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heliads · 6 months ago

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wouldn't you love to love her? - jack hughes

The New Jersey Devils have a new social media intern. Jack Hughes is determined not to care at all, except for the fact that he does.

masterlist

“We’re getting a new social media intern,” Luke remarks offhandedly.

Jack tries not to roll his eyes. He’s not sure he succeeds. For as long as he’s been at the Devils, there have been perhaps dozens of new social media interns, one after another in a chain of pretty girls shoving phones into his face. Every time, it’s always the same. Another girl, fresh from college or in between jobs, asking him and the others to learn dances or take part in trends. Luke will flirt with the intern. Dawson too, probably. Even Jack, when he gets bored. Then, the internship will be up in a month or two, and they’ll get another one. Prettier, maybe, or funnier. And the cycle will begin again.

It’s not like he can really blame them, either. The hockey industry is precious, even for people who aren’t playing. If these girls want in, an internship is a great way to start. Any entry post’s a good one if it gets you where you want. Only, social media’s a pain. Jack came here to play hockey, not be in a dozen new photos and videos a day. It drives him crazy sometimes, or all the time.

So, when his brother tells him they’re getting another intern, he really couldn’t care less. Luke, more prone to fits of passion over the latest girl in Devils red, is still staring at him wide eyed, waiting for a reaction, so Jack rolls his eyes and gives him one.

“Good,” he says dully. “It’s been too long since I saw a phone camera shoved in my face. Can’t wait.”

Luke groans. “Come on, man. They’re fun, don’t give me that bullshit again. Besides, I saw you trying to buy the last one drinks.”

Jack can’t argue with this. He had been trying. It was something to do. “Won’t do it this time. I’ll leave that for you.”

Luke heaves another dramatic sigh. Jack wants to do something to stop the oppressive judgment, so he does, snatching the hat off Luke’s head and shoving it towards his mouth. Luke, predictably, nearly falls out of his chair and starts squawking indignantly. Jack just chuckles and gets up from his seat, heading towards the door. They’ve been idling in one of the cafes in the massive arena where they practice, called there early for business stuff that ended up getting delayed. Meetings always run late, and now Jack has the rare feeling of tardiness not actually being his fault.

He heads down the hall towards the locker rooms, ready at last for practice. Luke follows a few paces behind him, still complaining, something about saving violence for the ice. Bullshit, obviously. Jack does what he wants, where he wants. Hasn’t Luke figured that out by now?

Jack steals a glance over his shoulder just to rub in the injury. Luke meets his gaze and glowers, still pissy from almost taking a nose dive off his chair, but all of a sudden his eyes widen at something in front of them. Jack whips around just in time to collide with someone exiting one of the offices.

It’s not an accidental almost-impact, either, this is a complete disaster. Papers go flying. Jack manages to keep his balance, but the victim of his distraction is worse off. He has to fling out both hands to steady them, catching at their arms at the elbow before they fall over. A dozen apologies rise to his lips, but Jack only gets through about half of them before he actually looks at the person he’s just bumped into– and look, indeed, he does.

Jack has just run into a girl his age, and a very pretty girl at that. He gets lost in her eyes without even meaning to, captivated by the way the light shines in them as she opens her mouth and says, “What the hell are you doing?”

Jack blinks in surprise, feeling like he’s just been abruptly pulled out of a dream. “Huh?”

The girl stares at him like he’s crazy. “Why are you holding onto me?”

Too late, Jack realizes he never actually let go of her when he was trying to steady her. He snatches his hands away, the sinking feeling settling in that he actually has no idea how long he was standing there, captivated. No wonder this girl thinks he’s insane. This random guy comes up, runs into her, then silently holds her in his arms for what’s probably more than just a second or two? Yeah, that’s crazy in anyone’s books.

“Sorry,” Jack says again. They look at each other warily for a moment longer, then collectively, both gazes drop to the papers spilled across the ground.

Immediately, Jack dives for them, trying to gather as many as he can. He springs up again, and, not trusting himself to say anything that isn’t stupid, just awkwardly holds out the papers until she takes them. The girl gives him one last disbelieving glance, then walks purposefully past him. Jack turns and watches her go, wondering why he feels vaguely disappointed that she hadn’t stopped to talk longer. He didn’t even get her name.

Raucous laughter breaks out the second the girl disappears around a corner. Belatedly, Jack remembers that Luke has witnessed the whole thing, which is just great. The last thing Luke needs is more ammunition for making fun of him.

“That was, like, the least smooth thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Luke chokes out. “What the fuck was that?”

Heat flares into Jack’s cheeks. “Shut up,” he says, turning back to continue walking down the hallway.

Luke, however, is unwilling to let go of the horrific blunder. He trots up to walk by Jack’s side, regardless of how much Jack tries to pick up the pace. “I mean, Jesus. Way to make an entrance. Poor girl’s probably going to log that with HR.”

“Shut up,” Jack repeats through gritted teeth. “I’ve seen you do worse in front of fans.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, we’re talking about you,” Luke says happily. “I’m so telling Quinn about this.”

“You are not,” Jack warns, but even after many threats of serious violence, he’s not entirely convinced that his older brother won’t hear about this.

Jack almost manages to put the whole thing out of his mind until he and the others are hanging out in the locker room later that day. They’re all dressed, but their coach wanted a few words before they hit the ice, apparently something bureaucratic that Jack can’t wait to forget.

Instead of being introduced to a new friend of the owner or some wealthy donor, however, Coach announces that they’ll be meeting their new social media intern. Online presence is crucial for sponsors, apparently, and the Devils need to up their game. So they say. Jack thinks it’s a lot of nonsense, and is fully prepared to treat it as such until their coach beckons the new intern into the room and Jack realizes he knows her. This isn’t a stranger, someone he can ignore without another thought. This is the pretty girl Jack just ran into earlier today, and she’s the one in charge of most of his Internet footprint.

Great.

Across the room, Luke is grinning ear to ear. This is so not what Jack wanted. The coach is saying something about how they’ll all be pulled one by one today for introductions and a few quick videos that can be parceled out during the next week or so. Usually, they would ask Nico first, captain rights and all that, but they need him to advise on some drills, so they go for the next best– Jack himself.

They’ll be filming TikToks or whatever a few halls over so as to not distract anyone, so Jack makes his way over with no small amount of trepidation. She hadn’t seemed so excited to meet him earlier, but maybe she’ll have forgotten who he was. It was a fast exchange. Maybe this means nothing at all, and they will have a great meeting, and he could even get her number or something. Yeah, not a problem.

The girl is setting up a phone on a stand when Jack shows up. She glances once at him as he approaches, then nods. “Oh, we’re starting with Mr. Observant. Cool.”

Jack feels his face turn a bright scarlet. “I’m not– I’m sorry about that. Honestly. I just didn’t see you.”

“That’s fine,” the girl says with a listless wave of her hand. “It was funny. I just thought hockey players would have more reflexes or something, I don’t know. Anyway, what’s your name, again?”

This is a simple question. It really is. Yet for some reason, Jack finds himself bothered. He’s been with the team for a while now, had that A on his uniform for a while now, and maybe he shouldn’t, but he’s gotten comfortable with his reputation. People know who he is. He’s recognized on the street, asked for photos while he’s getting coffee, all of that. And now this girl– this intern– is pretending like she doesn’t know who he is, and insulting his reflexes to boot?

“Jack,” Jack replies tersely. “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just guess?”

“Y/N,” the girl answers him. “What do you do on the ice except run into people?”

“I play hockey,” Jack deadpans. “What else do you want me to say?”

Y/N just smiles at him, the picture of innocence. “Your position? This is supposed to be an introduction, isn’t it? I have to make sure I have a good picture of the team.”

Fine. Fine. Jack can be civil. He’s going to play along and then he’s going to leave and make somebody else deal with her.

“Yeah, position. I'm an alternate captain, a center. Left wing. That matters.” He feels like he’s rambling. This is stupid. He’s stupid. He never does this.

“Sure it does,” Y/N says, one eyebrow raised. “Do you have to tell everyone you’re cool or just the interns?”

“Huh?” Jack asks. “I’m not– I’m just talking.”

Y/N nods. “I’m sure you do. Talking and hockey, that’s impressive. I can see why the Devils wanted you.”

“Your team spirit needs some work,” Jack notes. “Why’d they hire you, your winning personality?”

“That, and I’m wonderful at making infographics,” Y/N informs him breezily.

“I bet they’re terrible,” Jack says on instinct. “Clashing colors and all that. Can you even draw a straight line?”

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “I don’t know, can you shoot on goal without getting injured?”

Jack takes a step forward on instinct before he remembers that he cannot fight social media interns and backs down. Still, the anger simmers in his head so bad he’s not sure if the red all around him is for the Devils or just the film of rage clouding his eyes.

This isn’t good for him. His team needs him out there on the ice with a level head, even in practice. Jack forces a smile and says, “I guess you’ll see at our next game, won’t you?”

Y/N meets his gaze with a mirror smirk, which bothers Jack more than if she’d tried to one-up him again. He grabs his stick with more force than necessary, making himself step past her and onto the ice before he does something he’ll regret. Once he’s out there, skating broad loops to warm up, Jack can almost put the whole exchange out of his head.

Almost.

Luke finds him after practice, because of course he does. Somedays, Luke swears that little brothers must be born with an innate knowledge of how to stick their heads into other people’s business. Fleetingly, he wonders what Quinn would think about that, then moves on before that lesson can settle in.

“I love our new intern,” Luke says happily on the drive back to their apartment.

Jack scoffs. “Sure you do. You love rubbing this in my face.”

Luke glances at him, surprised. “No, honestly. I think she’s great. Super funny, too.”

Jack turns to stare at him with disbelief so abruptly he almost swerves the car into a telephone pole. Veering to correct course, Jack spits out, “Y/N? You think Y/N is great?”

Once Luke stops pretending like they’ve almost died– which they didn’t, by the way, Jack had everything under control– he calms down enough to say, “Yeah, I do. She was super nice to me. I need to ask if she’s local so we can hang after the internship ends.”

Jack feels as if he’s been dropped into an alternate reality. “You’re serious. You really do like Y/N?”

Now Luke’s looking at him like he’s the crazy one. “Like I said, yeah. Why, what happened when you talked to her? Was she still mad about earlier?”

“You could say that,” Jack grits out, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Luke chuckles. “That’s kind of funny, actually.”

“It is not,” Jack mutters, but Luke remains in high spirits the whole drive back anyway.

To the great amusement of his younger brother, Jack and Y/N continue to be at odds the next time the Devils have to film social media videos, and the next time, and the next. Even when they start off a meeting on relatively stable ground, something will happen to have them sniping again, and they’ll be at each other’s throats by the time they leave the building in the evening.

What makes it worse is that Jack is apparently the only one suffering from Y/N’s cold shoulder. Everyone from the captain to the rookies seems to have gotten along just fine with their newest social media intern, yet Jack feels like he walks around with a target on his back every time she’s in office. They’ve started to ignore each other instead of purposely tossing insults, but that’s as close as he’ll ever get to a truce.

Jack has started counting down the days until she leaves. He would love some peace and quiet. Maybe the next intern will be normal, or they’ll all be poisoned forever just because Y/N L/N showed up and changed Jack’s life for good.

God, he feels like she’s crept into every part of his world. He’ll be scrolling on his phone and the videos she filmed will appear on his For You page out of nowhere. Jack swears he can sense her in every quick cut, every box of text, every song selection. Walking through the arena, he sees her everywhere– ducking into a meeting room, discussing potential videos with some of the PR agents, tucked into the bleachers so she can watch them practice and snap some shots. Jack is starting to seriously wonder if there has ever been a time when she hasn’t been wound around him like a loose thread come undone from his favorite coat.

Even now, he can see her. Jack has finally left a late-night practice, breath fogging up in the cold evening air. He’s glad for the warmth of his car when he slides in. Luke went back with some friends, but Jack had wanted to hang around a while longer to practice some skills before the next game.

Y/N must have been working late too, because he can see her now, walking out of the parking lot and towards the sidewalk leading into town. Jack assumes she’s waiting for someone to pick her up, but Y/N’s steps don’t show any indication of slowing down. Is she actually walking on a night like this? Jack is cold just thinking about the weather outside. Y/N has a coat on, but it won’t be enough to discourage the bite of the wind.

Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s pulled his car alongside her. Y/N looks panicked when he comes to a stop, but relaxes somewhat when Jack rolls down the window and calls out to her. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m walking back. Have a nice night.”

She turns back to the sidewalk, evidently expecting him to keep driving. Jack also expects himself to keep driving, but he doesn’t. “It’s awfully cold to be walking. How far is your apartment?”

“Not far,” Y/N says. “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

That settles it. “You’re not walking twenty minutes in the freezing cold,” Jack decides. “Besides, I thought you were dropped off. Isn’t someone coming to pick you up?”

Y/N pauses oddly, and it occurs to Jack that he probably shouldn’t be noticing how she gets to and from work each day. Still, when she speaks again, he’s pretty sure the annoyance in her voice isn’t directed at him, for once. “I was dropped off, but my friend canceled on me. Hence the walk.”

Jack’s mood immediately sours. That’s a shitty move for sure, and even if he doesn’t always see eye to eye with Y/N, he’d never leave her out here, shivering even after a few minutes of walking. And he won’t tonight, either.

“I can drive you, if you like,” Jack offers abruptly. He’s not sure why he does it. He never has before. They’ve never been in a position like this before, and maybe they won’t either. Still, he doesn’t take it back.

Y/N, apparently heedless of the gravity of this offer, just smiles and shakes her head. “That’s alright, I’ll just call an Uber. Thanks, though.’

Jack blinks and stares at her. It had taken such a rush to get the words out that it honestly didn’t occur to him that she would just say no. “Is this because you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Jack,” Y/N laughs. “I’m walking. You should get going soon, you’re going to disrupt traffic.”

“Fuck traffic, you’re cold,” Jack says disbelievingly. “Get in the car, Y/N. Please?”

She looks like she’s going to argue, but a particularly frigid gust of wind rips through that thin jacket and a moment later, Y/N is settling into his passenger seat. She turns to look at him, and Jack looks back at her, just a few spans apart. They’re close enough that he can see the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinks. Close enough that he could reach out and touch the slow bloom of cold on her cheek if he just tried.

“So?” Jack manages to pull himself together long enough to ask, “What’s your address?”

Y/N blinks, evidently startled out of some reverie, then pulls it up on her phone. Jack follows the directions, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel. The car is quiet, and it weighs on him like a burden until he finally blurts out, “Why do you hate me, though?”

Y/N looks baffled. “I don’t hate you.”

Jack snorts. “Of course you do. You get along with every single member of this team but me, it’s a little hard not to take that personally. Come on, just tell me. Is it because I ran into you that first day?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s one of the few times it’s with him, not at him, and Jack lets the sound wash over him like sunlight. It’s a good sound. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again, maybe.

“That was funny. No, it wasn’t that. It’s just–” Her voice drops off, suddenly serious. “Do you remember Emma? She was your social media intern last summer. She’s the one who suggested I take this program, actually.”

Vague memories appear in Jack’s head. “Kind of? We’ve had a lot of interns.”

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my best friends, and the most important piece of advice she gave me before I started was to stay the hell away from you.”

Jack almost misses his turn. “What? Why?”

He risks a glance away from the road and towards her, but Y/N is keeping her head perfectly straight, not allowing herself to look at him in the slightest. “Something about you breaking her heart. She seems to remember you flirting a lot, buying her drinks, then dumping her for someone more interesting the second the internship ended.”

Jack winces. “That does sound familiar, actually. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

Y/N interrupts him with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, no, I get it. I love Emma, I really do, but she’s got a habit of moving quickly. Still, she was really hurt for a while. I figured anyone who could do that to my friend and not even remember was someone who didn’t need me to be nice to them.”

Guilt starts to pool in Jack’s stomach, icing him down to the core. “Still. I was a dick.”

“You still are, on occasion,” Y/N says, smiling slightly, “But I’ve been bad too, I think. I wanted to get revenge for my friend, but I’ve been more mean than needed. I’m sorry too.”

Jack comes to a slow stop in front of one of the notoriously long red lights of their shared city. As the scarlet of the traffic light washes over them, Jack takes advantage of the stopped traffic to hold out a hand to her. “How about a truce, then? If we’re both sorry?”

Y/N considers his outstretched hand, then nods at last and shakes it. “I’m good with that. Let’s start over.”

“Let’s start over,” Jack repeats.

Her hand is still a little cold in his, even after the few minutes they’ve spent talking. It occurs to Jack that he could probably sit here for a while longer, warm her hands up with his, and then Y/N nudges him in the side and Jack realizes the light has turned green. He drops her hand hastily, turning back to the road in the hopes that she won’t notice the slow flush of heat to his cheeks.

The rest of the drive back is uneventful. Jack offers to walk Y/N to the door of her apartment complex, which Y/N jokingly calls creepy then smiles for real when he insists. They part with a promise to try harder next time, and Jack doesn’t think his feet have ever felt so light on the walk back from practice. He goes to bed that night like a little kid, practically giddy at the thought of the day ahead.

Looking back on it, Jack isn’t sure what he expected to happen with them after that. A celebration, maybe some fanfares? Or just a normal conversation in which she expressed how glad she was to see him and Jack could do the same? He doesn’t get any of that. In fact, they hardly see each other for most of the next few days. This isn’t too unexpected; although they love to complain, the players and media don’t see each other that often unless someone’s sworn on live TV or otherwise messed up their online presence.

Still, by the time Jack’s path finally crosses with Y/N’s, he’s really hoping for something special. He’s sort of crazy the whole time they’re filming videos, all raised eyebrows and hopeful glances, but instead of seizing the opportunity to make fun of him, Y/N just giggles a little and goes on with her life. It’s not bad, all things considered, but Jack– Jack wants more.

When hasn’t he, after all, wanted more? He wants to be better at skating. He wants to score more goals. He wants to stop getting brushed off by the commentators. He wants, more than anything, for some reason, for the pretty girl interning for their media department to do more than just look at him with a faint smile every now and then.

The sheer wanting starts to consume him. Jack goes out of his way to be exceptionally funny, astoundingly clever, practically fantastic in every way, yet nothing seems to wow Y/N. They’re just talking, which is certainly more than he had a few weeks ago, but Jack doesn’t want to just be talking to her, he wants to be back in his car again, with her leaning over and laughing at his jokes, her cold hands in his, telling him that maybe she’d misjudged him after all. Jack doesn’t just want more, he wants her, and that is making him insane.

Worse still is the fact that he doesn’t have her. Jack has spent his whole life, it feels like, hating the ‘pretty boy hockey player’ persona. He’s certain it’s cost him deals or trades or something over the years with the way people refuse to take him seriously. Yet now, Jack isn’t cursing its existence, but rather wondering why the hell it hasn’t worked. He’s still the same guy, same face. That stubborn acne patch on his chin has been clear for weeks now. He got a haircut, and people said it was good this time. Everything should be in his favor, looks-wise. So why doesn’t it seem to have a single effect?

It’s baffling, honestly. Jack cannot stand it. Worse still, the internship period is starting to slip away, and soon enough Y/N will be gone for good, leaving Jack to reel in her absence and wonder why he couldn’t make her like him enough to stay.

His mood sours whenever he thinks about it, which is often. Like now, even, in between Jack’s hours on the ice. They’re swapping out players in shifts, and Jack won’t be on for another five minutes or so. He’s sitting on one of the metal bleachers, hoping that watching the others will help keep his mind off things, but it’s not working too well.

Someone sits down right next to him, and Jack is about to start asking why they couldn’t pick anywhere fucking else to sit when he realizes it’s Y/N.

“Oh,” he says, trying desperately to sound cool and not bone-tired from practice, “Hey. D’you need another TikTok or something?”

“No TikToks,” Y/N says, smiling. “We can do a bonus one if you want, though, I know how much you love them.”

Jack chuckles. “They’ve been growing on me.” No reason why.

Y/N grins like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “High praise. I hope you carry that spirit to the next social media intern, too.”

Jack sighs plaintively. “Do you really have to go? You fit in well, you know. You might as well stay a little longer.”

“That so?” Y/N asks, one eyebrow raised.

Jack looks away. “I don’t know. I heard some of the guys saying–”

Y/N cuts him off, lips twitching up into a smile. “I don’t care about the guys, Jack. What do you think?”

“I think you should stay,” Jack mumbles. He still can’t look her in the eyes. “With me.”

As soon as he says it, he knows it’s true. It doesn’t have to be through the Devils or not. He just wants Y/N with him for a while longer, to tease him when he’s being stupid and cheer for him during the games. He wants to hear her laugh longer than just the next few days. He wants to get coffee and buy flowers and match outfits and do a hundred things that would be special because he’d be doing them with her. That, more than anything, is what he wants.

A soft pressure on his hand; Jack looks up to realize Y/N has put her fingers over his, and squeezes slightly. He squeezes back by instinct.

“I want that too, Jack,” she tells him.

The smallest spark of luck is creeping back into his veins. “I thought you didn’t go for hotshot hockey players,” he says. “Especially not ones that flirted with the interns.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing slightly, so they’re okay. “I wasn’t supposed to do that. The idea was that I would try to avoid it.”

Jack grins. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Surprisingly badly,” Y/N confesses. “I’m not too mad about it, though. Something tells me we’re going to make this work out.”

“It will,” Jack promises. He’s going to make sure of it. Looking at Y/N, the light in her eyes when she smiles, Jack knows that he’s going to do everything in his power to keep her. He rubs his thumb over her hand, still in his, and cannot help but think about how lucky he is.

Y/N looks like she’s going to start blushing. “Let’s talk about this when all of your teammates aren’t watching,” she says suddenly.

Jack glances up and realizes that he’s on the receiving end of quite a few curious looks from the Devils still on the ice. Luke, especially, looks like he has several questions he wants to ask. Jack groans, mentally preparing himself for the absolute nuisance his little brother will become on the drive home.

Still, it doesn’t faze him for long. “How about we talk about it this Saturday?” Jack asks. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Y/N is breathtaking when she smiles at him. Jack might have to keep looking forever, just so he remembers. “I think that sounds alright to me.”

Jack opens his mouth to say something stupid like how he can’t wait, but the coach blows a whistle to usher him and some of the others back onto the ice, and Jack is saved from himself. “I’ll see you then,” he repeats somewhat needlessly.

Y/N nods, and Jack turns to leave. He’s still got most of his senses intact, despite evidence to the contrary, and Jack does know better than to kiss Y/N in front of his whole team and coach in the middle of practice, but– well, there’s a difference between what Jack knows and what Jack does, and today, he kisses her anyway. It’s good. Really good. Good enough to deal with the teasing when he finally makes it down to the ice. Good enough to keep him hooked until their date, and the next, and the next. Good enough for forever.

hockey tag list: @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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asahicore · 1 year ago

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bad news first - sjy (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. From the moment you'd met at eight to the day he moved to South Korea at fourteen, you and Jake were inseparable. But after years of being apart, you've come to terms with the fact that at twenty, you and Jake just aren't what you used to be. That is until you get a text from him, and all of a sudden, he's back by your side, doing his year abroad at the university you study at, and all your feelings for him float back up to the surface. genre. college au, childhood friends to ???? to lovers, painful mutual pining, one bed trope..... a sprinkle of angst (my hand slipped) but mostly fluff i promise and smut (mdni!!!), also i made sunghoon really weird in this and idkw, this is set in scotland.. edinburgh uni rep!! word count. 23k author's note. everybody say happy belated birthday to @zreamy.. happy belated birthday zo!!! being 22 years and 6 days old is cooler than just 22 years old anyway.. hope you like it bestie... if you dont... well theres a building on campus thats 17 stories high sooo.. enjoy! i hope everyone else enjoys too, since this is a bday fic for zo she couldnt beta read so i had to raw dog this so if its terrible.. not my fault! lmk what u think!! i also made a playlist for this, do listen along!!

“Alright kids, good news or bad news first?”

You looked at your teacher, then at the boy next to you, then back at your teacher. “Bad news first,” you said in unison.

You were only eight, but you were both wise enough to know that hearing good news second would assuage the blow of whatever these bad news were. Miss Dawson sighed as she crouched in front of you. “The bad news is your bus driver is on strike and won’t be coming. The good news is that your parents have been informed and are coming to pick you up soon.”

Following her instructions, you headed to the gymnasium and sat there silently among the other kids. Not many kids in your class rode the bus home, and the ones who did seemed to have drivers not on strike, so it was just the two of you. You were used to that, though - over January and February, you had made a sort of silent pact to stand and wait for the bus together. You sometimes shared snacks, but you never spoke. For some reason, you felt at ease with this boy, even though you didn’t know much about him. You had heard he had moved to Brisbane just at the start of this year, all the way from South Korea. You were pretty sure his name was Jake.

You handed him one of your Twix bars. Then he spoke. “I thought a strike was when you did really well in bowling.”

“Same,” you replied, mouth full of chocolate and caramel. “I’m not sure why that would keep the bus driver from picking us up.”

Jake looked at you with wide eyes, distress clear in them. “Do you think he went bowling instead of picking us up?”

This made you frown. “That’d be really rude.”

“It would. I always make sure to go bowling on the weekends, ‘cause if I missed school that’d be rude to Miss Dawson.”

You nodded your head in fervent agreement. “For sure.”

That weekend, his mum called your mum to ask if you wanted to go to the bowling alley with them. From then on, for the next six years, you were stuck together by glue.

Twelve years later, Jake’s name appearing on your phone screen has become such a rare sight, you don’t believe it right away. It takes you a few seconds of intense squinting at the letters to actually realise your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

jake.sim15 hey y/n!! you go to edinburgh uni right?

You type and delete three different responses before settling for a simple yeah, I am! what’s up?, hoping you sounded nonchalant even though you very much felt chalant. You thought that whatever you sent wouldn’t be as weird as taking forever to answer such a straightforward question.

As you wait for Jake’s reply, you scroll through your previous shared messages, noting with sadness that for three years in a row, the only instances you’d texted were to wish each other a happy birthday or when he reacted with a fire emoji to Stories of your dog, Milo. Before that, your last conversation was to congratulate each other about getting into your top choice universities and to discuss plans for your respective futures.

Futures that used to include each other, you think. His reply appears at the bottom of your screen before melancholy can fill your heart.

jake.sim15 i applied to go there for my year abroad next year annnnd i got in !! heh

You shoot up straight from your seat on the lounge chaise you’d been sunbathing on, a loud “Oh my God!” involuntarily escaping your mouth.

“What? What happened? Is everything okay?” Chaewon asks frantically, rushing over to your side. “Oh,” she says when she sees your phone. “It’s a text… from a boy?”

This makes Yunjin, previously unbothered by your panic, rise from her seat and take off her sunglasses. “A boy? Show me,” she demands, snatching your phone from your hands before you can protest. Upon seeing the texts on your screen, she lets out a loud gasp. “It’s not just any boy! It’s the one and only Jake Sim himself.”

“Give that back!” you plead, hand reaching for your phone, but Yunjin is already walking away.

“And he’s coming to Edi this September, apparently. He says he’s sorry for not saying anything earlier, but he was waiting for an answer up until now.” She scoffs. “Leave it to our uni to tell someone they’re in less than two months before term starts. Oh, you’re the first person he’s told, Y/N! After his parents. How cute,” she coos, protesting when you snatch your phone back from her. “Hey! I was reading that.”

“Those are my texts, Yunjin. I’m the one who’s meant to read them.”

She shrugs. “You would’ve told us anyway.”

“What are you going to reply?” Chaewon asks. With the both of them hovering over your shoulders and watching as you type a response, a sort of stage fright comes over you, making you send what might be the most unoriginal reply known to man.

“Awesome? Seriously, Y/N?” Yunjin reads, disproportionately disgusted with you.

“That’s a lot of exclamation marks. It almost makes it look like you don’t mean it,” Chaewon says.

“I do mean it!”

“Well, he seems to like it. A smiling-with-teeth emoji is a good sign, right?” she asks in an attempt to make you feel better.

“He has automatic caps off. That man is run-through,” Yunjin says, shaking her head as she walks back to her sunbed.

“You were excited about him texting me just a second ago,” you reproach.

“Yeah, before I found out he was a whore.”

“Yunjin, you know we don't slut-shame here!” Chaewon exclaims. Before Yunjin can say anything even worse in response, your phone starts ringing, and Jake’s name appears on your screen. “He’s calling you?” Chaewon gasps, making Yunjin sit up with a start for the second time in less than five minutes.

“This man is insane,” she remarks with all the seriousness in the world.

You run away from your friends, finding refuge in the outside kitchen area out of earshot. They don’t need to hear your conversation with Jake. You love them, but they can be weirdly unsupportive in moments like these.

“Hey, Jake,” you greet, hoping he doesn’t notice the breathlessness in your voice. It was because you had just ran, of course - you didn’t want him to think you were so nervous about talking to him after such a long time, you could barely breathe. Because you weren’t. At all.

“Hey, Y/N!” he replies, and the excitement in his voice makes your heart melt. “I hope it’s not weird that I called, I just thought it’d be nicer than texting, is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s nice to hear your voice,” you say before you can really think about it, and cringe at your own words. Years without talking and the world’s worst line is the first thing you say to Jake. Thankfully, before you start excruciating yourself, a chuckle pours out of Jake’s throat and blesses your ears.

“It’s nice to hear your voice, too. What are you up to?”

“Oh, I’m on vacation with my friends. One of them has a rich aunt who owns a villa in southern Italy, so we’re just chilling by the pool right now.”

“You always wanted to go to Italy! That sounds so nice,” he says. Your breath catches gently in your throat - he remembers, you note.

“Yeah, it really is. What about you, how are you spending the summer?”

Jake tells you about the local bookstore owned by a grandpa that’s always had a soft spot for him and that gave him a part-time job for the summer. “I’m trying to save up as much money as I can before I leave. If I treat you to a meal, will you show me around the city?” he asks, and you can hear the grin in his voice. It makes you realise how much you’ve actually missed him.

“You don’t need to treat me to a meal, I’ll show you around anyway.”

Still, he insists, and you find yourself giving in quickly - because it’s Jake or because free food is on the table, you’re not sure. Probably both.

You and Jake get to talking, but fitting years and years of catching up into one conversation is an impossible task, and before you know it, when you check your phone, you’ve been talking for over an hour. Yunjin is angrily waving at you, pointing at her stomach to indicate hunger like a caveman who’s just learned how to communicate. You apologise to Jake, telling him you have to go, and plan to meet during fresher’s week before you hang up.

A few hours later, you get a text from him saying it was nice talking to you and jokingly asking whether Yunjin was satisfied with lunch. It’s innocuous, but it opens a gate for more texting, which leads to long, rambling voice messages, which leads to late-night phone calls that remind you of when you were fifteen and still kept in touch. When August fades into September, you feel like you’ve got your best friend back.

You remember why you were so in love with him at fourteen.

You see Jake before he sees you.

Among the throngs of people, you manage to spot the dark, messy flop of hair on his head weighed down by a nice pair of wireless headphones. After a thirteen-hour flight from Seoul, a four-hour layover in Frankfurt and a final, two-hour flight to Edinburgh, he looks rightfully exhausted, using what looks like the last of his energy to spot the exit and the airport bus stop. Even wearing a simple denim jacket, white tee and grey sweatpants, he’s so gorgeous you forget what you came here for, until he almost walks right past you without seeing you. You put yourself in his path and hold your hand-written banner up, making yourself as obvious as you can as you call out his name.

When he sees you, he stops dead in his tracks for a second, someone almost running into him before he remembers the crowd behind him. His tired features break out into a bright smile that has your heartbeat speeding up so much, you think it might run out of your chest.

He had told you not to come, that it would be late for you and he didn’t want to bother you, but you had managed to get the information of his arrival before he forbade you from picking him up so you did it anyway, wanting to surprise him. After years of being apart, rather than waiting another day, you wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Jake briskly makes his way to you, dropping his bags next to him on the floor as he engulfs you in a hug, warm and tight as if he’s trying to make up for all those years. You hug him back as if someone would appear out of thin air and take him away from you again.

“This was the longest day of my life, I’m so happy to see you,” he says when he pulls away, and you’re so happy you can’t even say anything back, resorting to giggling and lightly swatting non-existent dust off of his shoulders.

As you wait for the bus, he tells you about every trivial thing that happened to him on his trip, from how expensive a sandwich is at the airport to the German kid sitting in front of him that kept turning around to stare at him on his second flight.

“How did you know he was German?” you ask, amused.

Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”

Conversation on the bus is slightly disjointed as you jump from topic to topic with random pauses here and there before one of you finds something to talk about - but it’s okay, you hadn’t expected for the two of you to be as easy as before. It’s more awe at seeing each other after such a long time than awkwardness. Even though you’d caught up over summer, there was a world of difference between speaking on the phone and actually sitting next to him. You notice things like the shine of his hair, the creases that form on the sides of his lips when he smiles, or, unfortunately for you, the veins that run along his forearms and hands - things you hadn’t noticed previously thanks to the sometimes questionable quality of the front camera of his phone. Once in a while, your thigh brushes against his, and it reminds you that he’s really here. Even that he’s real, at all.

In a tragic turn of events, Jake lives in the student accommodation you used to live in in first year, and coming back to it two years later is slightly traumatising. His three-person flat is in a different building as your old one, and you marvel at how it somehow still smells the same - like dusty, decade-old carpeting and the permanent stench of students’ dubitable cooking. He’s the first one to move in, which makes the place slightly eerie, but it means that you’re not bothering anyone by unpacking Jake’s stuff and cooking Shin Ramyun the previous tenants had left behind at 11pm.

Your late dinner was meant for you to take a small break, watch a couple episodes of Friends which Jake had been shocked to learn you’d never watched, and you had been shocked to learn he was a die-hard fan of (since one year ago), then get back to unpacking. But the ramen sends an already exhausted Jake into a food coma so intense, he falls asleep on your shoulder five minutes into the second episode.

You let him sleep as long as he needs, turning the volume down on his laptop and stifling your chuckles as much as you can. You feel like a cat has fallen asleep in your lap - you are now obliged by law to stay still until Jake wakes up. It’s not until an hour later that Jake’s uncomfortable sleeping position forces him awake, lifting his head off of your shoulder with a grunt. He looks around himself, at his room that’s not quite familiar to him yet, then at you, eyes still scrunched with sleepiness as a grin blooms onto his lips.

“Sorry,” clearing his throat of its grogginess. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one a.m,” you reply, and his eyes go wide.

“You should’ve woken me up! Does your shoulder hurt?” he asks, much more alarmed than he should be, and it makes you laugh.

“It’s all good. But now that you’re awake, I should probably head home.”

“I’ll get you an Uber,” he says, already pulling out his phone.

“It’s fine, Jake, my place is a ten-minute walk from here. I live just up the road.”

Jake’s fingers on his phone pause as he looks up at you. “Then I’ll walk you home.” He lifts a finger in warning when he sees you start to protest. “And don’t fight me on this. You did so much today, it’s the least I can do.”

As much as you love the idea of spending more time with Jake, even if it’s just ten minutes, you still don’t want to bother him when you know how tired he is. “It’s really safe around here. I can just text you when I’m home, if you’re worried about me getting kidnapped or something,” you say, taking his jacket from his hands and placing it back on his desk chair.

He grabs it back, putting it on before you can take it from him again, and rummages through one of his suitcases for a black, woolly scarf. Neither of you speaks as he wraps it tight around your neck, even though the early September weather isn’t cold enough to warrant it. His hands stop briefly on the scarf and a small smile spreads on his lips. You hope he doesn’t hear your sharp intake of breath when your eyes meet. “It’s not about that,” he says simply, voice low and unlike you’ve ever heard it before. You don’t think his voice had quite finished cracking when he’d moved away back then.

Suddenly, he steps away, grabs his keys, and heads for the door. “Let’s go!” he says, voice back to its usual cheery tone. You don’t find it in you to question him, so you just follow him out, welcoming the night breeze that cools down your burning cheeks with open arms.

The walk to your place is mostly done in comfortable silence, but it still goes by too quickly for your liking. You keep your hands in your pockets to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like reaching out for Jake’s hand that swishes back-and-forth as he walks. Instead, you bury your nose in his scarf and relish in the unfamiliar but comforting smell that his cologne has left behind on the fabric. You hug goodbye when you reach your flat, and you have to remind yourself to let go. He insists on you keeping the scarf. “My mum packed me, like, three, so you can have that one.”

“Your mum still pack your things for you, does she?” you ask, tone playful.

“No-” he says, voice slightly whiny, before he realises you’re just teasing him. “Whatever,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You hope the streetlights aren’t bright enough for him to notice the flustered look on your face. The both of you stand there awkwardly for a second, before he lets out another chuckle. “Right. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you beam.

“Okay,” he says, but still doesn’t make a move to leave. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be off then.” He gives you one last smile then turns around, burying his hands in his pockets, and you watch as he walks away.

“Get home safe,” you call out after a few seconds.

He pivots on his heels, and, with a wave of his hand, says, “I will! Go inside.”

“Good night!”

“Night, Y/N!”

When you walk into your living room, Yunjin is sitting on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, gaze trained on the wall opposite her, one lamp lighting the otherwise completely dark room. She looks like a detective in one of those bad cop shows.

“Gosh, what’s all this for?”

“You’re back awfully late,” she says, neither looking at you nor answering your question.

“Yeah, I was with Jake,” you shrug, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. She abruptly gets up from her seat, following you into the other room and staying close behind you.

“And?” she demands, mouth way too close to your ear and making you start.

“And what?” you ask.

“What do you mean and what?!” she says, clearly agitated. “I want to know everything!”

“There’s nothing to say, really. He seemed happy I picked him up from the airport, then I helped him unpack. He lives in Riego, by the way.”

“Ew.”

“I know, it was awful going back there.”

The two of you stare at each other as you drink your water. “Well?” she asks.

“What?”

“Is that it?”

You fill your glass again to take it into your bedroom. “I don’t know, we just ate and watched Friends.”

“You hate shows with laughing tracks,” she states like it’s an accusation.

“It wasn’t actually that bad,” you reply, shrugging.

She tuts. “Love will do ugly, ugly things to a person.”

“You’ve been in a loving relationship for the past two years.”

“This isn’t about me. Can we talk about how you’re still in love with the same loser from when you were ten?”

“I was fourteen, and don’t call Jake a loser when you haven’t even met him.” You ignore the roll of her eyes. “And I’m not. Not anymore. I’m just happy to have my friend back.” Yunjin gives you a look. “Okay, maybe I’m still a little bit in love with him. But it’s so little, it’s barely there.” Her expression is unchangingly unimpressed and you can’t help but throw in the towel. “Alright, fine. I still love him, what about it?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know that, no need to remind me.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

“My patheticness? I’ve tried, didn’t really work.”

“No, idiot, about Jake. You should go and get him! It’d be so sexy if you got together as 20-somethings after knowing each other since you were babies.”

“We were eight when we met. And I don’t know if sexy is the word I’d use here.”

“Anything is sexy if you try hard enough,” she says, and you have to laugh. “Anyways, you should confess your undying love and tell him you’ve felt that way since you met.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Guys might not show it, but they probably get all hot for stuff like that. Boosts their ego and shit.”

“Yunjin, I just got my friend back, I’m not gonna risk it. Plus, who knows, I might not actually be in love with him. It might just be my emotions acting up, like, seeing someone I used to like after a while. We’ve both changed so much, once I get to know him more now, I might not even feel the way I used to.”

“Notice how you’ve used the word might twice in ten seconds? You’re just trying to find excuses.”

You groan. “This is why I hate English Lit people.”

“You do English Lit.”

“I know, and I’m the only nice person that does it.” In your head, you add and Jake, but saying it out loud would only make this conversation worse for you.

“What’s that scarf, by the way? Did he give you that?”

You look down at the scarf like it’s a piece of incriminating evidence. “Can you stop grilling me, please? It’s late.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You sighed deeply. “Fine. Yes, he gave me-”

“It’s not even that cold outside!” she exclaimed in an outrage. “Don’t tell me he also walked you home?”

You pause. “He did.”

She gasped. “He walked you home because he’s in love with you.”

“He walked me home because he’s a good friend that looks after me.”

“He walked you home because he realised how hot you’ve gotten and he wants some of that.”

All you can do is sigh. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

“If you weren’t such a coward, you wouldn’t be going to bed alone.”

“Whatever!” you say, shutting the door behind you, shaking that preposterous conversation out of your head. When you get into bed, it takes you at least half-an-hour before you can settle down, but you know your constant tossing and turning isn’t due to your inability to find a comfortable enough position to sleep in. Between your evening with Jake and Yunjin’s pestering, thoughts run wild and incoherent through your head.

You want to tell her every little thing that happened with Jake tonight, but you’re afraid it might do you more harm than good. She is most definitely the type of friend who will take the smallest action a guy did for you or the most meaningless thing he might have said and turn it into a sign that he has the hots for you, which usually does wonders for your confidence, but right now, you don’t need that kind of delusion. Did seeing your childhood best friend you used to secretly harbour feelings for make you feel some type of way? Of course, but that doesn’t mean you still love him after all this time, after six years of being apart, the majority of those years spent with no contact. It wasn’t like you parted ways with resentment, or anything of that sort, far from it; rather, you drifted apart naturally, as two teenagers with over 7000 kilometres between them would. At first, you’d call frequently and even write each other letters - but as you became more preoccupied with school, friends, and extracurriculars, your phones gradually rang less and your mailboxes became gradually emptier. You don’t even remember who sent the last, unanswered letter.

Tonight isn’t the first time you replay the moment Jake announced that he would go away, but it’s the first time it’s a bittersweet memory. It used to only be bitter - but now that you’ve reconnected, you can look back at it with fondness, wishing you could tell fourteen-year-old you the hurt would only last so long.

It hadn’t started unusually.

“So, bad news first, right?”

In your six years of friendship with Jake, this had been the first time you’d really been wary of what he would say next. The look on his face told you that this bad news wouldn’t be as easy to shake off as usual. Your definition of bad news was things like I got grounded so I can’t hang out, I forgot we had a test tomorrow so I can’t hang out, my allergies are acting up again so I can’t hang out.

“I’m moving to Korea next month.”

I’m on another continent, so I can’t hang out.

You remember the words not quite making sense at the time. “Oh? How long are you staying there?” you said, taking a bite of your strawberry ice cream which Jake had insisted on paying for, even though you knew he didn’t get much allowance.

“Forever.”

You stopped chewing, and the ice cream melted uncomfortably in your mouth. You don’t know how long you stayed there, frozen as you stared at your best friend in disbelief. It wasn’t until he lightly shoved your shoulder, only meeting your eyes for a split second, that you remembered to swallow and to say something.

“Forever as in… You won’t live here anymore? At all?”

Jake shook his head. He kept his eyes trained on the vanilla-chocolate ice cream sandwich he’d left in its wrapper. In the blazing hot Brisbane summer, it had probably fully melted two minutes ago. “At all.”

“Oh,” was all you found yourself able to say. For some reason, you hoped that continuing to eat your ice cream would stop you from crying, but to no avail. Hot, salty tears quickly started raining down your cheeks, mixing with the sweetness of your ice cream when they reached your lips.

“It’s my dad’s work. Same reason why I moved here when we were kids in the first place. They wanted him here then, they want him back there now. We just have to follow,” Jake explained, sounding just as upset as you felt.

“Right.”

“Are you mad at me?” Jake asked, worry clear in his voice, and finally turned to face you. At the sight of you crying, he let out a small oh, tears of his own pooling in his eyes.

You frowned. “Of course not. I’m never mad at you, you know that. I just… You’re my best friend, Jakey. It’s gonna be so lame around here without you.”

“It’ll be lame there without you, too.”

You attempted a smile. “Well, of course. But at least you’ll get to make new friends, see new places. You’ll be in a whole other country, I’m sure you’ll have fun there. I’m gonna be stuck in boring old Brisbane for the foreseeable future.”

“Do you know how offended our friends would be if they heard you speaking right now?” he asked, nudging your shoulder with his.

You sniffled and let out a chuckle. “They’re all great, but… I don’t like them nearly as much as I like you,” you said, staring down at your hands, hoping he wouldn’t realise exactly what you meant by that statement.

A weight was lifted off of your shoulders when Jake answered. “I like you the most too, Y/N.” You tried not to think too much about whether he’d meant it platonically or romantically - none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was the feeling of his arms around you, his warmth enveloping your whole body, his familiar scent that you already missed.

You felt him take a deep breath against you before he pulled away. He sniffled and did his best to put on a smile. “Right, enough of that. I’m not leaving until next month, so don’t think you’re rid of me just yet,” he joked, and it helped alleviate the weight on your heart, even if just a little. “You said you had something to tell me? Good news after bad news, and all that.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

You thought for a second. Today was the day you had planned to confess your feelings to Jake - you’d only told him you had good news to share. But what was the point now that he was leaving? If he felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if he didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.

Jake tilted his head, waiting for you to speak. In a split second, you made yourself forget your disappointment over having built the courage to tell him how you felt only for it all to fall through, and resolved to make the most of Jake’s last month here. You wiped your tears and mirrored his small smile as best you could. “Um, it wasn’t anything much. My mum made those cowboy cookies you like.”

Jake’s head fell back as he groaned in anticipation. “If she wasn’t happily married with three kids, I’d marry your mum. Let’s go right now.”

You laughed. “There’d be a bit of an age gap there.”

“We’d make it work,” Jake joked, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you walked towards your house. He beamed down at you, his bright, boyish smile that you loved to bits, and you beamed up at him as you grabbed the hand that hung off your shoulder in your own.

You walked as happily as you could. “Do you even speak Korean?” you suddenly asked.

Jake halted abruptly in his steps, a gravely offended look on his face. When you looked back at him in confusion, he rolled his eyes and started walking again, pulling you with him. “It’s literally my mother tongue, Y/N. I speak it every day at home.”

“Oh, right.”

At the time, you thought nothing could come between you and Jake. Not anyone, not anything, neither distance nor time. But they did. A week after he’d left, a boy from your class you’d talked to maybe once or twice asked you out on a date. You weren’t sure why, but you said yes. Then you said yes to being his girlfriend, even though you didn’t like him all that much, and you even said yes to reducing your texting with Jake because it made him jealous. When you’d broken up with him and wanted to catch up with Jake and apologise for your absence, you’d found that his new school in Seoul was a lot more demanding than yours in Brisbane, and he had to spend most of his evenings in academies if he wanted to get into a nice university. It’s when you learned that he’d be staying in South Korea for college that you decided to leave Australia too. Brisbane was a lot less fun without him there - why bother staying? You couldn’t go to him because of the language barrier and the cost of university there. If you were to essentially uproot your life, might as well go somewhere you could get a scholarship and understand the people around you.

It seemed insane that someone you had thought would be by your side for the rest of your life, someone that was part of your most cherished memories, had been reduced to someone you casually texted once in a while. It seems even more insane that now that you’re finally done essentially grieving your friendship with Jake, he stands in front of you again, six inches taller but still donning those puppy-like eyes and smile of his.

For your sake, you just hoped you wouldn’t be as in love with him at twenty as you were at fourteen.

The next day, you show Jake around campus, which wouldn’t normally take more than ten minutes, but takes double that time because of the sheer amount of people there. Between the Societies Fair taking up most of the square, the tour guides leading freshers, walking slowly and taking in their new campus, and the pizza and drinks stands, freshers’ week always turns campus into what feels like the busiest place on Earth. You try not to let it hit a nerve for Jake’s sake, who’s clearly ecstatic at all the activity, but you like this place a lot more when it’s quieter. You walk through the Fair, laughing as Jake marvels at all the different clubs and societies at the Uni.

“Gardening Society? Dungeons & Dragons Society? Wine society?” he exclaims, astonishment growing with every passing stand.

“And this is only the first day. They also have a Taylor Swift Society.” He grabs a flyer from about every society, even though you know he’ll join between two to zero of them.

When you walk out, there’s a girl handing out samples of shampoo and conditioner, and you let her give you one, more out of politeness than anything.

“These are so useless,” you start, and Jake chuckles, unaware of the incoming rant. “I had that job of distributing them last year, and we would get a tip if we gave them all out. So naturally I put a bunch in my bag, but then I had to use them for like two weeks.” You sigh. “First of all, my hair did not like it. And second, the ratio is so off. There’s way more conditioner than shampoo when it should be the other way around, so you have to condition your hair even though it’s not properly clean. So stupid.”

“Sounds terrible,” Jake says, laughing. “Is that why you’re not doing it this year?”

“Oh… Not really. I dated the guy that takes care of this promo stuff, so it would’ve been kinda awkward…” you trail, immediately wishing you could backtrack on conversation. Talking about your ex with Jake wasn’t on your to-do list for today. Or ever.

“You dated your boss?”

“The manager, yeah, I guess. He was only 24, though, don’t worry.”

“I’m more worried about the power imbalance than the age gap there.”

You shrug, looking down at your shoes. “It’s not like he was that high up.”

“So, what happened? Why did you break up?”

“Well, he acted like our four-year age difference meant he could treat me like a little kid. It was nice being taken care of at first but then I realised how condescending he was and dumped him.”

“How long were you together?”

You pause. “Two weeks,” you admit abashedly, making Jake chuckle. “At least he didn’t waste my time and showed his red flags early on.”

“Any boyfriends since?” he asks, and you wonder whether you’re making up the unsure tone of his voice. As if he’s curious, but doesn’t want to show it too much. You hope you’re not making it up.

“A few, but they never last very long with me,” you say, a meek smile on your lips. “Furthest I got was three months.”

“And why didn’t it work out with three-months-guy?”

“He started comparing me to his mum a bit too often.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I ran out of there without looking back.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’ve got high standards. I would hate to see you date just any loser.”

You want to say, High standards or issues?, but you don’t want to make it weird, so you play it cool instead. “I would never. I have a mental checklist with everything a guy needs to have for me to date him.”

“A checklist? I have to hear about this.”

You sigh, debating whether you should tell him about it. Would he notice it’s based on him? Would he notice the only person that could tick practically every box was none other than him? Jake gently elbows your side, goading you on. When you look at him, he’s got a shit-eating grin playing on his lips, and you give in. You look off into the distance as you start listing your requirements. “Well, there’s all your basics like funny, taller than me but not too much, ‘cause I don’t want neck cramps, smart, takes uni seriously, has plans for his future, easy to talk to, not emotionally stunted and can actually have a vulnerable conversation. It’s also a bonus if he has a nice face.”

“How much of a bonus?”

You think for a second. “It’s more a dealbreaker than a bonus, actually. Nice smile is a must, definitely.”

“Okay. Got any more specifics?”

“I do have some particular ones. It’s nice if he’s a reader, but it’s terrible if it makes him think he’s better than everyone or if he tries to sound smarter than me. I like it if he has experience, I don’t want to have to teach him everything. But obviously I don’t want him to still be in love with his ex. Guys and their first loves, I swear… I also don’t really like picky eaters.” You look over at Jake and take a double-take. He’s typing away on his phone, but because of his privacy screen protector, you can’t see anything. You huff. “I also don’t like it if he has those protective screens on his phone. What’s on there that’s so important that I can’t take a peek? What are you even doing?”

The sweet sound of Jake’s giggles erases any trace of annoyance that you felt seconds ago. He turns his screen towards you, showing the list of mostly ticked boxes that he’s written up. “See? I check most of these,” he says with a proud smile. “Guess your standards aren’t that high.” You don’t tell him that your standards are high, he’s just that amazing.

You do your best to look only amused at this even though inside, you’re all but freaking out. “Which are you missing?”

“Well, I clearly own a privacy screen. And I don’t have much experience. Not nearly as much as you, by the sounds of it,” he admits, somewhat sheepish. “But other than that, I’m practically the perfect man for you.” He looks down at you with a smile so bright, it makes you wish you had brought sunglasses. It takes everything in you not to scream right then and there. Yes, Jake, you are the perfect man for me, but I wish you wouldn’t say it like it was a joke.

You let out a stiff chuckle, and, rather than saying something stupid and possibly damaging, shift the conversation to him. “What do you mean by not much experience? Have you not dated anyone?”

Jake sighs. “Nope, not anyone. I went on a few dates, you know, went through a few talking stages and all that, but it never went much further. There was always something…” He glances at you then. “Missing.”

“I know that feeling,” you say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, a breathy sound.

“I don’t have a checklist to pinpoint what it is, though.”

You smile. “You should try, it might help.”

“I just… I guess I’m like you in that I also have high standards. But it made me not even want to give anyone a chance, especially since I knew it wouldn’t end up anywhere.”

“Don’t tell me no one has ever managed to reach the great Jake Sim’s standards?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course someone has. She’s the whole reason I have standards in the first place. It’s not my standards I compare people to, it’s her.”

Jealousy has never made you feel as sad as it is right now. “And… it didn’t work out between you?”

Jake looks at you, eyes searching for something in yours but seemingly not finding it, and so he turns his gaze away. You don’t know why you feel so disappointed. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “She didn’t feel the same way.”

Whoever this girl is, you can’t believe how stupid she is for passing up the opportunity to have Jake Sim. “That’s… It sucks, I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t think spitting on this girl would make him feel any better, so you keep those thoughts to yourself.

“It’s okay,” he says with a small smile. “It was a while ago already.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re quite over it, though,” you say, and you’re surprised but glad to see his smile widen.

“That’s true.” His eyes meet yours again. “I don’t think I’ll be over her anytime soon, either.” You have to look away to shield the pain that flashes through your eyes from him.

Pretending you don’t have feelings for your best friend and that you’re okay with him being in love with someone else is like riding a bike: even after years of not doing it, it only takes a few minutes for you to be able to do it perfectly again. Muscle memory, if you will. So you sigh dramatically and throw your arm around Jake’s shoulder, slightly pulling him down to your level. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have so much fun this year, you’ll completely forget about her. Promise. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. Yeah?”

He smiles down at you. You want nothing more but that glint of melancholy in his eyes to be gone. “Yeah.”

Jake is only half-glad to see you haven’t changed much from your childhood and early teenage years. You’re still just as pretty, just as warm; it’s still as comfortable to be around you. You’re also still as dense.

Then and now, he did everything he could to make his feelings for you very, very obvious. Either you’re completely oblivious, or the idea of dating him is so horrifying to you, you understand but pretend you don’t. He really hopes it’s the former.

He arrived in Edinburgh just a bit over a week ago, and you’ve seen each other almost every day. Out of those times, there isn’t a single one where he hasn’t tried to send something your way - something that says, hey, what if we stopped being friends and dated instead? Wouldn’t that be cool? Can’t you see how desperately I love you?, but you never latch on. The ball’s in your court, and he wants you to throw it back, but it’s been feeling more like a boomerang that always hits him right in the face when it circles back than a game of catch.

But he’s reminding himself not to be too greedy. Even if it’s just as friends, at least he has you back, so he’s satisfied with that. For now.

His first class of the year is on the following Tuesday morning, a ninety-minute seminar specifically made for exchange students called Discover Scotland. (He has Mondays free, resulting in a three-day weekend, which you and your 9am Monday tutorial are very envious of.) As interesting as the English Lit courses he’s taking seem, it’s this one he’s most looking forward to - except for the one class he shares with you, of course. Not even because of the seminars themselves, which will be about all sorts of topics on Scottish culture and history, but because of the coursework, as crazy as that sounds. It consists of a singular project, not due until the very last day of the semester, in which he has to travel to at least three different places in the country, research its background and provide a detailed account of his experience there. It can take any form: a written report, an in-class presentation, a podcast, anything. He could even film a TikTok if he wanted. Jake knew that being part of the Arts & Crafts club for two years in a row back in Seoul wasn’t for nothing - his scrapbooking skills would finally have their time to shine.

That afternoon, he practically snatches you as you come out of your lecture, giving you little time to say bye to your friends, and makes you take him to the biggest stationary store you know in the city. If he wants to ace this project, he will need supplies. Many, many supplies. And it’s more fun shopping if you’re with him. You seem happy following him around the store, and when he asks you if you want to come on his trips with him, he can pretend it’s because you seem so excited about his project and not because he had thought of you accompanying him as soon as he heard about it.

As you stand in line at the till, you tell him that if he wants to start his project now, you could go to the beach together. You raise your eyebrows at him when he snaps your head towards you. “There’s a beach here?!”

“Did you not look at a map before coming here?” you ask, amused.

“I guess I didn’t…” he says, distraught at the new information. It only lasts a second, though. “Okay, let’s go now.”

“Now?” you echo, and he nods. “But-” you start, but are interrupted by your thoughts. “I guess there’s no reason not to. The weather’s nice and it’s not like I have any uni work yet. Let’s go,” you agree, looking up at him with a smile. You’re so pretty he almost forgets to look away, until the employee calls Next in a bored drawl.

An hour later, you’re at the beach, barefoot on the sand and ice cream in hand. Strawberry for you and vanilla for him, he notes with a smile. Really not much has changed, he thinks. From the sand, to the water, to the promenade along the beach, Portobello is worlds away from the beaches back home in Australia, or those of Jeju Island. But it’s still nice, and because you’re with him, it’s even better. You’ve been walking around for an hour, splashing each other with water and mercilessly ruining sandcastles left behind before he realises you technically came here for his project. He writes down things he doesn’t want to forget on his phone and snaps a few pictures, sneaking a few of you when you’re not looking. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are with your hair blowing in the wind and the way the chill bites at your cheeks, but he keeps it a secret between him and his Notes app.

Even though he lives two stops further down, he gets off from the bus with you, containing his excitement as best he can when you invite him up for a cup of tea. “Depends. What tea do you have?” he asks, trying and failing to play it cool. He’s just grateful he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you.

You roll your eyes playfully as you unlock the front door to your building. “I can make you hot chocolate, Mister Tea-Is-For-Old-People.”

He chuckles. “Actually, I’ll have you know I started drinking tea at uni.” When you turn around to look at him, a surprised look on your face, he nods proudly. “Mh-hm. I got addicted to caffeine very quickly into first year so I started drinking black tea for the sake of my heart,” he explains.

“God,” you say breathily, sounding mildly horrified. “A caffeine addiction sounds intense.”

“It was, yeah,” he says, laughing as he follows you into your flat.

Yunjin and Chaewon are sitting at the living room table, watching an episode of what he thinks is Gossip Girl, and they greet him as normally as these two can, but he wonders what the knowing look they exchange is all about. He’d met them the previous weekend when you had all gone for drinks together, along with Jay, Yunjin’s boyfriend, and they had all but grilled him on his relationship with you. He hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to your friends feeling protective of you, and truthfully, he was just happy to get to talk about you. But now, he was wondering if you had told them anything about him that made them so curious about him. If you did, he hoped it was something positive.

He stands awkwardly in the kitchen, chatting with you as you boil the water and get cups out, but he can feel their gazes burning the back of his head. Clearly, whatever conversation he’s having with you, he’s also having it with them. “How do you take your tea?” you ask.

“Um, three sugars and lots of milk, please,” he says, smiling innocently when you slowly turn to look at him, a mix of disapproval, disgust, and offence on your face.

You sigh deeply. “I mean, I’ll do it, but I’m not sure that’s even tea anymore.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss Caramel Frappuccino,” he says, recycling your bad joke from earlier.

“At least I don’t claim to be drinking coffee when I order a frap,” you argue. “And this is how you battled your coffee addiction? You’ll be getting another kind of heart problem, Jakey.” He doesn’t know if you even notice your use of his old nickname - the first time you’ve used it since he’s been here - but you don’t make a big deal of it, so he doesn’t either. Not outwardly, at least. Mentally, he’s running laps around your small kitchen.

Jake laughs it off. “I thought I came here for tea, not a health check-up,” he says, smile growing wider at the sight of yours.

“Right, sorry,” you say, giggling. “I’ll make your tea just how you like it,” you add in a sweet voice. Jake knows you’re just doing it as a joke, but it still manages to make butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His tea tastes even sweeter that day.

A few days after your impromptu trip to the beach, you’re waiting for Jake outside of his class. He heard of this donut shop he “absolutely needs to visit” and is dragging you along with him - well, “dragging” is a big word considering you’d follow him anywhere. You got here a few minutes early, not needing much of a reason to leave the library, so you scroll through your feed until Jake calls out your name. You’re only mildly surprised to see Jay leaving the classroom behind him.

“Y/N! Can you believe that Jay and I are in the same class?” he says excitedly as the two boys walk toward you. You feel like a dog owner being greeted by their over-enthusiastic dog after a long day (about three hours) of being apart.

“I can believe it, actually. You two do the same degree.”

You exchange quick greetings with Jay before the three of you start heading out. As you walk, Jake throws his arm around your shoulders so casually, it almost throws you off balance. Physical contact always came easy to him, but there’s something about him doing it next to someone else that catches you off guard. It reminds you of walking somewhere with Jay and Yunjin as they discretely held hands. It makes you feel like it’s not the three of you, but Jay with the two of you. Like you and Jake come as a pair rather than as two individuals.

All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.

Jake asking you in a very unsubtle whisper whether Jay can come with brings you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Yeah, of course,” you say, smiling. It’s not a bad idea to have Jay along: hanging out with someone else might snap you out of your delusion.

Most of the walk to the shop is done in laughter as Jake and Jay realise how much random stuff they have in common, from their peanut allergies to the embarrassing Harry Potter phase they had as fifteen-year-olds. Grassmarket is really busy on Friday afternoons, and there’s a bit of a queue of other donut-enjoyers in front of the boutique, but you don’t mind. The sun is shining down gently on the square and it gives you time to choose your donut out of the ten or so flavours available. In the end, you go for white chocolate and raspberry, while Jake chooses Biscoff and Jay, tiramisu.

“My friend Sunghoon would love this,” he says after taking a hearty bite. “He goes crazy over tiramisu. Like a cat with catnip.”

Jake chuckles, mouth full of Biscoff. “That’s funny, I also have a friend named Sunghoon who loves tiramisu back in Seoul.”

Jay punches Jake’s shoulder, eyes wide in amusement and shock. “Bro, that’s crazy. You have to be lying at this point,” he says, but Jake shakes his head fervently.

“I promise I’m not. I’ve even saved his number with the tiramisu emoji.”

“There’s a tiramisu emoji?” Jay asks, already over questioning the existence of Jake’s Sunghoon.

The conversation circles back to the courses you’re all taking this semester, and Jake tells Jay about Discover Scotland and the trips he’s planned so far. “Well, if you really want to discover Scotland as a student, you need to go on a night out in Glasgow,” Jay says. Going by the look on Jake’s face, Jay’s idea seems to have struck a chord in him.

“Y/N?”

You nod, finishing your mouthful of donut before speaking. “Yeah, Glasgow’s really fun. We should go,” you say, laughing when the two boys high-five in victory. Between the train, the drinks and the club entry, going out isn’t a cheap ordeal, and getting to and fro also takes a while - even so, the smile on Jake’s face makes it worth it.

He wipes some raspberry jam from the corner of your mouth, shooting you a wink, and you want to disintegrate right then and there, become one with the bench you’re sitting on and never have to face him again. The conversation resumes as Jay tells Jake about all the best places to go out in Glasgow, but you don’t hear a word - the feeling of Jake’s thumb so close to your lips takes away your ability for coherent thought.

“It’s decided, then. We’re going out tomorrow night,” Jay loudly announces. “Let me gather the troops.”

That’s how you find yourself in line for the club the next day, already tipsy from pre-drinking on the train and at the pub. It’s still warm enough for you and the girls to wear as little clothing as you want, but Jake insisted on giving you his flannel jacket anyway. If not for the warmth it brings, you’re glad to have his scent enveloping you.

The five of you work exceptionally well together. You, Chaewon and Yunjin have been a given since you met in first year, and Jay and Yunjin went so well together that he was but a natural addition to your little group. Jake’s only been here for over a week, but it’s like he’s always been around, and you couldn’t be happier about it. Him and Jay hit it off immediately, and although the girls needed some time to warm up to him (it’s not everyday that you meet your friend’s ex-best-friend she’s practically always been in love with; you understand why they might’ve been wary at first), they now tease him just as relentlessly as they do Jay. He takes it like a champ.

For a little while, you watch your friends speaking over each other, bickering over nothing, a smile on your face. Two pints of cider and some of Jay’s fancy vodka have made you more grateful than ever for them - if you drink too much in the club, you’ll be hugging them and crying about how much you love them. You’re not sure what that might look like around Jake, so you decide to keep yourself in check for the night.

It takes about thirty minutes before you manage to get into the club. It’s not coat check season yet, so you head straight to the bar. “Sunghoon said he’d meet us here,” Jay says, lifting his head to spot his friend in the sea of drunk students. “Oh yeah, there he is! Hoon, hey!”

You hear a loud “Jongseong!” being shouted from somewhere in the crowd, but you’re not sure who Jay is waving at until a boy whose face is mostly eyebrows is standing - well, standing as best as he can, with the copious amount of alcohol he’s obviously already consumed - in front of you. He gives Jay a hug and the three of you a nod of his head, a lopsided smile on his face. When he turns to Jake, his eyebrows lift first, then his face breaks into a wide grin.

“Jake, my man!” he shouts, taking a stunned Jake’s hand and bringing him into a hug.

“Sunghoon? What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, chuckling and frowning in confusion.

“I’m just partying, man! Same as you!”

“No, I mean here in Scotland, you dumbass!”

“You two know each other?” Jay asks, looking back and forth between his two friends.

“Jake’s my man!” Sunghoon exclaims, unhelpful and stumbling as he throws an arm around his man’s shoulders. Jake shoots you a distressed look but you just laugh at him.

“This is Tiramisu Sunghoon I told you about,” Jake says, helping Sunghoon stand up straight.

“God, what I would do for a tiramisu right now,” Sunghoon says, looking at Yunjin like she might relate. She chuckles awkwardly.

“I have no idea what he’s doing in Scotland, though. Hoon, I thought you were going to NYU for your exchange?”

Sunghoon pauses to think for a second, looking like he’s never heard of NYU in his life. “Oh, that! Yeah, I did an online orientation thing and… it did not go well. Let’s just say there’s someone in New York City who wants me dead,” he says conspiratorially. You all stare at him but he gives no further explanation. On your right, you hear Yunjin whisper what the fuck under her breath. “So I transferred here instead!”

“I didn’t know you were an exchange student,” Jay says, still looking just as confused.

“Yeah, man! But anyways, let’s not talk about uni right now. I’m on a bender, day three, baby! Do not talk to me tomorrow,” he says, chuckling until the smile suddenly drops from his face. “I mean that.” You look around yourself, glad to find everyone is just as baffled as you. “Let’s party!” Sunghoon cheers, intoxicated grin back on his lips. Jake and Jay follow, but you and the girls stay back for a second, taking in everything that has just happened.

“That. Is the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” Chaewon blurts, staring blankly at the spot Sunghoon stood in a second ago.

“Yeah, he also seems to be a raging alcoholic. And he’s what, twenty-one?” Yunjin says, a scowl on her face.

“I could fix him.”

“Okay, let’s go,” you say, grabbing your friends by their wrists before either of them can say something worse.

Feeling generous, Sunghoon buys shots for all six of you, and you quickly down them before heading to the dancefloor. On your way there, a group of sober-looking girls hand Chaewon a giant, still almost full jug of red liquid, something that costs at least twelve pounds here. They say they’re leaving and don’t need it anymore, smiling as you profusely and astonishedly thank them. You look at your friends, mentally weighing the risk and drugging possibility this might present, but shrug and pass the jug around after taking hearty sips anyway. It tastes so much like fizzy cherries that you wonder if it even contains any alcohol, but sure enough, twenty minutes later, the three of you are spinning around on the dancefloor, screaming the lyrics to your favourite pop songs at the top of your lungs. Jake at a club is a completely foreign sight to you, and you can’t stop laughing at all the silly moves he pulls.

You’re shaking your whole body to a Nicki song from the early 2010s when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. Before you can turn around and slap whoever this random man is that thinks he can touch you, a familiar voice whispers it’s just me in your ear, and you simultaneously relax and tense up knowing that Jake is standing right behind you. “There’s a creep staring at you,” he explains, lips and breath gently tickling your ear as he speaks. You look around the room and quickly notice a man standing in a corner, drink in one hand and the other in his pocket, unmoving as he eyes you with a smirk so slimy it makes your stomach turn. To avoid his gaze, you turn around, but you’re not sure the sight you’re met with is much better for you.

Jake peers down at you, eyes slightly glossed over and cheeks flushed from the alcohol, jaw locked in annoyance. He glances at the guy in the corner, who you assume is still staring when you feel Jake’s hands brush along your sides until they reach your waist. His gaze returns to your face as he brings you a step closer to him. Reflexively, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Is this okay?” he mouths. All you can do is meekly nod. You watch as his eyes deliberately scan your face, going down and down. Time stills when they reach your lips and stay there. It’s like someone has put the booming music of the club on mute, and the only thing you can hear is your heart loudly beating in your ears. You suddenly feel very sober.

You swear Jake’s face is slowly inching its way towards yours when you’re abruptly taken away. Yunjin has grabbed you by the forearm, leading you and Chaewon to the bathroom as she chants “Bathroom break! Bathroom break!”, clearly unaware of the moment she’s just interrupted.

Because of the queue for the girls’ bathroom and Chaewon’s decision to console this random girl who was in the middle of a breakdown, it’s not until half-an-hour later that you emerge back into the crowd. You spot the boys at a table, two empty shots each in front of them and all three with a beer in hand. They will not be happy checking their bank accounts tomorrow morning.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Jake calls out happily when he spots you, and you can tell right away that he’s much drunker than when you left him. His whole face is flush, his eyes don’t open quite all the way, and a lopsided smile won’t leave his lips - even like this, he’s so pretty that you want to grab his hand and take him somewhere it’s just the two of you.

Chaewon gets drinks for the three of you and then you’re dancing again. It’s already one am at this point, and the remaining two hours until the club closes, fueled with alcohol and good music, go by in a flash. Before you know it, the DJ is playing All of Me by John Legend and the lights have been turned on, clear signs that you’re overstaying your welcome. The few people that have made it to closing time stumble out of the club and into the street, heading for either the nearest subway stop or the next party of the night. Since there are no trains at this time, your group walks to the close-by bus station, listening to Jake and Sunghoon grumble about how the clubs in Seoul don’t close until at least five or six and how trains run all night there.

The bus is already at the station when you get there, and the driver doesn’t seem too pleased about having six mildly drunk kids get on his bus, but he’s probably used to questionable people taking public transport at this time of the day anyway. Physically, Sunghoon is sitting across from you, but mentally, he’s off somewhere far, far from this bus. With his head against the window and mouth wide open, saliva pooling at the corner of his lips, he looks like he’s any second away from obnoxiously snoring. Jay and Yunjin are sitting somewhere you can’t see them, probably eating each other’s faces; she once told you they had their “most mind-blowing sex” when both a little drunk, and much to your dismay, you haven’t been able to get that piece of information out of your head since. Chaewon is on the phone to her long-distance bestie Sakura, for whom it’s a nice eleven in the morning right now.

This means that you and Jake are left alone, both of you still tipsy and not tired enough to fall asleep. You drop your head on Jake’s shoulder, and not only does he let you, he also takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and placing them atop his thigh. Clumsily, because he now has to use his left hand, Jake slips his phone out of his back pocket and shows you the photos he took all evening. As the night progresses, they get blurrier and blurrier, so much so that towards the end, you can’t tell what he was even trying to capture, and you laugh at how inappropriate some of these would be to submit in a university project.

When he softly says your name, you don’t raise your head, simply humming to let him know you’re listening. You close your eyes, cherishing the way your name sounds on his lips. It’s his tone, tentative and vulnerable as he tells you there’s something he’s been wanting to ask you, that makes you look up at him. He, however, won’t meet your eyes, and settles his gaze on the window, even though it’s so dark outside you can’t make out a thing.

“How come you never replied to my letter? I know it’s been ages, but… I still find myself wondering about it.” The question is softly asked and you know he by no means wants to hurt you, but it still feels like a punch to the throat. You hadn’t remembered who it was that had sent the last letter, while he’d been wondering all these years why his words had been left unanswered.

He seems set on not looking at you, so you rest your head back on his shoulder. Your hand is still in his. “I’m not sure, Jakey. I’m sorry,” you say, aware it’s not a satisfying answer. You’ve thought about why you and Jake had stopped talking for hours on end; you’ve discussed it with your friends and your mum, looked at it from all sorts of angles, tried to come up with real reasons other than time pulling you apart. But now that Jake himself is asking you about it, the words don’t come easy. You’ve theorised that you were afraid putting effort into sustaining your friendship would only hurt you in the end, because it was just that - a friendship. You could fool yourself into thinking you were okay only being friends with him when he was with you, that putting your feelings aside was worth it since you could at least spend time with him. But now that he was away, you didn’t have that anymore - it just hurt. So what was the point? And how could you phrase all this without betraying your feelings for him?

“Our letters were so sparse anyway back then, even our texts and calls were getting less and less frequent… And whenever I had a new boyfriend, I’d get into the same argument about being too close to you over and over again, even though you were literally on another continent.”

“You know, I always felt sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“Those boyfriends of yours. I felt like you waited for me to leave before you started dating-”

“It wasn’t like that!” you exclaim, lifting your head again. Finally, he meets your eyes, gaze softening upon seeing your affronted expression. “It wasn’t like that,” you repeat, relaxing your tone. “If anything, they were the ones that waited for you to be gone. I'm sorry I let their jealousy get to me.”

Jake smiles, the tenderness in his gaze making your whole body turn to jelly. He squeezes your hands. “It’s okay. I just… I felt like I was always in the way of your relationships, even after I left.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry about that. They should’ve had more trust in me.”

He pauses, gaze dropping down to your intertwined hands. “I would’ve been jealous.” When his eyes find yours again, there’s something in them that you quite can’t place. It creates a ball of nerves that pull at your stomach. “If I were dating you, and you had a guy friend you were as close with as we were back then, I’d be jealous. You know, I’d assume he had feelings for you. And that you might have feelings for him, too.”

Because I did, you think. I did, and I still do. You try to communicate that thought to Jake, but telepathy works especially bad when one has as much alcohol coursing through their veins as you do right now. So instead, you say the opposite of what you’re thinking, turning away from Jake to avoid his gaze. You watch the dribble of saliva trickle from Sunghoon’s lips. “That’s not a great view of male-female friendship.”

Jake’s retort comes immediately. “But we were different, right?”

His words echo through your head until they make even less sense than they did initially. Different from what? From who? You’re not sure - but you like the idea of you and Jake being different, special. You especially like the idea of Jake thinking so. So you look at him and smile. “Right.”

Slowly, his grin fades and turns into a worried expression. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“We’re still different now, aren’t we?”

You want to wrap him in your arms so tightly neither of you can breathe. You settle for running a hand through his hair and pinching his cheek. “Course we are.” Your whole being relaxes when his face breaks into a smile again.

The next morning, you wake up to Yunjin plopping down on your bed unceremoniously, shaking you awake, and asking you if you want anything from Snax Café. On one hand, you’re grateful that she thought of you and that in thirty minutes’ time, you’ll have the greasiest sausage wrap and hash browns known to man in your hand; on the other, you’d like to think that she knows you well enough to know to order your regular from there without asking. But that’s probably the hangover talking.

You stumble out of bed, thanking last night’s you for having remembered to take headache medicine before crashing. Even if your stomach is very upset with the copious amount of alcohol it needs to rid your body of, and your throat is begging for water, at least your head doesn’t feel like it’s been split into two. As Yunjin barges into Chaewon’s room just as she had done yours, you head for the kitchen to get yourself a tall glass of revitalising tap water. You’re only mildly surprised to find Sunghoon passed out on your living room couch - it takes you a few seconds to remember that the three of you took pity on him when you learned he lived over an hour’s walk from the station, so you let him spend the night on your uncomfortable, cold leather sofa. While you down your glass in three gulps, you hear Yunjin shaking Sunghoon awake and asking him loudly if he wanted something from Snax.

“Fuck, I’d kill for a Snax right now,” he groggily says before he’s even opened his eyes. When he does, they dart around the room until they land on Yunjin, who's crouching in front of him. He looks like he thought her question was asked in a dream and not in real life. He also looks like he's not quite sure where he is, or who Yunjin is. It isn’t until Jay comes wobbling out of Yunjin’s bed to the couch opposite Sunghoon that the memories seem to piece back together in his head. The three of you watch him like he’s an unstable mental patient and you’re his doctors.

“No need for that, I’m ordering it on Deliveroo.” He nods his head and goes back to sleep for the time being.

Just as you’re about to text Jake, your phone rings with a call from him. His raspy morning voice as he asks you whether you slept well makes you want to put your head in an oven heated at 200 degrees Celsius. However, you resist the urge, and answer him with a smile, then ask him the same question.

“I slept pretty well too. I’d have slept in longer but one of my flatmates decided to have a Sunday fucking brunch and his friends are so loud. Can I come over?”

You’re very aware of the other people in the room, especially of Chaewon who has just walked in and is eyeing you suspiciously as if to say, Why are you smiling so hard at ten in the morning? You know the girls would jump at any opportunity to tease you about Jake, and with the added presence of Sunghoon in the room, you can’t have that. So you stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat and answer as nonchalantly as you can. It also gives you the chance to reflect on why Jake Sim asking you whether he can come over makes you want to giggle like a giddy schoolgirl so much.

(Maybe it’s because when it comes to him, you’re still the giddy schoolgirl you used to be.)

“Yeah, of course. I was going to ask you if you wanted anything from Snax, actually.”

“Snax? What’s that?”

“Oh my God, Jake, am I about to introduce you to Snax right now?”

Twenty minutes later, the six of you are sitting around your small living room table, all varying amounts of tired, dehydrated and famished as you dig into your breakfast. Given your current levels of energy, it’s fairly quiet; plus, the food hits such a spot that it’s hard to talk and eat at the same time. Jake eats like he’s never had a breakfast wrap and hash brown in his life. It’s an endearing sight if you’ve ever seen one.

You spend the afternoon together, watching movies curled up in your bed, and you try desperately not to think about the implications of that - except that’s hard to do when Jake is right next to you, legs and arms ever-so-slightly brushing against yours, his warmth so close yet so out of reach. You purposefully let him pick movies you’ve already seen so that you don’t have to focus on anything but your own thoughts and the faint but dizzying scent of his body wash. The both of you had an innumerable amount of sleepovers as kids, so this shouldn’t feel weird, but it decidedly does, probably because you’re much more aware of him now in a way you weren’t before.

As hard as you try to figure out what exactly he meant by “different,” you draw a blank. The only way you’ll understand is if you ask him, and you’re far too scared to do that. You don’t want to seem so hung upon a singular word he used when he was tipsy. It might be slightly dramatic, but you felt like some sort of balance had been restored since Jake was back in your life - the problem was it made you scared to do anything that might threaten this newfound equilibrium. It at least seems like different means a good thing to him, and that’s enough for you.

You look over to him when the second movie comes to an end. He’s sleeping peacefully, lashes caressing the skin under his eyes and cheeks looking rounder than usual. It’d be so easy to reach a finger out and trace the line descending from the top of his forehead to his chin, gliding along the bump of his nose and feeling the plumpness of his rosy lips, but you settle for drawing that line with your eyes instead.

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep with him next to you and your heart beating so loudly in your ears, but you find yourself waking up a few hours later, the sun already starting to set. Jake is already awake, scrolling on his phone, one arm casually behind his head as if being in your bed is as comfortable to him as being in his own. When he sees you’ve woken up, his honey-coated smile washes warmly over you, and he makes a joke about how he keeps on falling asleep when he’s with you. “I feel that at ease, I guess,” he says, and you hope you’re not making up the small blush that spreads over his cheeks.

Semesters are always a short and intense affair, but this one passes by even quicker with Jake by your side. Before you know it, it’s midterms already, and you and Jake have travelled enough for him to complete his project and make another one just for the hell of it. He had scoured the internet for the cheapest train tickets and most noteworthy sites, planning trips that lasted anywhere between three hours and a day for the two of you. All you needed to do was follow and trust him, which was the easiest thing anyone could’ve asked of you.

You’ve gone back to Glasgow, during the day, this time, as well as St. Andrews and Aberdeen. You’ve practically visited every loch and castle in a one-hour train ride radius of Edinburgh, and Jake has more lined up for the second part of the semester. He’s even said that your trips should continue being a thing next term, and you couldn’t have agreed faster. With every new destination, every train ride spent looking out a window or laughing about everything and anything, any odd Scottish food you try for the first time, you somehow fall for him a bit deeper. You didn’t know your love for him could bloom any more than it already had - but Jake is the gift that keeps on giving, and, unwillingly or not, he always finds new ways to make your heart speed that much faster.

Attentionate, affectionate, sweet Jake who always makes sure you’re comfortable wherever you go, always gives you his jacket or tucks your hair behind your ear to prevent it from falling in your face. Who, as time passed, grew more touchy, would hold your hand, ruffle your hair, pinch your cheek, which was simultaneously devastating and elating. Who, you could tell, started to linger more, both in his touch and in his gaze. Questions of does he love me back or am I seeing what I want to see? nearly drove you mad.

“I feel like at this point the only way she’ll understand that I like her is if I kill myself and write in my suicide note that it’s her fault for not loving me back.”

Jake has been pacing back and forth in Jay’s living room for approximately twenty minutes, with no end in sight. At least he’ll have gotten most of his ten thousand steps of the day in.

Jay sighs heavily. “Okay, I really don’t think you need to go that far.”

“Sounds romantic to me,” Sunghoon says, mouth full of salted caramel popcorn.

“I hope you never get a girlfriend,” Jay retorts, looking at his deranged friend with a scowl. He turns back to his (slightly more) normal friend and gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I mean, I told her we were different. Different. That we weren’t like regular friends. I tell her she’s pretty every chance I get. I give her my jacket all the time, even though this country is fucking cold. I’ve even given her a t-shirt of mine, sprayed with my perfume and everything. And don’t get me wrong, I do it ‘cause I love doing that for her-”

“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.

“But what the hell else can I do? Like, she has to be ignoring it on purpose at this point.”

“You could always, you know… tell her?”

Jake scoffs, fixing his friend with a derisive look. “Wow. What a great idea, Jay, I never thought of that one before!”

A popcorn lands right on Jay’s cheek. “You’re so clueless, man,” Sunghoon says, a shit-eating smirk on his lips. As if he knows any better.

Jay looks back-and-forth between his friends, an expression on his face like he’s been disparaged. “Sorry, I didn’t know being straightforward and honest was such a bad thing. It would just make things a lot clearer for the both of you.”

“But… I’m scared,” Jake says.

“Man up!” Sunghoon suddenly yells, punching the sofa next to him, making his friends jump. “How can she ever figure it out if you don’t tell her?”

“You were on my side just a second ago, man, what are you doing?” Jake asks, confusion written all over his face. Sunghoon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, retreating into silence as he stuffs his mouth with another handful of popcorn.

“Just ignore him,” Jay says. “But for once, he did say something that makes a modicum of sense. You think you’re being really obvious, but you might not actually be. Which could be a good sign, you know. I heard girls were super aware of a guy liking them if they weren’t into him, but being totally oblivious if they did like him.”

“Where did you hear that?” Jake asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“...Instagram Reels,” Jay reluctantly admits, frowning at Sunghoon who bursts into laughter.

Jake holds the bridge of his nose between two fingers like his head aches. “You’re both so useless, I’m never coming to you with my problems ever again.”

“I’ll pretend I’m not offended by that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, anyway,” Sunghoon says. He’s smiling but Jake genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“But seriously, if you think you’ve done everything, then just do one last thing that’s so obvious she can’t misinterpret it,” Jay says.

“Like what?”

“Like kissing her, or some-”

“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.

“That’s wild, man,” Sunghoon uselessly butts in.

“It’s just an example, calm yourselves,” Jay says. “Or, again, just straight up tell her how you feel. It’s what I did with Yunjin, and it worked.”

“You and Yunjin are dating?” Sunghoon asks, bewildered.

Jay shakes his head at him. “Where the hell have you been, bro? We were literally cuddling on the couch the other day.”

“I just thought you were really good friends, or something.”

Jake groans, holding his head in his hands. Sunghoon was of no help whatsoever, and Jay was so on point that it annoyed him. Confessing was the only solution - but Jake was so afraid of being rejected and losing your friendship that he had barely entertained the thought. But he had found the courage to do it once, and even though his planned confession had fallen through back then, he could get himself together and do it again.

It was the day he had told you he was moving to Korea, which he himself had learned that morning. Originally, he’d texted you because he had news to share - good news. Or at least, he hoped they were good. He hoped the soft, lingering looks you gave him weren’t a figment of his imagination but rather the confirmation he needed that you liked him back. He hoped that like him, you cared too much about your friendship to make the first move into something else; that by confessing first, you’d be relieved of that responsibility; that his wish to hold your hand and kiss your forehead wasn’t one-sided.

He decided not to prepare anything - just a couple sentences that he’d rehearsed over and over in his head. Declarations of love, bouquets of flowers, chocolate and couple keychains, all that could wait until after you’d said yes to being his girlfriend. He didn’t want to win you over just once, he wanted to show you every day how much he loved you. Fourteen-year-old Jake was absolutely head over heels for you; so imagine his disappointment when, as he was getting ready to meet with you, his parents called him downstairs, a tone to their voice Jake wasn’t familiar with, but that couldn’t mean anything good.

“Your dad’s job is sending us back to Seoul next month,” his mom announced, not beating around the bush. He felt everything quite literally crumbling down around him. His friends in Brisbane, his school, his hobbies, but above all, you. He’d lose it all. And what was the point now in telling you how he felt? If you felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if you didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.

What he had planned to be good news turned into the most awful ones. The thought of it happening all over again makes twenty-year-old Jake shudder. But he wouldn’t let himself be trapped by time again - sure, in seven months, the academic year would be over, and he would go back to Korea. But that didn’t mean that those seven months should be spent in agony, or the following ones either, for that matter. You would make it work. What was long-distance to someone who loved someone else as much as Jake loved you?

But he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He has to start by really resolving to do this, and in the off-chance that it actually goes in his favour, he’d start worrying about long distance then.

First, he has a trip to plan.

You should’ve known that a trip to the Scottish Highlands in the middle of November was a risky choice in terms of weather. The day started off nicely enough - no sign of rain when you woke up or as you watched the sunrise through the train window. Clouds turned the sky a bright white at first, then increasingly greyer and greyer. You feel the first drops of rain after lunch as you walk around a small village. By four pm, it’s pitch black and storming like you’ve rarely seen before. You head into a pub to grab a drink as you wait for the rain to subside, but subside it does not. You end up ordering fish and chips, one each, although one serving is enough to feed three. Even after taking your time eating, the bad weather does not let up. The last train, which is meant to be at eight pm, has been cancelled. Luckily, there’s an inn right across the road from the pub; you have no choice but to spend the night.

The inn receptionist is sitting so low on her chair, you can barely see her over the desk until you’re standing right over it. Her face is hidden by a book and it’s only when you say hiya that she seems to realise you’re there. You had never heard of the book or of its author, but you recognized the cover design as that of those romance novels with repetitive plots and weirdly misogynistic love interests your mum and every other middle-aged woman was obsessed with.

Her smile widens as she looks between you and Jake. “Hi there. One room for the lovely couple?”

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Yes, please,” Jake interrupts, smiling down at her, then at you. “It’ll be cheaper if we share a room.”

“Our only room with two single beds is already taken, I’m afraid. One double bed okay for you two?”

You feel like you’re about to faint, so you’re glad Jake is there to answer. “Yeah, of course.” How the idea of sharing one bed with you is so okay to him, you’re not sure - granted, you’ve done it before, but this feels different. For all intents and purposes, this is a hotel room you’re staying in. And you’re staying in it with Jake.

You try to calm your breathing as the receptionist guides you to your room, chatting casually with Jake on the way there. As she unlocks the door for you, she informs you that check-out must be done before eleven in the morning tomorrow, then bids you good night and leaves you to it, still wearing that smile you swear has mischievousness to it. The door clicks shut behind you, and it’s just Jake and you again, together in this small room until tomorrow morning. Your chances of survival are very, very low.

Your room is a humble one, consisting of a desk, a cupboard, two armchairs, a small, separate bathroom and the infamous bed. Every surface seems to be covered with wood, from the ceiling, to the walls, to the old-fashioned furniture. Only the floor is a soft, beige carpet. Especially with the darkness outside, it makes for a gloomy room until you turn on the lamp by the entrance; it casts a warm, golden light in the room, one that would make you feel at ease if it wasn’t for Jake’s presence next to you. The implications of being essentially trapped in a barely-lit room with him are heavy on your mind, especially when he looks this gorgeous with his hair still damp from the rain and the soft lights playing on his face.

His voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Right. Do you, um, do you wanna shower first?” he asks, setting his bag on one of the armchairs.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” There has never been such an awkward tension between the two of you, but you know you’re not doing anything to ease it. You hope a shower will help you get out of your head and make you relax.

You feel the tension leave your muscles under the hot water, but your stomach is still in knots. You’ve never been this nervous around Jake before; back when you were fourteen and again in these past few months, you’d gotten so used to dealing with your unspoken feelings for him that you could almost forget about them when you were with him. They’d come back to you when you were alone and dwelling on the moments you’d spent together, on his words and actions you desperately tried not to read too much into but always ended up doing anyway. But right now, they’ve floated to the surface, becoming as obvious to you as a stain on your skin you can’t rub away. You’re scared Jake will notice it, and, in the worst case scenario you often thought about, would run away and never speak to you again.

At least the raging storm outside would make that a bit harder.

When you step out of the shower, you curse yourself for not having worn more comfortable clothes on this trip. You definitely can’t wear these jeans and button-up sweater to lounge around. Thankfully, the inn provides two long bathrobes that you could wear over underwear and your tank top, but you wonder where on the scale of inappropriate this would be to wear with Jake in the room. He’s seen you in short pyjama shorts before, but this, like everything else that would usually be normal between the two of you, feels weird today.

You wrap the bathrobe around yourself, tying it in place around your waist, and decide that it’d only be weird if you made it weird. And if Jake found the sight of your bare legs weird, then he was the weird one.

The scene you’re met with as you walk into the room makes you want to retreat into the bathroom immediately. Jake is lying on the bed with his upper half against the headboard, one leg extended and the other one bent, resting his head against one palm, using his free hand to scroll through his phone. His t-shirt has ridden up slightly, putting the waistband of his Calvin Kleins into view. Worst of all, when he sees you, his face breaks into a grin.

Your stomach twists when he gives you a once-over, letting his gaze linger on your legs. “Did you bring a bathrobe with you or was it included?” he asks with an annoyingly handsome smirk.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I bring a bathrobe with me wherever I go,” you say sarcastically. “Now shut up and go shower, you stink.” Reverting to insults is always the solution when you’re internally freaking out.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He takes so long in the shower that by the time he comes out, you’ve dozed off in bed. As if you were a child, he wakes you up with a boop to the nose, crouching next to the bed and smiling at you. His wet hair falls on his head like that of a movie star in a shower scene, which you find extremely unfair, and his cheeks are red from the warmth of the water.

“It’s still early. Do you wanna go grab another drink?”

“In our bathrobes?” you say, laughing. “Nah, I don’t really feel like drinking anyway.” Read: I’m not sure what I’ll do with alcohol in me.

“Okay, no worries. Um, I think I saw they had board games in the lobby?”

Your ears perk up at this. “Ooh, what kind of board games?”

Putting jeans on underneath his bathrobe, Jake slips away for a minute and comes back with Monopoly, Uno, and a deck of cards. “They didn’t have much for two players,” he says, dumping everything on the bed.

You already knew that anything would become fun if you did it with Jake, but you definitely didn’t expect to spend almost five hours just playing Monopoly and card games with him. Neither of you stays put for very long, always switching from sitting criss-cross to laying on your stomach, making fun of the other’s bathrobe even though you’re wearing the exact same thing. You make each other laugh as you make up your own nonsense rules and disregard the laws of your games, attacking the other ruthlessly for a couple extra points or coins. Jake even makes you go get snacks from a corner store that’s miraculously still open because you lose the first round of Uno.

After some time, Jake lets out a loud yawn, which in turn makes you yawn too. He checks his phone to find that it’s close to midnight already. “Time for bed?” he asks, and your nervousness that had finally dissipated as you played came rushing back.

You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you clean up before brushing your teeth. Even that, with Jake by your side, becomes a silly affair as he pulls faces in the mirror and nudges your hip with his. You stay behind to use the toilet, and when you come back out, Jake’s already in bed, bathrobe tossed on one of the armchairs. This means that Jake is just casually in a t-shirt and boxers, waiting for you to join him in bed. Luckily, his back is turned to you, so you quickly take off your own bathrobe and slide under the sheets, careful to keep your distance from him. The sheets are cold underneath you, and you know it’ll take a while before your body heat warms them up - although you feel very hot and bothered because of the man lying next to you.

“Gosh, I’m really sleepy all of a sudden,” he says, words distorted by a yawn. You only hum in response, and he reaches for the lamp to turn it off. Just like that, you’re in complete darkness, and Jake’s body is mere inches from your own.

It’s eerily quiet for a while, and when you’ve managed to slow your heartbeat and regularise your breathing, you start trying to fall asleep. You toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position until Jake’s low, sleepy voice breaks the silence. “Can’t sleep?” he asks, and you freeze.

You sigh. “No. I’m sorry for keeping you up,” you say guiltily.

“It’s okay. I can’t really sleep either. It’s a bit cold in here.”

You pause. “Right. Yeah, it is,” you say, even though you feel like you’re sweating buckets.

The room plunges into silence again, long enough for you to think Jake has fallen asleep. You feel something cold against your foot, only realising as it slides up your calf that it’s his foot. “Jake!” you whisper-yell, withdrawing your leg as he bursts into giggles that warm your heart. “Your feet are so cold,” you say in-between chuckles.

“I’m cold all over,” he whines. “Have they not turned the heating on yet? It’s already mid-November.”

“People are used to the cold here.”

“Well I’m not. Can we cuddle?” he suddenly asks, and he must somehow feel the way you freeze in place because he stammers out a justification straight away. “For, I mean, just for warmth, you know. I don’t think I’ll sleep otherwise.”

His foot finds yours again and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, fine,” you say with a sigh as if you were doing only half-heartedly for his sake. As if this was some big sacrifice you were making, and not something you’d daydreamed about one too many times before.

Your heart is beating a thousand miles a second when you scooch closer to Jake, his hands finding your waist as easily as if they’d been there a hundred times before. He pulls you in much closer than you had expected, holding you tightly against his chest, one arm for you to use as a pillow and one hand resting on your lower back. You try to calm your respiration so that he can’t hear how short of breath you are, but based on his own breathing, he seems to be out in five minutes. It takes you longer to fall asleep, every shift of his body sending shivers down your spine, but you manage to relax after some time, letting his warmth envelop you as you drift off to sleep.

The feeling of waking up with you in his arms is so unreal, Jake thinks he might still be dreaming.

He looks down at your peaceful sleeping face and can’t stop the smile that spreads on his lips. Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but this is a sight he particularly wants to commit to memory. He watches fondly as the bright sun rays of the early morning hit your face, making you scrunch your eyebrows and bury your face deeper against him. You grunt softly, and when he feels you shifting and stretching your legs, he pretends to fall asleep so you don’t catch him staring. It seems like you’ve raised your head, chin tilted towards him - if he’s lucky, you’re watching him “sleep” just like he did seconds ago.

He contains a smile at the joke that forms itself in his brain before shooting his eyes open, catching you off guard during what you thought was a private, secret moment.

“Shit!” you yelp, practically jumping off of him and rolling onto the other side of the bed. He bursts into laughter, proud that his little prank was effective. Before you can scold him, he makes his way to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing your back against his chest. He thinks he feels your body tense; but then you bring your hand over his, swiping your thumb back and forth against his skin, and you relax in his hold. “You’re so annoying,” you complain, but your voice is tender, almost weak.

He buries his face in your hair, trying not to be too loud when he inhales there. “Sorry,” he says, the smile evident in his voice. “The opportunity was right there. Caught you staring, huh?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Jake is more than happy to enjoy this moment in silence, but there’s something burning the tip of his tongue. It’s been there for a while now, but he thinks he’s finally found the right moment. “Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“There’s something I couldn’t tell you last night, but I feel oddly okay saying it right now. Are you listening?”

“I am, yeah,” you say gently, voice so soft it caresses his skin and draws goosebumps from it.

His chest expands and falls with a deep, shaky breath. With your back right against it, he’s scared you’ll hear that his heart is beating faster than it should. “Bad news first?” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“Uh-oh.”

“There’s no roundabout way to say this, so here goes, I guess.” He takes another breath. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” You tense in his embrace, and he waits for you to say something, anything before he continues.

“Oh,” is all you say. He hopes it’s a good oh - even if it isn’t, he doesn’t let it deter him.

“Yeah. I really debated telling you this… I know you might not feel the same way. But I also know that if I don’t say anything and make the same mistake twice, I’ll beat myself up over it for the rest of my life.”

“The same mistake?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder.

He gazes down at you tenderly, pushing hair away from your face with a gentle hand. “I already felt that way back when we lived in Australia. I was about to tell you but when I learned that I was moving, I didn’t wanna risk ruining the little time we had left together.”

The look on your face both breaks his heart and patches it up again. “Jakey…” you say, voice just a whisper. You turn around to face him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. The fact that you’re not saying much is making his stomach twist in agonising stress, but he takes it as a good sign that you’re still holding him tight and not running away.

“I think I’d be the luckiest guy on Earth if you felt the same way,” he says, hopefulness clear in his voice.

And then he finally hears the words he’s been dying to hear all these years. “Of course, I feel the same way, Jake,” you say, eyes meeting his. “This isn’t bad news at all, it’s like, the best possible news ever.”

It takes him a few seconds, but when your words sink in, a bright smile graces his features. He feels tears coming up - tears of relief that you feel the same way, of sadness that it took the both of you so long to get here, of happiness that something new might start - he’s not sure. Perhaps everything at once.

“Of course?” he echoes, smiling wildly. “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

“Oh, gosh,” you murmur, burying yourself into him once more. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

He tightened his hold around you, bringing you to him as close as physically possible. “Me neither.”

The feeling of you tangling your bare legs with his and bunching up the fabric of his t-shirt in your fist awakens something in him - he had been in his head, thanking the heavens that you loved him back, reeling from his belated confession, but he was now very aware of his body. And of yours. He was reminded of Jay telling him to kiss you - although he hadn’t needed to go there to reveal his feelings to you, it was still a possibility. It was even more so now that he knew you felt the same way.

He tries to be subtle as he brushes a hand up your back to the nape of your neck, gently grazing his fingernails against the skin there. He has to suppress a self-satisfied smirk when he feels you squirm under his touch, lifting your head to fix him with a scolding look. Your stern expression fades as soon as his eyes fall on your lips, however, and you quickly mirror his gaze. His lips part, and he feels his whole body shake as he takes a deep breath in. Who knew that you’d share your first kiss on a random Sunday morning in the fuckass middle of nowhere in Scotland?

Maybe you take pity on him, or you recognise the effort put into being the one to make the first move, or, as he’d like to think, you just really want to kiss him - either way, you’re the one who closes the gap and presses your lips to his.

Your lips. So soft, so delicate against his, absolutely perfect. It’s a simple, tentative touch, but he’s craved it for so long that it makes his head spin. He frowns, despite himself instantly needing more than this feather-like feeling of your lips brushing against each other. His mind tells him to calm down and take it slow, but his body takes over, urging him to grab the nape of your neck a little harder, to hold you a little closer to him, to kiss you a little stronger. Thankfully, you let him do all of this and more, hands finding purchase in his hair and returning his intensity tenfold.

He doesn’t know what’s better - the fact that you’re kissing him or the kiss itself. The way your lips move against his is intoxicating; it wraps itself around its mind and leaves no room for thoughts that aren’t of you. You seem to want him as desperately as he wants you, to have waited for him as long as he did for you, and this is what drives him crazy. You press your body against his and he sees stars; you let out a moan against his lips and he kisses you deeper, ready to do anything to hear that melody again.

Unfortunately, the only melody he gets to hear is that of his phone alarm, informing you that it’s quarter to eleven and that you have fifteen minutes to leave. Check-out at eleven am had sounded nice yesterday; now, he would stay in this dingy inn his whole life if it meant he got to keep kissing you.

The both of you reluctantly break apart, bursting into giddy laughter when your eyes meet. As said before, Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but with your pupils blown and your lips plump from kissing, this might just be the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

“You know, I like you a lot, but I’d like you even more if you could stop time,” you say.

He looks down at you with a smile, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen on your face. “Sure, I’ll learn how to control time for you.”

“Thanks, Jakey.” You peck his lips, lingering, and he closes his eyes to savour your sweetness.

“Anything for you, baby.” His eyes widen at the nickname slip, but you erupt into giggles.

“Baby?”

“Would you look at the time, we really got to go,” he says, detangling his limbs from yours. He pauses for a second. “Baby,” he repeats, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before bouncing from the bed.

You get ready together, and the mundane tasks of stripping sheets from a bed and packing bags become the funnest things he’s ever done. You’re all over each other, attacking the other with kisses and hugs; Jake doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this happy.

And this is only the beginning.

There’s a glint in the receptionist’s eyes when you check out of your room, as if she knew something you and Jake had been oblivious to all along. It’s the only one in town, so you go back to the little pub for a full breakfast with eggs, hash browns, haggis, and sausages. You get coffee so strong you think you might not sleep for the next four days, while Jake drinks tea that is equal parts sugar, milk, and actual tea.

From the moment you leave the pub to the moment you arrive at your doorstep, Jake’s hands barely leave yours. When they have to, like when you’re searching for the perfect seat on the train or when the controller checks your tickets, they’re back together within a minute, like two magnets that can’t stay apart for too long. The rain has long subsided, leaving place to a bright blue sky and wet blades of grass that shine in the sun.

Now that your mutual feelings don’t need to be kept secret, you tell each other about everything you had to go through, like you pretending your good news was your mum having baked the cookies Jake liked and him seeing your new boyfriends every two months on your close friends story. He tells you about all the hints he’s dropped, causing you to facepalm over and over again. It feels like two friends catching each other to speed on all the latest gossip, except the topic of that gossip is you.

The juxtaposition of your familiarity with Jake with the novelty of behaving like a couple, of not having to hold back with your touches or gazes or words, is nothing if not jarring. But you have a feeling you’ll get used to it in no time.

As you unlock the front door to your building, you don’t ask him if he’s coming up - to you, it’s a given that you’ll be spending the rest of today and every day after that together. So when he doesn’t follow you, staying still on the threshold, you turn around with a questioning look on your face.

“There’s something I need to do this afternoon,” he says, taking both of your hands in his.

“Can’t I come with?” you say. Jake wavers for a second, but sadly, he stays firm in his decision.

“Sorry, baby, it’s a surprise. I’ll be back at seven with takeout?”

You can’t possibly be mad at him when he calls you baby and offers food in the same breath. “Only if you bring takeout.”

“You only love me because I feed you, don’t you?” he asks, a smile on his face.

“Yup,” you reply. You’re standing on a step, so you bend down to kiss him - you intend for it to be a peck, but when your lips touch, you’re unable to pull away. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, in the warmth that takes over your body and makes your brain all fuzzy.

A loud, affronted gasp from behind you makes you jump from Jake, and when you turn around, Chaewon and Yunjin are standing in the stairwell, staring at you with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“So this was a sexcapade?” is, much to your horror, the first thing Yunjin says.

Thanks to Chaewon, neither you nor Jake have the time to dwell on this sentence as she comes running down the stairs and pounces on you. You don’t know how a woman so small can have such force, but her hug is so tight you can barely breathe, let alone hug her back properly. “I knew you could do it!” she exclaims. When she pulls away, she seems so moved, it looks like she’s about to cry. “You finally popped your Jake cherry,” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for Jake to hear. A bark of laughter escapes his throat.

“Okay, thanks, guys,” you say, escaping this awkward situation and going up the stairs. “I’ll see you later, Jake!” you yell over your shoulder. The girls seem to be on their way out, and you’re more than happy leaving him to deal with them on his own. God knows you’ll get the worst of it when they come back.

As soon as you get to your flat, you make a beeline for your bedroom, plopping on the bed. You’re the same person, and this is the same room. But something within you feels entirely different, like a scar that you had been carrying around had, without you even noticing, healed so well you could barely see it anymore. You lifted your hands in the air, looked at the back of them, then at your palms. They were the same old hands that had been with you your whole life, and you were almost shocked that there wasn’t something utterly different about them after having held Jake’s hand for so long. Just to be sure, you sniffed your right hand, but it didn’t smell any different, either. But you still felt Jake’s hand on yours, like headphones you’d been wearing for hours and still felt on your ears after taking them off.

Yunjin and Chaewon are back from their shopping half-an-hour later; they got you a chocolate fudge cake from Tesco to congratulate you. “You guys are acting like this is my birthday…” you say, eyeing the cake greedily as Chaewon cuts it into three equal parts (even though it says serves eight on the packaging).

“This is more important than your birthday, Y/N,” Yunjin states as she pours oat milk into three cups of Earl Grey tea. “This is, like, the moment of a lifetime.”

“Are you saying a girl’s importance depends on her having a boyfriend?”

“Yes, Y/N, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Especially when said boyfriend is the guy she’s been pining after for all of her teenage and adult life.”

You sigh. “Well, he hasn’t exactly popped the boyfriend and girlfriend question yet.” They both turn to look at you, an annoyed look on their faces. You stand up straight, uncomfortable under their gazes. “What?”

“Usually, I’m all for clarity on this issue,” Chaewon starts. “But isn’t it pretty obvious here?”

“You’re still gonna have to tell us everything in minute detail, but Jake’s already told us what happened. He had no qualms referring to you as his girlfriend, so I really don’t think this is something you need to worry about. What you should worry about is when and where you’re going to hop on that dick.”

Chaewon bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit. “Gosh, Yunjin, you really do have a way with words.”

“I know. This is what having a Jane Austen hyperfixation at fifteen will do to you.”

Following Yunjin’s orders, you tell them about the events of the previous day and this morning over tea and cake. They ooh and ah and gasp in all the right places, ask you very specific questions and even make you draw a picture of the room you stayed in. You’ve talked to them about Jake so many times that there’s only so much to say now - but still, you talk for hours on end, deviating off-topic so often you end up talking about something else entirely.

You’re in bed reading for your Middle English Literature class when the doorbell rings. It’s seven on the dot, so it can be no one else other than Jake. It’s been mere hours, but you’ve missed him enough to last you for weeks.

He brought takeaway from the Indian place you’d raved about a hundred times but hadn’t brought him to yet. Somehow, your heart grows even fonder as you watch his reaction to the food, the raise of his eyebrows, the widening of his eyes, the excited shimmy of his shoulders. When you ask him about his afternoon, a wide smile breaks out onto his face, like a lightbulb illuminating a room. Without a word, he scurries to your room, bringing back some sort of book with him. He hands it to you with a shy smile and curious eyes, eagerly anticipating your reaction. The cover reads Y/N and Jake in his clumsy but endearing handwriting, with the date of his arrival in Edinburgh and an em-dash scribbled underneath. “I haven’t booked my flight home yet, so I’ll add the second date later,” he explains.

When you flick through it, you’re met with photographs of you and Jake on all of the trips you’ve done so far, as well as the various adventures you got up to in the city. There’s even one of you sleeping in the library at two am during midterms when you had forgotten about one of your essays, due at midday. Jake had come with coffee and words of encouragement, and now he could brag that the high mark you got was thanks to him. It’s not only photos - it’s also ticket stubs, receipts, stickers, and even a dried flower you had found pretty on your trip to St. Andrews. He’s also written quite a lot, from diary-like entries about what you got up to that day or songs that reminded him of you.

“You misspelt right here,” you say, pointing to a sentence that reads This is the café write next to the hotel where the last Harry Potter book is said to have been written!!! under a photo of you drinking a massive cup of hot chocolate. The more you look at the typo, the more it makes you laugh, until you have tears brimming in your eyes.

Thanks to Yunjin’s messiness, pens and pencils are strewn over your coffee table. Jake, flushed red in embarrassment at the small mistake, snatches a pencil and aggressively erases write, spelling it correctly the second time around. “This is the level of today’s English Lit undergrads,” he murmurs under his breath. His frown disappears when he looks at you and he laughs along.

You continue looking through the album until you land on a page titled Why I love Y/N. From top to bottom, left to right, it’s filled with Jake’s tiny handwriting. You can tell he put effort into making it neat. There’s a singular photograph of you, one that dates from the first days after Jake’s arrival when you were walking around in the Meadows, the park right next to campus. The sun shone down on you and you smiled brightly at Jake behind the camera.

You’re not a quarter through reading when tears swell in your eyes, rendering your vision blurry. You wipe them away before they can fall and stain the page. Jake has detailed every last thing he loves about you. It can hardly get cornier than this, but the fact that he wrote this about you makes your heart so full, you’re afraid it might explode in your chest. It ranges from basic things like the way she makes me laugh or her pretty face when she falls asleep in the train (or anywhere, for that matter) to more you-specific things like the strict pastel colour-coding she uses for her notes and her perseverance when eating spicy food even though she can’t take it. He mentions things about you that you didn’t even know, and that feeling of being known in-and-out, of being really seen by someone else only brings more tears to your eyes. Your favourite line comes at the end - the way she makes any place feel like home. A proper sob pushes past your lips at this, and Jake, who had been watching you with an anxious smile, rests a palm on your knee and inches closer to you.

“Why are you crying, is- Did I write something bad?”

You shake your head fervently. “No, no, Jakey, this is… It’s perfect. I’m just…” you trail, letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle. You look at him with a smile before pulling him into a tight hug. “I love it so much. I love you so much.”

You can feel Jake relax against you. “I love you too, baby. I’m glad you like it.”

You pull away after a small while, and turn the next page over. It’s a picture of you over breakfast this morning, with words WE’RE DATING!!!! written underneath it, and those simple words make you so happy, your cheeks ache from smiling. But every page after that is empty. Jake scratches the back of his neck. “I, um, I thought we could fill the rest out together. I debated just doing it myself and giving it to you at the end of the year, but I thought it’d be more fun doing it together.”

“It would. This is such an amazing idea,” you say, flicking back through the pages.

“I thought of it because of that project I had. When I started working on it, all the photos I wanted to include were of you, but I wasn’t sure how much my professor would appreciate that… So I decided to make one more personal. One for us,” he says shyly, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

“Thank you so much, Jakey.”

He smiles. “It’s no worries.”

“Did you do it all this afternoon?”

“I had started it before, but I added it most of today, yeah. Which, by the way, awful timing. I wanted nothing more than to spend today with you.”

Your heart leaps. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to hearing such words from Jake’s mouth.

Sometime later, you’re laying in bed with Jake between your legs, watching the most recent animated Spiderman movie. With the tips of your fingers, you draw random patterns on his forearm, and if it wasn’t for his occasional chuckles, you’d think he had fallen asleep. You chat for a bit after the movie, but you find that after such an emotionally-packed day, you’re ready to call it a night fairly early. But when the lights are off and it’s just you lying against Jake’s chest, his fingernails grazing your scalp and his familiar, comforting scent clouding your judgement, all thoughts of an early night are thrown out of the window.

You shouldn’t feel so nervous - you had fallen asleep in his arms last night, and it had gone well. Really well.

“This is different from yesterday, isn’t it?” Jake suddenly says, breaking the heavy silence with a low voice. It’s like he read your mind.

“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.

No other words are needed. You brush the tip of your nose along his neck until you reach his jawline, pressing soft kisses there and delighting in the increasing shakiness of his breath. The feeling of your lips meeting is so intense, so all-encompassing, that you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle anything more.

This is still new territory, but you’re both so eager to discover it that it makes for a messy kiss, lips moving against each other ravenously, tongues beckoning moans from the other. It’s a kiss that somehow leaves you breathless and breathes oxygen back into your lungs at once.

In a matter of seconds, Jake has flipped you on your back and is hovering over you, one hand holding him up and one hand free to roam your body. He slips it underneath your t-shirt, brushes it along the side of your waist, his touch leaving behind a trail of fire blazing on your skin. It’s so distracting, you can’t even kiss him back properly anymore. Jake doesn’t seem to mind. At first, when he starts pressing hot kisses to your jawline and your neck, you think he’s giving you a respite - but when he gently sinks his teeth into the skin there, leaving marks that will later remind you tonight wasn’t a dream, chuckling as you squirm and whine under him, you understand that this is anything but a respite.

You curse your earlier decision of not wearing a bra, because it gives you no preparation whatsoever to the sensation of Jake brushing his thumb against one of your nipples. With a loud gasp, your back arches off of the bed, which only aids Jake in raising your t-shirt up over your breasts.

He takes a minute to admire the sight of you panting and half-naked underneath him. It makes you feel shy, and you want to do something so that he stops looking and starts doing, but his gaze holds you in place. His pupils are blown with lust, eyes raking over your body and taking everything in. You have a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that it’s you he’s looking at with those eyes.

His soft lips attach themselves to your nipple while his fingers continue their work on the other one. You’ve never felt this sensitive, never felt this on edge, like you might fall apart at any second even with so little simulation. Your core throbs, impatiently waiting to be tended to, but you’re already trembling so hard from Jake’s attention to your breasts that you don’t know what will happen to you once he actually touches you down there.

“You doing okay, baby?” he asks, the rasp in his voice making you want him impossibly more. You grip his hair and he looks up at you, a tender smile on his lips. You nod your head yes and he laughs. “Yeah? You want more?” You pause at his question. You do want more, but is it worth your sanity?

It takes you a second to decide that it’s worth that and more. You nod again.

Jake seems to have sensed your hesitation. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I am. It’s just a lot.”

His expression of worry softens into a smile. “I’ll take it slow for you, love. It’s a lot for me, too.” He leans in to press soft kisses to your cheek, and some of the tension in your body diffuses. Whatever happens, Jake will be there to take care of you. “But it feels good, right?” he asks, lips moving against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.

“Good.”

You can tell that Jake really does want to take it slow - his movements are more deliberate, gentler. But eagerness, both yours and his, soon takes over, and a minute later, he’s trailing kisses down your body until he reaches your lower stomach. Your breath quickens as he hooks fingers underneath your leggings and underwear, sliding both garments down your legs and leaving you bare to him. You think the feeling of his lips on the fleshy parts of your inner thighs is what might actually do you in, make you lose your sense of reality forever - but then his tongue darts out against your clit, a barely-there touch, and your whole body flatlines.

Your reaction eggs Jake on, who, more confident now, takes the sensitive bud in his lips and alternates between sucking and licking motions. A knot ties itself embarrassingly quickly in your stomach, a knot that tightens and tightens as Jake flattens his tongue against you, licking up your juices from your entrance to your clit; a knot that threatens to come loose when he slides a long finger inside of you. You can’t take more than thirty seconds of this.

“Jakey,” you say, voice practically a moan. Your brain is fuzzy and it takes a distressing amount of time to form a simple sentence. “Can you come here?”

“Is something wrong, baby?” he asks breathily, sliding his finger out of you and coming back up so that his face is right above yours.

“No, just… I want you.”

Any trace of worry on Jake’s features dissipates as he cocks an eyebrow, one corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Is that so?”

This kind of boldness would usually have you rolling your eyes, but here, it only makes your core throb more violently. It’s almost humiliating how much you want this man. It’s definitely humiliating, how easy it is to swallow your pride and play into his game. “Yes, please,” you say, eyes pleading with him.

He smiles almost giddily before burying his face against the side of yours. “My baby’s so polite,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Take this off, then,” you say, grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt.

“So she says please and gives orders,” he jokes, quickly obliging anyway.

Not once in your time apart had Jake posted any sort of beach trip or pool photos, so this was the first time you saw his bare chest. God, was it one for the history books. You trace the defined lines of his muscles with a finger and wonder how he had managed to get even more perfect. He lets you marvel at him for it, clearly proud that you’re gawking so shamelessly, but your mind drifts back to more urgent matters when he presses himself into you, his clothed cock, hard and hot, brushing against your folds. “Fuck,” you sigh, bucking your hips into his to feel him over and over again.

It’s so much, but it’s not enough; Jake instantly gets your message when you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling him to you and kissing him feverishly. Your lips don’t part as he slides his boxers off, and you drink up the nectar that are his moans as you take him in your hand, pumping him a few times.

“Condom?” he asks, but you shake your head.

“I’m on the pill. And even so… I usually always use a condom, but I don’t want to now. Not with you.”

Jake closes his eyes as he takes a deep, stabilising breath. “I feel totally normal about that. Not crazy at all.”

You giggle, and he opens his eyes, a wide smile gracing his lips before he bends down to kiss you. “You ready for the night of your life?” he asks against your lips. “It’s gonna last five minutes, tops,” he says, making you laugh again. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t do anything about it. I think I could’ve cum just from eating you out.”

“That would’ve been hot.”

“Really? We’ll make it a challenge for next time, then.”

When Jake plunges into you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He fills you up, slow inch by slow inch, until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. You both need some time getting used to the feeling - Jake drops his head in the crook of your neck and lets out a sound between a grunt and a moan, something you’ve never heard from him before. You grab onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you try to tether yourself to him. You hold him so tight that he has no choice but to let his body rest on top of yours, his arms coming to circle your waist and bring you even closer.

His movements start out halting, the pleasure so overwhelming that it makes it hard for him to move steadily. In time, he falls into a torturously slow rhythm, but it’s the perfect kind of torture, the kind that has tears brimming in your eyes. It’s so hard to take, and yet you want more. You’re brought closer to the edge with every thrust of his dick into you, especially as he picks up the pace and lifts your hips to meet his. The new angle has his tip brushing against that spot deep inside you that makes it hard to breathe.

You can tell he’s just as close as you when he loses that steady rhythm he had found, his motions growing more desperate, harsher, quicker. Conscious of your roommates, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as your orgasm washes over you, your whole body on fire, so sensitive that the few more seconds Jake needs to come undone himself drive both your body and your mind into overstimulation. Even the feeling of him pulling out, drops of hot liquid dripping out of your entrance, is too much and makes you let out a small, tired whine.

Jake peppers your face with kisses as he holds your waist tightly, brushing his thumb back-and-forth on your warm skin, sticky with sweat. “You did so well, baby. So good for me.” You think you might be ready for a second round if he keeps talking to you like that. “I love you so much.”

You sigh deeply, as if you were just told disconcerting news. “Okay.”

“Okay?!” he echoes, looking up at you with an outraged expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, I love you too, I just- I’m not used to this yet! You can’t just tell me you love and expect me to be normal. You have to warn me first.”

“Can I just warn you now that I’m going to tell you I love you every time I get the chance?”

You sigh. “I guess.”

“Can I tell you now?” he asks, and you hum. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Jake tuts. “I highly doubt it, but whatever makes you happy.”

You hold Jake close to you, one arm around his shoulders and the other hand playing with his hair as you come down from your high. You think he might’ve fallen asleep, and you’re close to drifting off yourself when he speaks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Not just the sex, although that has been on my mind for a while now,” he says, making you laugh, “but all of this. Being together, getting to be in your arms like this, kissing you whenever I want. Calling you my girlfriend.”

“Me too, Jakey. I waited so long I didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Jake chuckles. “How stupid were we not to have noticed we felt the same way?”

“Very stupid. I think we felt so sorry for ourselves that we were stuck in one-sided love, that we didn’t even realise the other was going through the exact same thing. But at least we’re now.”

“At least we’re here now.” You and Jake yawn at the exact same time, making you burst into giggles, giddy with sleep and love.

“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.

Jake hums, burying himself deeper against your body. “Sleep well, my love. I’ll be here.”

After years of pining after each other, you and Jake find it a bit hard to keep your relationship to yourselves, or your hands off of each other.

At the beginning, all of your friends had been happy for you, but that quickly went away when your and Jake’s honeymoon phase never died down and the PDA just kept on going. If the glue you were stuck with previously was metaphorical, this one was pretty close to being real. Superglue kept you together, your moments together rarely spent without some sort of physical touch. Yunjin fake-gagged so often, you were afraid she might actually vomit one of these days. It took Sunghoon two weeks longer than everyone else to clock you and Jake had started dating.

This meant that in private, there was truly no holding back. Jake back-hugged you any chance he got, to the point you started to think he was more koala than human - although that’d imply he saw you as a tree. Make-out sessions were a particular favourite of yours - how could they not be when your boyfriend’s lips seemed to have been carved by God himself, soft and plump to the heavens, like they were made to be kissed. Really, you were just honouring God’s will when you kissed Jake.

The goodbye that comes at the end of the year is not an easy one, and the month spent at home before you fly to Korea seems to never end. But you get there eventually, and as nice as it is to catch up with Jake’s parents after so long, you feign sleepiness after lunch as an excuse to get some time alone with your boyfriend. Ironically, this “time alone” is spent so intensely that you do end up falling asleep afterwards.

You have to admit, you really did a number on your boyfriend this time - what can a girl do when she missed her boyfriend this much? Jake is still passed out when you wake up from your nap, so you slip out as discreetly as you can from his embrace and get out of bed. You head for the closet first and swipe the comfiest looking sweater of his that you find there so you can stay warm as you look around his room. A pang of melancholia hits your chest - most of the pictures and objects on his walls and shelves are parts of his life you weren’t around to witness. Friends you don’t recognize, places you’ve never heard of, phases you’d never known he’d gone through. But then you see the frame on his desk, a faded photo of the two of you at ten years of age, eating ice cream on the bench outside of your house. Milo is sitting at your feet. Jake’s family hadn’t adopted Layla yet. You realise that even if there’s whole parts of your life you didn’t get to share with each other, nothing could touch your memories, or your future.

You want to go back in time and tell fourteen-year-old you that no matter how painful it might seem at the moment, it will all be worth it for the sight of Jake Sim slowly drifting into wakefulness, patting the bed next to him, and noticing you’re missing with furrowed eyebrows. When he opens his eyes and they settle on you, a sleepy smile will grace his dazzling features, and he’ll say, “Come back to bed.”

You’ll be even more in love at twenty than at fourteen.

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #enhypen oneshots #jake sim oneshots #enhypen imagines #jake sim imagines #enhypen fluff #jake fluff

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johnbrand · 5 months ago

Text

BACS

With @mrrharper

“Hopkins,” the coach said curtly to the buff guard at the gate. The security officer barely seemed to register him as a person, rather just an item on his list to check off. Once he was allowed to proceed, Coach Hopkins entered into the corridor and proceeded to the farthest room. Quite frankly, the coach embodied everything a man should be at his age: big, strong, rich. Running one of the country’s top collegiate teams meant he was often provided with ample checks. But an investor had been hinting that the meeting he was about to attend would only raise his profits higher. And now standing before the other guests, Coach Hopkins believed this investor was not mistaken.

Feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, the coach scanned the room, taking in all the other broad, strapping men. There was Coach Larson from one of the major east coast schools, Coach McNamara from the private military academy that swept the competition every year. Coach Hopkins recognized another prominent coach from California, but could not place his name. There were a few more men in the room, engaging in casual conversation about work, but the atmosphere in the space was mildly tense. Instead of acquainting himself with others, Coach Hopkins took a seat and remained there until the presentation began.

“Gentleman,” the host began. The suit that covered his large frame appeared painted on, tight against his skin. A former collegiate athlete who had stayed in shape; Coach Hopkins could not help but take a moment to respect the work. “Invited amongst you today are some of your finest colleagues in the field. Hopefully you all know why you are here, so we will skip past the pleasantries and get right to the presentation.”

Behind the host, the wall suddenly began to glow. A soft light filtered upon it before focusing on colors and images. Eventually, the display became clear, showcasing live camera footage inside an empty male restroom.

“We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works,” the host started slyly. Coach Hopkins watched as the door to the restroom opened, revealing a young college-aged male. By his medium build and uniform, the coach assumed he could have been in lacrosse, baseball, or even a non-tackling football player. His third guess was correct.

“Before us is Dawson Welch, a decent transfer from an undisclosed Division III school. Originally holding potential, he has not yet conformed to our nationwide protocol, otherwise known as BACS for short.”

The four words were then flashed in red at the bottom of the screen. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy Aggressive Cocky Straight

“Our case study is about to demonstrate the results of our program,” the host smiled.

There were a few murmurs from the other men. The California coach even shifted a bit, slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to witness. Coach Hopkins remained silent, observing the subject. By his size and careful actions, he could already identify that three of the required four set standards were missing.

“Tyler?” Dawson called out into the room. “Baby, it’s alright, I’m here now.” The coach nodded with confirmation for the fourth characteristic. Grabbing his phone, the host then sent a simple text message. Thanks to the live camera, the men could all watch as the subject’s own device buzzed. Timidly opening it, Dawson checked his phone.

“Ok Tyler, I am going to open the link you sent me,” Dawson called out, unaware the link was not actually sent from his romantic interest. As if already suspecting the lurking danger behind the text, the subject slowly tapped the link and let it proceed forward. The room lit up in a flash, even blinding the live camera temporarily. The audio did not shut off, but the stream went quiet. Moments later, the men were reoriented back into the restroom.

Murmurs flew around the space once more. A few of their faces displayed shock at the screen presented before them. Coach Hopkins held stoic, but his eyes bore straight on. The scene before him was almost entirely the same. Nothing had changed, except for the subject.

“Gone are the days of your players attending frivolous seminars and engaging in anti-anything protests. Thanks to our technology, we can now guarantee your boys will be real, undeniably American men.”

Where once stood the rather average athletic young male was now a bulky creature. He was taller, brawnier, and brutish. His uniform had been replaced with a tight, all-black outfit to better display his offerings. The sleeveless tank outlined massive pecs, broad shoulders, a thick core, and made his cannon-like arms bulge out of his sides like an oversized action figure. The running shorts appeared more like briefs, searing into the monstrous thighs that led down to steel calves and feet so large they could not be accommodated at most shoe outlets. Speaking of briefs, Coach Hopkins noted the subject was no longer wearing any; a thick python and a low-hanging set were peeking out of one of the leg holes.

By the gigantic size, the host could easily confirm his product met the first criteria. And by the backwards cap, arrogant grin, and constant man-handling, the men in the room were all able to confirm the second and third on their own. They had been around these types long enough to know the signs.

“What was I doing anyway, bro?” Dawson asked himself in a voice deeper and duller than his previous offerings. After scratching at his thick pubes and giving it a sniff, an idea suddenly sprung into the subject’s head. Coach Hopkins could sense the process of thinking was a more difficult procedure now then it had been before. “Right, I was gonna see if that chick from last night still wanted to get laid tonight. What was her name, Jenna? Brianna? Maybe she’d be a good lil girl and bag me a threesome? God, that’s so hot…”

The stream cut off shortly after, but not before the subject’s continual groping started to awaken his massive dong. The last image was frozen onto the screen, with Dawson preparing the classic flexed picture his predatory nature utilized to ensnare victims.

“So what do you say, gentlemen,” the host sneered. “Would anyone like to try our trial package?”

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf

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celestialmuses · 4 months ago

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"Of course of course." Leia giggled, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh I'm sure they have a nice rose, you'll be in heaven. Like I said, it's the least I could do. Everyone was gushing to me about how nice everything was and Lavzy really felt so special on his big day. I mean I feel like I've never heard of a birthday/contract signing party, but you pulled it off."

"...you got the family and friends discount..." she says matter-of-factly, but can't hide the glint in her eyes as she says it to save her life, looking ahead to admire her handy work. at leia's offer it takes the latina second to pretend to think it over before they lightly knock their hip to her's. "i'll order the finest wine they have...i hope it's pink..."

#kalcidescope #leia threads #blake dawson #lavzy is a college friend who plays in the nhl

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regressionschool · 25 days ago

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PAMPERS PUBLIC SCHOOL REFORM: EDUCATION REIMAGINED OR REGRESSION GONE TOO FAR?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

For years, education reform has been a topic of heated debate. Traditional schooling often leaves students overwhelmed by stress, struggling with expectations, and ill-prepared for real life. In response, school districts across the country have begun partnering with Pampers Corporation to introduce a radically new approach to learning—one that eliminates unnecessary pressure, fosters emotional well-being, and removes the burdens of growing up too quickly.

The Pampers Public School Reform Program has now fully replaced traditional education in multiple districts, converting high schools into structured learning environments tailored to a simpler, more guided lifestyle. Students are relieved of responsibilities that once weighed them down, such as complex coursework, college preparation, and even basic hygiene routines. In their place? A nurturing, preschool-style environment where comfort and security come first.

While many officials praise the program’s success, not everyone is celebrating.

"I’m Not a Toddler—Why Are They Treating Me Like One?"

Emma Reynolds, 18, had spent years working toward an honors diploma, with hopes of attending a prestigious university. But when her high school was converted to a Pampers Academy, she found herself pulled into a system she never agreed to.

"It’s not school—it’s a daycare," Emma hisses, gripping the edge of her desk, which is barely big enough to accommodate her.

Around her, the other students seem perfectly content in their new reality. The majority have already transitioned to full-time Pampers, no longer expected to even attempt bathroom breaks. Many sit in their seats with thickly padded bottoms, others waddle freely around the classroom, their sagging diapers peeking out from beneath colorful onesies. Some suckle on pacifiers while listening to their teacher read a picture book aloud, their attention spans seemingly far removed from any concern about essays, exams, or college applications.

Emma isn’t like them. She remembers what school used to be.

"They call me ‘sweetie’ and ‘princess’ and pat my head when I get answers right. They make me sit crisscross-applesauce on the rug during storytime. They don’t teach math, they teach shapes. We have scheduled nap times. And worst of all?" She shifts uncomfortably, her thick pull-ups rustling beneath her skirt. "They won’t even let us use the bathroom like normal people."

Under the Pampers system, students are placed in protective undergarments based on their "developmental needs." For most, that means ultra-absorbent Pampers diapers, ensuring accidents never disrupt classroom learning. Only a handful, like Emma, are still permitted pull-ups, though even that comes with restrictions.

"I told them I don’t need them. I told them I can hold it during class. But guess what?" She clenches her fists. "I couldn’t."

She shakes her head, looking away. "And when you have an accident, they make a big deal about it. They take you to the ‘quiet corner,’ change you, tell you it’s okay, and give you a sticker for ‘trying your best.’ It’s humiliating. But the worst part?" She swallows hard. "The more accidents you have, the more they ‘adjust’ your routine."

At first, Emma was only required to wear pull-ups during class. Now, she’s in them full-time. She doesn’t know what the next "adjustment" will be.

"What happens if they decide I don’t need pull-ups anymore?" she whispers. "What happens if they decide I need…more?"

A Mother’s Concern: “I Don’t Know How Much Longer She’ll Last”

Emma’s mother, Debbie Hall, initially believed the program was an opportunity for her daughter to learn patience and adapt to new challenges. Now, she isn’t so sure.

"She’s been fighting this since day one," Debbie admits, rubbing her temples. "But every time she resists, the school just… doubles down."

At first, Emma refused to use her Pampers-issued pull-ups, insisting she would simply wait until she got home. It didn’t last.

"She told me she’d hold it," Debbie sighs, shaking her head. "She didn’t."

When the school called, Debbie was asked to bring a fresh pull-up and a change of clothes—a moment she describes as one of the most surreal experiences of her life.

"I stood outside the classroom, holding a pack of training pants meant for toddlers, about to hand them to my eighteen-year-old daughter." She exhales sharply. "I don’t know how much longer she’ll last before she stops fighting it."

And that, she fears, is exactly what Pampers wants.

Success Stories: “Happier, Healthier Students”

Despite cases like Emma’s, school officials and many parents insist the program is working. According to Superintendent Laura Whitmore, dropout rates have plummeted, student anxiety is at an all-time low, and behavioral issues are almost nonexistent.

"When we take away the pressures of growing up too fast, we allow students to flourish in a safe, nurturing space," Whitmore explains. "Pampers helps us create a structured learning environment where students can focus on emotional well-being and positive reinforcement.

Studies show that students in the program are better rested, less anxious, and more cooperative. Many enthusiastically embrace their new routine, growing attached to naptime, play-based learning, and the security of their Pampers uniforms.

"Some students come in fighting," Whitmore admits. "But as they settle into the routine, they come to appreciate the comfort and care we provide. And the best part? They never have to worry about making ‘big kid’ mistakes again."

The Future of Education?

With more schools adopting the Pampers model, traditional high school education may soon become a thing of the past. For students like Emma, who still long for independence, the future remains uncertain. But for many others, a world without adult pressures, expectations, or even bathroom breaks is a dream come true.

And as the Pampers program continues to expand, one thing is clear:

For the next generation, growing up may no longer be necessary.

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because learning should be comfortable.)

#ab/dl diaper #ab/dl stories #regression school #diaper stories #ab/dl caption #wetting diaper #diaper bulge #diaper captions #ab/dl girl #ab/dl

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nylqnder · 9 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you ignore luke's warnings about jacks commitment, only leading to your heartbreak. read part two here!

warnings: bsf ! luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, angst, (implied but not really) unrequited love, jack being a terrible boyfriend, age gap but not really? (2 years)

word count: 3.55k

For as long as everyone could remember it had been you and Luke. You had met in childhood and your bond had been immediate. It was as if the universe conspired to bring the two of you together in an inseparable bond. You soon became a part of the Hughes family’s rituals, joining them most summers as they went to their lake house in Michigan.

Jack, Luke’s older brother, however, had always been a different story. Jack was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went, drawing people in with his effortless charm and a smile that could light up a room. He was adored by many and you were no exception.

Jack had never really paid much mind to you growing up. To him, you were just Luke’s friend. You were always around, spending several summers at the Hughes’s lake house, but he never looked your way with any particular interest. He was the cool older kid, focused on hockey and his own friends, and you were just a fixture in the background. He honestly forgot about you when he moved to New Jersey.

But when you moved to New Jersey for college, you changed. The change did you good; you grew up, you found your style, you became more confident. You had a glow-up that turned heads wherever you went. Then you were suddenly back in Jack’s life when Luke joined him in New Jersey. You weren’t just the little kid from down the street anymore; you’d grown up, and Jack noticed.

The first time Jack noticed you was when the team had gone out after a game and Luke had invited you along. As you got to know Luke’s new teammates, you couldn’t help but notice Jack’s gaze lingering on you. There was a flicker of something new in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. When you wrapped up your conversation with Dawson, he walked over, flashing you a grin that made your knees weak. “Hey,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in ages. You look great.”

It started with little things, a flirty comment here and there, you going to games at Jack's request, and before you knew it, you and Jack were dating. Luke was initially taken aback by this sudden change. It irked him, not because he didn’t want you to be happy, but because he had always seen you, appreciated you, and now Jack was swooping in with his newfound attention. Seeing you with his brother brought about mixed feelings. He loved seeing you happy, but there was a part of him that was protective, wary of Jack’s intentions.

Jack was charming and fun, but he was also notoriously noncommittal. Luke knew his brother better than anyone. He had seen Jack go through relationships with an almost casual disregard, enjoying the thrill of the chase more than the stability of a long-term commitment. It wasn’t long before Luke’s concern grew into a quiet, nagging worry. He watched as you threw yourself wholeheartedly into the relationship, your eyes lighting up at every text from Jack, your weekends revolving around his hockey schedule and social events.

However, Jack’s habit of non-commitment soon showed itself as he began cancelling dates last minute. At first, it was the occasional change of plans due to practice running late or spontaneous team dinners and you were understanding. You knew how demanding Jack’s schedule could be, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on important moments with his team. But as the weeks went by, the excuses became more frequent and less plausible, especially when Luke was never part of the team outings or stayed late for practice.

There were times when you’d get ready for a planned dinner, excitement bubbling within you, only to receive a text from Jack an hour before, saying he couldn’t make it. You would sit there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, feeling the sting of disappointment settle in. Yet, you brushed it off, convinced that things would get better once Jack’s schedule eased up.

Luke, meanwhile, watched this pattern unfold. He noticed the way your face would fall when you received those last-minute cancellations, the way you tried to hide your hurt behind a brave smile. He wanted to say something, to protect you from the pain he saw coming, but he didn’t want to seem like he was undermining your happiness.

One Friday night, after Jack had bailed on yet another date, you found yourself sitting alone in your apartment, a bottle of wine on the table and your favorite movie playing. You paused the movie after there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it, Luke standing across from you carrying a pizza box and a sympathetic smile.

“Thought you might want some company,” he said. You offered him a weak smile, letting him in. He set the pizza down on the table and flopped onto the couch beside you.

The movie played on and as the hours passed, you felt the weight of your relationship worries lift. But as the night wore on and the wine bottle emptied, Luke couldn’t keep his concerns to himself any longer.

“Listen, I don’t want to overstep,” he began hesitantly, “but I’m worried about you. About Jack. He’s not treating you the way you deserve.”

You sighed, swirling the last of your wine in your glass. “I know he’s been flaky, but he cares about me. I just… I think he’s overwhelmed right now.”

“Maybe,” Luke conceded. “But you deserve someone who makes you a priority, not an afterthought. I hate seeing you get hurt.”

You considered Luke’s words for a moment, briefly questioning your importance to Jack. The memories of canceled plans and unreturned calls surfaced, but you quickly pushed them aside. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a defensive pang in your chest. “I know Jack can be a bit flaky, but he’s different with me. I know he cares,” you insisted, your voice firm, though a hint of doubt lingered.

Luke’s expression softened, his concern etched deeply in his features. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt because you’re more invested than he is. You mean a lot to me, and I hate seeing you disappointed.”

You brushed off Luke’s concerns, determined to prove him wrong. You wanted to believe in Jack, in the potential of your relationship, and you were committed to making it work. Every time Jack flaked on a plan or sent a last-minute cancellation text, you told yourself it was just a phase, a rough patch that all couples go through.

Because on the rare occasions when Jack did follow through with your plans, those moments felt magical. The way he would laugh at your jokes, the warmth of his hand in yours, the stolen kisses in crowded places—all of it made you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was in those fleeting moments that you clung to the belief that Jack truly cared for you.

Then came your birthday.

Your 21st birthday was something you had been looking forward to for a while now. You never did much for your previous birthdays, but you decided to go all out for your 21st. You were hosting a party at your place and made it an open invitation. Your friends were coming, your co-workers were coming, and you had told Jack and Luke to invite their teammates.

You and your closest friends spent the day getting ready and setting up to host everyone. The living room was transformed with decorations perfectly suited to you.

In the days prior, you’d made sure to remind Jack repeatedly so that he wouldn’t forget. Each time, he’d reassured you with a smile and a promise, “I’ll be there, don’t worry.” You held onto that promise, convinced that this time, he wouldn’t let you down.

As the evening approached, your apartment buzzed with energy. The doorbell rang frequently, bringing waves of guests, laughter, and gifts. You greeted everyone with a radiant smile, your excitement growing with each new arrival. Luke arrived early, carrying a beautifully wrapped present (that you knew he’d gotten gift-wrapped at the mall) and wearing a grin that made you feel instantly better about the night.

“This is for you,” he said, handing you the gift. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Luke,” you replied, hugging him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said sincerely.

The night progressed, music played, people danced, and the atmosphere was filled with joy. You floated from group to group, making sure everyone was having a good time, but your eyes kept darting to the door, waiting for Jack.

Just as you were beginning to resign yourself to the fact that Jack wasn’t going to show, the doorbell rang again. You rushed to answer it, hope flaring in your chest. But it wasn’t Jack. It was Dawson and John, looking slightly awkward.

“Hey, happy birthday!” John said, handing you a gift bag. “Sorry Jack couldn’t make it. He, uh, had something come up.”

Your heart sank. “Oh, thanks, John,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Come on in you guys, join the party.”

They both nodded and joined the crowd, leaving you standing by the door, a forced smile on your face.

Luke watched from across the room the whole evening, noticing how your smile seemed to fade with every passing minute. He knew you were hurting and it pained him to see you trying so hard to keep it together. The hours ticked by, your forced smile becoming increasingly strained, your eyes glancing at the door every few minutes.

The lively chatter and laughter of the party contrasted sharply with the growing shadow over your features. Luke could see the small signs of your distress that others missed; the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress, the deep breaths you took to steady yourself, the hollow look in your eyes every time you glanced at your phone, hoping for a message that never came.

He remembered how excited you had been for tonight, how you had spent days planning every detail to perfection. This was supposed to be a special evening, a night to celebrate with friends and the man you loved. Instead, it had turned into an agonizing wait, each tick of the clock a reminder of Jack's absence.

As the evening wore on and the party wound down, guests began to filter out. As your close friends left, they offered sympathetic looks and polite comments about Jack’s absence that were thinly veiled with pity. Luke's heart ached as he saw you nod and smile, your mask slipping just a little more each time. By the time the last of the guests had said their goodbyes, Jack was still a no-show.

You retreated to the back patio, your forced brave facade crumbling as you sank onto the sofa, letting the tears fall. The cool night air did little to soothe the storm of emotions inside you. Luke had watched you slip out to the porch, hesitating a moment before following you.

Luke stepped out on the deck, spotting you curled up on the sofa. When you turned to look at Luke, the moon glinted off your tear-stained cheeks. Quickly, you wiped away the tears with the back of your hand, turning your head away from the curly-haired boy whose pitiful expression made you feel even smaller.

Luke’s chest tightened with anger and sorrow, his heart aching at the sight of your pain. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions, but the anger bubbled up, not directed at you, but rather at his brother who’d failed to show despite your repeated reminders. What could he possibly be doing that is more important than his girlfriend's birthday? He clenched his fists, knuckles white against the backdrop of the night, his frustration nearly palpable.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a tentative step closer, the wooden boards of the deck creaking under his weight. “Are you okay?”

You kept your gaze away from Luke. “I’m fine, Luke.”

He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit beside you on the sofa. “Y/n… I’m sorry he didn’t show.”

Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes red and puffy from crying. “It’s fine. You were right.” you say, voice cracking and raw with emotion. “I am way more committed than Jack ever was and I was stupid to think otherwise! I get it. You don’t need to come out here and rub it in my face.”

Luke’s expression softened, the anger dissipating, replaced by a deep sadness. He reached out tentatively, placing a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m not here to rub anything in your face, Y/n. I’m here because I care about you.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over again. “It’s just… I thought he would change, you know? I believed he cared as much as I did. But I guess I was just fooling myself.” You pull your eyes off Luke’s, not being able to bear his sorry expression. “I figured I could make him fall as in love with me as I am with him.”

Luke stayed silent, allowing you to speak every thought that was bearing down on your mind. You looked down at your hands, feeling a fresh wave of grief. “I thought he was that person,” you whispered. “I thought we were building something real.”

Luke’s anger now seemed to come back, a protective fury. “Jack’s an idiot,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. “He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

You dropped your head, a sob wracking your body. Luke brought an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in and allowing you to rest the weight of your body against his. Your tears fell to his t-shirt, soaking the blue material. Luke held you tightly as the storm of emotions brewing inside of you came out.

For a while, the only sounds were your quiet sobs and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. Luke didn’t say anything, mostly because his thoughts were reserved for anger directed at his brother, and that likely wasn’t what you wanted to hear at that moment. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back, offering silent reassurance.

Eventually, Luke drew you inside, bringing you to your bedroom. Your tears had waned, but the sadness remained on your face. Luke had gotten you settled in bed and was just about to leave when your soft voice broke through the quiet.

“Luke?” you asked, your voice fragile. “Can you stay for a bit? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Luke stopped at the door, his hand resting on the frame as he turned back to look at you. The sight of your tear-streaked face and the vulnerability in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He nodded slowly, his expression softening further.

"Of course, y/n," he replied gently, crossing the room to sit on the edge of your bed.

He could see the exhaustion etched into your features, a mix of emotional and physical fatigue. Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and moved to lie down beside you. You shifted closer to him, curling into his side. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room.

As the minutes ticked by, your eyes grew heavier, the emotional exhaustion finally catching up with you. Luke held you, watching your breathing steady, indicating that you had finally drifted off to sleep. Even then, he stayed awake, his mind racing with thoughts of his brother and the pain he had caused you. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but he forced himself to stay calm. Right now, you needed comfort, not his fury.

After Luke was sure you had fallen completely asleep, he slipped out to the living area. He continued to clean up after the guests before eventually crashing on your couch. He couldn’t bring himself to leave you or go to his apartment where he presumed Jack was, completely oblivious to the hurt he’d caused.

When morning came, Luke left reluctantly for practice, but only after you’d assured him you were fine. But despite your promises, Luke knew you were still hurting. He drove to the rink for practice, his mind already racing with what he needed to say to Jack.

When Luke entered the locker room, he spotted Jack standing in front of Nico who was sitting in his locker. He laughed with his teammate as if nothing was wrong. As if Luke hadn’t just left your apartment, leaving a girl with tear-stained cheeks and questioning her self-worth.

Fury boiled within Luke. Without thinking, he stormed over and shoved Jack. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jack stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes. “What’s your problem, Luke?”

“My problem?” Luke shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. He stepped back into Jack's face. “Do you know what day it was yesterday?”

Jack returned the shove, sending Luke back a step. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You remember that you have a girlfriend, right?” Luke asked.

Jack’s face fell as he remembered the date, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

"You didn't show up. Do you have any idea how much that hurt her?" Luke asked.

By now the guys that were in the equipment room or the gym had come into the locker room to investigate what was the source of the raised voices. They crowded the entrances, watching the two brothers who were seemingly at a standoff.

Jack’s expression hardened, but guilt was evident in his eyes. “No one reminded me,” he muttered defensively.

Luke’s anger boiled over at the excuse, stepping forward to shove his brother again, but Nico pulled him back. Timo stepped in, bringing back Jack who was ready to meet his brother's fury. The commotion had now drawn the attention of Keefe, who barrelled through the guys in the doorways. He observed the scene before him, both Hughes brothers who were equally red in the face, being held back by their teammates.

“The hell is going on in here?” he asked. Both boys remained silent, the others not speaking as they still weren’t quite sure what was going on. “Someone wanna fucking tell me?”

Luke turned to look at his new head coach, hurt remaining in his eyes. “Just settling something that needs to be settled, Coach.”

Keefe’s gaze shifted between the two, reading the volatile atmosphere. “Take it outside. Now. Both of you.”

Nico and Timo let go of each boy, letting them walk into the now-empty gym. The team watched them go, a heavy silence settling in the locker room as the door swung shut behind them.

“How could you do that to her?” Luke demanded once they were alone, pacing back and forth. “She’s been nothing but good to you, and you couldn’t even show up for her birthday?”

Jack rubbed his temples, his frustration evident. “You think I don't feel bad about it? It slipped my mind, okay?”

“It slipped your mind? She reminded you about a dozen times.” Luke spat back incredulously. “She’s not some random girl you can just forget about. She’s your girlfriend, Jack. She deserves better than this.”

Jack's shoulders sank as he turned away from Luke. “She was devastated, Jack. I was the one who had to comfort her. Me! Your little brother!” Luke continued. “I was the one that stayed by her side while she cried over her boyfriend who forgot her birthday. I stayed up all night to make sure she was okay.”

Jack turned to look at Luke a confused, almost hurt look on his face. “You stayed with her?” When Luke didn’t reply, Jack’s expression darkened. “That’s low, even for you, Luke. You’ve always liked her, haven’t you? This was your chance to sabotage us.”

“Are you insane?” Luke shot back, his eyes blazing with anger. “Y/n was my friend long before she was your girlfriend. I stayed because she needed someone, and you weren’t there. No one else was.”

Luke's words hung in the air, thick with unspoken truths and simmering emotions. Jack's face twisted with a mix of anger and confusion. “You expect me to believe that you were just being the good guy?”

Luke took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m not here to fight about who likes her more, Jack. I’m here because you hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. She trusted you, and you let her down.”

Jack sunk down to one of the benches, his defenses finally crumbling. “You need to figure out what you want, Jack,” Luke finally said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Because if you keep hurting her, you’re going to lose her. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

Luke stormed out of the gym, past the guys who still lingered in the locker room, leaving Jack behind in the wake of his words.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils

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brainddeadd · 4 months ago

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Devils in Her Corner

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Luke Hughes x fem!reader, Dawson Mercer x fem!reader, Trevor Zegras x fem!reader, Matt Rempe x fem!reader, Matthew Kines x fem!reader, Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Drafted to the New Jersey Devils alongside Luke Hughes, a young, talented hockey player is determined to make her mark in the NHL. Having already survived the pressures of college hockey at UMich, she steps into the spotlight once again—only this time, the stakes are higher.

With old friends like Luke by her side and a newfound support system in Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, and Dawson Mercer, she learns that success on the ice is only part of the battle. Off the ice, she navigates growing bonds, locker-room banter, and the challenges of being one of the only women in a male-dominated sport.

Meanwhile, connections with familiar faces—like Trevor Zegras and Matthew Knies—blur the lines between friendship and something more, while Matt Rempe, once a friend, now a rival, ensures every game against the Rangers feels personal. In the midst of competition, camaraderie, and a spark of romance, she discovers that finding her place in the NHL might be her biggest challenge yet.

With the Devils in her corner, she’s ready to take on whatever comes her way—on and off the ice.

Day one of training

Someone hits her hard on ice

Bad day

Sick day

All Star

Summer with the Devils Boys: Lake House Shenanigans - summer shenanigans

Loss

Meeting Quinn

Haunted house

Popcorn and panic

Halloween party 2024

Halloween party 2024 no.2

Little Sister of the Devils

Thanksgiving

Deck the Malls with Chaos and Hockey Boys

Lights, Chaos, Action: The New Jersey Devils Christmas Movie Marathon

Christmas Chaos with the New Jersey Devils

New Year’s Eve

Valentine’s Day

Rivalries and mixed feelings

Pretty in pink

Caught in the crossfire

Online hate

The interview

Yn's Birthday

Post-Game Interview: Colton Parayko on Y/N

Rivalries and dinner

Dropping gloves

Bar creeps and protection squad

Fights and firsts

First kiss aftermath

First Date

Secrets, Freak-Outs, and Confessions

Support and shovel talks

Between Rivalries and Romance: A Shovel Talk Initiation

Cuddles

Realisations

Through the dark

The cancer game

A Day With Trevor

Line in the ice

Safe haven

Support

Payback's a bitch

What the NHL is Saying About Y/N

What Other Athletes Think of Y/N

Two lines or one

Welcome Home, Baby Devil

Missing in Action

Protective Mode Activated

Announcement - part 2

Halloween party 2025

// upcoming chapters //

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cloudyluun · 9 days ago

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The Last First Time | Patreon Series

neighbour!harry

New series out now on Patreon!

Tropes: Strangers to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Slow-Burn

Series Summary: Y/N has sworn off love after a string of bad relationships. She’s content with her quiet life, her bookstore job, and her dog. That is, until Harry moves into the apartment next door—loud, charming, and annoyingly irresistible. He worms his way into her life in ways she never expected, making her question if she’s really done with love… or if she’s just been waiting for the right person all along.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Part 1: New Neighbours

Summary: Y/N is perfectly content with her quiet, predictable life—until her obnoxiously charming new neighbor, Harry, barges in and ruins it. Between his loud music, his infuriating smirks, and the way he somehow keeps worming his way into her life (and maybe, just maybe, her heart), she’s starting to think that swearing off love might not be as easy as she thought.

A/N: Listen, I, too, would be deeply annoyed if a gorgeous, overly friendly British man with a dimpled smile moved in next door and flirted with me against my will. Would I fall for him anyway? Probably. Would I go down kicking and screaming? Absolutely. Enjoy the chaos.

Word Count: 3,6k

Warnings:

Mutual pining (they’re both clueless)

Annoying (read: hot) neighbor behavior

Forced proximity (thank you, broken elevator)

Sexual tension you could cut with a butter knife

A dog who definitely likes Harry more than Y/N does

Y/N’s slow descent from “I hate him” to “Okay, maybe I don’t”

A dangerous amount of fluff, with just the right amount of angst sprinkled in

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The bell above the door jingles softly as Y/N pushes it open, stepping into the familiar scent of old pages and vanilla candles. The bookstore is quiet, just the way she likes it, save for the faint hum of a jazz record playing from the old speakers behind the counter.

She loves this place. Loves the way the shelves are slightly overstuffed, books stacked on tables and tucked into corners like they’ve made a home here. Loves the slow pace of it, how she can spend her afternoons helping customers find the perfect read or organizing displays without the pressure of a corporate job breathing down her neck.

It’s a simple life. But it’s hers.

Her shift goes by peacefully, the kind of day where she barely has to interact with anyone aside from a few regulars. Mr. Dawson, the elderly man who comes in every Tuesday for a new historical fiction novel, tells her she should read more books about war—she politely declines. A mother and her daughter giggle together in the children’s section. A college student hovers near the poetry shelf, reading Rupi Kaur with the kind of heartbreak only a 19-year-old can have.

By the time she locks up for the night, the sun is setting in shades of orange and pink. She tugs her coat tighter around her shoulders as she makes her way home, her dog waiting eagerly by the door when she steps inside. The apartment is warm, cozy—dim lighting, soft blankets, a candle burning low on the coffee table. Her little haven.

She changes into sweatpants, makes herself a cup of tea, and curls up on the couch with a book, her dog curled against her legs. It’s quiet, and it’s enough.

It has to be.

Because love? Love has only ever been a distraction. A complication.

She’s tried, over and over again. Different faces, different names, but the same inevitable ending. Misaligned priorities. Growing apart. Someone leaving first.

She’s done trying.

So this is her life now. Her books, her dog, her peace.

And it’s all she needs.

For now.

That was the promise she had made to herself. That this quiet life—her books, her dog, her solitude—was enough. That she didn’t need anyone else in it, that she was perfectly happy keeping the world at arm’s length.

And for a while, it worked.

Until the noise started.

It begins subtly. A few extra footsteps in the hallway. The distant sound of someone talking on the phone. The scent of unfamiliar cologne lingering in the air near the mailboxes.

Then, the boxes appear.

They’re stacked haphazardly near the apartment next to hers, some labeled with scribbled words she can’t quite make out. A pair of sneakers—large, well-worn—sit by the door. Someone’s moving in.

Y/N doesn’t think much of it at first. People come and go in this building all the time, and she has no reason to care who takes up residence next door. As long as they mind their business and—most importantly—keep quiet, she has no problem.

She doesn’t meet her new neighbor right away, but she hears him.

Furniture scraping against the hardwood floors. A deep, melodic hum filtering through the walls, sometimes accompanied by actual singing—and okay, fine, it’s not bad, but that’s beside the point. The thud of something heavy being dropped, followed by a muttered curse.

She grits her teeth and ignores it. New people make noise when they move in; that’s normal. It’ll stop soon.

Except it doesn’t.

One night—well past midnight—just as she’s drifting off to sleep, a loud BANG echoes through the apartment, the unmistakable slam of a door reverberating through the walls.

Her dog yelps, scrambling upright from his bed.

Y/N bolts up too, heart hammering, pulse spiking with adrenaline before she realizes what’s happened. She throws a glare toward the wall, as if that alone will silence her inconsiderate new neighbor.

Then, muffled footsteps. A moment of silence.

Then—music.

Loud enough that she can hear the bass vibrating softly through the walls.

Y/N lets out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temples. She should let it go. It’s late, and she’s too tired for confrontation. She burrows back beneath the covers, willing herself to sleep despite the faint rhythm pulsing next door.

She tries to brush it off.

She really does.

But the next morning, when she opens her apartment door and nearly trips over a pair of discarded boots in the hallway—boots that definitely weren’t there yesterday—her patience wears dangerously thin.

It’s official.

Her new neighbor is going to be a problem.

She’s sure of it now.

The boots, the music, the way he seems to move around his apartment with the grace of a baby deer on ice—it’s all too much. She tells herself she’ll ignore it, that she won’t let some stranger disrupt her life.

And then, of course, she meets him.

It happens in the hallway. Y/N is juggling her keys, her bag, and a leash wrapped tightly around her hand as she pulls her dog toward the stairs. They’re halfway down the hall when the door next to hers swings open, and before she can react, her dog—traitorous little thing—lunges forward, tail wagging wildly.

The leash yanks through her fingers as her dog barrels straight toward a pair of long legs clad in black joggers.

“Oh—hello there, mate!”

Y/N barely has time to process the deep, amused voice before she looks up—way up—and gets her first real look at him.

And, of course, the problem neighbor is hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, green-eyed—he’s got the kind of messy curls that look perfectly unintentional, a sharp jawline that could probably cut glass, and dimples that appear the moment he grins down at the overly affectionate dog currently climbing up his legs.

Y/N immediately dislikes him.

“Sorry,” she mutters, stepping forward to grab her dog’s leash. “He’s not usually like this with strangers.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the stranger laughs, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “I’m flattered, honestly. Haven’t had this much affection in a while.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. She’s met his type before—charming, overly confident, completely unaware of how irritating they are. She yanks the leash gently, pulling her dog back to her side. “Right. Well. Have a good day.”

She turns to leave, but his voice stops her.

“Wait, you’re my neighbor, yeah?”

She exhales slowly before glancing back. “Unfortunately.”

His grin widens. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been getting to know you through very thin walls.”

Recognition flashes across his face, followed by something suspiciously close to guilt. “Ah. You, uh—heard that, did you?”

Y/N crosses her arms. “Oh, you mean the moving furniture, the late-night door slamming, or the impromptu concert at midnight?”

His dimples reappear, and she immediately hates that they’re kind of—charming. “So… all of the above, then.”

She glares. “Some of us actually enjoy peace and quiet.”

“Noted,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll keep it down.”

Something about his easy agreement throws her off. He’s not defensive, not making excuses—just… accepting it.

She studies him for a moment before nodding. “Good.”

But as she pulls her dog toward the stairs, she hears his voice again.

“Y’know,” he calls out, “you’re kinda grumpy, aren’t you?”

She stops dead in her tracks.

Slowly, she turns to face him. He’s leaning against his doorframe now, arms crossed, watching her with an amused glint in his eye.

She narrows her own eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Not a bad thing,” he continues, completely unfazed by the sharpness in her tone. “Just an observation. Thought we were having a friendly chat, and you looked about two seconds away from strangling me.”

Y/N clenches her jaw. “Maybe you’re just annoying.”

His smirk deepens. “Maybe.”

Oh, he’s insufferable.

With one last glare, she storms down the stairs, ignoring the sound of his quiet chuckle behind her.

Y/N tells herself she won’t think about him again.

Spoiler alert: she will.

It’s not even a conscious decision. It’s just—impossible not to.

Her once quiet, peaceful apartment now has an uninvited presence, even when he’s not physically there. It starts with the little things. The muffled sound of music filtering through the walls, always something classic—Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, Elton John. The occasional deep, melodic hum accompanying the songs, sometimes breaking into actual lyrics.

Then, the phone calls.

He talks loudly—and a lot. His voice carries easily through the thin walls, his deep accent making every conversation impossible to ignore. He laughs often, a warm, infectious sound that she really shouldn’t find charming, and yet—she does. She doesn’t want to, but it’s hard to be annoyed at someone who sounds so genuinely happy all the time.

Still, she does her best to ignore it.

But her dog? Her dog is a traitor.

Every time Harry’s voice filters through the wall, the little traitor perks up, ears twitching, tail wagging, sometimes even whining. If Harry’s walking in the hallway, her dog runs straight to the door, tail thumping against the floor like Harry’s his long-lost best friend.

It’s humiliating.

And then, one night, it gets worse.

She’s curled up on the couch with a book, finally enjoying a rare moment of silence, when she hears it.

Harry’s voice.

Singing.

It’s not unusual—she’s heard him hum before, caught snippets of songs—but this is different. It’s full-fledged, unabashed singing, smooth and rich and ridiculously good.

She doesn’t recognize the song at first, but then the words hit her.

"I can’t help falling in love with you…"

Oh, come on.

Of course he’s the kind of guy who sings Elvis while cooking.

She clenches her jaw, determined to ignore it, but her dog is already sitting up, ears perked, tail wagging. Y/N glares. “Don’t you dare,” she whispers.

The dog ignores her completely, trotting over to the wall as if he can somehow get closer to Harry through sheer willpower.

Y/N sighs, throwing her head back against the couch.

This is her life now. Living next to an infuriatingly loud, annoyingly talented neighbor who seems to be winning over her dog and her subconscious.

She’s not thinking about him.

Not at all.

Not even a little.

That’s what she tells herself. That’s what she repeats in her head whenever she hears him through the walls, whenever her dog practically vibrates with excitement at the sound of his voice, whenever she catches herself humming the songs he sings when he thinks no one is listening.

She’s doing a great job of ignoring him.

Until the elevator breaks down.

It happens on a morning when Y/N is already running late. She’s juggling her bag, her keys, and a travel mug of coffee as she rushes out of her apartment, her dog watching her with judgment from his bed.

She takes the stairs two at a time, nearly colliding with the very last person she wants to see.

Harry.

Of course it’s Harry.

Standing by the elevator doors, coffee cup in hand, looking way too put together for someone who probably just rolled out of bed. His joggers hang low on his hips, his hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal a white T-shirt underneath, curls a little messy but in a way that seems intentional. He’s leaning casually against the wall, and the moment he spots her, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face.

“Well, well,” he drawls, taking a sip of his coffee. “Fancy seeing you here, neighbor.”

Y/N exhales sharply, pressing the elevator button. Nothing happens. The doors remain firmly shut.

A sinking feeling settles in her stomach.

Harry watches as she jabs the button again, then chuckles. “Yeah, that’s not gonna do much. Out of order.”

Y/N turns to him with narrowed eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because I just watched poor Mrs. Patel from 3B mutter a string of very impressive curse words when she realized she had to take the stairs.”

Y/N groans, tilting her head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Harry grins. “Not kidding.”

Of course. Of course the elevator breaks down today. And of course he’s here to witness her suffering.

With no other choice, she adjusts her bag on her shoulder and heads for the stairwell. “Great. Love this. Perfect way to start the day.”

Harry falls into step beside her, sipping his coffee as if he has all the time in the world. “You in a rush?”

“Yes,” she says shortly.

“Hot date?”

She shoots him a glare. “Work.”

“Ah.” He nods, glancing at her with mild curiosity. “What do you do, anyway?”

Y/N hesitates. Part of her doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to entertain any conversation with him. But the other part—the one that grew up with manners—sighs and mutters, “I work at a bookstore.”

Harry brightens. “No way. That’s brilliant.”

She looks at him, suspicious. “Why is that brilliant?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Something very fitting about you working in a bookstore.”

She raises a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He grins. “You’ve got that whole quiet, brooding, mysterious thing going on. Like the main character in a slow-burn novel.”

Y/N blinks. “Did you just call me brooding?”

He takes another sip of coffee. “Bit, yeah.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

They reach the first landing, and Y/N speeds up, determined to put some distance between them. Unfortunately, Harry seems to take this as a challenge, easily matching her pace.

“So, tell me,” he continues. “Is there a reason you hate me, or is that just your default setting?”

Y/N clenches her jaw. “I don’t hate you.”

His smirk deepens. “No?”

“No.”

He hums, unconvinced. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you glare at me an awful lot.”

“I glare at everyone.”

“Oh, so I’m not special?”

She exhales sharply. “Correct.”

Harry grins. “Bit disappointing, that.”

They climb another flight of stairs, Y/N gripping the railing a little tighter. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I have good company.”

She shoots him a sharp look, but he just winks at her, taking another lazy sip of his coffee.

She groans. “You are insufferable.”

He chuckles, unbothered. “And yet, here we are. Forced to spend quality time together.”

She picks up the pace, practically jogging up the last few steps just to get away from him. But as she reaches the next floor, she hears him call out behind her—

“See you later, neighbor.”

She doesn’t turn around.

But her dog will be way too happy to see him when she gets home.

And Y/N?

She’s starting to suspect that maybe—just maybe—she doesn’t mind him as much as she claims.

She doesn’t think much of it at first. It’s just tea. Just a small act of kindness returned. Just a few minutes of conversation that—shockingly—don’t make her want to strangle him.

But then, a few nights later, the power goes out.

It happens just after sunset, plunging the entire building into darkness. Y/N is in the middle of reading when the lights flicker and die, leaving her blinking in the dim glow of a single candle on her coffee table.

Her dog whines at her feet, restless, unsettled by the sudden quiet. The hum of the refrigerator, the faint buzzing of the heater—gone. Even the usual muffled sounds of the city outside seem distant, swallowed by the storm rolling through.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

Great.

After a few minutes of sitting in the dark, she decides to take her dog out into the hallway—mostly to distract him, but also because the idea of sitting alone in the silent apartment feels strangely isolating.

And that’s when she finds Harry.

Sitting on the floor outside his apartment, legs stretched out, surrounded by the warm flicker of candlelight. A deck of cards sits between his hands, his fingers idly shuffling, the rhythmic sound filling the empty hallway.

He glances up when she steps out, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “Didn’t take you for the type to get lonely in a power outage.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “I’m not.”

“Mm.” He tilts his head, studying her. “Then what brings you to my humble doorstep?”

She gestures to her dog, who is currently sniffing at Harry’s socked foot. “He was restless.”

Harry hums. “Right. He was restless.”

She narrows her eyes, but before she can snap back, he lifts the deck of cards and raises a brow.

“Wanna play?”

She hesitates.

The smart thing to do would be to say no. To go back inside, curl up with a blanket, and wait for the power to come back on.

But instead, she finds herself sinking onto the floor beside him.

“Fine,” she mutters. “But if you cheat, I’m leaving.”

Harry grins. “Noted.”

Somehow, she stays.

Longer than she means to.

Longer than she should.

The game is simple—just a casual round of War, nothing complicated—but it becomes less about winning and more about conversation.

Somewhere between the second and third round, they start talking.

Not just the usual teasing back-and-forth, but real talking.

Favorite books. Favorite cities. The places they’d love to visit but haven’t yet. The things they miss about childhood—the way summers felt longer, the way certain songs could instantly transport them back to a specific moment in time.

Y/N doesn’t even realize how much she’s letting her guard down until she’s laughing at one of Harry’s stories, her shoulder brushing his, their legs stretched out side by side.

And the worst part?

She doesn’t hate it.

She’s comfortable.

Which is dangerous.

Because comfort leads to familiarity. And familiarity leads to feelings.

And she’s not supposed to have feelings for her neighbor.

But then there’s the way Harry watches her as she speaks, his eyes a little softer than usual. The way he leans in just a fraction when she gets caught up in a story. The way his fingers brush against hers when they both reach for the deck of cards at the same time, and he doesn’t pull away immediately.

The way the air between them suddenly feels charged.

Like something unspoken is settling between them.

Like something could happen, if she let it.

And for a second—just a second—she wonders what it would be like to kiss him.

To close the small distance between them.

To let herself want him.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she clears her throat, shifts back, and focuses on the game.

Because this—whatever this is—can’t happen.

It’s nothing.

It has to be.

The power returns an hour later, flooding the hallway with artificial light.

Y/N blinks against the sudden brightness, reality crashing back in.

Harry stretches, rolling his shoulders before looking at her with a smirk. “Guess that’s our cue to go back to normal.”

Normal.

Right.

She nods, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her jeans. “Right.”

She expects him to say something cocky, to make some snarky remark about how much she must love spending time with him.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just looks at her for a long moment—something unreadable flickering across his face—before giving her a small, lopsided smile.

��G’night, neighbor.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

Y/N still insists that Harry is annoying. Still claims he gets on her nerves.

But something has shifted.

She doesn’t avoid him as much. Doesn’t glare as harshly when he teases her.

And maybe—just maybe—she finds herself noticing little things about him.

The way he always holds the door open for their elderly neighbor, even when she insists she doesn’t need help.

The way he hums under his breath when he’s deep in thought, a melody she can’t quite place but somehow recognizes.

The way he never forgets to greet her dog before he greets her, like he knows exactly where he stands in the hierarchy of importance.

Harry, for his part, still seems to enjoy getting under her skin.

But his teasing is softer now.

More familiar.

She still tells herself she’s not looking for love.

She still tells herself that he’s just her neighbor.

But as she closes her apartment door that night, she can’t help but smile to herself.

Just a little.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

If you love angst, tension-filled romance, slowburn and strangers to lovers, The Last First Time is for you!

#harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #patreon #preview

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waughymommy · 4 months ago

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Story Title: MOTHER OR CHILD 🚸🍼

Chapter 1

“I love you sweetheart, I hope you have a wonderful day,” Heather Dawson said after giving her husband a peck on the cheek. Jack was her husband of twenty years. They had been high school sweethearts and married just a few years after graduating high school. Heather had just turned forty but reveled in the fact that she could still pass for twenty-five. Her long blonde hair and her curvaceous figure still turned heads.

But Jack remained the love of her life. They had made a life together. Their daughter Amy had just started community college. She and Jack had worked hard to make sure she needed for nothing. When Amy was young, she stayed home during the day to care for her, while Jack was at work. But when Jack came home in the afternoon, Heather went off to her job waiting tables. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was work. After Amy started school, Heather managed to land a job as a secretary for an attorney’s office. Heather was a hard worker both at her office and at home. She rarely had time for herself. What little downtime she had, she struggled to relax. There was always something else that needed to be done, folding clothes, or managing the family’s finances.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t work hard or help out, but she always had to delegate tasks for him. If not told to do something, he was oblivious to the things begging to be done around him. She was never angry or disappointed with him, just tired. So when Jack left that house that morning, she let out a long sigh. Her job had rewarded her an extra week of vacation as thanks for all hard work. She decided to take the week to focus on herself. With the house to herself, she decided it was time for some self-care.

She went down stairs into the basement and retrieved a box. She carried it back to her bedroom and opened its contents. The scent of baby powder ushered in a feeling of relaxation. She found her favorite red binky and popped it into her mouth. She rummaged through the box until she uncovered a pink onesie. She pressed the soft fabric against the side of her face. It had been way too long. Heather pulled out a thick diaper and giggled at the crinkly noise it produced. She slipped out her dress and let it fall to the floor. After sliding out of her panties, she laid down on the bed. She positioned the diaper underneath her bottom. This was always the hardest part. After a few minutes of adjusting, she fastened the tapes. Satisfied with her work, she put on her onesie. She grabbed a baby bottle and headed for the kitchen.

Heather still struggled with some embarrassment, but it was easily eclipsed by the joy she felt when she was able to regress. In these moments, she had no cares or concerns. No one needed her to do something. She could just relax. As she filled the bottle with milk, she wondered what it would be like to have a caregiver. She fantasized about surrendering all responsibility. But there was one major problem: she had never told a soul about this side of her. Although she told Jack almost everything, she had managed to keep this hidden away all these years.

With her bottle filled, she toddled into the living room and turned on the tv. After browsing what to watch, she settled on Doc McStuffins. She curled up on the floor with a blanket and started nursing her bottle. All of her adult cares floated away. She felt so contented that her eyes started to grow heavy. In a few minutes she was fast asleep.

“Heather, sweetheart. Can you wake up for mommy?” a voice said while lovingly stroking her hair. Heather opened her eyes and saw her mother, Jocelyn, smiling at her. “Wha…what are you doing here?” Heather asked. Then it dawned on her that she was still in her onesie and a diaper and panic set in. She jumped up and ran to her bedroom. “PLEASE LEAVE!” she yelled. Jocelyn quickly followed her.

“Calm down sweetheart. Please settle down or mommy will spank you right now,” Jocelyn commanded. The threat of being spanked stopped Heather dead in her tracks. She hadn’t been spanked since she was a little girl and she certainly hadn’t used the word mommy in a very long time. Heather turned around to face her mother and started to weep. “Please, please go. I am so embarrassed. How disappointed you must be at seeing your grown daughter dressed like a baby.” She slumped on the floor and cried.

Her mother, kneeled down and comforted her, “I’m not disappointed at all and you could never do that.”

Heather sniffled, “Why are you here?”

“Well, your husband came home earlier and saw you sound asleep. He had to get back to work and so he called me to see if I could come and watch you,” Jocelyn responded.

Panic and mortification set in again and she sobbed louder. “Oh god, Jack probably thinks I’m a total freak and will leave me.”

“Enough of that nonsense, little one. If he thought that then he wouldn’t have called me to come look after you. He loves you. I am sure there are some things that he will want to discuss when he gets back this evening,” Jocelyn said. “Now, we have two options as I see it,” she continued.

Heather looked up confused, “What?”

“Well you can change out of these clothes and we pretend like this never happened or you let mommy take care of you,” Jocelyn offered.

Heather’s mouth was agape. She struggled to find any words.

“Before you answer, I want you to know, that you shouldn’t be embarrassed at all. I am happy to have my little girl back, but should you decline this, I won’t offer this again. So what will it be sweetheart?” Jocelyn asked.

Heather didn’t know how to respond. She was confused and scared, but the prospect of being looked after seemed too good to be true. She popped her thumb in her mouth, closed her eyes and let her bladder go.

Jocelyn watched as her daughter’s diaper started to sag on her hips, “Well I guess we need to go change my baby’s diaper?”

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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago

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[ a christmas surprise ] j. hughes & n. hischier

day twelve of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader x Nico Hischier

summary : Jack sees the way (Y/N) is looking at Nico at the Devils Christmas party and makes an interesting proposal that neither of them can resist

warning(s) : smut ! approved cheating ? (idk if that's a thing but it's a thing for this fic), threesome, slight sub!reader, pet names during sex, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected and unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

author’s note : had to go all out for the last fic of the christmas marathon. my gift to y’all. merry (belated) christmas if you celebrate. i give to you, the finale of the christmas fic marathon ! this took me a lot longer to write than i thought but here y'all go

༺═──────────────═༻

She had no idea what to expect when she walked into the rental hall for the Devils Christmas party with her boyfriend of two years. She knows that Jack, Luke, Nico, Dawson, and Jesper decorated the whole thing, but she's surprised at how well it's actually decorated.

Everyone is either wearing red or back, which makes sense considering the Devils' colors are red and black. She thought there would be more green worn since it is the day after Christmas. A lot of the guys are wearing one of their arrival suits with crazy ties.

Jack isn't though. He has on one of his arrival suits and a black tie. He didn't go all out in his outfit but he did with the decor.

"Wow, Jack," she gasps when she walks into the hall. "Looks good. I had doubts."

He looks offended as (Y/N) greets him with a very quick kiss. "Ouch, baby," he says as he feigns chest pain. "That hurt."

"I mean, the oldest one out of the five of you that decorated is only 25," she defends. "Sorry if I had a few doubts about a bunch of mid to young twenty-year-olds decorating for a Christmas party. Luke also just left college in May so excuse me for being worried about how it would look with you guys decorating."

Jack drapes an arm around her shoulders and smiles. "We had our captain with us," he comments. "We were in good hands, (Y/N). He kept ordering us around and telling us where things should go. Merc even got yelled at in Swiss-German because Nico got so frustrated with us at one point."

She smiles as she walks further into the large room. "I wish I could've seen that," she laughs. "That sounds like a very Nico thing to do."

"What sounds like a very Nico thing to do?" a accented voice says from behind (Y/N). She freezes mid-step and turns with Jack to look at Nico Hischier.

"You yelling at Dawson in Swiss-German while we were decorating," Jack answers for her. No words form on her lips as she looks Nico up and down when a smile forms on his lips. She swears her cheeks get hot when he looks over at her.

She has no idea why she gets tongue-tied around the Swiss captain. He's been around since she and Jack started dating. She should be used to seeing him and talking to him by now.

Maybe it's that damn accent or the fact that there are no words in the English language that could describe how hot he looks in his suit and fresh haircut. The dimple that forms when he smiles makes her lose her mind every single time.

If she weren't dating Jack, she'd absolutely go for his captain. She's always had a thing for European guys.

"Well, it was frustrating that he wasn't listening," Nico says, pulling her out of her head. "You know when I get frustrated, I switch languages. It's something that's always happened. Sometimes it's out of my control."

"I'm well aware," Jack laughs, completely unaware that his girlfriend is checking out his captain, or that his captain is checking out his girlfriend.

It's something that started very recently, and neither of them have acted on their thoughts. (Y/N) is very much in love with Jack, but she is allowed to look at other men. As long as she doesn't act on the thoughts she has about other men.

An arm wraps around her waist and she looks up at Jack. "Why don't you go get us drinks and maybe something to eat?" he suggests. "I need to talk to Nico about some strategies for our next game against Columbus."

She nods and spares one last glance at Nico before walking off. She finds the area with the drinks and food. She makes a plate for them to share and orders them both a drink from the bar.

When she turns around with their plate of food and their drinks, she sees that Jack and Nico are still very deep in conversation. Nico looks surprised and confused at whatever Jack is saying to him. Nico does glance over at her then quickly looks away from her and back at Jack.

He nods at something Jack said before Jack turns and walks over to her. He takes one of the drinks and (Y/N) asks, "What was that about? It looked like a much different conversation than strategies about the game with the way Nico looked."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Jack tells her with a soft kiss to her temple. "Just know that it was a very good and informative conversation between a captain and his alternate. That's all you need to know right now. Let's go eat, yeah?"

She nods and they find a table with Dougie, Erik, Vitek, and their significant others so they can eat. She enjoys the meatball hoagie she made for herself and Jack enjoys the piece of steak she grabbed for him.

The two of them make small conversations with each other and with the people at their table. Dougie compliments Jack on how good the decorations look and he talks all about how fun it was to decorate with Luke, Nico, Dawson, and Jesper.

(Y/N) doesn't realize it at first but her eyes scan the room looking for Nico the first time Jack mentions the captain. She's surprised when she doesn't find him anywhere. She hasn't seen him since he walked away from Jack nearly ten minutes ago now.

"Hey, Jack," she says to grab his attention. He looks over at her. "Have you seen Nico? He's nowhere to be found."

Jack blinks at his girlfriend. "Why are you looking for Nico?" he asks.

"It's just weird that I haven't seen him," she explains. "He's usually walking around and talking to everyone but I haven't seen him since he walked away from the conversation with you."

He swallows a bite of his food and says, "He said something about going to the bathroom. He's probably still there."

She's confused by how Jack is being so casual about his MIA captain. A teammate would go find him and make sure he's okay.

(Y/N) stands up when Jack goes back to talking with Dougie, Erik, and Vitek. She makes her way towards the bathrooms. Dawson walks out of the men's room and she grabs him. "Is Nico in there?" she asks. "Jack said he might be in there."

"Yeah, he's in there," he tells her. "He's freaking out about something but won't tell me what. Where's Jack? I wanna talk to him."

"At the table with Dougie, Erik, and Vitek," she replies. "They're talking about the decorations actually so if you want to go and brag, there you go."

Dawson smiles and heads into the main room.

(Y/N) hesitates for a moment before she slowly pushes open the door to the men's room. She peeks her head in and sees Nico leaning with his hands against the sink counter. His head is down, but he seems to be the only one in the bathroom so she walks in.

The door closing behind her gets Nico's attention. He blinks a couple of times before before he realizes that she's standing in the bathroom with him. "What are you doing in here?" he asks. "Where's Jack?"

"That seems to be a really popular question," she says with a smile on her face. The smile falters when she realizes he's being serious. "He's talking to Dougie, Erik, Vitek, and now probably Dawson. He said you might be in here so I came to check on you to make sure you're okay."

Nico still seems confused as to why she is standing in front of him instead of Jack. "Did he tell you?" he questions.

Now it's her turn to be confused. "Tell me what?" she asks. "He didn't tell me anything. He's actually being really weird and refused to come see if you were okay when I realized you haven't been seen in like ten minutes. Then Dawson said you were panicking about something so that really had me worried. I needed to come check on you."

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his chest. He's taken his suit jacket off and she can't help but look at how the button-up hugs his arms in all the right places. She presses her lips into a line so she doesn't say anything.

The captain squints his eyes at her and says, "I think you should talk to him about the conversation we had. I shouldn't be the one to tell you."

"Now you're being weird," she comments. "Why is everyone being so weird recently? I am really not a fan of-"

Nico crosses the floor in four large strides and pulls her by the back of her neck into a deep kiss, cutting her off from whatever she was about to say.

She gives in because she's always wondered what it would be like to kiss Nico. He's an attractive guy and she's always thought he was attractive.

The dark hair that he's let grow long enough to cover his forehead and form a curtain over his eyes when he looks down. Her fingers play with the ends of his locks on the back of his neck. The dimple in his cheek every time he smiles makes her weak in the knees sometimes. The deep, accented voice makes her wish that she got to hear how it sounds in bed.

She kisses him back after a lapse in her judgement.

The shock of the initial kiss wears off and Nico walks until (Y/N)'s lower back is pressed against the same sink he was leaning on five minutes ago. The kisses exchanged between them are feverish and desperate.

His free hand rests on her waist and she moves to grip the collar of his shirt so he doesn’t move away from her. Nico shoves a thigh between her legs and she has to refrain from grinding against it.

All she wants is to get some pressure on her core, but she doesn’t want this to be over so soon. If she starts to grind on Nico’s thigh, she’ll be coming in seconds.

She jumps up onto the counter behind her because her neck is starting to hurt from craning it to kiss him. His hand slides down to her thigh, his fingers dipping below the skirt of the dress that she’s wearing. She hooks her legs around his waist, and she feels something poke her upper thigh.

A door opens beside them and (Y/N) breaks the kiss to look at whoever walked in the door.

It’s Jack.

Her eyes widen and she pushes Nico away from her. “I-” she begins to say before Jack waves his hand to cut her off. She closes her mouth and tries not to cry.

The realization of what just happened sinks in the longer Jack stays quiet. She cheated on him with his captain. It doesn’t surprise her that he hasn’t said anything. He just looks between the two of them.

“Does she know?” Jack asks, looking behind her at Nico.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Nico says. She turns and looks at him. She’s surprised to find that he doesn’t look terrified at the fact that Jack caught them making out in the men’s bathroom.

Jack’s eyes flicker back to her. “Why do you look like you’re about to cry, baby?” he asks as he walks toward her.

A very surprised and confused (Y/N) says, “You just saw me kissing Nico. Heavily kissing Nico. You caught me cheating on you with your teammate, Jack.”

Through the tears in her eyes, she sees Jack smile. “The conversation with Nico was to tell him that it was okay if he did anything with you,” he tells her. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. It was obvious that you both were thinking the same thing.”

“But-”

“And I offered for him to join us in our bed tonight,” Jack admits, cutting her off. He brushes a piece of hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “If it’s alright with you, of course. If it’s too much then you don’t have to but I don’t mind sharing you tonight and see where it takes us.”

She blinks away the tears and looks back at a flustered and slightly disheveled Nico. He has a small smile on his face as she realizes that it was okay. Nico knew it was okay to kiss her, and she’s going to get both of them as soon as they leave.

The thought of the two of them working together to take her apart is nearly enough for her to say that they should leave the party right now. The only reason she doesn’t is because they are both leaders of the team and can’t just up and leave just as the party is beginning.

“Jack, if you felt pressured to do this because you think I want this, I-”

“I want you to be happy, (Y/N),” Jack assures her. He cups her jaw in his hands. “It’s Christmas so I thought it would be a nice surprise for you. Plus, Nico is one of my best friends so if I’m going to share you with anyone, I’d like it to be him. You look at him the same way you look at me. I’d figure that I’d give this a try.”

She looks back at Nico, who hasn’t moved but keeps the smile on his face. “I’m okay with this,” he tells her. “Jack basically made me admit to him that I want to fuck you and he said that it was okay. If you don’t want this or if you aren’t okay with this then tell us and we don’t have to do anything.”

The thing is that she has wanted to get fucked by Nico. She just didn’t know how badly she wanted it until the opportunity presented itself.

“When can we leave?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jack and Nico make some excuse as to why they have to leave the party. (Y/N) is just along for the ride. Her body is already buzzing with anticipation of what will happen when they get to the apartment she and Jack share.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes for Jack to drive them to the apartment. She sits beside him in the passenger seat while Nico sits in the back behind Jack.

He reaches over the center console about five minutes into the drive and rests a hand on (Y/N)’s exposed thigh, right under the end of the skirt. She looks over at him and smiles. Jack’s eyes stay on the road as he squeezes her thigh. “Such a tease,” she giggles.

“Says you,” Jack replies with a smile on his lips.

She glances back at Nico, whose eyes are on Jack’s hand. His own hand was on her thigh not even a half an hour ago. The bathroom makeout comes back to her full force and her body shakes.

If that’s what Nico can do to her in two minutes, she isn’t ready for when he can take his time with her.

Jack pulls (Y/N) against him as soon as they walk into their shared apartment. She smiles and hears the front door close behind her. Jack looks behind her at Nico and says, "You don't have to just stand there, you know. You can come over. She's yours tonight too and you have my permission to do whatever you want to her as long as she's okay with it."

That's not something that (Y/N) ever expected to hear let alone hear out of Jack's mouth. That she's Nico's tonight too. She gets both of them. Two of the hottest men she's ever seen.

With permission from Jack, Nico takes the few steps over to the two of them. She turns her head and looks back at Nico, whose hands rest on her waist. She noses at his jaw so he looks at her instead of his hands. His curious eyes meet hers and she gives him a small smile.

She feels Jack's fingers on her jaw and he turns her head back to face him. "If you're uncomfortable with something-" he begins to say.

"Shut up and take me to bed," she interrupts. "Please."

He leans in and ravishes her mouth with his. His hands are on her jaw as he kisses her. They eventually slide into her hair and curl into the brown locks. She lets out a soft whine against her boyfriend's lips when she feels Nico's fingers trail down over her waist to her thighs. He presses soft kisses to her jaw and neck.

(Y/N) puts a hand on Jack's chest and pushes him toward their room. She grabs Nico's hand with her free hand and pulls him behind her. The three of them stumble through the dark apartment until they reach the bedroom.

She loses her heels and jacket in the journey to the room while Jack’s shirt gets unbuttoned and Nico loses his suit jacket. Jack picks her up and lays her on the bed as soon as they enter the room.

The kiss breaks in the process and she stares up at the two men in front of her. She bites her swollen lip as she waits for one of them to make a move.

Jack is the one to break the silence between them. “You or me?" he asks.

Nico looks down at her on the bed. "Me," he says, voice thicker than it was before. "My turn." Jack moves aside and lets Nico do whatever he wants.

She's able to smile for about two seconds before Nico crawls up her body and kisses her, continuing where they left off in the bathroom. The kiss is rough and Nico's hand is cupping her jaw. (Y/N) wraps her legs around the Swiss man's waist and digs her heels into the back of his thighs.

He kisses her more deeply than Jack does. Jack is rough, feverish. He constantly ravishes her mouth while Nico, while rough, kisses deeply. He kisses her with intent and lets her know what he wants to do to her.

It surprises her when she realizes that she loves the way they both kiss her.

Her hands run up and down his sides before she reaches between the two of them. With their lips locked, (Y/N) begins to unbutton his shirt. Nico uses his free hand to untuck the shirt from his pants. She shoves it off his body and runs her hands down his arms. His hand run down her thigh then runs up

He's more muscular than Jack is. His arms are bigger and his stomach is more toned. She loves it, but she also loves how Jack is muscular but doesn't completely cover her when he's on top of her.

She is going to get the best of both words tonight, and she cannot wait.

The mattress dips behind her and she feels fingers run through her hair. (Y/N) breaks the kiss and looks up to see Jack sitting on the bed with his fingers in her hair. He's ditched the unbuttoned shirt and suit jacket. Nico's lips attach to her jaw and he trails down her neck to her chest. The dress she's wearing exposes a lot of her cleavage and Nico kisses the exposed skin. Jack leans down and kisses her upside down.

Someone's fingers hook into the thin straps of her red dress and slide them down her arms. Nico pushes the satin fabric to the side and gets his mouth on her nipple. She groans his name against Jack's mouth and he pulls away. She tries to chase his lips but Jack pins her shoulders to the bed.

"Fuck," she sighs when Nico moves to give her other breast some attention. Jack reaches down and gets his hand on the breast that Nico abandoned. She whines when Jack rolls her sensitive nipple between his fingers.

She turns her head to the side notices the bulge in Jack's pants. She reaches behind her and palms him through his pants. She wants to get her hands on him so she blindly tries to get them unbuckled and unbuttoned. "Jack," she whines. "Off."

He moves off the bed so he can get his pants and boxers off. Nico pulls the dress further down her body as Jack sits on the bed. He pulls her against his chest while he leans back against the headboard. The dress comes off her body and Nico throws it to the floor, joining their shirts.

Nico's hungry eyes are on her when Jack moves her legs apart, exposing her ruined panties to the Devils captain. She can feel her core pulse the longer Nico's eyes are on her.

"Pretty, isn't she?" Jack asks as he tucks (Y/N)'s hair behind her ear. A soft hum comes from Nico as he begins to undress. Her eyes rake his body and she wishes that she could touch him.

Jack's fingers trail down over her jaw and neck, between her breasts and down her belly until they reach the waistband of the lace panties. His lips ghost over the swell of her ear. "You're our pretty girl," Jack whispers in her ear

"Our pretty girl," Nico agrees as he climbs onto the bed.

Our pretty girl. She's theirs. Those three words make her entire body shake.

"Come get a taste, Nico," Jack tells his friend. His fingers dip into her panties and he gathers some of the wetness. She watches as he licks up her arousal. "She's ready, like the good girl she is."

Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip as a now naked and smiling Nico lays on his stomach. He kisses her inner thighs as Jack turns her head. He kisses her at the same time Nico pushes her underwear to the side.

Nico's tongue runs through her folds and she moans into Jack's mouth. She reaches behind her and wraps one of her hands around his dick. Her other hand flies to Nico's hair when he wraps his lips around her clit and his tongue flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She grinds her hips against Nico's mouth, needing more. She needs so much more.

This feels so much better than she ever thought it would be. Her legs are already shaking and they've only just started. Jack's lips on hers and his hands roaming her naked body. Nico's mouth on her clit. It’s a little overwhelming but it feels amazing.

Then Nico pushes a finger inside of her while his mouth is on her. She gasps and does everything she can not to come just from that. "Fuck," she moans against Jack's mouth. "Nico."

His fingers curl inside of her and her back arches off the bed. She knew he could do a lot of things with his fingers. She didn't know he could do this. Jack’s talented with his fingers, but Nico could have her coming in seconds with his.

(Y/N) breaks the kiss and slides down Jack’s body until she can turn her head and get her mouth on his dick. She licks up the bead of precome that has formed on the tip before she wraps her lips around the fire red tip. A soft groan passes his lips when she begins to move her head.

Every so often, Nico will curl his fingers or suck on her clit and she’ll hum or moan around Jack. Her boyfriend will sigh every time she makes a noise around his cock.

Her body can only hold off an orgasm for so long though. No matter how hard she tries.

The next time Nico curls his fingers in a “come here” motion, she’s coming with Jack’s dick in her mouth and Nico’s fingers in her pussy.

She pulls off Jack's cock and cries out as she comes on Nico's fingers without warning. Her legs shake and she pushes herself against Nico's mouth. She swears she blacks out because of how hard and how suddenly her orgasm hits her.

"Fuck, Nico," she whines as she comes down from her sudden high. She feels him licking up her release and soft sighs pass her lips.

The Swiss captain crawls up her body and captures her lips in a deep but rough kiss. She hums as she tastes herself on his lips. (Y/N) Isn't happy when he pulls away. She watches him lick his lips and smile.

"You taste so good, liebling," he says. She shivers at the use of the nickname. "Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough."

A barely there (Y/N) mumbles, "Wanna suck you, Nico."

Nico glances up at Jack, who asks, "Think you can take both of us, baby?" She immediately lifts her head to look up at Jack and frantically nods. Jack smiles at her enthusiasm. "Hands and knees then."

Quickly, she rolls over onto her stomach and does what Jack told her to do. The boys switch their positions. Nico kneels on the bed in front of her while Jack kneels behind her.

She takes Nico's cock in her hand and glances up at him. She knew he had to be packing but she didn't know he'd be this big. She shivers at the idea of him inside of her but takes him in her mouth. Nico gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail as she begins to move her head.

Behind her, Jack pulls off her panties and runs his dick through her folds, over her already sensitive clit. She hums around Nico's dick as Jack presses into her.

It doesn't feel weird to have Nico's dick in her mouth and Jack's dick inside of her at the same time. She always thought that it would be weird, but it's kind of hot. They're both using her to get off and she's perfectly okay with that. There's already another knot forming in her stomach.

Jack thrusts into her and presses his hands into her lower back. Nico has his fingers in her hair and slowly moves his hips so he's fucking her mouth. Her hand makes up for what she can't fit in her mouth.

"Look at you, (Y/N)," Jack says behind her. "Taking both of us. Such a good girl, isn't she, Nico?"

Nico hums above her and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. "Such a pretty girl taking my cock in her mouth," he replies. "Feels so good.

She screws her eyes shut and just feels. She feels Jack's dick moving in and out of her. She feels herself hollow out her cheeks and suck Nico's dick at the same time Jack moves. They're both thrusting their hips into her and she happily takes whatever they give her.

From behind, Jack leans over her body and presses kisses to her shoulder. She whines around Nico's dick when Jack uses his legs to spread hers further apart. The new angle lets Jack move deeper into her.

"You have no idea how hot you look taking both of us," Jack whispers against her ear. "Fuck, baby. We might have to do this all the time. I think you'd like that. Would you like that?" (Y/N) nods with Nico's cock in her mouth. "I knew you'd like that."

When he gets back on his knees, Jack wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her up to her knees. She whines when Nico's dick slips from her mouth but moans at the new angle. She reaches out for Nico as he says, "Look at you, liebling. Look so pretty getting fucked on your knees."

Her eyes are on Nico in front of her while Jack ravishes her neck with kisses and soft bites. She whines and moans as Jack thrusts into her. Nico crawls up and presses their chests together.

He cups her jaw in his hands and runs his thumbs over her cheekbones while Jack fucks her. Her lips are slightly parted and she lets out soft pants while holding eye contact with Nico.

Nico reaches down between them and gets his fingers on her clit as Jack speeds up his thrusts. "Fuck," she cries out at the pleasure. She gets a hand around Nico's dick and pumps him. Nico kisses her as Jack marks up her neck.

Jack's hands slide around to cup (Y/N)'s breasts. He plays with her nipples and she moans his name against Nico's lips.

She's quickly approaching her second orgasm in about twenty minutes. Her free hand flies to Nico's hair and she holds on for dear life. She's shaky on her knees. Nico realizes this and lays on his back in front of her. Jack lets her go and she's back on her hands and knees. His fingers replace Nico's.

With on hand on Nico's thigh and the other on his dick, she gets her mouth back on him. She sucks harsher than she probably should but Nico enjoys it since he's squirming under her touch.

"Gonna come, baby," Jack pants behind her. "Fuck. Can I fill you?" She hums in approval.

As soon as she feels Jack come inside of her, she's coming around him with a moan. Her vision whites out and she isn't sure what happens after that.

She doesn't know when Jack pulls out or when she collapsed on the bed. Jack is nowhere to be found in the room and Nico is hovering on top of her. He’s kissing her neck and he’s bumping himself to his orgasm.

“Nico, baby,” she breathes out. “Come. Use me to come. It’s okay. Do whatever you want.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he admits. “Please. I’ve waited so long to fuck you, liebling. You don’t have to do anything. Just lay there and look pretty. Take me like the good girl you are.”

She nods and whispers a “yeah”. Nico grabs a condom and uses Jack’s come to slip easily inside of her. She gasps as Nico thrusts slowly into her. She winces from the overstimulation but Nico moves carefully so he doesn’t hurt her.

Their eyes meet and suddenly the moment is more intimate than she expected. She has the urge to confess everything she feels for him.

“Nico, I-”

“I know,” he softly says. His fingers brush over her cheekbones. “Me too. Since day one.”

(Y/N) smiles and leans up to capture Nico’s lips in a kiss. It’s a deep kiss, unlike the other kisses they’ve shared. Unlike the kisses she’s shared with Jack tonight.

Nico’s fingers are on her clit again and she’s barreling toward her third orgasm. She doesn’t know how she’s about to come again, but it doesn’t take long since she’s so overstimulated.

He’s right behind her.

She clenches around him and she’s gone for the third time. Her body goes limp at the same time Nico groans and comes into the condom inside of her.

His head falls beside hers and he rolls off of her so he’s laying on the mattress. She’s a panting, tired mess by the time Jack comes back into the room from the bathroom.

(Y/N) looks over at him with her eyes half closed. Jack cleans her up and the mess around her up before he lies down beside her.

“You okay?” Jack questions. “Not too much?”

She looks at her boyfriend before looking at Nico. When she looks back at Jack, she says, “I wanna do it again. Is that okay?”

Jack looks past her at Nico. “As long as you’re okay with it,” Nico tells Jack.

“I didn’t mind,” he says to the both of them. “Next time though, can the two of you wait for me to be in the room before you fuck?”

A laugh passes Nico’s lips and she tiredly smiles.

“Tomorrow.”

They’re all in agreement as they all fall to sleep. Her head is on Jack’s chest and her legs are intertwined with Nico’s under the blanket.

༺═──────────────═༻

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