser.
you've had him for six weeks now and you've learned this well. he likes who he likes and he makes it very clear who he doesn't.
the list of people he likes includes: you, chloe, the old lady who lives next door and gives him cheese, and the barista at the coffee shop who once dropped a piece of bacon near his stroller.
the list of people he doesn't like includes: the mailman, anyone who wears hats, anyone who moves too fast, anyone who moves too slow, and approximately seventy percent of the dogs at your local park.
you've been trying to socialize him. you really have. but buddy's idea of socialization is sitting on your lap and judging people from a distance while growling softly at anyone who makes eye contact.
"he's just protective," you tell yourself. "he's a guard dog in a very small body."
he is currently sitting in his carrier in the passenger seat of your car, looking out the window with an expression that says he knows exactly where you're going and he has several complaints prepared.
"we're meeting chloe's friend," you tell him. "apparently he really wants to meet you. he has a border collie named layla who lives with his parents, so he knows dogs. so please don't bark at him. please. for my sanity."
buddy looks at you. he doesn't blink.
"also, if you could not bark at any other dogs today, that would be great. or any people. or any birds. actually, just don't bark."
he barks. once. short and sharp. it sounds like "no."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the dog park is already busy when you get there, which is your first mistake. your second mistake is letting buddy out of the carrier before you've fully assessed the situation.
he immediately starts barking at a golden retriever who is, admittedly, three times his size and standing very close to his personal space.
"buddy," you hiss, scooping him up. "we talked about this."
the golden retriever's owner gives you a look. you want to die.
"hi!" a voice calls out, and you turn to see chloe jogging toward you, waving her arms. she's wearing a bright yellow sundress and sunglasses and she looks like she's in a commercial for happiness. "you made it!"
"barely," you say. "buddy tried to fight a golden retriever in the parking lot."
"he's spirited," chloe says, which is her nice way of saying "he's a menace."
"where's your friend?"
"oh, he's here," chloe says, looking around. "he was just... there he is!"
she points, and you follow her finger to a guy who is currently on his knees in the grass, being enthusiastically licked by a beagle.
he's tall, you notice first. broad shouldered. wearing a white t-shirt and light wash jeans and sneakers. his hair is brown, styled in that effortless way that looks messy but probably took time, and he's smiling with his whole face, warm and bright and genuine. he looks like he belongs in a sunshine commercial.
"that's jake," chloe says, fondness in her voice. "told you. total sweetheart."
jake looks up then, like he can feel you watching, and his face breaks into a smile that's so bright you almost take a step back.
he waves, big and enthusiastic, and then he's standing up and walking toward you with the beagle trotting after him like they're best friends now.
"you must be y/n!" he says when he gets close, and his voice is warm and deep and exactly what you expected from someone who gets on the ground with strange dogs. "and this must be buddy!"
he looks at buddy, who is currently in your arms, growling softly at the beagle.
"he's perfect," jake breathes, and he means it. you can tell he means it. he's looking at your tiny angry dog like he's looking at a sunset.
"he's usually not friendly," you say, which is an understatement. "he takes a while to warm up to people."
"that's okay," jake says, not offended at all. "i'm very patient. also, i brought treats."
he pulls a bag of training treats from his pocket like it's a magic trick.
"you can't just bribe him," you say.
"watch me," jake says, grinning.
he takes a step back and crouches down again, putting himself at buddy's level. the beagle wanders off, bored now that the pets have stopped. jake holds out a treat between two fingers and waits.
buddy stops growling.
he looks at the treat. he looks at jake. he looks at you, as if to say "is this allowed?"
"it's okay," you tell him, setting him down carefully.
buddy takes three tentative steps toward jake. then he stops and barks once, sharp and demanding.
"yes, hello," jake says, not flinching. "i agree. the service here is terrible. no one has given me a treat yet either."
you laugh despite yourself.
buddy takes two more steps. he's close enough now that jake could grab him if he wanted to, but he doesn't. he just waits, hand steady, smile patient.
buddy sniffs the air. he sniffs jake's shoe. he sniffs jake's knee. he looks up at jake's face and considers him for a long moment. he slowly takes the treat, eating it and looking up at jake.
then he suddenly jumps into jake's arms.
you stare.
chloe stares.
jake's face lights up like christmas morning.
"hello!" he says, cradling buddy against his chest. "hello, little man! look at you! look at your ears!"
buddy, the dog who bites you when you try to clip his nails, who growled at your own mother when she visited, who once spent twenty minutes barking at a particularly offensive trash can, is currently licking jake's chin and wagging his whole body so hard his back legs are lifting off the ground.
"what," you say.
"i told you," chloe says, smug as anything. "total sweetheart. dogs can sense it."
"he hates everyone," you say, still staring.
"he doesn't hate me," jake says, delighted. he stands up with buddy in his arms and buddy settles against his chest like he belongs there, chin resting on jake's shoulder, looking out at the world with an expression of smug satisfaction. "we're friends now. sorry, i don't make the rules."
"you literally just met," you say.
"love at first sight," jake says, scratching behind buddy's ears. buddy makes a sound that's halfway between a whine and a purr. you've never heard him make that sound.
"can i hold him?" you ask, reaching out.
buddy looks at you. he looks at jake. he settles deeper into jake's arms and closes his eyes.
"traitor," you mutter.
jake laughs, and it's a good laugh. warm and open and genuine. "we can share," he offers. "you can have him back eventually. maybe. if he wants to go."
"he's my dog."
"he's choosing me," jake says, not unkindly. "democracy in action."
you should be annoyed. you are, a little. but mostly you're watching the way jake holds buddy carefully, supporting his long back, the way he keeps scratching that spot behind the ears that buddy loves, the way he's looking at your dog like he hung the moon.
"fine," you say. "you can hold him for now. but i'm watching you."
"fair," jake says. "i'd watch me too. i am a stranger, after all."
"a stranger who came prepared with treats," chloe points out.
"a stranger who did his research," jake corrects. "chloe told me buddy was a dachshund. i looked up dachshund facts. did you know they were bred to hunt badgers? that's insane. that's so brave. little legs, big dreams."
"buddy would run from a badger," you say.
"buddy would negotiate with a badger," jake says. "he's very smart. i can tell. look at his eyes."
you look at buddy's eyes. they're currently half closed in bliss as jake rubs his chest.
"he's not usually like this," you say again, because you feel like you need to defend your dog's honor. "he's usually very... opinionated."
"he's opinionated now," jake says. "his opinion is that i'm great. and he's right. so really, he's just very discerning."
you don't know what to say to that. you end up laughing, and jake grins at you, and chloe looks between the two of you with the expression of someone who just successfully set two people up and knows it.
"let's walk," she suggests. "the pond is nice this time of day."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the pond is nice, but you're mostly watching jake and buddy.
they've been walking together for twenty minutes now, and buddy hasn't barked at a single person. not the jogger who ran too close. not the kid on the scooter. not the poodle who looked at him funny.
instead, he's trotting along next to jake, occasionally looking up to make sure he's still there, occasionally jumping up to demand more pets.
jake carries him part of the way, holding him like a baby, and buddy lets him. he more than lets him. he actively snuggles.
"this is weird," you say to chloe, walking slightly behind them.
"what is?" she asks innocently.
"this. buddy. he's being... good."
"buddy's always good," chloe says.
"buddy bit the groomer," you remind her.
"buddy has standards," she amends. "apparently jake meets them."
you watch jake stop to let buddy sniff a particularly interesting patch of grass. he waits patiently, not rushing, not pulling the leash. when buddy finds a stick and brings it to him, jake acts like it's the greatest gift he's ever received.
"he's going to expect this now," you say. "he's going to want me to be this excited about sticks."
"you should be excited about sticks," chloe says. "sticks are great. jake's great. this is great."
"you're very pleased with yourself," you observe.
"i'm a genius," she agrees. "i should charge for this."
"charge for what?"
"nothing," she says quickly, but she's smiling.
jake looks back at you, buddy still in his arms now, and he smiles. "your dog is excellent," he calls out. "ten out of ten. best dog i've ever met."
"you've known him for twenty minutes," you point out, catching up.
"quality over quantity," jake says. "besides, i have a good feeling about this. me and buddy. we're going to be best friends. you and me too, probably. by association. since you're his mom."
"i am his mom," you agree, feeling a warmth in your chest at the way he says it, like it's a fact, like it's important.
"exactly," jake says. "you're his mom and i'm his new best friend. we're basically family now."
you should find this overwhelming. jake is a lot. he's loud and enthusiastic and he smiles with his whole face and he talks to dogs like they're people and he actually listens when they respond.
but somehow, it's not overwhelming. it's kind of... nice.
"basically family," you repeat. "great."
"you don't sound convinced," jake observes, falling into step beside you. chloe has wandered ahead to take pictures of ducks, leaving you alone with the warm hearted man holding your tiny opinionated dog.
"i'm just wondering when you're going to realize he's not always like this," you say. "usually he's barking. usually he's trying to fight things bigger than him. usually he's being difficult."
"difficult how?"
"he ate my favorite shoes last week."
"he has taste."
"he barked at his reflection for ten minutes."
"he's self aware. he knows his own face. that's advanced."
"he's not actually a good dog," you say, trying to be honest. "i love him, but he's not... easy."
jake looks at you, then down at buddy, who is currently trying to steal his sunglasses. he doesn't seem bothered.
"i have a dog," he says.
"layla. she lives with my parents now, but i raised her from a puppy. and she was the most difficult dog i've ever met. she herded everything. she once herded my dad into the garage and wouldn't let him leave for an hour because he was wearing a hat she didn't like. she bit three delivery guys. she ate an entire couch cushion."
"and you still love her?"
"i adore her," jake says simply. "she has personality. she knows what she wants and she isn't afraid to demand it. buddy's like that. he's not bad, he's just... specific. he likes what he likes. and he likes me."
buddy, as if on cue, licks jake's nose.
"see?" jake says. "specific. and correct."
you don't know why you're smiling so hard. "you're very weird."
"thank you," he says, like it's a compliment.
"it wasn't meant to be one."
"it felt like one," he says, grinning. "come on. let's catch up to chloe before she falls in the pond trying to get the perfect duck angle."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
jake doesn't go away after that first meeting.
you expected him to be a one time thing. a nice afternoon at the dog park, a funny story about the guy your dog liked more than you, and then back to normal life.
but he texts you. he gets your number from chloe, which should be annoying but somehow isn't, and he sends you pictures of dogs he sees on the street. he asks about buddy. he sends you memes about dachshunds. he tells you stories about layla, sends videos his parents send him, asks for advice on what brand of treats to buy for her when he visits.
he's relentless in the best way.
"he likes you," chloe says, a week later, when you're getting coffee together before work. she's showing you a text from jake that's just a photo of a hot dog with the caption "saw this and thought of buddy. long boy energy."
"he likes my dog," you correct, stirring your latte.
"he likes you," she repeats, lowering her voice like she's telling you a secret. "trust me. i work with the guy. i know when he's interested. and he's interested."
"he's just being nice."
"he's being interested," she says. "there's a difference."
you think about that as you're getting ready for bed that night, buddy curled up on your pillow because he refuses to acknowledge that he's small and the floor exists.
you scroll through your messages with jake. there are a lot of them. pictures of dogs, mostly, but also questions about your day, jokes about work, a video his mom sent of layla herding the vacuum cleaner.
he's easy to talk to. that's the thing. he responds to everything like it's the most interesting thing he's ever heard.
when you complained about your coffee spilling in your car, he sent you a link to the world's best travel mug and a story about the time he spilled an entire latte on his laptop.
when you told him buddy learned a new trick, he demanded video evidence and then sent you a video of himself attempting the same trick with a stuffed animal.
he's ridiculous. he's also kind of wonderful.
buddy shifts in his sleep, making a small snoring sound, and you scratch his belly without thinking.
"you like him too, don't you?" you ask your dog. "that's why you were so nice to him. you knew."
buddy opens one eye, looks at you with disdain, and goes back to sleep.
"rude," you say, but you're smiling.
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the second time you see jake, it's intentional.
he invites you to the dog park again, just you and him this time, chloe having to work overtime on a saturday which she's suspiciously vague about.
you almost say no. you're busy. you have work.
but jake sends a picture of himself holding a bag of premium dog treats with a pleading expression, and you cave.
"this is a bad idea," you tell buddy as you get ready. "i don't know why i'm doing this. we don't need friends. we have each other."
buddy is currently trying to eat your sock. he's not listening.
"he's going to expect you to be nice," you continue. "you're going to have to not bark at children. can you do that? for me?"
buddy spits out the sock and barks once.
"i'll take that as a maybe."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
jake is waiting when you get there, sitting on a bench with two coffees and a bag of what smells like pastries.
he's wearing a soft looking sweater and jeans, and his brown hair is catching the morning light, and he looks so good it almost hurts.
he sees you and waves, big and enthusiastic, and you feel something in your chest tighten in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.
"you came!" he says when you get close. "i wasn't sure you would."
"why wouldn't i?"
"you seemed hesitant. in the texts. lots of 'haha' and 'maybe' and 'we'll see.'"
"i was being mysterious."
"you were being cautious," he corrects, but he's smiling. "it's okay. i'm a lot. i know i'm a lot. but i brought coffee and a bacon quiche for buddy's mom, so hopefully that helps."
"it helps," you admit, taking the coffee. it's exactly how you like it, which you don't remember telling him, but chloe probably did.
"buddy!" jake crouches down again, that same position from last week, and holds out his hand. "hello, old friend!"
buddy, the dog who once tried to bite the wind, launches himself at jake with such force that jake almost falls over.
"hey!" jake laughs, catching him, holding him up like simba on pride rock. "there he is! there's my guy!"
buddy is losing his mind. he's licking jake's face, his ears, his hands. he's making that whining purring sound again. he's wiggling so hard he's basically vibrating.
"i think he remembers you," you say dryly.
"i think he loves me," jake says, not smug, just delighted. "which makes sense. i have great taste in dogs. and people."
he looks at you when he says it, and you feel your face get warm.
"let's walk," you say quickly. "before he pees on you from excitement."
"too late," jake says, but he's already moving, buddy in his arms, leading the way down the path like he knows exactly where he's going.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
you walk for an hour.
you talk about everything and nothing. jake tells you about his job, which is marketing but somehow involves more excel spreadsheets than you'd expect.
you tell him about yours, which is something with numbers that you don't love explaining because it makes people's eyes glaze over.
he asks questions anyway. he seems genuinely interested in the quarterly projections you're complaining about.
you talk about buddy. you tell him about the shoe incident, the reflection incident, the time he got stuck under the couch and barked for help but then bit you when you tried to rescue him.
"classic dachshund," jake says, like this is normal.
"layla was like that too. she once got herself stuck under my parents' deck and then barked for three hours straight because she was mad about it. not because she wanted help. just because she was angry."
"they're impossible," you agree.
"they're perfect," he counters. "they know exactly how much space they deserve in the world. which is all of it."
you look at him. he's carrying buddy again, because buddy got tired after twenty minutes of walking, and he doesn't seem to mind at all.
your dog is asleep in his arms, snoring slightly, completely at peace.
"you're good with him," you say. "i don't get it. he's not good with people."
"i'm not people," jake says. "i'm jake. it's different."
"how is it different?"
"because..." he pauses, thinking. "because i don't want anything from him. or you. i just like hanging out. i think that's rare. i think dogs can tell when you just want to be around them without wanting them to be anything specific. and i think people can tell too."
you look at the ground. "that's... that's actually really nice."
"i have my moments," he says. "not many. but some."
you walk in silence for a while, but it's comfortable.
the sun is warm. the coffee was good. your dog is happy. you can't remember the last time you felt this... easy.
there's a pause for a minute. not awkward, just soaking in the scene. then, jake voice fills the silence. "why'd you really come today?"
you look at him. he's not looking at you, focused instead on a squirrel that's caught buddy's attention even in sleep. his profile is soft in the afternoon light, his brown hair falling slightly over his forehead.
"i wanted to see if you were real," you say, surprising yourself with the honesty. "if you were actually like this. or if it was just... a first meeting thing. a fluke."
"and?"
"you're real," you admit. "you're a lot. but you're real."
"the best kind of real," he agrees. "the warm, enthusiastic, probably too much kind."
"is that what you are?"
"in human form," he says. "it's a heavy burden. but i bear it with grace."
you laugh, and he smiles at you, and buddy wakes up just long enough to lick both of your chins before settling back down.
"same time next week?" jake asks.
"same time," you agree.
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the weeks pass, and then the months.
you don't mean for it to become a thing. you don't mean to start looking forward to saturday mornings at the dog park with more intensity than you've looked forward to anything in months. but it does, and you do, and suddenly jake is just... part of your life.
he texts you every day.
good morning texts that are actually funny, not just "good morning" but "good morning i saw a corgi on the train and thought of buddy. shorter legs, same energy."
pictures of his lunch, which always looks terrible, with captions like "chef's kiss" and "cuisine." questions about your day that are specific enough that you know he's actually paying attention.
you start sending him things too. pictures of buddy being weird. complaints about work. random thoughts at 2am that you immediately regret sending but he always responds to with something that makes you laugh.
you see him every saturday. sometimes chloe comes, smug and pleased with herself. sometimes it's just you and jake and buddy, walking the same path, talking about everything.
but then it starts to be more than saturdays.
he texts you on wednesday, casual, like it's nothing
jake
i'm near your neighborhood for a meeting. any good coffee shops near you?
you tell him about the place on the corner, the one with the window seats and the croissants that buddy likes to beg for.
he texts back
jake
save me a seat? i'll buy you one too, as payment for the recommendation
you should say no. you have work. you have things to do.
..but you type back.
you
sure, see you at two
he's already there when you arrive, sitting by the window with two coffees and a croissant on a plate, and your stomach does something complicated when you see him.
he's not in workout clothes this time. he's wearing a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he looks... good. he looks really good. professional but still soft, still jake, still smiling at his phone like whatever he's reading is the funniest thing in the world.
then he looks up and sees you, and his face transforms, and you feel it. you feel something shift in the air between you.
"you came," he says, standing up, pulling out the chair across from him. "i wasn't sure you would."
"you say that every time," you observe, sitting down.
"because every time i'm not sure," he says, honest. "you're hard to pin down. i feel like if i blink you'll disappear."
"i'm not going anywhere," you say, and you mean it more than you've meant anything in a while.
he looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. "good," he says finally. "that's... good."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the coffee dates become a thing. then the evening walks. then the "i'm just in the neighborhood" texts that happen more and more often, until you're seeing him three, four times a week, until he's just... there. present. constant.
you learn things about him. he loves bad movies and will defend batman forever to his dying breath. he cries at every commercial with a dog in it, just like chloe said. he has a spreadsheet ranking every donut shop in the city and he's not afraid to use it. he wants to open a dog rescue someday, when he's saved enough money, somewhere with land and space for all the dogs no one wants.
"the difficult ones," he says, when he tells you this. "the ones who bark too much or have too much energy or are just too much. they deserve love too. they deserve someone who sees them and doesn't want to change them."
you think about buddy, who is currently asleep on jake's lap on your couch, and you feel something shift in your chest.
"yeah," you say. "they do."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
you start noticing things about jake.
the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not paying attention, soft and fond and something else, something that makes your stomach flip.
the way he remembers things, the way he brings you your favorite coffee without asking, the way he always has a treat for buddy and a compliment for you.
the way your hand brushes his when you're walking, and how neither of you pulls away.
the way you start wanting to tell him things first. before chloe, before anyone. good news, bad news, random observations about clouds. you want him to know everything.
the way you start noticing things about him. the scar on his chin from falling off a bike when he was ten. the way he runs his hand through his hair when he's thinking. the way he says your name, like it's something precious.
the way you're falling in love with him, week by week, day by day, like watching the sun rise, and it doesn't scare you as much as you thought it would.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
it's been four months since the dog park. four months of texts and coffee and walks and saturdays. four months of building something you don't have a name for yet.
you're at his apartment this time. he's cooking dinner, something involving pasta and sauce that smells amazing, and buddy is exploring the space with the confidence of a dog who has claimed this territory as his own.
"he likes it here," you observe, watching buddy settle onto the dog bed that jake apparently bought just for him.
"he likes everywhere you're at," jake says, stirring the sauce. "we have that in common."
you look at him. he's focused on the pot, but there's color in his cheeks, like he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"you do?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.
"...i what?" jake asks quietly, knowing you heard him anyway
"like everywhere i'm at?"
he stops stirring. he looks at you, cheeks flushed cause he was caught. his eyes are dark and warm and full of something you've been pretending not to see for weeks.
"yeah," he says, simple and honest. "i do. i really do."
your heart is hammering. the air feels thick. buddy is snoring from jakes couch, oblivious, but you can't look away from jake.
"that's... that's good," you manage. "because i... i like where you are too."
he sets down the wooden spoon. he turns off the burner. he walks around the kitchen island until he's standing in front of you, close enough that you can smell his soap, something clean and warm, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to.
"..can i kiss you?" jake asks, his gaze not leaving your eyes.
the question hangs in the air between you, heavy and electric, and you feel every nerve in your body light up at once.
"yes," you whisper. "please."
he steps closer. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your jawline, and his touch is so gentle, so careful, like you're something precious, something he's been waiting for.
he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away, time to change your mind, but you don't. you can't. you've been waiting for this too, you realize. you've been waiting for months.
his lips brush yours, soft and tentative, and it's electric. it's like the first sip of coffee in the morning, like sunlight on your skin, like coming home.
you make a small sound, involuntary, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, to check, and you can see the question in his eyes.
"again," you breathe, and you reach up to touch his face, your fingers brushing his cheekbone, and he smiles against your mouth before leaning back in.
this time it's not tentative. this time it's sure, it's warm, it's months of buildup finally breaking free.
his mouth moves against yours, gentle but insistent, and you open for him, letting him in, tasting him, learning him.
he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, something happy and relieved, and it sends warmth flooding through your whole body.
his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, and he angles your head to deepen the kiss.
his tongue slides against yours, slow and sweet, and you whimper, pressing closer, wanting more, wanting everything.
he walks you backward until your back hits the wall, but he's gentle about it, his hands protecting your head from the impact. then he's crowding you there, his body warm and solid against yours, and you can feel every inch of him, the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms, the way he's trembling just slightly, like he's holding himself back.
"is this okay?" he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot against your skin.
"yes," you gasp, arching into him.
he kisses you deeper, sweeter, his hands moving from your hair to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching yours beat for beat.
your hands slide up his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt, and you fist your hands in the fabric, pulling him closer, closer, until there's no space between you at all.
he kisses down your jaw, your throat, finding the sensitive spot below your ear that makes you gasp, and he lingers there, pressing soft kisses to your skin, and you tilt your head back to give him better access, your fingers tangled in his hair.
"jake," you breathe, and his name sounds like a prayer, like a promise.
he hums softly against your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in.
"i've wanted this," he whispers, his voice rough and honest. "i've wanted you. for so long."
"i know," you whisper back, holding him close. "me too."
he pulls back to look at you, his eyes dark and blown wide, his lips swollen and pink, and he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"be my girlfriend?" he asks, his thumb brushing over your kiss-bitten lips. "officially? no more saturdays as just friends. i want to be yours. i want you to be mine."
"yes," you say immediately, smiling so big it hurts. "yes, i want that. i want you."
he grins, that bright, sunshine grin that made you notice him in the first place, and then he's kissing you again, deep and slow and full of promise, and you kiss him back with everything you have, everything you've been holding back for months.
when you finally pull apart, breathless and smiling, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands still on your waist, and he looks at you with so much affection you feel like you might cry.
"you're my girlfriend," he says, like he's testing it out, like he can't believe it.
"i'm your girlfriend," you confirm, laughing softly.
"and i'm your boyfriend."
"you are."
"and buddy is our dog."
"he's our dog," you agree, feeling the truth of it settle into your bones.
he kisses you again, quick and sweet, and then he pulls back, taking your hand in his, threading his fingers through yours.
"we should eat," he says, smiling. "before the pasta gets cold."
"in a minute," you murmur, pulling him back down for another kiss. "just... one more minute."
he laughs against your mouth and kisses you again, soft and slow and perfect, and you think that maybe, just maybe, you could stay like this forever.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
six months later, you're standing in chloe's apartment holding a glass of champagne and watching your boyfriend laugh at something her boyfriend just said.
jake's wearing the sweater you bought him for his birthday, the soft blue one that makes his eyes look even warmer, and his brown hair is styled in that way you love, and he's holding buddy in one arm and gesturing wildly with the other hand, telling a story about how layla once herded his entire family into the kitchen because it was dinner time and they were running late.
"you're staring," chloe says, appearing at your elbow with her own glass of champagne.
"i'm appreciating," you correct, not looking away.
"you're in love," she amends, smug as ever.
"i am," you agree, because there's no point denying it. you're so in love it radiates out of you. you're so in love you wake up smiling. you're so in love it almost doesn't feel real.
chloe follows your gaze to where jake is now demonstrating how buddy sits on command, the tiny dachshund looking proud and regal in his arms.
"he's good for you," she says, softer now. "you know that, right?"
"i know," you say. "he's... he's everything."
"he's your person," she says. "and you're his."
across the room, jake looks up like he can feel you watching, and he smiles, that same bright smile from the dog park all those months ago, and he mouths "i love you" without caring who sees.
you mouth it back.
he excuses himself from the conversation and walks over to you, buddy still in his arms, and he wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close.
"having fun?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"the best," you say, leaning into him. "you?"
"always," he says, "when i'm with you."
buddy squirms between you, demanding attention, and jake laughs, adjusting his hold on the dog so he's cradled between both of you like a baby.
"our son is demanding," jake observes.
"he's spoiled," you agree.
"he's perfect," jake corrects, and he's looking at you when he says it.
"you're perfect," you say back, reaching up to fix his hair where it's fallen over his forehead.
"we're perfect," he amends, smiling that sunshine smile. "all three of us."
chloe, watching from nearby, raises her glass in a silent toast, and you laugh, leaning up to kiss jake properly, champagne glasses clinking somewhere in the background, buddy squished happily between you, and everything is exactly how it should be.
you're a family. you're his. he's yours. and you wouldn't have it any other way.
⋆˚✿˖°
an✧˖° soo... what'd we think.. im sorry i keep pushing off the plug fics, but im gonna get my jungwon fic done THENN ill do the plug fics, i PROMISEEE :) reblogs are always welcome!! please comment any feedback, it helps me more then you think! also fun fact, i come up with titles last, so the title for this story on my google docs was "jayla australian puppy milk boy"
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