what did you call me? - spidey tracker part 1 - spiderman!jake x reader
: ˚⋆✮ in which: after you and jake get assigned a project together for the daily bugle and spiderman says something a little too familiar, you decide to open up a twitter account to track down spiderman.
: ˚⋆✮ a/n: first part ok #scared uh i did this instead of studying oops but part names may change but ok yes ok…. omg i wanna do a tatbilb jake au now
⤷ now playing ゛out of touch — daryl hill and john oates ˎˊ˗
how do you handle yourself after finding out that your first love, your first boyfriend, and person you wanted to marry, cheated on you? you do well, taking back autonomy of your life. too bad your nosy older brother keeps trying to get in your business, bringing his hot friends along with him.
: ˚⋆✮ in which: no one believes jake is dating you — a fashionable influencer who has never even engaged with any rumours between you two. until you get caught, of course.
: ˚⋆✮ a/n: me making slop once again but sorry ok🤍
my girls - halftime! 001 - sim jaeyun x reader smau + baby daddy au
series masterlist
next.
: ˚⋆✮ in which: even if jake misses out on team celebrations, he’ll always make it home to you and your daughter. and soft launch trying to get you back.
: ˚⋆✮ a/n: ok first baby part, short af but mainly to introduce dynamics. yunae’s fc is random pinterest babies who ill blur the faces of ok… dont hate me if i take a while to update this 💔
my girls - halftime! 001 - sim jaeyun x reader smau + baby daddy au
series masterlist
next.
: ˚⋆✮ in which: even if jake misses out on team celebrations, he’ll always make it home to you and your daughter. and soft launch trying to get you back.
: ˚⋆✮ a/n: ok first baby part, short af but mainly to introduce dynamics. yunae’s fc is random pinterest babies who ill blur the faces of ok… dont hate me if i take a while to update this 💔
𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader
𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated...
𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷
𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: clear mentions of class divides, y/n feels insecure but fights it, mentions of how wonbin made y/n feel. written part (2.1k) after button dividers
𝜗𝜚 NOTES: been leading up to this moment for a while haha! i meant for the written part to be shorter but the wordcount kindaaa ran away from me. ik technically apartment complexes don't let renters modify huge parts of their homes but it's fiction and jay is rich so i can write whatever lol.
since i'm a very visual person i imagined jay's kitchen like this and y/n's dress like this xx
✮ profiles 01 ✮ profiles 02 ✮ masterlist
Despite Jay indicating this weekend would be a casual hangout, you feel woefully unprepared for whatever he has planned.
Yunjin and Jiyu use the event as a celebration, debating the validity of sundresses and eyeshadow shades at an hour where you can only blink awake and sip your mug of coffee. They ease your tumbling thoughts by their familiar chatter, their wide smiles and giggly comments acting as if this is a dream in motion. Yunjin encourages you to choose between a floral pink top you don’t remember buying or a navy blue sundress you keep meaning to wear but hangs in your closet anyway. You choose the dress in hopes of not being underdressed, but end up wearing sandals you’ve owned since high school. Jiyu swipes glittery powder across your cheeks, a self-made mixture from blazing lights and lengthy dress rehearsals she swears “makes every audience stare.” You’re not too dense that you can’t see her hidden meaning.
Fleetingly, you wonder if Jay could ever be happy settling for staring at you the rest of his life. After Wonbin’s…everything, you’re not too excited to find out.
Still, you know that choosing his invitation is an answer itself, and you can’t help but imagine the start of a wild, wonderful, unattainable thing as Yunjin fusses over curling your hair and Jiyu compares lip tint shades to the shade of your outfit.
(Just this once, you let yourself dream.)
After a quick muffin for breakfast, you’re driving to Jay’s place, playing all your favorites on the way to ease your trembling nerves. You have no idea what you are doing, and yet you’re out here, traveling through neighborhoods in a completely different tax bracket than yours, trying something that your friends have seen you cry and shake over attempting again.
You can’t lie, you’re a little proud of yourself.
You half expect there to be a gated entryway in front of Jay’s home, like in all those secret agent movies—but fortunately, there isn’t, just a city street leading to a boxy, modern apartment. You park in the connected parking lot as Jay’s earlier text instructs you, quietly mentioning your connection to Jay to the security guard manning the entrance.
You climb out, lock your car, and glance at your phone to memorize the number he kept in his directions as you figure out what door to open. Fortunately the design isn’t too hard to figure out, and you quickly find the one leading you into the general foyer. Jay is already waiting for you in the wide, polished room, wearing a dark green shirt with sleeves reaching to his elbows, a leather belt, and faded jeans.
“Welcome, Y/N. I’m so glad you could make it.” He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement of your outfit. “You clean up well.”
“Thanks. Yunjin and Jiyu insisted.” You step beside him, trying to drum up courage you don’t feel. “How was Italy?”
“Oh, it was wonderful. I swear, it gets more beautiful every year,” he replies. “I’ll have to take you sometime.”
You pause, curious why he had jumped to that as an option. “Sure, I guess?”
Jay doesn’t seem to think the remark anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it’s the rich boy version of being polite. He leads you to an elevator past the front desk and then types in a few numbers inside.
For a building with a cold, corporate vibe, Jay’s personal foyer holds a more comfortable design, complete with warm, textured wood flooring and several family pictures hanging in the entryway. You wonder if he’s influential enough to make some of his own adjustments to the architecture.
“Feel free to leave your shoes and things, you don’t have to carry them around,” he tells you. “Kitchen first? I think you mentioned wanting to try something with zucchini.”
“Oh, yes!” you exclaim, setting down your purse and slipping off your sandals. “I just found a new zucchini brownie recipe I’m excited to try.”
“Good,” he says, quietly leading you in front. “Whatever we need to make it, I already have available. I even asked Sunghoon if he knew of any fresh zucchini providers. Who knew he was such a vegetable enthusiast?”
It’s only halfway to him leading you to the kitchen that you realize he avoided a grand tour so you wouldn’t feel more out of place. Clever man.
“How has your week been?” he asks.
“Okay. Nothing interesting,” you say, avoiding the temptation to bring up…well, whatever Wonbin was doing to chip at your sanity. It had felt like such a big thing while getting ready in your room, but it seems wherever Jay goes nothing else feels important. “Are you jetlagged at all?”
“I’m feeling it a bit, yeah. Maybe…a little more than usual?” He raises a hand to rub at his neck with a short laugh. “But I’m feeling better now. Thanks for asking.”
“Yeah, of course,” you murmur.
You’re expecting Chef Park’s home kitchen to look smooth, steel-plated, and intimidating in its industrial nature. You aren’t expecting to see an ordinary stove and microwave nestled in between light wood countertops and a humble white backsplash. Cabinets and floating shelves are scattered throughout the kitchen with piled cooking utensils. Six large zucchinis rest on one side of the counter next to a steel mixing bowl, some worn oven mitts, a tiny phone tripod, and a black hand mixer. The rest of the kitchen is taken up by a central granite counter, with hanging basket lights and cushioned barstools.
“I have a lot of kitchens I work in, but this is my favorite,” he says. “When I was first starting my career I missed home a lot, so I tried to combine all the things I liked about it here.”
“You designed this kitchen, then?” you ask.
“A little bit,” he chuckles. “I left most of it to the professionals who actually know what they’re doing, but yes. I wanted it to feel like…warm. Some place I could come back to and feel well rested in.”
You think about the detailed way he brought his world into the private room of his restaurant, and imagine him bringing that same level of interest and care here. “That makes sense. You deserve a safe place to come home to, I think.”
“Thank you.” Jay’s response is quiet, but he seems touched. “So, you said you wanted to film something?”
“Yeah, I thought it could be fun. No script, like usual for fake baking content.” You smile. “I love that you brought out a tripod, you really thought this all out.”
“I like to be prepared.”
“I can tell.”
“What do you usually use, then? If not anything to set up your camera.”
“I’m not a real influencer, so I don’t put much effort in it,” you shrug. “I film on my phone and do edits and captions later. Yujin lets me use the fancy light she bought for her self shoots sometimes.”
“I couldn’t tell the difference.”
You bark a laugh. “You flatter me, truly. Anyway, it isn’t too hard to bake with zucchini. Let me grab a claw clip and apron, then watch and learn.”
“I’m under your instruction,” he smirks, and wow, a polite reply should not sound that hot.
“Good!” you grin, and spend the next half hour showing him the ins and outs of the recipe you’d downloaded on your phone, your and Jay’s faces carefully obscured as you film different clips. (Every so often, Jay playfully brings his eyes close to the camera, or breaks out in a delighted chuckle at the way you demonstrate a step, and you think you’re going to have to make an exception to your simple vlogging to include those elements.) The recipe itself is easy to create, and even through his mischievous behavior you can see Jay focusing closely on the recipe. You try not to notice how his gaze follows you moving around his kitchen searching for the right ingredients and utensils. (You wonder what he’s thinking.)
Finally, the brownies are in the oven, and Jay offers to give you a tour of the apartment after you’ve both cleaned up. Every inch of the apartment is very him—precise, sentimental, and thoughtful in a way that makes your heart warm. He requests some time for him to grab some things, and so you find yourself flopping on his dark green couch, the scent of dark cocoa wafting through the air.
He returns holding a beautiful mahogany guitar and a tiny plastic bag with a floral-tipped, cursive word on it. Wait, is that logo in Italian?
“Ah, forgive me, I’ve never done something like this before,” he says, carefully setting the guitar against the couch cushions and sitting next to you, so close your knees brush up against each other. “But we have a bit until the brownies finish, so I figured this was the right time.”
“What are you saying?” you whisper. This close, you can count every tiny dimple in his smile.
“What I’m saying is I’m a little in love with you,” he murmurs.
Your lips part on a silent gasp.
“I think I’ve been gone ever since I walked into that cafe where we met,” he adds. “You looked lovely, sitting where the light caught your hair. I was so lucky to learn you were even lovelier to know.”
“Oh,” you breathe.
“I’d like to make my intentions clear, and I apologize if they haven’t been before,” he continues. “I want you, Y/N. I want you to be in my life as more a friend I give business advice to and laugh with over coffee and wine. I can’t pretend I know what I’m doing. My schedule would make anyone hesitate, and I’m a little bit known everywhere I go, and I’ve never really given thought about having someone in my life. But you make me want to try. You make me want everything, Y/N, before I had a chance to realize it myself.”
He pauses, ears red, offering the small shopping bag with one hand.
“I got you something, when I was in Italy,” he says. “I saw it and I thought of you. You…don’t have to read into it, or answer anything before you’re ready. I just want you to have it.”
Your brain starts to slip into hauntingly familiar thoughts of danger, caution, and cynicism. They sound suspiciously like Wonbin’s voice echoing in your ears, bringing back hurt and heartbreak and a dizzying, cutting ache of not being good enough.
You suck in a breath and ignore your mind for once, gently taking the bag and placing it in your lap.
“I want you too,” you tell him. “I know it’s fast and I know it’s unexpected but…you are just so easy to fall for, Jay.”
“I do? I mean, I am?” he stammers, blush spreading to the rest of his honey skin.
You let out a bright, unrestrained laugh. “You always have been to me. I don’t know how any of this will work either. But you’re worth trying for, however you’ll have me.”
You’re worth the risk of getting my heart broken again, you don’t add.
His flustered expression gives way to a gentle, sweet, and entirely besotted smile. “It’s okay, we’ve got each other now, mmm? We’ll figure out things together.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you tell him.
“I’m going to be so, so good to you, Y/N,” he declares in a low voice that makes your heartbeat flutter, and for a moment, you are struck by the steadiness in his promise. You hope with all your heart that he means it.
“You already are,” you murmur, finding it hard to look away from him. He’s like a dream in front of you: stunning and flushed and surprisingly yours. Curiosity about the present in your lap eventually wins though, and you reach into the shopping bag to bring out a tiny light blue gift box.
You open the box to reveal a delicate gold necklace. The oval pendant has a stamped sunburst design, with a twinkling drop of amber in the middle. It’s gorgeous. It’s exactly what you would’ve picked out for yourself.
“Jay, wow, thank you,” is all you can say. “Help me put it on?”
He responds with a soft hum, immediately scooting closer to you to help. His fingers are gentle as he sweeps stray hairs away from your neck and connects the clasp.
“Pretty,” he mumbles as he lets go of the necklace.
“You too,” you manage to blurt. His eyes turn a deliciously darker shade of brown, and for a second you think he might lean over and kiss you.
He doesn’t, which is sweet of him but devastating for your heart. Instead, he grabs the neck of the guitar and rests it on his lap.
“We still have some time before the oven beeps,” he says. “Might I have the pleasure of serenading my girlfriend without a screen?”
You smile and think you’ve never felt more adored.
synopsis | After finding hand scribbled messages in a novel of the quaint bookshop you work at, you start a paper dependent back-and-forth with an anonymous penman; a small part of you, however, hopes that your brother’s cold best friend may have a hand in their mysterious appearances.
content | brother!jaemin, brother!jaehyun, au, fluff, language warning
wc | 11.1k
song | all the stars — kendrick lamar, sza
a/n | my first longer fic, hope u enjoy it! leave any and all feedback, i’d love to hear ur thoughts :))
WHERE your boyfriend is a little too good at card games... unless... 𖢥 enha's 심재윤 x reader, wc: 1.2k, spiderman!au, fluff, spiderman!jake x fem!reader, established relationship
content warnings: reader is referred to as "girlfriend", unedited ASF im jinjja sorrae
author's note: i wrote this blurb SUPER QUICKLY while i was on my roadtrip bc for the life of me i could not fall asleep in the car for some reason ... this is also not edited at all , didn't even read it back i fear .. i just copy paste from notse app then formatted it and decided to post bc i haven't posted in a while (whoops) and i've been working on too much angst fics in my draftsso i needed a little break . shoutout to that one spiderman jake edit i saw on my fyp <33 you've rewired my entire nervous system :DD anyways ! im so sorry if this is bad genuinely have no mental capacity to edit ut rn i will edit tomorrow but i hope u guys enjoy it !
[the archive]
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The window blinds are half-open, letting in a small amount of afternoon sun into Jake's bedroom. Jake's hair is still damp from his shower, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and a bunch of playing cards sprawled out in front of him. You sat across him on his bed, staring at your own hand of cards.
This was his idea of a lazy afternoon—it was one of those rare days where Jake decided to hang up the mask for a bit and just be a twenty-something year old boy hanging out with his beautiful girlfriend.
"Finally," you say wth a small sigh. "Go fish,." you say, as Jake grins, picking up a card from the deck.
"You really gotta work on your poker face, baby." He tells you, adjusting the cards in his hand.
"I do not have a poker face problen, I have a you problem." You fan your cards with a small frown, holding them a little closer to your chest. Squinting at him dramatically, "this is your, what, about to be your sixth win in a row?"
"Maybe I'm just good at Go Fish?"
"Literally nobody is good at Go Fish," you counter with a playful eye roll. "Babe, it' s a children's game. It's all just luck."
"Or maybe you just suck." Jake shrugs, infuriatingly calm, and gestures for you to take your turn.
"Got any threes?"
"Go fish."
You curse under your breath as you draw a card, and it's not a three. Because, of course it's not.
And suddenly, it's his turn again. Jake looks down at his hand and that's when you catch it—the tuny twitch at the corner of his eyebrow, there and gone so fast you would have missed it if you weren't already staring.
"Baby."
"Hm?"
"...Are you cheating?"
He looks up at uyou instantly, "What?"
"Your eyebrow just did a thing."
"My eyebrow did not do a thing."
"Your eyebrow definitely did a thing," you insist as you stare at him with a raised brow. "It twitched, I just saw it! You do this every time before you guess right, it's liek a—" you trail off, trailing to find the right words for it.
"Okay, first of all," Jake says, setting his cards face-down on the bed, "how can you even tell—"
"It's your spidey sense, oh my god!" You cut him off, sitting back on your heels as the realization hits. "You're using your spidey sense to win at Go Fish against your own girlfriend!"
"I'm not—" He drags a hand down his face, anf you watch the guilt bloom rihgt there in real time, soft and helpless, like he can;t even be mad at himself properly. "It's not like I'm trying to. It just... happens? I get a tingly feeling whenever someoen's bluffing, it's not exactly a setting I can turn off—"
"So you admit it."
"Baby, I'm not admitting anything, there's literally nothingto admit—"
"You've been running an unfair advantage on me for six rounds! With your superpowers! Against a helpless civilian!" You say dramatically, clutching uour chest, "Against the love of your life, no less!"
"Okay, when you say it like that it soumds so much worse than it is—"
"THat's because it is that bad, Jake, if you hate me you could've just said tha—"
He's fighting a smile now, dimples threatening at the corners of his mouth. "You want me to just—let you win the next round?"
"Excuse me?" You gasp, and any residual amusement drops clean off your face. "You'll let me win?"
"I mean—yeah? As an apology?"
"I don't want you to let me win, I want to win fairly, there's a difference! Letting me win is honestly more insulting than the cheating was—"
Jake just laughs at you—that full, delightef laugh that always makes it a little harder to stay mad at him. You watch the way his eyes crinkle slightly and it makes your chest go warm despite your best efforts to stay upset.
Before you can protest he's tugging you across the scattered cards and into his lap, arms looping around your waist like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like you belong there. Which, annoyingly, you do.
"Jake—" You say trying to sound stern. You do not sound stern.
"I'm sorry," he says, clearly not sorry at all, nose brushing your cheek. "I'll even play blindfolded next time. Whatever makes it fair."
"That's not—you can't just cuddle your way out of this—"
"Can't I, though?" He presses a kiss just below your ear, slow, unhurried, like he has all afternoon to do jus tthat. "Because I think it's kind of working."
"It is not working."
"Are you sure?" Jake asks, pressing a few more kisses around your face, "my spidey sense says it is."
"Bruh, fuck your spidey sense—"
"You love it," he murmurs, smug and warm against your skin, and when you swat his arm he only pulls you in closer, laughing into your hair like winning has never once felt this good.
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bonus scene:
Maybe it's the warmth of him or the fact that his thumb has started tracing slow, absent circles against your hip—but you feel yourself melting anyways, the fight draining out of you as you relax in his arms. Your head tipping back against his shoulder.
You're seconds away from fully forgiving him, honestly, you can feel it happening, feel yourself going soft and pliant and—
You suddenyl bolt upright.
"Wait a minute," you twist around to look at him, eyes wide with the horror of realization. "Wait. So that one time we were playing mahjong?"
Your boyfrind's smile goes sheepish so fast it's basically a confession on its own. "...What about it?"
“Oh my god, Sim Jaeyun,“ your jaw drops in disbelief, “You swept me, Jake. I thought I was suddenly just bad at mahjong!"
Jake cringes slightly at the use of his government name. "You're not bad at mahjong—"
"You let me think I was bad at mahjong for months—"
"In my defense," he says, hands raised in (with ??) negotiaton, though the smile on his face only seems to grow, "I didn't let you think anything, I just… Didn't correct you..?"
"That's the same thing! That's exactly the same thing as lying!" You say pointing at him, “You lied to me!“
"It's really not the same though—"
"How many other games, Jake? How many! Poker? Uno? Was the Mario Kart rigged too—"
He cuts you off, suddenly sitting straight as well. "Okay, the Mario Kart was all skill, I want that on the record—"
"I don't believe you! I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth right now!" But despite your tone, you can’t help the smile forming on your lips.
"Okay, so no more card games," you say with a pout, calming yourself down and turning your head away from him once again.
"Deal," he says, reaching his arms out once again in an attempt to pull you back into his chest. Then, after a beat, far too pleased with himself: "Pun intended."
"I'm going home."
"No you're not. You love me."
"Do I?"
"Yeah, you do," he says, tightening his arms around you, pressing a kiss into your hair. "My spidey sense said so."
You groan and bury your face against his chest, but you don't move away.
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please do not repost, reupload, or translate my work anywhere else on the internet. i also do not approve uploading my work on any ai site. salamuch <33
“hi.” jake greeted you once the door swung open, a faint smile accompanying him.
the corners of your lips tugged upwards easily as you looked jake up and down with hidden fondness—which probably wasn’t discreet to anyone who wasn’t jake.
you stepped aside, allowing him to enter before starting to walk off. he silently tailed after you, hands dug in the pockets of his hoodie while you led him to the living room.
the tv had already been switched on in preparation, and you wordlessly patted the spot next to you, signaling for him to take a seat. jake cautiously lowered himself, daringly closer than the last time both of you found yourself in similar spot, yet neither of you took it upon you to say it.
the moment was cut short once jake’s attention landed on the table in front of him, his eyes suddenly wide with surprise. “did you buy these?” he nearly exclaimed. how he hadn’t noticed the two plates, each holding a slice of tres leches cake, was beyond him.
“i made them.”
“they look good.” he remarked, his arm reaching to grab a plate before remembering his limits. he looked over at you, expecting some form of approval before taking one. you simply nodded, a silent gesture which was enough for jake to lean forward, taking the fork in his hand and admiring the creation in front of him.
you chuckled. “thanks. should we start the movie?” you leaned over to grab the other plate before settling back against the cushion behind you. you picked up the remote, ready to browse through the movies categorised as rom-com when it suddenly hit you.
“wait actually—” you didn’t finish your sentence, instead jumping to your feet before rushing out of the room. jake’s fork was frozen midair, unsure of whether to wait for you or continue eating.
it was less than a minute later that you re-entered the room, this time with none other than clover in your arms. “i told you she missed you.”
jake’s face lit up, watching clover nuzzled into your elbow. “missed me, but wasn’t here to greet me.” he raised an eyebrow before bringing the fork to his mouth, relishing the flavours of the cake.
you sat down with a soft hum, stroking clover who relaxed in your lap. “she gets shy around cute guys.” you said with casually.
jake’s second bite didn’t go as smoothly as his first. he coughed at the impact your words had on him, the sweet treat suddenly burning the back of his throat. he must’ve heard you wrong, he thought. but the small, knowing smile that grew on your face as you barely spared him a glance made him dare to think otherwise.
“let’s watch this.” you decided, and jake didn’t protest, too caught up in trying to process the casualness of your flirtation.
the movie began. you and jake continued to eat what was left of the cake, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t taking sneaky glances his way whenever he put another bite of your food in his mouth, the obvious enjoyment on his face making you smile inwardly.
by the 30th minute, clover had settled into jake’s lap, his sturdy hands moving over her in a slow, rhythmic pattern that somehow held your attention more than the film itself.
“i think she really likes you.” you muttered loud enough for jake’s head to turn. the confusion lasted barely a second before he softly laughed, looking down at the topic of discussion in question. “how can you tell?” jake asked, using both his hands to rub her.
you watched in silence at the way clover seemed to ease right into his palm, at the way jake’s hands handled her with nothing but pure care. and in that moment you thought, who wouldn’t like jake?
someone filled with so much love in him, and care for those around him, was hard not to fall for.
“she looks comfortable.” you observed. “i think she feels safe with you, or likes being near you.”
the room seemed to grow quieter after that, the movie fading into a background noise as your words lingered.
you’re sure the implications didn’t go unnoticed by him. how just like clover, you seemed to share the same sentiment for being around him.
but then again, this was jake—the kind of guy who approached affection with hesitation.
it was hard not to fall for him.
with jake’s presence so close beside you, you could barely pay any attention to the movie. you felt the brush of his sleeve against your arm every so often, and you’re not exactly sure how and when the distance placed between you became nearly nonexistent, but it felt all too natural. too domestic.
so you took a risk. you leaned closer—just a little bit more, to gauge his reaction.
jake stilled, before slowly relaxing. a small, breathy exhale following.
he didn’t move away, which felt like encouragement. you placed your head on his shoulder with precision, making sure to give him enough time to stop you. jake let you, his body still stiff. you noticed, of course.
“sorry” you whispered, suddenly growing too conscious of your impulsive action. jake shook his head, unable to turn and look at you. “no.. it’s okay.” he assured you.
his body felt rigid beneath you. “you’re tense.” you pointed out, slowly lifting your head back up. you barely got away before jake’s hand shot out, placed on your temple as he lowered you back onto the line of his shoulder.
without a word, he adjusted himself, angling his body for your head you lean more comfortably.
you could feel an eruption of various feelings in your lower abdomen, unable to hide the ecstatic smile.
you really couldn’t care less about the movie, not when you were pressed into jake’s side, and he seemed into it.
you almost let out a laugh at the irony of it all. would you have told yourself a few months earlier that you’d be in this position—jake sat in your living room, caressing clover as if she was his daughter, and your head rested on him, you would’ve found it ridiculous.
and now, you don’t think you would’ve wanted it any other way if given the chance.
you didn’t notice the ending credits rolling in, too lost in your own thoughts until jake gently nudged you. “that was fun.” his voice came out hushed.
you nodded in agreement, remaining your position on his shoulder. “so.. what now.”
“i don’t know.” you shrugged. “i kinda don’t want you to leave yet.”
you could feel the sharp intake of a breath jake took, his body going tense again for a short moment before it eased, the weight of his head suddenly on top of yours. “me neither.”
so you opted to silence. staring at the home screen on your tv with nothing to say. both you and jake basking in the warmth, as well as comfort of each other’s presence.
it was stupid, and you barely lasted 3 minutes before you scoffed out a laugh. “i can’t believe we’re just sitting here in silence.” you humoured.
“i don’t mind it.”
“me too.”
you carried on for another few minutes, nothing but the sound of each other's breathing as well as your heart beating rapidly filling the room.
“i meant what i said, by the way.” you started. “about enjoying spending time with you and stuff.”
“i never thought i'd get this close to you.” you chuckled further. jake’s hands twitched in his lap, trying to bite back the smile that was forming on his face.
for a moment, he wondered if you could feel the pulsing of his heart from where you laid on him. if you could see the way his hands were starting to get a little clammy, and if the burning heat emitted from his body was obvious.
“i don’t think i expected this either.” jake decided that was the safest thing his mind could conjure in that moment. had he let himself think too long, he might say something stupid. such as how he couldn’t tell you what went on in the last 50 minutes of the movie, his mind and body too busy trying to not feel things with you pressed into his side.
his phone buzzed beside him, and it felt like the bubble he lived in got bursted with it. he eyed the time, a sudden reminder of how late it was getting. he sighed, reluctantly. “i should probably go before it gets late.”
this time, you froze. jake felt it, and it was enough to make him want to eat his own words and promise you a few more minutes like this. “okay.” you nodded, getting off him.
the walk to the door felt bitter. as if both of you knew the other wanted nothing more than to stay a little longer. you watched him put his shoes on before he straightened back up.
“get home safely.” you reminded him. jake nodded. he should’ve taken that as his cue to leave, but you looked at him in a way that told him you couldn’t bear the thought of him doing so.
and then you did something neither of you expected. you leaped forward, wrapping your arms around jake’s shoulders before pulling him into a hug.
jake hardened, both his hands stranded on each side of his body, unsure of where to place them. the lack of response made you aware, and you panicked, ready to pull back and pretend this never happened.
you felt jake’s hands on you before you could do so. cautiously, because jake was nothing if not cautious. and suddenly he was against you again.
the hug was awkward at first as jake tried to withhold his overwhelming need to touch you. but then you tightened your arms by a little, and jake took it further. his arms circling around you fully until there was no space left.
he held you as if you were everything he had, or everything he needed. it wasn’t awkward anymore, but intimate in ways neither of you could voice.
you stayed like that for a little longer, held in jake’s arms as you both enjoyed the feeling of each other.
“i should go.” jake whispered into the side of your head, yet neither of you made a move. wanting the moment to last just a bit more.
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𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : the jakeyn date. they’re so in love with each other. and clover cameo too. and also yn got to feed jake her tres leches. a little bit of this a little bit of that.
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. your strategy was simple: mind your business in school and survive. it works perfectly-- until the most popular guy in school decides he can't live without you.
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.
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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"
