#i started it one day but i was also sort of... pretty high... so i did the most hilariously bad job of filling it out
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Across the Universe (deer!reader x Chris)
*àłàŒ contents: smut, friends to fwb, sub!reader, softdom!Chris x deer!reader , slowburn, substance usage, fingering, multiple fem!orgasms, squirting, high sex, aftercare, some fluff, no use of y/n, proofread
wc: 4.7k
â° a/n: this WILL be a series fic, just to lyk. also guys i get that this is quite a niche thing to put into a character au esp for Chris who loves hip hop and rap but i just love the idea of it sm, i hope you guys enjoy. <3
this is loosely inspired by @darksturnz artist!chris character au !
Art school. Hell on earth, you might call it. You came off as an odd soul to others, you always have. Ever since kindergarten. You struggled to make friends with anyone in your class, not that you cared that much, you were used to the isolation.
Around the start of high school, you realised that you didnât need friends, you made yourself believe they were a waste of time, but deep down, your heart was aching for some sort of special, genuine connection with someone.
You stood right beside the tracks waiting for your train to arrive. This is a new experience for you entirely.
You were content with riding your bike to school everyday, until just a few days ago you stumbled off a curb a bit too aggressively and ended up scraping your knee pretty bad, leaving a gnarly patch of missing skin on your leg that you tried your best to conceal with a large square plaster, bulging weirdly out of proportion in contrast to your cool skin, a pool of purple green bruises surround the wound.
But what upset you the most was the chain broken and the brakes in shambles. You canât ride your bike for a while, not until itâs repaired.
You start fidgeting your fingers and feet, unsure of how to keep yourself busy while waiting. The grainy and muffled noise of your music blaring in your wired earphones could be heard from miles away. You then start to rummage through your auburn brown rucksack. Again, trying to make yourself look busy.
You were the type of person to overthink every little thing. When your stomach rumbles a little too loud, you panic and wonder if anyone overheard, using your card at the cash register, being too indecisive whether to insert or tap it. And like now, youâre too worried that you look like an idiot standing still, waiting for the train to come.
You start to nibble at the rugged skin around your nails as you disassociate into your own little world, thanks to your music.Â
âYour musicâs a little loud, kidâ a dry, supple voice snaps you out of the imaginary dream land you were just in, it makes you jump slightly. You hastily go to grab one of the buds out of your ear and shift your head to see Chris standing there, giving you a lazy smile.
You wouldnât call Chris your friend. You wouldnât call anyone that. He was also quite a lonely individual at art school. Which confuses you since you always thought he had such a peculiar charisma to him, and he seemed snarky and confident. Youâre not so certain that he cares that much though, like you.
Youâre one of the only people he speaks to properly, besides a few acquaintances that he sits next to in class. He gave you his phone number just in case you needed something from him, like help with notes and such.
Chrisâ art was beautiful, they really captured all of the right emotions in one single piece. It made you admire him, look up to him like a role model. You were never open about that to him though.
Chris had always had this attraction to you, whether it was platonic or not he always found you so interesting.
The way you always kept to yourself, never spoke up unless asked to, when you sometimes crotchet in pure distilled silence during lectures you had together, your shyness, although you have no fear in killing your hearing by blasting your tunes until your cochlea was about to explode through your worn out earphones. Itâs what made you so appealing to him.
You were weird, sure. You had a few peculiar interests that most wouldnât have, but he liked that about you. He enjoyed having you around.
âOh, hi Chrisâ you speak shyly, just slightly above a whisper. You struggle to find eye contact with Chris as your back to staring down, tangling your fingers together nervously. âHey doll, never thought I'd see you here. Youâre always on your little bikeâ he chuckles softly.
You come to the realisation that Chris has to travel by train. It makes you wonder how close or far he must live from school, maybe somewhere close to you. âMy bike broke. I'm taking the train until itâs repairedâ you mumble almost incoherently. Your lips barely move to enunciate the vowels and consonants falling out of your mouth.
âOh, thatâs a shameâ Chris replies, studying the assorted freckles on your face without trying to make it look too obvious. Thereâs an awkward, jarring silence between the two of you. It's deafening to say the least.
âWhatâre you listening to anyway? From what I heard, it sounded niceâ he inquired, snapping the uneasy feeling from the quiet. His voice was low and casual, the slight smirk on his face shifts into a kind beam. âJ-just Fiona Appleâ you mutter.
Youâre not sure why, but Chris makes you so nervous whenever heâs around. With others, youâre just distant, emotionally unavailable.
Chris however, makes you feel a weird tingling sensation all around your sternum. Like a cocoon blooming into a hive of butterflies fluttering through your ribcage.Â
âOoh, I've never heard of her before. Yâgotta put me on her songsâ his voice pours out nice and smooth like silk. The request makes your face flush reddish pink and you twist your head around, completely concealing your embarrassment from him.
Quickly after, you turn back to face Chris and look up at him for a split second through your long mascaraed eyelashes.
âSure, I can do thatâ you mumble, a smile creeping up your mouth. Chrisâ eyes widen at the subtle but rare sighting of something of a positive expression on your face, which makes his mouth curl into a toothy grin.
âWow, was that⊠a smile?â he looks down at your figure, he examines how your chest quickly rises and falls to match the timid giggle at his dry but charming sarcastic joke.Â
You turn your head to fully face Chris, switching in between his icy blue irises to the train rapidly approaching. âAfter class, I'll put on one of my main playlists for you. I-iâll maybe show you more than fiona appleâ your voice slowly transforms from a hushed, mousy tone to almost a shout as the train finally comes to a screeching halt.
âSounds like a plan, you have my number, donât you? Message me, we can link after class. We can take the train back to my placeâ he yells, trying to make himself heard to you over the noise of everyoneâs footsteps clamoring close to hop on the train.
You opened your mouth to interject and speak up but the doors of the train were already open, Chris swiftly turned forward, breaking the stare he held upon you the entire time you waited together to step on the train. You quickly followed before the doors closed. You decided to give up on trying to debate, youâre going over to Chrisâ house.
Class was over, finally. The thought of spending time with Chris at his house so suddenly after only being strictly acquainted jumbled up your thoughts completely. You rub at your forehead and muddle your bangs about as some kind of way to shake the nerves off.
You donât know why youâre so anxious about the whole idea. It was just a friendly hang out with Chris. Just a friendly hang out with Chris.
You rush to pack all of your pens and pencils back into your rucksack and speed out of the classroom with a gallop in your step. Youâre scrambling for your phone after you push your portfolio into your locker to text Chris that your class is over and that the two of you can meet now.
âiâm out now, where shall we meet?â
read at 12:32 PM
âmeet me outside of the courtyard, iâll take you home with me afterwards :)â
Youâre stuck waiting awkwardly again, until you see Chrisâ figure come into your frame of vision. He gives you a benign smile which makes your eyes light up ever so slightly. He nods his head up faintly as a sort of âHeyâ gesture. You look up at him with a gentle shimmer in your stare as he approaches you.
âHey doll, ready to go?â you missed hearing his deep, raspy voice. It had only been a few hours, but you longed to hear it again. You loved the slight growl he adorned in his vowels when he spoke. It was almost primal.
You never thought about it much, but you thought a lot of the things Chris did ever so naturally, were quite attractive. âYeah, I'm readyâ
The two of you stroll side by side in yet another awkward silence. Chris drifts his eyes elsewhere to the foreground of hedged bushes. You however, soaked up the sound of both of your footsteps trudging into the crunchy gravel below.
âSo, how come youâre so quiet, kid? I rarely hear you speak. And youâre always on your own at lunchâ Chris pipes up. The question snaps you back into reality. Mostly because you were miles away, but also because no one has ever really asked you that question wholeheartedly, just slightly concerned teachers and patronising bullies.
âI-i donât really know⊠I donât have a lot to talk about with others, I guessâ your voice is ever so soft to Chrisâ ears. âOh come on, donât give me that shit. Youâre more interesting than thatâ he scoffs. ââYou think so?â your eyes wide and dilated with curiosity.
âI know so, you need to stop putting yourself down like that. Youâre coolâ
The whole portrayal of the compliment makes your heart pound inside your chest, enough to make your rib cage rattle. Thereâs an airy feeling in your stomach which almost makes you feel sick, but not the bad kind. It tells you that youâre enjoying yourself and that youâre excited for whatâs to come next.
âHowâŠhow about you then? I donât see you with many people at school eitherâ The question heâs heard oh, too many times, similar to your predicament.
âEhh, I just donât fuck with big groups of people like thatâ he seems truly careless by the way his expression doesnât move one bit. Whereas you, a feeling of hurt lingers in the hollowness of your bones whenever people stray away from you with looks of disgust. It makes you go green with envy.
You soon make it to the station, no later than that you step on the train alongside Chris. The two of you sat next to each other on one row, your shoulders ever so slightly touching every now and again.
Chris rests into a manspread as soon as he sits, though he makes sure heâs not taking up too much space, for your sake.
You take your wired earphones out of your knitted cardigan pocket to prop the right one in your ear and the left leering around Chrisâ face, offering it to him. To which he gladly accepts. He has to inch slightly closer to not put tension on the wires between you two, making his shoulders touch yours indefinitely.
You scroll through your playlists to spot the one you were playing in the early morning. You scroll through the songs to play âAcross the Universeâ by Fiona Apple.
The somber guitar playing makes you sink into your seat as your head sways to the window beside you, gawking at the grey sky and green and orange pine trees zooming by. You sing the mellow lyrics of Fionaâs winsomely but quietly, perfectly in key. Leaving Chris in a trance.
While youâre looking away, he takes the chance to admire every little thing about you. Your pouty lips smudged with lipstick. The way your ears perk out slightly from underneath your lively, beautiful locks, your collarbones migrating with every rise and fall of your chest, your nail polish chipping off into funky patterns as you fidget with your fingers and bite the cracked, outgrown ends off your nail bed.
The song comes to a close and fades into nothing. You go to press pause before the next song in the queue plays.
âSo, what did you think?â your irises huge with passion as you turn to Chris. Who was whacked back into the real world after being heavily enthralled by just your existence.
âIt was beautiful, very youâ Chris beams a cute smile. Your expression lights up, enough for Chris to notice. He knows you donât know how to take compliments, but he at least knows your expression is somewhat readable so he knows how youâre feeling.Â
Chris soaks in the moment and stares down at your lips again, before snapping his eyes up to meet yours. âNot long until our last stopâ you maunder.
Chris sighs to himself and rubs his eyes with a quick âyep.â He offers your earphone back as you both stand up and wait for the train to break into a complete stop after a few seconds.
You both hop off and you twist around to find your pocket to put your earphones back in. Chris leers at you with both of his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently as you fix yourself up before walking again all the way to his house.
After natural and laid-back chit chat during slow walking, you finally reach Chrisâ house. The door was a dark forest-y green. Which you found quite pleasing to look at.
Chris shuffles in his pockets to obtain his house keys, they jangle about as he carelessly swings it into the keyhole of his door to unlock it. He pushes the door open by grasping the knob and twisting it. He turns to you and beckons you with a sway of his head, manoeuvring you to come inside first before him.
Chris clamours up the stairs and you follow like a lost puppy behind him. He lazily nudges his bedroom door open with his shoulder and face plants into the bed, twisting his head to the side after a minute to let out an exasperated sigh.
You invite yourself to sit on his bed in proper etiquette form, unsure of what to do with yourself while Chris lays still for a second.
He kicks his shoes off and reaches out to his bedside table to grab a small, ceramic pot with psychedelic patterns embroidered into the pottery.
He pops open the lid to take out half a joint. He extends his hand back into his pocket to have a lighter in his grasp whilst the other hand places the butt of the joint right into the opening of his mouth.
You simply do or say nothing but watch. Your eyes follow the way his hands cup the lighter before he realises he needs your approval to smoke.
âShit- uhm, are you okay with me smoking, doll? I wonât if you donât want me toâ he purrs in a sympathetic tone, half his words muffled by the spliff clasped between his lips. âOh, no, I don't mind at all. Do as you pleaseâ
It was strange because you genuinely didnât care about him smoking in front of you. You werenât the type to judge people to do such unfaithful things, like doing drugs, however whenever you were talking to someone who was vaping and they had the audacity to blow it all in your face, making you cough. Yeah, that made you seethe.
But Chris was different. It didnât surprise you that he smoked, of course. Youâre unsure of what this feeling was, but thereâs a strange comfort in seeing Chris trust you enough to where he wants to smoke weed in front of you. It made you feel warm seeing Chris in a somewhat vulnerable state.
âD-do you live on your own, Chris?â you inquire, you noticed that no one was home to greet him when you first came in.
âYeah, I moved out of my family home as soon as I turned 18. Nothing personal, it was just a spur of the moment thing, I guess. I had a ton of money saved up ever since I was, what, like⊠14? And I wanted to live closer to art school, soâŠâ he rambles, mumbling with the joint still in his mouth, clicking the lighter alight. Taking the smoke into his lungs.
He pinches the roach out of his mouth as he exhales. A cloud of smoke lingers and the scent of marijuana invades your senses. You donât complain much though. You think it smells quite pleasant.
He stretches his hand out towards you, blunt in hand. âWant some?â his eyes already low and bloodshot red with that same faint smile plastered on his face.Â
You hesitate, you glance at Chrisâ red orbs then back down to the joint. âJ-just one puff. And then I'm doneâ you snatch the roach off of Chris and take a long drag. You were unsure of how much to take in. A good bunch of the joint fell into your lap in ashes from the amount you took.
âHey! âFuck you doinâ kid, are you trying tâgreen out on purpose?â he hisses, plucking the joint from out of your hand. A vast amount of smoke comes seeping out of your mouth and you hum in ecstasy.
âOhâŠwowâŠâ you exhale in awe. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth goes dry and you let out a raspy but loud giggle at Chrisâ scolding from earlier.
âYour Bostonian accent comes out a lot when youâre pissedâ you snorted, your cheeks hurting from the huge gleam on your face, your high eyes wrinkled. Showing your full set of pearly whites to him. Youâre not used to smiling this much.
Chrisâ bothered expression softened into a smirk that he tried to hide with a hushed âshut up.â looking away, indistinctly laughing at your snarky, non-sober remarks.
âHow did you even know I was from Boston anyway? I havenât told anyone that shit. âYou been stalking me? Hm?â he snarls slyly. Squinting his eyes at you with a smirk.
âUh, no. I just know what a Boston accent sounds like. Donât flatter yourselfâ you snap back smiling whole-heartedly, lightly punching Chrisâ arm. He fakes being hurt with a hyperbolised âowâŠâ
You both chuckle at each otherâs jokes until it eventually dies down, you rest your head against the wall staring at Chris with your huge blood-like optics. The drug melted away all of your timidness from before, making your nature more carefree in front of Chris. He doesnât complain though.
You were only inches away from Chrisâ stature. You took in all of his features.
His flaky lips that ran dry from cotton mouth, no thanks to the drug. His stubble that rests on the sharp ridges of his cheekbones. His adamâs apple bobbing up and down every time he swallowed. As you soaked in all of his devilish features, you took in your bottom lip in between your teeth. He looked too good to be true.
âItâs rude to stare like that, dollâ he coos, inching his body closer and closer to you. You were centimetres away from him. The tip of his nose nearly grazing yours.
âChris..â you confide, youâre breathless just by sitting still. Chrisâ musky, natural scent mixed with the weed drives your head spinning. He replies with a sultry âHmm?â with a slow tilt of his head.
It was like a time bomb ticking inside of your head. Everything about Chris made you burn up, and you were ready to explode at any second.
All at once, your body moves on its own. Your head rushes forward and your lips clash into his. His body was taken aback by the sudden manoeuvre, his hands knuckled into his sheets behind him. Youâre kneeling in between his legs, smothering light kisses on his now wet lips.
No sooner than later, Chrisâ shock simmers down. He reciprocates your movements and the intimate moment shifts into a sloppy makeout session. Both of your heads tilting between clumsy kisses to find easier access to one anotherâs lips.
His slick tongue slips through your lips, prodding at your teeth to invite himself in, which you accept dearly. The warmth of the muscle twisting inside your mouth makes your breath hitch inside your throat and you whine into the soaking kiss.Â
âFuck, Iâve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. Youâre just too cuteâ Chris sighs, lightly pushing your body back. Your back fully resting into the mattress. The instant motion makes you gasp. Chris reaches for one of your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, his palm resting on your own.
ââYou okay with this, baby? We can go slower if youâd likeâ he purrs.
His body fully towering over yours which makes you blush and attempt to look away. His stubble tickling the tender skin on your face, the feeling of his hot breath making you shiver. You say nothing, you simply feed your bottom lip in between your teeth.
Unsure of what to say. Your clasp on Chrisâ hands tightens. Telling him that you want to keep doing whatever this was.Â
Chris moves his knee to rest in between your legs intentionally. He smirks into a sloppier kiss than before. Your tongues twirl and swivel together. Chris whines into your mouth at the sensation. Making the sickly stir you had in your stomach pool down to your folds. Your clit almost forms a heartbeat of its own.
He instinctively reaches up your skirt and you pant breathlessly as your lips are still connected with his. Chris lets go of your hand to adjust himself, he plops down on the mattress next to you. Hand still up your skirt.
The pads of his fingertips rest on the waistband of your panties. Before he takes any more action, he asks for your reassurance and consent. âDo you still wanna do this, doll?â
You nod briskly with a whiny âYesâ full of desperation.
Chrisâ enamels sink into his bottom lip, a tent starting to form inside his jeans just at the sight of you vulnerable like this. Aching and twitching for any kind of friction.
He starts rolling his hips lazily against your thigh as he dips his fingers into your panties and sinks them into your slick heat. You let out a loud whimper from the sudden euphoria pulsing all around in between your legs.
âFuckkkk. Wet already, baby? You jusâ couldnât help yourself, could youâ He coos, peppering a light kiss on your sweaty temple.
Chris swipes his fingertips on your clit swiftly. Your back arching and your hips bucking up, begging for more pressure on your swollen bundle of nerves. You feel Chrisâ rock hard cock poking into your thigh through the denim. You hear his breath shudder with faint whimpers every time he presses into your leg, making your slippery cunt wetter and wetter by the second.Â
Chris slips his middle finger inside the opening of your sloppy pussy. Your body jolts as the pleasure is like electricity zapping across your nerve endings.
âOh my godâ you sobbed. Chris groans low and tired out as he sticks his ring finger inside and curls them upwards, feeling the slight roughness of your tender g spot makes his tip leak a clear liquid through his boxers, seeping into the rough fabric of his pants.
âChrisâŠâ you whimper helplessly, melting into his touch. âShh⊠itâs okay baby, I know it feels good.â
His fingers flicking relentlessly inside your sloppy cunt makes your stomach tighten. He canât help but take in how much you writhe under his touch.
Chris loved making you feel good. He didnât need you to do anything to him, just seeing you drown in pleasure that he offers to you is enough to get him off. This was also quite an ego boost for him.
The mysterious weird girl, stone cold expression all day long. Keeping her distance from everyone. Her music on blast. Unable to hear the background noise that is her life that she despises so much, now a hot squirming mess just from Chrisâ fingers inside her. And he fucking loved every second of it.
âI-iâm gonna cumâ you cry out, the knot tangled in your stomach about to snap loose. Chrisâ digits pistoning into your soppy heat with constant fervour tips you right over the edge.
âYeah, câmon baby. Cum for me. Cum for me like a good girl.â Before you knew it, your pussy twitched open from the release of Chrisâ fingers. Spraying out a glistening liquid all over his hand and on his sheets. You let out a pained shriek at the extreme intensity of the orgasm that had just washed over you. Your limbs left shaking and your hips thud back into the soft mattress as you come back down from your high.
âHoly fucking shit⊠I never wouldâve guessed you could squirt. Always the quiet ones, huhâŠâ
Within an instant, you could feel Chrisâ fingers push into your sensitive cunt again. Your eyes shoot open and your jaw falls slack, your mouth agape into an âoâ shape.
âI-I jusâ cameâŠâ you can barely enunciate words properly. The stirring of Chrisâ fingers inside your pretty pink hole has you seeing the stars across the universe.
âI know baby, be a good girl fâme and cum again. I know yâgot another one in youâŠâ not long after, another orgasm creeps up from the lowest pits of your stomach shooting all the way up to the tip of your skull. Your delicious liquid makes a wet spot on Chrisâ sheets once again. Your eyes rolling back whilst your hips shudder from the vigorous pleasure.
âGod, youâre so fuckinâ sensitive for me baby, your pussy must feel so good right now huh.â he growls, flattering himself and you by the way you came almost instantaneously.
You peel your eyes open to view Chris sucking on his fingers, savouring your earthy taste. He whimpers with his fingers in his mouth, making a complete mess of himself with his spit smothered all over his puffy lips, before he pulls them out.
âYâtaste sooo fuckinâ good dollâ he rasps out, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. You whine into his mouth. The taste of your wetness lingering on his breath.
âI c-canât do it anymore, I canât cum no moreâŠâ you sigh. Tears brimming your eyes, staining the black mascara into your cheeks. Chris wipes away the wetness on your face as reassurance.
âOh, câmon doll⊠Just one more? Please, I canât get enough of it, itâs so hot..â he pleads and begs. His words are velvety and slick, making your clit throb.Â
You nibble the skin off of your lip and spread your thighs open once more. âThanks baby, âppreciate it.â He leaves another sweet kiss on the side of your face. Your bangs stuck in strings to your forehead beaded in sweat. Melting half your makeup off.
You looked like a mess. Chris enamored every little bit of it, though. He sinks his digits in, one last time. His cock ached at your teary eyes and the feeling of a pulse inside your puffy pussy. You reach to grab the fabric of Chrisâ longsleeve.
âI really like you, ChrisâŠâ you murmur. Your voice is sultry but sweet, sticky like honey to Chrisâ senses. âI like you too doll, I always haveâ he leans in once more to give you another tender kiss. This time, it was much more intimate.
Your free hand slithers through his brunette curls. His fingers crimp up inside your heat and you gasp in between kisses.
âIâm gonna cum againâŠ!â You pull away from Chrisâ face and grit your teeth. Your knuckles almost go white from clamping down onto Chrisâ shirt so tight. âThatâs a good girl. Cum fâme one last timeâŠâ
Before long, Chris had you cumming all over his bed and on his fingers for the third time. His sheets almost flooded in your liquid. Chris lets out a satisfied sigh as heâs proud of himself for making you cum three times in a row, that and the view heâs getting is fucking perfect.
Your mouth is like sandpaper, your bruised legs still shudders as youâre coming down from your third orgasm this evening.
âHow was it, doll? Did I make you too tired?â you nod your head fervorously. Your eyes barely open with your face soaked with tears. You see Chris reach for a bottle of water in your peripherals.
âDrink up baby⊠youâre gonna need itâ he feeds you the bottle as you sit up slightly.Â
âOh yeah, can you send me your playlist later, doll? I really enjoyed that song, as much as I enjoyed spending time with youâ he brushes your sticky strands of hair out of your face and holds you in his arms, you roll into his embrace lazily. Your voice now replenished by the water Chris gave you.
âYeah.â
*àłàŒ a/n: oh my gosh i love this au sm i canât wait to make a part 2 of this
I love you all sososososo much i love deer!reader soooo much
have a holly jolly christmas !
divider creds: @/cafekitsune, @/dollywons, @/fairytopea
#ohmanareyoucerealfic ê©#ohmanareyoucerealcharacterau !#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#smut#sturniolo#Spotify
76 notes
·
View notes
Note
I wonder what are your NSFW headcanons for Rotface.
Since New Vegas was my first Fallout game, I'm pretty sure Rotface was one of the first ghouls I ever had a lil' crush on. I very distinctly remember seeing him sitting on the sidewalk in Freeside and having a moment. I dunno, there's something about his cheeky demeanor that I find very appealing. Sort of like the sass Harland has, but in a softer, more self-depreciating way. Plus, I love a man who knows all the good gossip. Thanks for the ask, friend!
Rotface (Fallout: New Vegas) NSFW Headcanons
Is young for a ghoul, maybe in his early fifties. However, he was flash-ghoulified at a fairly young age. Late twenties, thirty at most. Though he isn't that old overall, he's been a ghoul for a significant portion of his life.
He's absolutely one of those people who doesn't care in the slightest what you call him; after all, that's how he ended up being called "Rotface". If you don't want to call him that (which I would not, because it's terrible), he's fine with whatever pet name or nickname you give him. If he likes it enough, it'll just be his new name. It's not that he doesn't remember the name he was given at birth; he simply chooses to not go by it for reasons he's not eager to discuss. He also doesn't like to talk about how he initially became a ghoul, and you often wonder if the two facts are related.
Understandably, he's not exactly eager to make himself physically accessible, maybe even a little moreso than other ghouls. There are a lot of people out there who would love to take advantage of people in a situation as vulnerable as he is. He's learned that painful lesson more than once before. There's also a certain level of dehumanization that he's been constantly exposed to, between the homelessness and the ghoulification; people are quick to write off both as a nuisance or a societal problem. It's taken quite a toll on his self-esteem.
That said...he's self-doubting, not stupid. If you're very clearly expressing interest and have proven trustworthy, he's more than agreeable. Before he was so irradiated, he wasn't the smoothest guy in the world, but he was friendly and sociable enough to date around a normal amount. He's spun the block a time or two, so he knows how to show you a good time. It's been a while since he got laid, but not nearly as long as some ghouls go without; a few years at worst. Most of his nerves when you two get close come from insecurities about his body, not his capabilities as a lover.
Horny-brained, but embarrassed by it. Tries his best not to indulge himself in a lot of the fantasies that pop into his head, but when you've got nothing to do but occupy your mind all day long, sometimes you can't help yourself. That particular problem gets infinitely worse when you start coming around, as his brain is eager to spit out images of you that make him blush heavily the next time he sees you (thank god you can't really see it with how mottled his skin is). If you get him a little drunk, he might tell you about one or two of those fantasies.
In the same vein, he's got a high sex drive, but he'll try his best to not "pester" you with his incessant need most of the time. He's not very good at hiding it, though, not with as attracted to you as he is. Tries his best to be sensitive to your moods, so if you don't necessarily seem open to fooling around, he'll grit his teeth and bear it. Even if you are open to helping him out, you might have to tiptoe around the fact that his cock is obviously tucked up into his waistband in order to get him to let you. He hates feeling like a pest.
He's a great listener (obviously). Loves pillow talk after sex.
Bit of an exhibitionism kink, but not in a way that the idea of people watching turns him on. He's moreso...indifferent to the attention of others. He spent so long with no real privacy that he doesn't necessarily consider where you are when he starts getting handsy with you; it really only matters if the two of you are alone in that moment. Someone could be right around the corner, but it won't stop him if he's fixated enough. You can be quiet, can'tcha?
Refuses to get naked during sex, or ever, really. As with many people who are turned into ghouls all in one go, many of his injuries and scars are pretty gnarly, and he's very apprehensive to let you see much of him. You insist his body would never literally make you sick as he worries, but he tells you that you don't really know what you're talking about. He'd rather not risk you losing attraction to him because you see what he really looks like.
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about my tiefling rogue after months of only having my half orc warlock on the brain... đ
#oh salxire the character that you are#maybe i should actually finish his character sheet#i started it one day but i was also sort of... pretty high... so i did the most hilariously bad job of filling it out#i did everything out of order#and it's not done#my writing was so neat though#i'd expect the opposite but wtf#i think i was too distracted by watching fantasy high that day anyway#WAIT LMFAO FANTASY HIGH#THAT'S EXACTLY-#average boog post#dungeons and boogons
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
No one:
Me: does anyone want to hear what my sims family did today
#i am fucking neck deep in the sims 2 super collection and will not be resurfacing any time soon#so far nannies are causing ALL of my problems in this neighbourhood itâs actually ridiculous#tell me why this bitch; instead of waiting for my sim to get home from work and pay her; left early and stole one of our kitchen counters#and THE TODDLERâS XYLOPHONE?? what was it all for#then she refused to come back the next day so i had to keep the teenager home to watch his little brother. SHERYL WHEN I FIND YOUUUU#thank god i managed to resurrect his grades#also in a different family the kid aged up into the fucking whiniest person in the world. and iâm trying to find him a person#but he doesnât like ANYONE. itâs exhausting. iâm playing the prosperity challenge right? which means i started out with four CAS families#all with kids about the same age. and i was hoping some of them would like each other so i could start merging families next generation#but one of my boys was like ânope i like this random girlâ and another was like ânope i found a really boring boyâ#and another was like âi like the paper girl!â but why do none of you like EACH OTHER. answer me that#iâm not sending all of your boring significant others to college with you. you can have your high school sweetheart with the alien eyes#because sheâs pretty cool looking; but the cookie cutter boy and the paper girl might have to stay home to be honest#what else is happening. i mean i renovated a maxis dorm and built some really rubbish community lots#iâm horrendous at building. i go for function over aesthetics so i end up with really boring buildings#but the neighbourhood now has a cemetery; a general store/coffee shop and a roller rink/arcade#so thatâs kind of nice. not that anyone USES these businesses. i sent one of the boys there to look for his future spouse and just found#somebodyâs dad repeatedly falling over#maybe once they all get to college i can just do some sort of forced proximity love potion situation and theyâll HAVE to like each other#i donât want to add too many households to the neighbourhood and only one of my original families has one kid#thatâs why i want as many people as possible to marry off. BUT NO ONE LIKES EACH OTHER itâs so annoyingggg#personal
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
so back when i was teaching, one of the things i learned to look for were the "mood makers", as i liked to call them, of the classes. there were always 2 or 3 per class, and it was easy to find them in the first few days. you got those kids on your side, and it was a ripple effect with the rest of the students - they would all follow. so winning those kids over was huge when it came to how the year would play out. and from time to time, whenever the class was sort of faltering - middle of winter, of a big project, burn-out high - i would lean back in on those mood makers again to turn things around.
one particular class, when we had a big multi-month group project happening, were just... really struggling with getting their shit together lol. they were supposed to be practicing their presentations (english speaking class) and they were doing pretty much anything but, and their presentations were supposed to start the next class day. they were also PANICKING as i started giving out some feedback - which was NOT GREAT - as they were running through the lines they were supposed to be remembering. after realizing all of them needed so much extra work, i decided we needed to have a turn-around, so i invited one of the mood makers up to the front. i held out a cup to him, with two papers inside.
"one of them," i said, "says tuesday, and if you draw that, presentations go as planned. but one of them says thursday, and if you choose that one, everyone gets extra time to practice."
everyone was like OH SHIT. OKAY. THIS IS IT. and this mood maker, he was a big personality (they usually are) so i knew he'd really ham this up, and he did. we made a huge deal, with drum-rolls and everything, of him picking one out of the cup. he opened it up the paper and announced THURSDAY to a round of huge cheers. he was the class hero. everyone had TONS of motivation to work super hard on this gifted extra day, and really put the time in. their presentations were great. morale SOARED.
the plot twist was that both papers said thursday, because they all needed the extra time. my forever teacher advice: find creative ways to make things happen so that you get the buy-in from the class.
27K notes
·
View notes
Text
đđ©đš đđȘđšđ© đ đđ§đȘđđšđ!
ᄫᥠđšđźđ„đŁđ€đ„đšđđš: đđŁ đŹđđđđ⊠đźđ€đȘ đđđ© đđŁđđȘđ§đđ đđŁ đšđȘđ đȘđŁđđš đđšđ©đđ©đ, đđŁđ đđ đđđŁđđš đ€đȘđ©.
ᄫᥠđ„đđđ§đđŁđđš: đđđđđŁ đđ§đ!đšđȘđ đȘđŁđ đ đđđąđđĄđ!đ§đđđđđ§
ᄫᥠđđŹ: đđĄđ€đ€đ, đđđđ©đ, đđȘđšđšđđŁđ, đȘđšđđđ đ€đ 'đŹđ€đąđđŁ' 'đŹđđ€đ§đ', đđȘđĄđĄđźđđŁđ, đŁđ€đ© đ„đ§đ€đ€đđ§đđđ, đđŁđđđŁđ đšđĄđđđđ©đĄđź đšđȘđđđđšđ©đđ«đ
ᄫᥠđŹđ: 1.6đ
đŹđđŁđŁđ đšđđ đąđ€đ§đ? đđđ§đđš đąđź đąđđšđ©đđ§đĄđđšđ©
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă .
"I am so fucked" is something that immediately ran through your mind.
But as you were walking in the spaceous courtyard, you couldn't help but practically float to the source of that amazing smell coming from one of the estates many kitchens in the hallway.
You walk into the kitchen, head peeking curiously at Uraume cooking some soup in a large pot ,following Lord Sukunas request. This was your favorite, and he knew this very well.
Ever since you had moved into his large estate, your life has drastically changed. You were a normal person, with nothing remotely special about you. But you had Sukuna whipped. You were Sukunas favorite, which also automatically came with being the biggest gossip of the Heian Era. Everywhere you look, people would make assumptions about you and your status with the lord. Ever since your arrival, there was no more need for concubines. And it made them furious.
A group of concubines walked past you while you were peeking in the hallway, the ladies snickering to themselves and bickering about you for the 1000th time. You could even call them obsessed with you.
'i really don't get whats so special about her.'
'she's just some high class whore that happened to get lucky.'
'she must be some sort of witch.'
Are some of the things they would say. But as they walked by, one of the woman came up behind you and bumped right into your back, muttering an 'oops' before quickly giggling and running off. You went lunging forward, as your leg tripped, causing a large bleeding bruise. Uraume immediately ran to your side, quickly residing besides your shaking body.
"shiiitttt-" you muttered as you looked down at your leg, while Uraume held it up with their hand. "Don't move." they said as ice started forming around your fragile leg. You winced and whimpered in pain, as blood began trickling down your leg to your feet.
"Please don't tell Lord Sukuna... he cant know about this-" you say, as if thats the most important thing right now. "Y/n. You know I must inform him. That would be going against his wishes." Damn, you knew they would say that. You'll just have to try and hide your leg for as long as possible. But what that entirely possible? Considering he always had somebody watching you when he was not, and the fact that he can basically know for certain when something is wrong.
You knew how he would react, and that he would go overboard and blame it on those girls. And you took pity towards them. While they did practically vomit in your presence, you didn't want to be known as some prissy complainer.
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă .
You had convinced Uraume to leave your side, as you layed in your futon, trying to distract yourself from the pain. Sukuna had granted you the privilege of sharing a bed with him. He was currently busy (as so you thought), with fornicating with important business matters. So what better time to get better than now? You had all day to yourself in your mind.
You toyed with your thumbs while staring at the ceiling. Due to the status your leg is in, your options of keeping yourself busy are quite limited. While your glad Sukuna doesn't see you in your current state, you wished he was here keeping you some sort of company.
Being Sukunas favorite came with its perks, but one of its downsides was being pretty lonely. People were scared to become close to you, due to Sukunas tendency to kill people on sight when it came to you. You are always being targeted, and people don't want to fuck up their chance at life.
You were lost in your own thoughts, when suddenly the sliding door slams open, with enough force to cause an earthquake. By the look ok Sukunas face, you could tell he was furious. Not at you, but to whoever did this to you. Next to him was Uraume, looking as unbothered as ever. They were holding a tray, consisting of soup, water, towels, and a mochi a servant picked out at the fancy market per Sukunas request.
"Show me your leg, woman." Sukuna demanded, making his way towards you on the bed. He sat next to you, as he tried pulling the covers out of the way, but glared at you when you tried to stop him. "Why must you resist? I already know what happened. Hurry up and show me."
Your felt your eye twitch, as your body stiffened at his gruff words. "Nothings wrong 'kuna. What are you talking about?" You say, as you look him into the eyes, but failing to do so fully because of how intimidating he got when he was mad. Sukuna let out a guttural sigh, looking over at Uraume. "Hold her down." He says to them. "Understood." As Uraume made their way over to you, holding your hips down with their hands. Sukuna pulled the covers off of you and you could see his eyes widen upon looking at your injury.
"The fuck is this?" He exclaims as he looks down at your leg. You look away in shame, as the blood dripping down your knee hits the mattress, and stains the white satin bedsheets a deep crimson. He then looks back up to you, looking for answers.
"Who did this." "...." you don't respond. "I said, who did this. Don't make me repeat myself." "it was the blonde girl... I dont remember her name all too much..." you say, as you look away from him. But his upper hand grabs hold of your chin, forcing you to look in his direction. You can clearly see he doesn't know who your talking about, not bothering to remember the looks and names of other woman, besides you. That was something Uraume had told you, and every time you think about it, it makes you warm up inside.
"Fuckin' hell woman... you're gonna be the death of me someday." He says, with genuine concern for your leg. "Uraume, run her a bath feed her, and get some of the nurses to take care of her. I have something I need to do." He says, as he gets up from the bed, quickly giving your already messy hair a ruff. As he stands int he doorframe, he gives you one last glance before leaving, leaving him with the last word.
You stare dumbfounded into your own thoughts, until your snapped back into reality by the sudden realization... 'holy shit, is she in danger?' But those thoughts are also occupied by Uraume lifting you up into their arms, and carrying you to the warm, steamy bath that usually accompanied you and Sukuna. But since he was busy doing god knows what, you were alone with Uraume and two other handmaidens.
As they scrubbed your body in the giant tub, you fell into your own thoughts. You tried to relax deep into the water, but the wooden walls ran thin in the estate, cauing you to overhear something you wish you hadnt.
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă .
"My lord! Please, I apologize for my actions!" The girl had exclaimed. She was begging for her life at this point. Sukuna, as well as three butlers had the poor girl surrounded. She was on her knees, kneeling all the way to the floor, with her hands pressed firmly against her face. All she could do was pray that her life could be willingly spared.
"What is the meaning of this? You think its all fun and games around here, but you are simply wasting my time. It shouldn't be on such trash like yourself." He states firmly. Hearing Sukuna call her trash got to her head, and drove her deeper into a state of despair.
"You are merely incompetent, easily replaceable." Sukuna says as he kicks her head, with a harsh 'thud'. The girl grabs hold of Sukunas feet, as she rests her forehead onto his left. "Please! Ill take one hundred lashes! Just please don't kill me, i'm still so young-" "Tsk, i've heard enough." He says as he slashes the woman across the back, leaving her killed in a blink of an eye.
"Take care of this, I cant have somebody like her be around Y/N."
As he gestures the butlers to carry and clean the residue up, he walks towards your room, head held high, and feeling proud of himself. He doesn't feel the need to impress you, but he had to admit he felt really good right now. Not at killing the woman, but at the idea of your reaction. Will you be concerned? Happy? Angry? Who knows, but it always ends the same.
He walks into your shared bedroom, not even knocking, as he stares at your sleeping form, and sees your cute little silk pajamas. God, you were adorable. But he would swear on his life to never truly admit that. Your chest moves up and down as you are in dream land, your shirt riding up to reveal your stomach.
"Brat, wake up." He says, which immediately waking you up from your sweet dreams. You shoot your head up, as Sukuna glares daggers into your eyes.
"You awake now? Good. I slayed that brainless, ignorant woman."
He says, no feelings behind his words, as he slowly crawls his way up the bed, eyes still locked onto yours. He looks you up and down, seemingly staring into you, making you feel exposed.
"What did you do?"
"Thats not important right now. But I think I know what is."
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠâŠ . ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă .
#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#heian sukuna#heian era sukuna#heian sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#heian#heian era#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#sukuna smut#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
the hand that feeds you
â âi take care of her, sâall.â
johnny mactavish x f!reader
cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words
extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i mightâve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!
being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; heâs amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. heâs not loud, per se, but thereâs always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically canât sit still through the silence which is great because you donât fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.
you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because itâs a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasnât going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnnyâs townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and itâs great despite your skepticism. hell, itâs more than great â itâs lifesaving.
your shitty job at the bookstore really canât cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so itâs whatever at this point. youâre about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and itâs not like you can even go back to how it was.
(underway to law school, primed up before your fatherâs scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasnât really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to childrenâs education.
god, the disappointment in your paâs eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)
itâs⊠tough.
god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you donât hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. youâre straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everythingâs gone too tight. your budget. your social life.
your dating life.
johnny often distracts you from it all â he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know itâs a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.
when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldnât really fly back to help with the repairs.
itâs great being with him. heâs bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. likeâ
well, itâs all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though youâre a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you canât help it. god, you canât help preen at the way he exists beside you.
heâs just so⊠beautiful, is what it is.
rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each otherâs spaces.
early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after heâs downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and howâre you. afternoons are more lively and productive; itâs of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. itâs always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.
you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like itâs expected that youâll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural â the sky is blue, the oceanâs deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.
itâs a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know itâs all because of johnny. itâs all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.
heâs beautiful, but youâve said that already, havenât you? heâs just⊠so good to be with.
then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.
.
the first time it happened was shocking, really.
you had an early morning, something thatâs so murky now in your memories so youâre unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.
âsteady,â sheâd said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.
you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.
âshh,â johnny had murmured with that wry grin. âsâjust me, lass.â
your eyes danced between him and the brunette â pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist â trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasnât seeing anyone so whoâ
âyour girlfriend?â she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.
the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. youâd just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like youâd always been waiting for someone like him.
the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.
âoh, nah,â he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. âsheâs sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, sâall.â
thatâs all. youâre nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friendâ
she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like sheâs watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.
âpretty,â you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.
johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates â so it was a school thing â and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.
you left no sooner than his⊠paramour did and, for a while, that was that.
but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnnyâs. heâs coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. theyâre still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and youâd messaged him to say that he didnât need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.
johnnyâs face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.
âwhat,â you bit out, embarrassed.
ânothing,â he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldnât. âsâfun doing things fâr you.â
then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. itâs not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.
itâs been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that itâs a thing. itâs been a wordless experience â of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, itâs his home, but he always covers things for you too. things youâre sure normal landlords donât really worry about, but not johnny.
thereâs always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. thereâs even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnnyâs room already has an installed air conditioning. heâs even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.
then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.
âyou didnât have to,â you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.
johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. âsâall yers, hen.â
everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?
theyâre all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all youâve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like theyâre enticing johnny for one more night. and theyâve always, always, treated you like aâ
like a kid.
a burden, almost, of johnnyâs.
and, hell, maybe you are. johnnyâs almost twice your age; heâs also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you canât really follow but one he talks about with fondness. heâs got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because itâs got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.
youâve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesnât even really need but is just asking for courtesy because itâd be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. youâve got nothing on your name, and if it isnât pity that makes johnny care for you, then you donât know what.
maybe his string of one-night stands are right â you are just a kid.
that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.
.
you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.
hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. itâs a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.
you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnnyâs nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when itâs twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnnyâs aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants heâs allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so heâs currently scheduled for a surgery; that heâs soft to you.
the women donât know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they donât know him the way i do.
itâs a pathetic whisper. itâs so laughable. so juvenile.
theyâre right. theyâre right.
(youâre just aâ)
âi donât see you anymore,â johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.
he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month â the longest heâs ever been away â and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because youâre sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, orâ
the list of his questions grew, but youâve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the âthingâ that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.
itâs not like youâre broken or ruined or angry. god, no you arenât.
but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.
what will johnny do if he finds out? you canât afford a new place to move into, not when youâre so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.
so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.
jesus â move on, huh? like there was a âyou and johnnyâ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.
âiâve been so busy, john,â you muttered, just as tired.
âyeah?â he said, still light. still jovial. âlet me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.â
âi canât.â you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. âiâve got a meeting with the club.â
(you missed the way johnnyâs smile dipped.)
âoh,â he said.
you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.
heâs looking at you with such sad eyes that itâs jarring to truly see because heâs looking at you likeâ
like heâs losing you.
âiâm gonnaâŠâ you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.
âyeah, fâcourse,â he croaked out. âtake care of yerself huh, lass?â
âthanks.â the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. âsee you.â
he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like somethingâs changed and somethingâs happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please donât let him notice.
but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.
(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. youâve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)
.
johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.
theyâre getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when itâs pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, heâs never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.
itâs like heâs aged years and you shouldnât be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way â core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. youâre so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like heâs more back in your life than he ever was.
and you know itâll end up hurting you. that youâll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that youâve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnnyâs out for a run. heâs made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesnât like you back.
but johnnyâs been so attentive to you these days. heâs been a hovering presence even when he looks like heâs one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, âkick ass, bon!â
heâs back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, itâs not even just dinner. youâve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. itâs like heâs making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, youâre all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.
âyummy?â johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.
your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.
he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didnât know what to focus on â the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, âgood. thatâs good.â
you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.
you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer heâs been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like youâre up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.
your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as youâre stretched thin. it felt like youâve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.
you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.
âfuck,â you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. âfuck.â
you didnât need this. you didnât need any of this.
but it becomes a cycle â wash, rinse, repeat.
johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all thatâs changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.
how johnnyâs wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.
the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnnyâs pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.
âbonââ
âi have to go,â you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.
you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.
but johnnyâs burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imaginedâ
god, you imagined.
the way heâll take you â beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.
you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women heâs slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they werenât still reeking of sex and johnnyâs aftershave.
(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)
âjohnnyyyy!â you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that youâd regret the wrangled cry later, but you didnât care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.
.
but johnny heard it anyway.
he told you that he had heard you.Â
it happened so quickly â one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.
âwhuâ?â you asked, blinking tiredly at him.
johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.
the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that youâve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldnât.
âjohnny?â you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.
âyer too young for me, mâeudail,â johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.
and itâsâ
what.
your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that heâs said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.
âi told myself i couldnât,â he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. âthat yer lookinâ for nothinâ like me, and that yer just tryinâ to get out there with yer career.â
he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.
âtold myself iâve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.â
johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own â you didnât even realize that youâve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasnât really saying.
âbut carinâ fâyou was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.â he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.
you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like youâve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.
âi like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing yâeat what i cooked; liked seeing yâuse what i got fâyou. liked watching yâcome home to me. to me.â
a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didnât even realize that youâve curled into yourself, almost like youâre trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.
callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. âtold myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard yâlast night.â
you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnnyâs lips danced with mirth.
âsâright. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? yâwere moaninâ my name so loudly, itâs like yâleft yer door open.â
âjohnny, iââ
âtell me,â he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. âtell me tâstop, bon, anâ i will. but yâve got to tell me. yâve got to push me away.â
you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.
desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.
johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you werenât any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.
it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.
god, you needed more.
âjohnny,â you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. âjohnny, need you.â
âchrist,â johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. âiâve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldnât but yer so sweet to me and iâ i wanted.â he said that word like it was dirty; like heâd been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.
it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle â his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didnât need johnny the way you do. they didnât look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.
but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldnât help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle.Â
âi wanted tâtake you â make yâall mine,â he whispered.Â
you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.
âplease,â you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. âi can beâ johnny, sâalways been you. nobody else but you.â
you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.
âfuck me,â you whispered, tired of dancing around.
he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his.Â
youâve never been in johnnyâs room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still donât know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere â surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.
and johnny, he smelt like home.Â
there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence.Â
your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.
you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.
johnnyâs eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.
you donât know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didnât startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close.Â
âi love you,â you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?
you love him. god, you love him.Â
youâve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that youâve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. youâve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; donât mind the fact that he didnât know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. youâve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since heâs begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care.Â
youâve loved him since and nowâ
âoh, mo graidh,â johnny breathed out. âi love you too.â he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. âgu siorraidh is gu brath.â
you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was â soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants.Â
you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there.Â
âall of me sâyers, hen,â he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones.Â
you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you â pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy.Â
you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and ohâ
oh, ssssâgood.
you donât even remember how long heâd been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release.Â
âcum fâme, mâeudail,â johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. âlet me see you.â
âjohnny, iâm gonnaâ iâmâ!â you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnnyâs sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his handâs slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.
it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnnyâs everywhere â his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking.Â
rippingâ
then, your orgasm was punched out of you.Â
your senses had gone awry â throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnnyâs fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.
you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldnât decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. heâd already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty â god, that wasnât even his cock, yet â but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched.Â
âjohnny?â you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak.Â
âiâm here, bon. iâm here.â
you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep.Â
.
johnnyâs there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didnât even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend.Â
your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, âwell someoneâs clearly loved.â
you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him.Â
theyâre going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem.Â
youâre graduating with a bachelorâs degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but itâs the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and thatâs also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and itâs like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself.Â
(your mom said sheâs sorry that she and your pa couldnât come, but youâve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.
thereâs a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)
you ducked into johnnyâs arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet heâs holding.Â
âcongratulations, bonnie,â he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. âchrist, iâm so, so proud of you.â
you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words.Â
âthank you,â you reply, soft and raw, and honest.Â
johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as theyâre pressed on your forehead.Â
and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out.Â
#suns#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#soap x reader#cod x reader#f!reader#read tags!!
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay alright I'm tired of giving more children to Bruce Wayne I think we need to start taking some awayÂ
Tim getting kidnapped (but in a way they don't announce Tim Drake-Wayne as missing??) and is given Something that induces amnesia but he escapes or maybe just literally wanders away but like he's in the middle of Ohio and he's walking down the road unsure of his own name or where he is and a weird looking camper pills over and a large man leans out the window and says âyou doing alright there, sonny?âÂ
And he doesn't really know so he sorta shrugs so they pick him up and the man introduces himself as Jack and this is his wife Maddie and their two kids Danny and Jazz and they're just heading back from a camping trip and they can take him into town (Amity?) and take him down to the station and help him get things figured outÂ
The police take his picture and upload it to a âfoundâ database or smth but there's no active or recent cases in Ohio for missing persons (or teenagers) matching his descriptionÂ
(But also, Amity is pretty disconnected from the rest of the world digitally. They mind their business. Sure they run this boy's face in the newspaper and let the neighboring precincts about him but there's not much more they can do until this kid gets some memories back)
So he goes to stay with Jack and Maddie (idk how i donât care about LAWS) while they wait to see if they get any hits or until he gets some memories back and they register him under Alvin (âhmm maybe... Tom? No, definitely not. Caroline? Alvin? That sounds the best I guessâ) Fenton at the local high school so he can keep getting an education (and Alvin isnât sure why, but this sort of feels like a waste of time, he already knows all this math stuff and why would he want to read Of Mice and Men heâs pretty sure someone told him John Steinbeck was a hack. Or maybe not. He canât remember) but itâs simple enough and he likes the Fentons even if they keep trying to convince him ghosts are realÂ
And maybe they are. Actually. Real that is. He saw one the other day and had to double check if knowing ghosts were real is a common knowledge thing that he forgot of if he never knew in the first place. Jazz tells him that ghosts are pretty much an Amity specific thing but that they appear other places and then Jack and Maddie set him down and give him the entire history of ghosts that night and then show him their lab which is pretty cool
And maybe he accidentally suplexed someone who startled him in the halls on his first day and also fell asleep in science,but give him a break! heâs going through a lot right now
But his new brother roommate friend? Is helping him adjust at school by telling him who to avoid and what not to eat from the cafeteria and Jazz is in most of his classes but also heâs not sure why theyâre trying to act all sneaky about this Inviso-Bill/vigilante situation because like. Thatâs clearly just Danny with white hair? He looks the exact same? Also he literally saw Danny walk through the bathroom door last week if it wasnât obvious enough.
So Tim really isnât expecting Danny to be surprised that he picked up a thermos that Phantom dropped when he and his friends ran off to fight another ghost
#ted talks#dc x dp#dp x dc#idk which is what we use...#tim drake#danny phantom#anyways maddie and jack are his parents now :)#i also want you to imagine someone finally tracking tim down and theyâre like#âyour dad is looking for you!â and tim is like âjack??â and theyâre like âuh no jack is deadâ#and tim is like âJACK IS DEAD!?â#âtim we've been looking for you everywhere!!â#âwho's tim????â#anyways they have to get an antidote to actually reverse the effects of the amnesia probably#who else do we randomly give to bruce???#peter parker???#lets give jason to tony stark#im sure they'll have fun#cass can go live with peter and aunt may :)#billy batson has no parents#maybe he should adopt bruce#really twist things up
907 notes
·
View notes
Text
ten years in the making
paring: bakugou katsuki x fem reader
warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, no-quirks au, high school love confession, unrequited love turned very requited, almost non-con threesome, feels like cheating (but technically not), no cheating though, fuck boi bakugou, pining reader, obsessive/possessive bakugou, running away, biting, marking, creampie, breeding kink, angst, toxic relationship
word count: 6.2k
You still had the love letter you handed to him when you were both in high school. His spiky blonde hair was pretty under the spring sun, red eyes examining the envelope in your hands with a disgusted look on his face.Â
On the rooftop of the school building, the wind blew extra hard. The chill of winter that lingered in the breeze made your face cold, but it was the rejection from Katsuki that numbed your whole body.Â
âTake that shit away,â he sneered. âBe lame somewhere else. I donât like you.âÂ
It was pathetic how you fixated on him because he helped you once from a petty thief who tried to steal your wallet. You shouldnât have liked him that much, not when he was so clear in his stance on how he felt about you. But you were also just a girl, and girls had crushes on Bakugou Katsukiâyou were just one of many, but no doubt the most pathetic one.Â
Cause while others grew out of their crushes eventually, you did not. And Katsuki, being the spawn of the devil that he was, started to see you as some sort of entertainment.Â
You followed him through university, enrolling in the same one. You begged your mom to stay at a dorm near campus, the same dorm Katsuki told you he would stay in. He lied. You knew on the moving day because he texted you photos of his new place from the front of the building to the room with an obviously different layout.Â
The text said, âlol you really thought u got me huh?âÂ
That sentence needed commas, and you⊠needed to get a grip. Yet, you did not.Â
Still trying to be close to him, you went to every party he went to, even if it meant you had to see him with a different woman each time. He never stuck with one, telling you he was easily bored and that was why you and him would never happen. Because you were a soppy, hopeless romantic who would wait for him like a dog waiting for its owner to come homeâhis words.Â
âWhen will it get through your thick skull, dog?â Katsuki rapped on your forehead with his knuckles. âYouâre not my type.âÂ
Well, his type exited the room just now, leaving only you and a very naked Katsuki in it. He loomed over you menacingly close, trying once again to talk some sense into you, albeit in a very mean fashion. Tonight, he was particularly cruel. After texting you to buy him a box of condomsâstating a specific brand, flavor, and sizeâhe made you sit and watch until the very end.Â
You pretended to pay attention, but what you really looked at was the wall behind the scene playing in front of you.Â
âIâll pick you up tomorrow at ten.â You changed the subject, ignoring his hot breath that fanned over your face.
âYeah, mom misses you like hell,â he jeered. âHow did you do it, inserting yourself into my family?âÂ
It was simple, actually, just offering to drive him home for a monthly family visit with a gift for his mom and dad every time, without fail, even though he got his own car. His mom, Mitsuki, never trusted his driving skills anyway, saying he was too reckless. So she was grateful for you, to the point of inviting you over for dinner as thanks whenever you dropped her son home, and you accepted the kindness.Â
Katsuki would roll his eyes, but he let it all happen, cause why would he say no to a personal chauffeur? All he had to do was sit prettily and blast his one-hour playlist until the car was parked in front of his childhood abode. And after eating and helping with the dishes, you would be gone, back to your own family house a couple of streets awayâconvenient.Â
You knew you were just a tool to Katsuki, his lackey, but you were also as stubborn as a mule.Â
And as dumb as a clownâŠÂ
After many years hounding for Katsukiâs attention, you finally got it when you were both twenty five. The first time he kissed you, he was drunk in your apartment. He was frustrated with a colleague who screwed up an important meeting with a potential client and decided to come rant your ears off with two packs of beerâone for him, one for you.Â
You never thought the night would end up with him pinning you to the floor, his mouth devouring yours and his hands popping the buttons of your work shirt until your bra-clad tits showed.Â
âThought you would follow me anywhere,â said Katsuki, red eyes locked onto you from where he was, face nestled between the soft mounds of your breasts. âBut you chose a different company, live far away from me, texting seven times in seven months. Traitor.âÂ
âYouâre heavy.â Your words struggled to come out. From when he used to be lanky and the same height as you, he was none of that now. The growth spurt hit him like a freight train. In the blink of an eye, he grew into a giant of a man, tall and filled with muscles, even more so now that he was in his salaryman era. You wondered how he still found time to work out as often as he did when you barely caught any sleep.Â
After graduation, you both landed jobs in different companies. And if you were being honest with yourself, you would say the reason you accepted the offer was partly because running after Katsuki and answering his every beck and call started to⊠tire you. Forced by duty and responsibility, it helped you distance yourself away from him. Cause Lord, you doubted you could have done it on your own.
Getting his text today saying he would come visit, you were dumbfounded, even thinking it was a joke til you got another text an hour later saying he arrived.
You shouldnât have let him in, shouldnât have reconnected. You were almost off the noose before he came and adjusted the knot, tightening it. After that night, he came visit once a week on Friday. Kisses slowly evolved into soft touches, then heavy petting, and finallyâsex.Â
Fucking your brain out, that was what he did most of the times, leaving your ass red and face wet from crying. On rare occasions, it was slow, deep, like he wanted to mold you into the shape of his cock. But all was intense, asking for eye contact and name-saying, and it was Katsuki who did the asking, which surprised you to no end.Â
âYou wanna come home? Mom and dad miss you,â mumbled Katsuki one autumn night. It had been three months since that first drunken kiss. âThey got a new dog. But old people are always lonely, hell knows why.â
With that, not only him, but the monthly visit returned, too.Â
Their dog was a loudmouthed chihuahua named Katsumi. It barked at you non-stop from the moment you got out of the car, louder when Mitsuki raced out the front door to hug you. After dinner, it found you and Katsuki in the laundry room with its masterâs teeth nibbling down your neck and barked snappily, making Katsuki jump.
When you let out a roar of laughter, his eyes widened with a look of what seemed like wonder. His pupils dilated when he leaned down to take your lips in a fierce kiss. For a moment, everything was perfect.Â
Had you mentioned being dumb?Â
A month later, there was a knock on your door. Katsuki hips slowed down mid-pounding before he stepped back from you and the bed, leaving you empty.Â
âKeep your ass up. Donât fucking move.â
You only let out a soft hum as a response, not understanding why or who would be here at this hour. Were you too loud? Maybe someone was here to complain. You pondered, face still down against the soft mattress with your rear up as instructed. Katsuki would handle them, whoever they were.Â
âWell, I see why you never call anymore, Katsuki-kun.âÂ
The voice was close, too closeâits owner was in the bedroom with you. When the realization hit, you bolted, shooting out of your position and scooting back, all the while pulling the duvet up to shield your nakedness from the newcomerâs eyes.
She was a woman about your age and height, standing at the foot of the bed in a skimpy dress.Â
âDo me a favor. Shut the fuck up,â said Katsuki, confirming they really did know each other.Â
It was like your brain stopped functioning. You saw Katsuki walking towards you but was too slow to think what your next move should be. So you let him pull you to him by the duvet because you wouldnât let go of it. When he sat you on his lap, you felt something wet gliding down your cheeks.
âHush now, princess.â He wiped the dripping drops with both of his thumbs. âYou seriously thought our relationship was exclusive? You thought you fixed me?âÂ
Another set of fat tears cascaded down when he kissed you, seasoning the kiss salty.Â
âSeven months, seven texts, no calls,â he said. âWho do you think you fucking are, leaving me like that?â
You knew, you knew it was too good to be true. And when he turned to the other side to kiss the woman who was now naked and sitting on the bedâyour bedâbeside him, you also knew it was time to let go. The silly crush, the well-kept love letter, the admiration that you should have weaned off long agoâthey all needed to go.Â
Getting up from his lap while he was distracted, you gathered your clothes off the floor and left the bedroom without turning back. You got dressed in the living room and closed the front door silently when you left the apartment. You didnât want him to hear, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to see him anymore.Â
You were sitting in the car in the apartment parking lot, trying to find a hotel to crash at when you got a text from Katsuki.
âyou thought you got me huh?âÂ
You blocked him.Â
There was only a month left on your apartmentâs lease; you would give a notice to your landlord tomorrow that you would move. Everything would be alright, you told yourself. Katsuki might never bother you anymore since he had got what he wantedâyour absolute humiliation.
It was different from that one time he told you to stay and watch him rail the life out of that girl when you were in college. At that time, you knew you were nothing to him, knew he did that to hurt you. This time, you thought you were something to him. And it hurt, a thousand times worse to realize that you werenât, and that he still wanted to hurt you.Â
â
Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.Â
Those were the only words spinning around in his head since you were gone, really gone. You walked out of that door so fucking demurely. Even when he stopped kissing his ex-booty call to listen, he didnât hear you wail or see you come crawling back.Â
So he texted, leaving the girl he called here to demean you to quickly type on his phone. When the message was marked âreadâ but got no response, he cursed, âFuck!âÂ
âCome on, Katsuki-kun. Letâs have some fun,â the girl whined.Â
âSh!â He shushed her, still tapping the screen. Â
She probably looked at him like he was possessed by an evil spirit, but he couldnât care less.Â
âWho did you think you were? My gf? Lol.â
He was so in a hurry he forgot to type in lowercase.Â
âLovesick follâ
â*foolâ
âWhere u goingâ
âDont wanna watchâ
â?â
You didnât read at all except for the first text. That made him get off the bed and get dressed, running out of the apartment to punch the elevator down to the first floor. When he exited the building, your sedan was already on the street; he saw the taillights, remembered the plate. It got farther in each second that passed, and there was not a darn thing he could do about it.Â
Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck shit, fucking fuck.Â
For some reason he knew, this time, you were gone for good. Not an absence the next day at school after he told you he lost his virginity to some girl in another class, not the seven months with a few texts to check in with him. This time, it was for good.Â
Like hell he was gonna let that happen.Â
â
You ended up staying at the hotel for a week, scared Katsuki might still be lurking around. While you knew he got his biggest fill of breaking you this time, you wanted to be sure. Then, as soon as you found a new place, you moved out.Â
At work, you asked your boss, Aizawa, for a transfer to another branch, telling him it was for personal reasons. You swore you saw him squint his weary eyes, but after asking you a couple more questions, he agreed nonetheless.
âIf it were stress, itâd be no different in another branch. Hope you know that,â Aizawa drawled.Â
âI do, sir,â you replied, tired from the poor quality of sleep your situation and the hotel bed gave you.Â
âAnd as soon as possible, you say?â
âYes, sir,â you affirmed. âPlease.âÂ
The transfer was done in one week, all thanks to your boss.Â
Restarting your mundane life, it took two months for you to regain some sort of peace found in everydayâs routineâwaking up, going to work, coming home, sleeping, waking up again. There was no contact from Katsuki, only the ghost of his taunts that came hand in hand with the memories of his caresses you could not dispel remained, making guilt creep up your spine every time you touched yourself to climax imagining it was his hand.Â
You would find someone else. You and Katsuki, it was ten years in the making. You were fifteen years old on that rooftop, confessing to a boy you thought was the most beautiful person in the world, having no clue how your action would play out. It would not be possible to banish those ten years in two months, no matter how despicable he was to you. And that was a shame.Â
It took one phone call from Mitsuki to disrupt your normalcy.Â
âI just wanted to know how you were doing, honey.â said Katsukiâs mom, sounding worried. âItâs justâyouâre gone again, like those months. And Katsuki wonât tell me whatâs going on, which means something must have happened. I need toâIââ
She was trying to find words, and you didnât want to interrupt.Â
âI need to know youâre okay.â She finally let it out. âJust come visit, honey. You donât have to bring my son.â
âWe miss you.âÂ
It was those words that brought you to the Bakugou house the following weekend.Â
âOh, honey.â Misuki stopped before you, eyeing you from head to toe. Katsumi barked incessantly, all the while trying to sniff the bag of fresh-baked cookies you bought for the family. When the woman beckoned you to come close and enfolded you in her arms, you teared up a bit.Â
âThat airhead of a son,â the older woman grumbled.Â
Getting in the house thwarted all the cold delightfully. You put your coat on the couch next to where you sat, waiting for the tea Mitsuki said she was going to get. You always liked the Bakugou house, asking Katsuki to walk him home every day just to see it from the outside. He never let you in. Ironically enough, it was never him who invited you in, it was his mom.Â
Where was Mitsuki now? You looked around for the matriarch, but instead, you saw Katsuki.Â
âAbout time you showed up.âÂ
There was so much fighting, so much push and pull, and trying to run away, and crying for help; yet, no one came. Katsuki had to carry you on his shoulder to go upstairs because you resisted profusely and refused to walk on your own.Â
Door closed, lock clicked. A second later, you were dropped on his bed unceremoniously. You had never been in his room before and didnât want to now. But since there was no choice, you took the opportunity to look around, taking everything in.Â
His room was so⊠boy. A drum set in one corner, an expensive-looking gaming PC in another with a shelf filled with mangas and action figures next to it, posters of his favorite anime character plastering all over the walls.Â
You remembered he liked All Might, the blonde-haired hero from a shonen manga you didnât read but knew every detail from Katsukiâs ceaseless babble. You even broke into your savings buying a dozen raffle tickets till you won the big prizeâa large figure he said he was saving up forâand gave it to him as a birthday present.Â
He probably didnât keep it.Â
âDonât be mad at mom, okay? I was on my knees begging her for help. That was on me,â Katsuki spoke softly, as if he was trying not to spook you. âOld hag hit me so hard dad had to intervene. But Iâm her son. You understand, right? She would never abandon me.â
It was him between you and the door; you just needed to get past him, unlock the door and run. Slowly, you got out of the bed to stand on your own feet. The moment they touched the floor, however, was brief. Because Katsuki leaped from where he stood, taking him only two strides before he got you again.Â
Back on the bed, you fought him tooth and nail, punching, kicking, biting, while he tried to sedate you with a soothing voice. But there was nothing soothing or gentle about this manâa monster. You saw through him.Â
His grip on your wrists was immovable, anchoring you to the bed with one hand. He caged your body with his, examining you like a predator sizing up its prey, his presence all domineering, demanding obedience.Â
âShhh, settle down. Iâm not gonna hurt you,â he coaxed.Â
âLet me go!âÂ
All you could move now was your legs, which you did to your best ability, but to no avail. Katsuki waited it out, allowing you to try however you want to get away without saying anything. Eventually, you stilled, so exhausted you couldn't move anymore.Â
âThere, there. Thatâs my good princess,â he murmured, his usual harsh features softening.Â
Frustration brought tears to your eyes. It took less than you thought, easier than expected, to suck it all up and spill everything that occupied your mind.Â
âWhat do you want? What do you want from me, Katsuki? I'm sorry I confessed to you that day. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. But pleaseâplease.â Your voice got hoarse and lost at the second please. You had to cough to get it back. âI have learned my lesson. You and me, it will never happenâwill never work out. I know that now. I get it, believe me, I do,â you choked through your tears, pleading. âI won't like you anymore, Katsuki, so pleaseâlet me go.âÂ
âLike me?â he reiterated. âI thought you loved me.â
âWhat?âÂ
He sighed, his free hand searching for something in one of his sweatpantsâ pockets. When he pulled his hand out, you saw a letterâthe one you gave it to him and got rejected. All these years, it had been kept with you, safely in your trinket box. Now, it was in his hand, opened. He finally accepted it, but at what cost?Â
âI need you to read it to me,â he commanded, âout loud.âÂ
âPlease, donât make me do this.âÂ
âListen,â he said. âIâm going to let go of your wrists and give you this letter that you wrote for me, and youâre going to read itâwordâforâword.â He used the envelope to brush down the bridge of your nose. âIf you tear it upâif you do, princessâIâm going to make you rewrite it. And it better be as good, if not better, than this one.â
He let go of your wrists and gave you the letter.Â
âOh, and if you run,â he added. âIâll catch you, and we start over. Clear?âÂ
You nodded and took the envelope, hands shaking noticeably when you took the letter out. Everything was under Katsukiâs observation. He sat astride your thighs without putting all his weight on you, waiting patiently.Â
âTo Katsuki, if you are reading this, that means you accepted my letter, thank you!â You wiped tears out of your eyes to see better. âI know you get a lot of letters like this. It must be a bit of a hassle reading love confessions everyday, right? But please bear with me, I will try to keep thisââÂ
Interrupted, you looked past the letter and saw Katsuki lifting the hem of your sweater up and leaning down to place a kiss on your exposed stomach.
âGo on,â he prompted. âDonât mind me. Donât stop.âÂ
âI will try to keep this short,â you continued, completing the last sentence, trying to ignore the fact that your jeans were being unbuttoned and pulled down. âYou know, girls in our class often say they love your hair, your eyes, but a lot of them are scared of your personality.â You felt his breath through your panties, hot. âI disagree. I think you are nice, brave, and kind. And donât get me wrong, I love your hair and eyes too.â
âYouâre cute, baby,â said Katsuki as he pried your legs open. Without taking off the underwear, he licked your pussy through it.Â
âKatsuki!âÂ
Dragging his tongue up, he mumbled, âKeep reading.â
âAnd I love you.â You read on and saw his eyes roll back at that specific sentence.Â
Suddenly, he switched from licking to sucking, making the crotch all wet with his saliva. You were preparing to read the next part when he made it all the more difficult by moving aside the damp fabric and rubbing his face into your naked cunt. His nose, lips, chin, all soaked in your embarrassing glossy juice. You cursed yourself for giving in, for getting wet.Â
âDid I tell you to stop?âÂ
You let out a sob, raising the letter in your hands up again to read.Â
âI know we donât know each other well, and this feeling is not reciprocatedââ
Why did he have to slurp the juice like that? He made it hard, so hard for you.Â
âIâmâjust a classmate afterâall. But what I said, I said it withâa sincereâheart. So even ifâyou donât love me back, pleaseâlet me keepâthis feeling, I promise Iâwill treasure it.â
Panting sharply, you stopped before the next paragraph when you felt his tongue massaging your clit. Grasping his hair with both of your hands, you forgot you still held the letter. There was an audible scrunch when it was crumpled up in one of your fists.
Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, glaring up from below; his red orbs seemed redder all of a sudden. âDid you just crumple the letter?âÂ
You pulled your hands back quickly when you realized, strengthening out the paper as best as you could. The creases werenât that bad. You showed it to him, ensuring that it was still intact.Â
He relaxed. You released a held breath.Â
Back to concentrating on the handwritten texts, this time, you vowed to not look at him anymore and would just just read through everything as fast as you couldâgetting it done. Nevertheless, when he was back on eating your pussy and pride out, it did not get easier, Katsuki still managed to make you writhe like your life depended on it.Â
âOne more thing, I donât know if you remember, but thank you forâsaving me that day in front of the mini mart.â You tried to recall the event, the beginning of everything. âThe thief would haveâhurt me, and I would have lostâmy wallet.âÂ
And it was just that, just you trying to yank your wallet back from the thief's hands, the popsicle you just bought lying on the ground, melting. The store staff was on the phone with the policeâyou heard itâbut they didnât come out. Katsuki did.Â
When the thief was about to lay his hand on you, the blonde haired boy whom you recognized as your classmate kicked him in the shin. Moving fast, Katsuki then slammed his school backpack on the thiefâs head, once, twice, thrice, on and on until he knocked him out.Â
âYou were my hero.â You read the last sentence, finishing the letter as he finished you.
You set the paper down on your side, finally freed from the evidence of your teenage selfâs stupidity. Feeling weightless from the orgasm, all you could do was stare at the ceiling. After what felt like forever, Katsuki appeared in your field of vision, hovering over you, now shirtless⊠and pantless. You werenât aware when he took them off, too lost in your own world.Â
âYou can't just stop loving me,â he said before bending down to kiss your cheek, then whispered, âTake responsibility. Be true to your words, dumbass.âÂ
âKatsuki, youâre being selfish.â You turned your face away, fleeing him. Â
His red eyes sharpened. âAfter all this time you have showered me with love and attention, and you want toâtake it away?âÂ
âThere will be others who love you and give you all the attention you need,â you argued. âIâm not that person.â Â
âNo! Fucking no! Shut up!â he barked, turning your face back to him and silencing you with a kiss.Â
Even with the heater warming up the room, the cold air that seeped through the walls and windows still reached your naked form. After being rid of your sweater, bra, and drenched panties, the only warmth you could find was from Katsukiâs body. And he made sure to share it with you so generously.Â
Pain after pain, bite after bite. Katsuki would not stop no matter how desperately you begged him to. Your skin was his canvas, not only your neck, but your cheeks, breasts, belly, arms, thighs, calves; they were tender and hurt to touch. You would have to refrain yourself from looking into the mirror for too long, maybe. Luckily it was winter, this way, nobody would bat an eye if you covered yourself up like it was minus twenty celsius.Â
âIâm gonna fuck you raw, okay? Havenât fucked anyone since you left. You gotta take care of me, princess.âÂ
âDonât bullshit me,â you returned. âYou fucked that girl.âÂ
And it still hurt just thinking about it.
âDid not.â
Even so, had he gone mad? He sounded like it. Wearing condoms was the strictest rule of his when it came to sex. As far as you knew, he never broke it once, not for anyone, not for you. But you could be wrongâyou didnât want toâbecause now, he actually looked eager to go through with it, fucking you bareback.
Too risky, too intimate.Â
âYouâll regret it. Please justâthink before you act.âÂ
Trying to reason with Katsuki, you also attempted to move away. Big mistake. Catching you by your thighs, he forced himself closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. Then, he placed his unshielded cock on your folds and pushed it down a bit for the head to slither in, just the tip, nothing more.Â
âKatsuki, no!âÂ
âKatsuki, yes,â he said, mockingly, and shoved it all in. Â
â
The bed shook and squeaked annoyingly from how hard he rammed into your tight weeping hole, but the moans you were trying, but not so successfully, to suppress were so adorable he was able to overlook it and focus on you instead. He never knew his bed did this, never brought anyone home to fuck before.Â
He almost spilled in the first five minutes, having to slow down to prolong the feeling of being wrapped and rubbed by a pussy, skin to skin. And youâlying there with your brows frowned and tits bouncingâdid not help shit. Trying feebly to push him away when he swooped down for a kiss only stirred up his excitement, making him go rougher until you gasped and gave in.
What a soft and tempting little lamb you were. He wanted to brand you with his cum and give you his fucking name, knocking you up with a couple of brats for you and him to take to school and hear a teacher address you as Mrs. Bakugou with his own ears.
Since the day you handed him that letter, you had never been anyone elseâs but his. Must have been fate, he didnât know, didnât care about a what-if either. His only regret was that he could have had a taste of you sooner, but he would call it a story arc and leave it at thatâhe had you now anyway.Â
âSay my name, princess,â he demanded.
âKatâsuki.â
âAgain.â
âKatsuki!â
This was worth it. The tirade of rebuke his mom delivered to his ears and the smacks on the head while saying she never taught him to be like this when he came clean about what he did to youâall was worth it.Â
âIâll get her back, mom,â Katsuki convinced. âWeâll get her back.âÂ
âYou better.âÂ
It was convenient that his mom already liked you as if you were the one who popped out of her vagina and not him. Well, they were the same in that aspect. Who would have thought it would come to this day, the day he wanted to trap you in his home, when just a decade earlier, he would never have had the slightest idea of granting you the permission to step past the front gate.Â
âSheâs a good kid,â his mom commented. âThe same girl who walked you home and bought you that All Might figure, no?âÂ
âYeah.â Katsuki rolled his eyes.Â
âAha.âÂ
âWill you help me or not?â he asked, irritated. He had been kneeling at her feet for like fifteen minutes.Â
âWatch your tone, boy.â Mitsukiâs voice hardened. His dadâs hand over her shoulder rubbed gently to calm her quick temper down.Â
âTch!âÂ
The tiny mutt chose that moment to strut into the living room, stealing his momâs attention. She leaned down to pick it up and put it on her lap. It looked down at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Conceited little fucker.Â
âYou know why I named her Katsumi, Katsuki?âÂ
âOh, donât give me that shit.âÂ
âKatsuki,â his dad said in a reprimanding tone.Â
âShe reminds me of you, angry for no reason, always bark, bark, bark. It gets lonely around here, so why not.â Mitsuki smiled, scratching her new childâs head. âAnd youâremind me of her.â
Katsuki squinted his eyes, kinda knew where this was going.Â
âA dog, waiting for its owner to come home.âÂ
She was not wrong.Â
âYes, I will help you, son.âÂ
A series of bangs on the door broke through the memory and his euphoria. He just came, hard, pouring his pent-up, ripe seeds far up your cunt, and someone wanted to butt in now? Katsuki huffed, but refused to get up and find out who wanted what, dead set on keeping you plugged up.Â
Another rapping on the door, then a voice followed. âThatâs enough, Katsuki. Let the poor thing out.âÂ
Of course, it had to be his mom.Â
âGo away, hag.âÂ
âBakugou Katsuki!âÂ
âWeâll be out!âÂ
Just not now. He omitted, and it worked. Mitsuki carried a string of grumbles and footsteps with her, leaving nothing behind. Katsuki turned to you, still under him, in time to see you avert your gaze away. Cute.Â
âCan I go now?â you asked.Â
âNo.â He changed positions, turning over onto his back and getting you on top of him, cock still snug inside your walls. He hoped he didnât spill a single drop.
âKatsuki, I donât want to fight anymore.âÂ
âThen donât, baby.âÂ
âI canât live like this. Pleaseââyou pleaded with your eyesââdon't hurt me anymore.âÂ
He couldnât help but feel a pang in his heart at your frail tone. Looking at you, he saw a woman with dark rings under her eyes, beautiful, but she looked like she had seen better daysâa stark contrast to the girl who held out a letter towards him on that spring day, wind in her hair, kindness abundant enough to share.Â
Before he knew it, words were out of his mouth. âI wish I had hurt you less.âÂ
It would not have been possible for him to not hurt you at all. He knew himself well enough to believe otherwise. He also knew, for certain, how he would like the story to go.Â
âDo you still love me? Like you wrote in that letter.â he whispered. âAm I still your hero, princess?â
âYou donâtââyou gritted your teethââhave the right to ask me those questions.âÂ
âIâll be yours. I want to.â And fuck, he really did, just thinking about it woke his flaccid cock up, rigid again inside of you. Putting his hands on both of your asscheeks, he grinded you up and down. âDo you still love me?â
You kept quiet, unyielding, only small, faint gasps could be heard.Â
âGuess thatâs not important.â Katsuki decided. âIâll keep you firstâfuck the answer out of you later.â
Panic flashed upon your expression at his declaration, and gasps turned into lustful whimpers when he started slamming your hips up and down his erect shaft.
âHow long are you gonna make me wait? A year? A decade? As revenge, maybe?â He took your sweet mouth, hand pressing down the nape of your neck to keep it still. âHouse will be full of brats by then, but take your time, princess.â
âThis will never work out. It wonât. It wonât,â you cried, shutting your eyes tight. âI canât share you.â
Katsuki didnât know why, but you not wanting to share him was sexy as shit. The mere thought of sharing you, however, made him want to put something on fire. Was this jealousy people were talking about? It burnt like a bitch.Â
âWho said anything about sharing?â he grunted, slapping your jouncing ass, making you squeal. âAnd this goes both ways, princess. Donât think I would let anyone touch you.âÂ
He was pissed just imagining it, which was nowhere near healthy, but who wanted that. He just wanted you, in any way he possibly could.Â
âIâmâIâm gonna come,â you spluttered, convulsing around him.Â
âThatâs it. Come on my cock, baby. Make your man proud.âÂ
Your velvety walls tightened, constricting his cock and milking it when ropes of cum shot out.Â
Sucked dry and spent, Katsuki closed his eyes and tried to rein in his breath. When he reopened them, it was to check if you were still with himâyou were, resting on his chest with one cheek against it. Out of cuteness aggression, he pinched the other side.
You let out a short screech. âThat hurt!â
The thought of marking you reared its head, biting where it hadnât been bitten yet, hurting you a little more. But he stifled it, saving it for later.Â
Steering himself to another matter, he said, âYou never texted me back.â
âI blocked you.âÂ
âFigured.â Katsuki nodded.Â
âDeserved.â
âUnblock me.â
You sighed.
â
The messages wouldnât go through even if you unblocked him. That was how the application worked, which was fine with him. Scrolling through the one-sided chat, he could sense urgency and desperation through each letter, and some messages actually sounded mental. It would be for the best if you didnât see them.Â
âAnswerâÂ
âi didnât fuck her, she left. Now fucking answerâÂ
âcome back, i wont be mad. where u at.âÂ
âI am still at your apartment, u. didnât come back. where r uâÂ
âi fucking found your letter. iâll find u tooâÂ
âYouâkept my present?âÂ
Katsuki looked up from his phone to your towel-swathed form, fresh out of the shower. Following your line of sight, he was directed to the bottom of the bookshelf where an All Might figure was setâhis seventeenth birthday present from you. It was one of his top favorites, but he would never tell you that.
âIâm not stupid enough to throw things I like away, Iâll have you know.â He scowled and went back to scrolling on his phone.Â
âso u moved away huh?âÂ
âneed you. donât wanna fuck my hand anymore :(âÂ
ânever mind, bitchâÂ
âu love me huh?âÂ
âPatheticâÂ
âdidnt mean thatâÂ
âneed uâÂ
âi'm an attention seeking whore who abuses your love to get the validation i want.â
âsorryâÂ
âthere i said it.âÂ
ânow come backâÂ
Yeah, you didnât have to know any of that.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugou katsuki x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki x reader#mha x reader#mha smut#bnha smut#bnha x reader#bnha bakugou#tw.breeding
883 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didnât need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing heâd ever read.Â
I think youâre the prettiest boy Iâve ever seen.Â
He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his âmystery boys notesâ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch.Â
Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boysâ notes from â82 to â85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes.Â
I wish I was as brave as you.
Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.
God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes Iâve ever seen. So pretty.
I like how long your hair is getting.Â
Saw you walking down the hall today and Iâve never wanted to kiss someone more.Â
They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets.Â
I think if I had a different dad, we wouldâve been best friends.
Can you fall in love with someone youâve never talked to?
I dream about us.Â
Iâm a boy. Iâm sorry.
I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else.Â
I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.
I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think.Â
I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you.Â
Youâre still the prettiest boy Iâve ever seen.
Iâm graduating this year. Iâm sorry it didnât work out for you. I think Iâm going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I donât want you to forget about me.
The notes didnât continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasnât sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper.Â
Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I donât think Iâll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but Iâm going to try my best!Â
And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didnât complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, heâs failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasnât stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial.Â
Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldnât be him. But itâs been three months and there isnât any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddieâs almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he canât wait. Heâs been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin. Â
He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner.Â
Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He couldâve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didnât break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didnât stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.
He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?
Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bakugo understands that he spends a lot of money on you for just being his personal assistant. But he can't help it.
You honestly deserve it. You're smart, responsible, diligent. You're a hard worker with principles, and your work ethic is something he respects.
It didn't matter how many people were against him promoting you from secretary to PA so soon in your career. Your work was top notch, and you kept him organised.
Sure, you were pretty as well, a sight for sore eyes, really. But that wasn't his fault, was it? It wasn't your fault either.
It's not like you came into work every day with full glam, diamond earrings, or elaborate hairstyles.
It had pissed him off at first, when people demeaned you or underestimated your work because of your looks, especially when he knew you worked so hard so you wouldn't be considered some dumb corporate bimbo.
But now? Now he loved it. He loved when he had clients over, and they'd do a double take when he sent for you to take notes or deliver documents to his table.
He'd noticed the modesty with which you'd dressed when you first started working for him, how you tried to dim yourself with drab colours that obviously washed you out, or plain hairstyles.
Not like it stopped anybody from being able to tell how pretty you were.
But after, when you'd started garnering his attention and racking up more bonuses from your diligence, he began noticing you wearing nicer things.
Of course, you had to up your wardrobe once you were promoted to the role of Personal Assistant to one of the biggest heroes in Japan. But that wasn't it.
Bakugo loved seeing you walk in with a new shirt or new shoes or new earrings after he'd rewarded you a bonus or a pay increase. There was a sort of high he got, knowing that you took care of yourself with the money he gave you.
Oh, he spoilt you rotten.
Month end rewards became the norm for you. He just closed a hefty advertising deal? Best believe you were getting a cut out of that. He was given a bottle of champagne as a gift? You're drinking it with him in his office.
Sure, it may have seemed a bit inappropriate to some people; him locking the doors and closing the windows, and having you sit on his lap prettily whilst he poured it out into a flute for you.
Sure, it was inappropriate for him to have his hands up your skirt as you recounted the month end figures for him, but you were comfortable that way. He was, too. Oh, so comfortable with your hands inside his trousers and his teasing at the lining of your panties.
He was just taking care of his best employee.
And maybe he did spend a lot of money on you, but you had to keep up appearances. He needed you looking your best when you were next to him.
It wasn't his fault you were so beautiful that brands reached out to him to get you to model for then after seeing you appear in some pictures by his side.
It wasn't his fault that he couldn't get anyone else to come with him to the Hero Gala. Besides, you're meant to be with him during these things to take notes for him. So having you as his date was basically killing two birds with one stone.
"Your assistant's fucking sexy," Kaminari whispered into Bakugo's ear, both of them watching you go to order a drink for your boss.
Bakugo smirked to himself, his eyes raking over your body, clad in the tight fitting dress he'd bought for you to wear. He'd also bought the earrings you had on, and the shoes and the necklace. Sure, it cost him quite a lot, but he just couldn't help it when you looked so good.
"She's single, isn't she?"
Now, that had him snapping his head in Kaminari's direction. "Don't even fucking think about."
Kaminari whined, "But why? She's your assistant, not your sister or your girlfriend."
"She's my assistant," Bakugo seethed, standing up from his seat. "She's my employee, and I won't have you lowering her efficiency." He murmured as he made his way to where you were.
You smiled brightly as you turned around to see him, handing him the second glass of champagne in your hands. "You look like you'd rather be somewhere else." You laughed softly.
He grinned down at you before downing the drink quickly. "I would," he said before dropping his glass back on the bar. "Come on."
He spoilt you rotten, but he couldn't help it. You looked so beautiful in your tight dress and pretty hair and beautiful face.
Sure, being seated on the sink and having your legs spread before his lips in the bathroom at the Hero Gala may have been a tad inappropriate, but how could he stop himself?
You were quivering for him, thighs pressing down and shaking on either side of his head, and your fingers gripping harshly at his hair, pulling him even closer as you rutted your heat against his lips.
He let out a desperate groan, burying his face deeper into your cunt, eating you out shamelessly, hungrily.
"Fuuck..." He growled into you.
You'd been so shy the first time he had his way with you, refusing to touch him, grind on him, behaving so meek and cute.
Now look at you, so selfish and desperate, almost suffocating him as he feasted. He spoilt you rotten, sure, but you deserved every morsel of it.
"Katsuki..." You whined desperately, your back arching off the mirror, the hand not pulling at his hair tightly gripping the edge of the counter. "Katsuki, I'm so close... I'm so fucking close, baby-"
His hands dug into the flesh of your ass, pulling your harsher into him, your clit pressing against his nose as his tongue made a meal of you. He was always so desperate for it, digging the wet muscle so far into your pussy you saw stars.
And he was messy too, his saliva and your arousal staying your thighs, dripping from the marble counter unto the ground as he ate from you.
Anyone who came in after would probably be able to tell from the smell of the bathroom alone. The cum leaking unto the floor would only solidify it.
But the thought of someone finding out that your boss had his face buried deep in your pussy wasn't exactly what you were thinking about when you came for him, hard and rough, your hips shaking and raising off the counter as you rode out your high.
"We shouldn't be doing such during events, sir." You whispered to him as you both walked down the corridors back into the hall where the gala was being held.
He had his large palm over your ass, groping you just in the dark of the hallway, letting go just as you stepped into the crowded hall.
"Just be a good girl and wait for me to fuck you on the way home, hm?" He smirked at you, a small sheen still visible on his lips.
He never cleaned his mouth properly after eating you out during such events. It was inappropriate, sure, but he just couldn't help himself.
#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#mha bakugou#bakugo smut
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
DpxDc AU: Whatâs an adoption paper or two between bros?
Danny is starting to realize that since Jazz left the house for university, his parents arenât really good at well, being his parents. Theyâre obsessed with his alter ego to the point that they ignore his normal ego, and that uh, hurts his feelings. Like, a lot. Meal times have gotten weirder and more inconsistent, and heâs starting to wonder if they suspect whatâs really going on with him.
Theyâve started to say âYou know you can tell us anythingâ these days when he sees them outside their lab (which isnât frequent) but the normal amount of ghost hate speech hasnât changed. If anything itâs gotten worse. Just like everything else.
Danny joined the whole-ass justice league to fill his spare time after high school and his parents are literally none the wiser. Like, he's a part time high-school senior at 17 and a full time international hero. His parents only comment on the fact that the menace Phantom is costing them a lot in airline tickets as they try and apprehend him all over the world. Hell, they caught Ellie for a second when he was in Morrocco and it got ugly fast. She's a junior member now but mostly spends her time with some doofus that has a magic traveling house.
And really, he's fine with his schedule of going to school, going ghost and making a difference, and then returning to a dramatically silent house. Really.
Then one day his new friend and co-team lead Red Robin makes a brief mention about his own childhood of neglect and Danny makes a joke, "What, no adoption papers for the homies?"
He laughs as he says it but something in his leader's eyes looks sharp, and Kon is sighing in the background something that sounds suspiciously like dear Rao you've done it now.
Next time Danny is on the Watchtower, he's brought into a meeting with Red Robin, Batman and various other JL team leaders.
"Adoption papers are very much for the homies. I've also included the option of emancipation, as you'll see in the green folder, but I am one hundred percent serious about adopting you."
"Red, you're like, 3 months younger than me." Danny deadpans.
"Adoption is for the homies and I'm emancipated. And If i'm reading Batman correctly, you're facing three outcomes right now."
"Three?"
"One: I adopt you and you become my legal dependent. Two: Batman adopts you and I become your legal brother. or Three: You emancipate yourself while allowing us to provide for you while your housing situation is sorted out."
"... Uh. Door one?" Danny is having too many feelings. Why does batman look disappointed? What is Jazz going to say? What on earth???
"Welcome to the Drake Family." Red shakes his hand up and down, the grin on his face feral and the plan towards being emancipated from the Fentons and adopted by his boss is a weird one.
But eventually, a few weeks later, he's had a pretty delicious dinner by his new adoptive grandfather-tler and is watching a movie with Tim and Kon on the couch and he's just so happy and comfortable and warm...
"Will this make Kon my dad if you two get married?" Danny laughs and it's the closest he gets to being disowned.
#Jazz dating Jason seriously in the background and looking at her bf like 'wait why is my brother now your nephew??' and jason has to explain#his family is just like that#tim adopts danny au#adoption is for the homies#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc crossover#dp crossover#long post#dc x dp fic
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't Do It - Mattheo Riddle x Reader
A/N: Just a under 1000 word one-shot đ And trying to break writers block, haha.
Prompt/s: Write a scene in a library where the characters must whisper or stay silent.
And,
âDont do itâ âBut...â
Late afternoon, an hour since classes ended for the day. The library was reasonably busy, due to various groups of students at the tables studying for the next days tests in different classes. It was mostly silent, minus the soft whispers of the students to each other.
Sitting at one of those tables, your boyfriend at your side, you were the only two to have their own table. Which irked a fair amount of students, so every so often you would get dirty looks. Yet neither you or Mattheo cared. Not now, not ever.
You were currently reading over a book for potions. Your boyfriend at your side, chair close to yours. His arm was slung over the back of your chair, his hand playing with the ends of your hair which cascaded down your back. Every now and then Mattheo would lean in, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Making you smile or giggle. That also got some unkind looks from the other females in the room. As your dear boyfriend was one of the few sort after boys of Slytherin and Hogwarts.
While you werenât really high up on the list of girls the boys wanted to snog. Though that never bothered you. You werenât ugly or anything, you were quiet pretty. Itâs just boys tended to go for the prettier, and sometimes easier girls. And you might ask why Mattheo chose you. You didn't fuss over him, or make goo-goo eyes at him. Sure, you thought he was cute, even had a small crush on him. But you kept a level head. And Mattheo liked that, as well as the challenge of getting you.
After he got you it just got better and better. Mattheo never got tired of you. If anything, he just liked you more, even loved you. And after getting to know the real Mattheo, you began to love him back. Separate, you were smart while he was a troublemaker. Together, you were yin and yang. You managed Mattheo's wild side, while he brought out the fire in you.
This looked to be one of those moments. For your boyfriend's attention wasn't on you so much any more, rather he was shooting daggers at the Golden Trio. To be fair they had been looking at you both, sour looks upon their faces. Not to mention whispering to themselves while looking to you both.
It was starting to get to you too, but you had more patience then Mattheo. You just knew he was itching to say something, or hex them. The way his hand on your back twitched told you his restraint was wavering. When he drew his hand from you, and hands hid under the table before you both, he had made his decision.
âDon't do it" you whispered, eyes still on the book before you.
âBut...â he whispered back.
âI said, don't do it" you repeated, turning the page casually.
âIt's just one small hex, love" Mattheo tried to reason.
You sighed, âone small hex will lead to detention, love" you mocked. âYou canât afford another detention. Or else no Quidditch for you".
Mattheo sat there silently. No doubt weighing up his options, hex and detention or play Quidditch. With a soft groan Mattheo pouted, slouching down in his chair. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. You found his childishness amusing. He wanted to hex those three so badly. But Quidditch was his escape.
Closing the book, you leant back in your chair with a small stretch. Shooting a dark look to the Golden Trio, you turned to face your boyfriend. Who had gone back to glaring at the three. You leant into him and placed a kiss to his cheek, before moving your lips to his ear.
âIt's alright, love. You can get your payback on the Quidditch field" you whispered sweetly in his ear. âWouldn't it be just dreadful if Potter was knocked out by a bludger, or hit with a Quaffle".
You moved back just enough to watch the dark smirk cross Mattheo's sinful lips. âYes, love, just dreadfulâ. He then turned to place a linger kiss to your own cheek, making you laugh a little too loudly.
#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x fem!reader
582 notes
·
View notes
Text
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!!
âAlright kids, good news or bad news first?â
You looked at your teacher, then at the boy next to you, then back at your teacher. âBad news first,â 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. âThe bad news is your bus driver is on strike and wonât be coming. The good news is that your parents have been informed and are coming to pick you up soon.â
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 didnât 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. âI thought a strike was when you did really well in bowling.â
âSame,â you replied, mouth full of chocolate and caramel. âIâm not sure why that would keep the bus driver from picking us up.â
Jake looked at you with wide eyes, distress clear in them. âDo you think he went bowling instead of picking us up?â
This made you frown. âThatâd be really rude.â
âIt would. I always make sure to go bowling on the weekends, âcause if I missed school thatâd be rude to Miss Dawson.â
You nodded your head in fervent agreement. âFor sure.â
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.Â
--
Twelve years later, Jakeâs name appearing on your phone screen has become such a rare sight, you donât believe it right away. It takes you a few seconds of intense squinting at the letters to actually realise your eyes arenât 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! whatâs up?, hoping you sounded nonchalant even though you very much felt chalant. You thought that whatever you sent wouldnât be as weird as taking forever to answer such a straightforward question.Â
As you wait for Jakeâs reply, you scroll through your previous shared messages, noting with sadness that for three years in a row, the only instances youâd 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 youâd been sunbathing on, a loud âOh my God!â involuntarily escaping your mouth.Â
âWhat? What happened? Is everything okay?â Chaewon asks frantically, rushing over to your side. âOh,â she says when she sees your phone. âItâs a text⊠from a boy?âÂ
This makes Yunjin, previously unbothered by your panic, rise from her seat and take off her sunglasses. âA boy? Show me,â 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. âItâs not just any boy! Itâs the one and only Jake Sim himself.â
âGive that back!â you plead, hand reaching for your phone, but Yunjin is already walking away.
âAnd heâs coming to Edi this September, apparently. He says heâs sorry for not saying anything earlier, but he was waiting for an answer up until now.â She scoffs. âLeave it to our uni to tell someone theyâre in less than two months before term starts. Oh, youâre the first person heâs told, Y/N! After his parents. How cute,â she coos, protesting when you snatch your phone back from her. âHey! I was reading that.â
âThose are my texts, Yunjin. Iâm the one whoâs meant to read them.â
She shrugs. âYou wouldâve told us anyway.â
âWhat are you going to reply?â 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.
âAwesome? Seriously, Y/N?â Yunjin reads, disproportionately disgusted with you.
âThatâs a lot of exclamation marks. It almost makes it look like you donât mean it,â Chaewon says.
âI do mean it!â
âWell, he seems to like it. A smiling-with-teeth emoji is a good sign, right?â she asks in an attempt to make you feel better.
âHe has automatic caps off. That man is run-through,â Yunjin says, shaking her head as she walks back to her sunbed.
âYou were excited about him texting me just a second ago,â you reproach.
âYeah, before I found out he was a whore.â
âYunjin, you know we don't slut-shame here!â Chaewon exclaims. Before Yunjin can say anything even worse in response, your phone starts ringing, and Jakeâs name appears on your screen. âHeâs calling you?â Chaewon gasps, making Yunjin sit up with a start for the second time in less than five minutes.
âThis man is insane,â 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 donât need to hear your conversation with Jake. You love them, but they can be weirdly unsupportive in moments like these.
âHey, Jake,â you greet, hoping he doesnât notice the breathlessness in your voice. It was because you had just ran, of course - you didnât want him to think you were so nervous about talking to him after such a long time, you could barely breathe. Because you werenât. At all.
âHey, Y/N!â he replies, and the excitement in his voice makes your heart melt. âI hope itâs not weird that I called, I just thought itâd be nicer than texting, is that okay?â
âYeah, itâs fine, itâs nice to hear your voice,â you say before you can really think about it, and cringe at your own words. Years without talking and the worldâs worst line is the first thing you say to Jake. Thankfully, before you start excruciating yourself, a chuckle pours out of Jakeâs throat and blesses your ears.
âItâs nice to hear your voice, too. What are you up to?âÂ
âOh, Iâm on vacation with my friends. One of them has a rich aunt who owns a villa in southern Italy, so weâre just chilling by the pool right now.âÂ
âYou always wanted to go to Italy! That sounds so nice,â he says. Your breath catches gently in your throat - he remembers, you note.
âYeah, it really is. What about you, how are you spending the summer?â
Jake tells you about the local bookstore owned by a grandpa thatâs always had a soft spot for him and that gave him a part-time job for the summer. âIâm 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?â he asks, and you can hear the grin in his voice. It makes you realise how much youâve actually missed him.
âYou donât need to treat me to a meal, Iâll show you around anyway.âÂ
Still, he insists, and you find yourself giving in quickly - because itâs Jake or because free food is on the table, youâre not sure. Probably both.Â
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, youâve been talking for over an hour. Yunjin is angrily waving at you, pointing at her stomach to indicate hunger like a caveman whoâs just learned how to communicate. You apologise to Jake, telling him you have to go, and plan to meet during fresherâs 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. Itâs 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 youâve got your best friend back.Â
You remember why you were so in love with him at fourteen.
--
You see Jake before he sees you. Â
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, heâs 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.Â
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.Â
He had told you not to come, that it would be late for you and he didnât 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 heâs 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.
âThis was the longest day of my life, Iâm so happy to see you,â he says when he pulls away, and youâre so happy you canât even say anything back, resorting to giggling and lightly swatting non-existent dust off of his shoulders.Â
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.
âHow did you know he was German?â you ask, amused.
Jake pauses. âJust vibes.â
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 itâs okay, you hadnât expected for the two of you to be as easy as before. Itâs more awe at seeing each other after such a long time than awkwardness. Even though youâd 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 hadnât 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 heâs really here. Even that heâs real, at all.Â
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 studentsâ dubitable cooking. Heâs the first one to move in, which makes the place slightly eerie, but it means that youâre not bothering anyone by unpacking Jakeâs stuff and cooking Shin Ramyun the previous tenants had left behind at 11pm.Â
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 youâd 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.Â
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. Itâs not until an hour later that Jakeâs uncomfortable sleeping position forces him awake, lifting his head off of your shoulder with a grunt. He looks around himself, at his room thatâs not quite familiar to him yet, then at you, eyes still scrunched with sleepiness as a grin blooms onto his lips.
âSorry,â clearing his throat of its grogginess. âWhat time is it?â
âItâs almost one a.m,â you reply, and his eyes go wide.
âYou shouldâve woken me up! Does your shoulder hurt?â he asks, much more alarmed than he should be, and it makes you laugh.
âItâs all good. But now that youâre awake, I should probably head home.âÂ
âIâll get you an Uber,â he says, already pulling out his phone.Â
âItâs fine, Jake, my place is a ten-minute walk from here. I live just up the road.â
Jakeâs fingers on his phone pause as he looks up at you. âThen Iâll walk you home.â He lifts a finger in warning when he sees you start to protest. âAnd donât fight me on this. You did so much today, itâs the least I can do.â
As much as you love the idea of spending more time with Jake, even if itâs just ten minutes, you still donât want to bother him when you know how tired he is. âItâs really safe around here. I can just text you when Iâm home, if youâre worried about me getting kidnapped or something,â 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 isnât cold enough to warrant it. His hands stop briefly on the scarf and a small smile spreads on his lips. You hope he doesnât hear your sharp intake of breath when your eyes meet. âItâs not about that,â he says simply, voice low and unlike youâve ever heard it before. You donât think his voice had quite finished cracking when heâd moved away back then.Â
Suddenly, he steps away, grabs his keys, and heads for the door. âLetâs go!â he says, voice back to its usual cheery tone. You donât 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.Â
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 Jakeâs 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. âMy mum packed me, like, three, so you can have that one.âÂ
âYour mum still pack your things for you, does she?â you ask, tone playful.
âNo-â he says, voice slightly whiny, before he realises youâre just teasing him. âWhatever,â he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You hope the streetlights arenât 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. âRight. See you tomorrow?â
âYeah,â you beam.
âOkay,â he says, but still doesnât make a move to leave. âOkay. Yeah. Iâll be off then.â He gives you one last smile then turns around, burying his hands in his pockets, and you watch as he walks away.
âGet home safe,â you call out after a few seconds.Â
He pivots on his heels, and, with a wave of his hand, says, âI will! Go inside.â
âGood night!â
âNight, Y/N!â
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.
âGosh, whatâs all this for?â
âYouâre back awfully late,â she says, neither looking at you nor answering your question.
âYeah, I was with Jake,â 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.
âAnd?â she demands, mouth way too close to your ear and making you start.
âAnd what?â you ask.Â
âWhat do you mean and what?!â she says, clearly agitated. âI want to know everything!â
âThereâs 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.â
âEw.â
âI know, it was awful going back there.â
The two of you stare at each other as you drink your water. âWell?â she asks.
âWhat?â
âIs that it?â
You fill your glass again to take it into your bedroom. âI donât know, we just ate and watched Friends.â
âYou hate shows with laughing tracks,â she states like itâs an accusation.
âIt wasnât actually that bad,â you reply, shrugging.
She tuts. âLove will do ugly, ugly things to a person.â
âYouâve been in a loving relationship for the past two years.â
âThis isnât about me. Can we talk about how youâre still in love with the same loser from when you were ten?â
âI was fourteen, and donât call Jake a loser when you havenât even met him.â You ignore the roll of her eyes. âAnd Iâm not. Not anymore. Iâm just happy to have my friend back.â Yunjin gives you a look. âOkay, maybe Iâm still a little bit in love with him. But itâs so little, itâs barely there.â Her expression is unchangingly unimpressed and you canât help but throw in the towel. âAlright, fine. I still love him, what about it?â
âYouâre pathetic.â
âI know that, no need to remind me.â
âAre you gonna do something about it?â
âMy patheticness? Iâve tried, didnât really work.â
âNo, idiot, about Jake. You should go and get him! Itâd be so sexy if you got together as 20-somethings after knowing each other since you were babies.â
âWe were eight when we met. And I donât know if sexy is the word Iâd use here.â
âAnything is sexy if you try hard enough,â she says, and you have to laugh. âAnyways, you should confess your undying love and tell him youâve felt that way since you met.â
âI wasnât-â
âGuys might not show it, but they probably get all hot for stuff like that. Boosts their ego and shit.â
âYunjin, I just got my friend back, Iâm 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. Weâve both changed so much, once I get to know him more now, I might not even feel the way I used to.â
âNotice how youâve used the word might twice in ten seconds? Youâre just trying to find excuses.â
You groan. âThis is why I hate English Lit people.â
âYou do English Lit.â
âI know, and Iâm the only nice person that does it.â In your head, you add and Jake, but saying it out loud would only make this conversation worse for you.
âWhatâs that scarf, by the way? Did he give you that?â
You look down at the scarf like itâs a piece of incriminating evidence. âCan you stop grilling me, please? Itâs late.â
âYouâre not answering my question.â
You sighed deeply. âFine. Yes, he gave me-â
âItâs not even that cold outside!â she exclaimed in an outrage. âDonât tell me he also walked you home?â
You pause. âHe did.â
She gasped. âHe walked you home because heâs in love with you.â
âHe walked me home because heâs a good friend that looks after me.â
âHe walked you home because he realised how hot youâve gotten and he wants some of that.â
All you can do is sigh. âWhatever. Iâm going to bed.â
âIf you werenât such a coward, you wouldnât be going to bed alone.â
âWhatever!â 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 isnât due to your inability to find a comfortable enough position to sleep in. Between your evening with Jake and Yunjinâs pestering, thoughts run wild and incoherent through your head.Â
You want to tell her every little thing that happened with Jake tonight, but youâre 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 donât 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 doesnât 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 wasnât 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, youâd 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 donât even remember who sent the last, unanswered letter.Â
Tonight isnât the first time you replay the moment Jake announced that he would go away, but itâs the first time itâs a bittersweet memory. It used to only be bitter - but now that youâve reconnected, you can look back at it with fondness, wishing you could tell fourteen-year-old you the hurt would only last so long.Â
It hadnât started unusually.
âSo, bad news first, right?â
In your six years of friendship with Jake, this had been the first time youâd really been wary of what he would say next. The look on his face told you that this bad news wouldnât be as easy to shake off as usual. Your definition of bad news was things like I got grounded so I canât hang out, I forgot we had a test tomorrow so I canât hang out, my allergies are acting up again so I canât hang out.
âIâm moving to Korea next month.â
Iâm on another continent, so I canât hang out.
You remember the words not quite making sense at the time. âOh? How long are you staying there?â you said, taking a bite of your strawberry ice cream which Jake had insisted on paying for, even though you knew he didnât get much allowance.
âForever.â
You stopped chewing, and the ice cream melted uncomfortably in your mouth. You donât know how long you stayed there, frozen as you stared at your best friend in disbelief. It wasnât until he lightly shoved your shoulder, only meeting your eyes for a split second, that you remembered to swallow and to say something.
âForever as in⊠You wonât live here anymore? At all?â
Jake shook his head. He kept his eyes trained on the vanilla-chocolate ice cream sandwich heâd left in its wrapper. In the blazing hot Brisbane summer, it had probably fully melted two minutes ago. âAt all.â
âOh,â 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.Â
âItâs my dadâs 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,â Jake explained, sounding just as upset as you felt.
âRight.â
âAre you mad at me?â 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. âOf course not. Iâm never mad at you, you know that. I just⊠Youâre my best friend, Jakey. Itâs gonna be so lame around here without you.â
âItâll be lame there without you, too.â
You attempted a smile. âWell, of course. But at least youâll get to make new friends, see new places. Youâll be in a whole other country, Iâm sure youâll have fun there. Iâm gonna be stuck in boring old Brisbane for the foreseeable future.â
âDo you know how offended our friends would be if they heard you speaking right now?â he asked, nudging your shoulder with his.
You sniffled and let out a chuckle. âTheyâre all great, but⊠I donât like them nearly as much as I like you,â you said, staring down at your hands, hoping he wouldnât realise exactly what you meant by that statement.
A weight was lifted off of your shoulders when Jake answered. âI like you the most too, Y/N.â You tried not to think too much about whether heâd 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.Â
You felt him take a deep breath against you before he pulled away. He sniffled and did his best to put on a smile. âRight, enough of that. Iâm not leaving until next month, so donât think youâre rid of me just yet,â he joked, and it helped alleviate the weight on your heart, even if just a little. âYou said you had something to tell me? Good news after bad news, and all that.â
âOh. Right. I forgot about that.â
You thought for a second. Today was the day you had planned to confess your feelings to Jake - youâd 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 didnât, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasnât 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 Jakeâs last month here. You wiped your tears and mirrored his small smile as best you could. âUm, it wasnât anything much. My mum made those cowboy cookies you like.â
Jakeâs head fell back as he groaned in anticipation. âIf she wasnât happily married with three kids, Iâd marry your mum. Letâs go right now.â
You laughed. âThereâd be a bit of an age gap there.â
âWeâd make it work,â 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. âDo you even speak Korean?â 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. âItâs literally my mother tongue, Y/N. I speak it every day at home.â
âOh, right.â
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 heâd left, a boy from your class youâd talked to maybe once or twice asked you out on a date. You werenât sure why, but you said yes. Then you said yes to being his girlfriend, even though you didnât like him all that much, and you even said yes to reducing your texting with Jake because it made him jealous. When youâd broken up with him and wanted to catch up with Jake and apologise for your absence, youâd 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. Itâs when you learned that heâd 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 couldnât 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.Â
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 youâre 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 wouldnât be as in love with him at twenty as you were at fourteen.
--
The next day, you show Jake around campus, which wouldnât 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, freshersâ week always turns campus into what feels like the busiest place on Earth. You try not to let it hit a nerve for Jakeâs sake, whoâs clearly ecstatic at all the activity, but you like this place a lot more when itâs quieter. You walk through the Fair, laughing as Jake marvels at all the different clubs and societies at the Uni.Â
âGardening Society? Dungeons & Dragons Society? Wine society?â he exclaims, astonishment growing with every passing stand.
âAnd this is only the first day. They also have a Taylor Swift Society.â He grabs a flyer from about every society, even though you know heâll join between two to zero of them.Â
When you walk out, thereâs a girl handing out samples of shampoo and conditioner, and you let her give you one, more out of politeness than anything.Â
âThese are so useless,â you start, and Jake chuckles, unaware of the incoming rant. âI 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.â You sigh. âFirst of all, my hair did not like it. And second, the ratio is so off. Thereâs way more conditioner than shampoo when it should be the other way around, so you have to condition your hair even though itâs not properly clean. So stupid.â
âSounds terrible,â Jake says, laughing. âIs that why youâre not doing it this year?â
âOh⊠Not really. I dated the guy that takes care of this promo stuff, so it wouldâve been kinda awkwardâŠâ you trail, immediately wishing you could backtrack on conversation. Talking about your ex with Jake wasnât on your to-do list for today. Or ever.
âYou dated your boss?â
âThe manager, yeah, I guess. He was only 24, though, donât worry.â
âIâm more worried about the power imbalance than the age gap there.â
You shrug, looking down at your shoes. âItâs not like he was that high up.â
âSo, what happened? Why did you break up?â
âWell, 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.â
âHow long were you together?â
You pause. âTwo weeks,â you admit abashedly, making Jake chuckle. âAt least he didnât waste my time and showed his red flags early on.â
âAny boyfriends since?â he asks, and you wonder whether youâre making up the unsure tone of his voice. As if heâs curious, but doesnât want to show it too much. You hope youâre not making it up.
âA few, but they never last very long with me,â you say, a meek smile on your lips. âFurthest I got was three months.â
âAnd why didnât it work out with three-months-guy?â
âHe started comparing me to his mum a bit too often.â
âOuch.â
âYeah, I ran out of there without looking back.â
âWell, itâs nice to see youâve got high standards. I would hate to see you date just any loser.â
You want to say, High standards or issues?, but you donât want to make it weird, so you play it cool instead. âI would never. I have a mental checklist with everything a guy needs to have for me to date him.â
âA checklist? I have to hear about this.â
You sigh, debating whether you should tell him about it. Would he notice itâs 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, heâs 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. âWell, thereâs all your basics like funny, taller than me but not too much, âcause I donât 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. Itâs also a bonus if he has a nice face.â
âHow much of a bonus?â
You think for a second. âItâs more a dealbreaker than a bonus, actually. Nice smile is a must, definitely.â
âOkay. Got any more specifics?â
âI do have some particular ones. Itâs nice if heâs a reader, but itâs terrible if it makes him think heâs better than everyone or if he tries to sound smarter than me. I like it if he has experience, I donât want to have to teach him everything. But obviously I donât want him to still be in love with his ex. Guys and their first loves, I swear⊠I also donât really like picky eaters.â You look over at Jake and take a double-take. Heâs typing away on his phone, but because of his privacy screen protector, you canât see anything. You huff. âI also donât like it if he has those protective screens on his phone. Whatâs on there thatâs so important that I canât take a peek? What are you even doing?â
The sweet sound of Jakeâs 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 heâs written up. âSee? I check most of these,â he says with a proud smile. âGuess your standards arenât that high.â You donât tell him that your standards are high, heâs just that amazing.Â
You do your best to look only amused at this even though inside, youâre all but freaking out. âWhich are you missing?â
âWell, I clearly own a privacy screen. And I donât have much experience. Not nearly as much as you, by the sounds of it,â he admits, somewhat sheepish. âBut other than that, Iâm practically the perfect man for you.â 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 wouldnât 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. âWhat do you mean by not much experience? Have you not dated anyone?â
Jake sighs. âNope, 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 somethingâŠâ He glances at you then. âMissing.â
âI know that feeling,â you say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, a breathy sound.
âI donât have a checklist to pinpoint what it is, though.â
You smile. âYou should try, it might help.â
âI just⊠I guess Iâm 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 wouldnât end up anywhere.â
âDonât tell me no one has ever managed to reach the great Jake Simâs standards?â you ask, trying to keep your tone light.
Jake smiles, but it doesnât quite reach his eyes. âOf course someone has. Sheâs the whole reason I have standards in the first place. Itâs not my standards I compare people to, itâs her.â
Jealousy has never made you feel as sad as it is right now. âAnd⊠it didnât work out between you?â
Jake looks at you, eyes searching for something in yours but seemingly not finding it, and so he turns his gaze away. You donât know why you feel so disappointed. âNope,â he says, popping the âpâ. âShe didnât feel the same way.â
Whoever this girl is, you canât believe how stupid she is for passing up the opportunity to have Jake Sim. âThatâs⊠It sucks, Iâm sorry,â you say. You donât think spitting on this girl would make him feel any better, so you keep those thoughts to yourself.
âItâs okay,â he says with a small smile. âIt was a while ago already.â
âDoesnât sound like youâre quite over it, though,â you say, and youâre surprised but glad to see his smile widen.
âThatâs true.â His eyes meet yours again. âI donât think Iâll be over her anytime soon, either.â You have to look away to shield the pain that flashes through your eyes from him.
Pretending you donât have feelings for your best friend and that youâre 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 Jakeâs shoulder, slightly pulling him down to your level. âDonât worry. Weâre going to have so much fun this year, youâll completely forget about her. Promise. She doesnât know what sheâs missing. Yeah?âÂ
He smiles down at you. You want nothing more but that glint of melancholy in his eyes to be gone. âYeah.â
--
Jake is only half-glad to see you havenât changed much from your childhood and early teenage years. Youâre still just as pretty, just as warm; itâs still as comfortable to be around you. Youâre also still as dense.
Then and now, he did everything he could to make his feelings for you very, very obvious. Either youâre completely oblivious, or the idea of dating him is so horrifying to you, you understand but pretend you donât. He really hopes itâs the former.Â
He arrived in Edinburgh just a bit over a week ago, and youâve seen each other almost every day. Out of those times, there isnât a single one where he hasnât tried to send something your way - something that says, hey, what if we stopped being friends and dated instead? Wouldnât that be cool? Canât you see how desperately I love you?, but you never latch on. The ballâs in your court, and he wants you to throw it back, but itâs been feeling more like a boomerang that always hits him right in the face when it circles back than a game of catch.
But heâs reminding himself not to be too greedy. Even if itâs just as friends, at least he has you back, so heâs 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 heâs taking seem, itâs this one heâs 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 wasnât for nothing - his scrapbooking skills would finally have their time to shine.Â
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 itâs more fun shopping if youâre 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 itâs 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. âThereâs a beach here?!â
âDid you not look at a map before coming here?â you ask, amused.
âI guess I didnâtâŠâ he says, distraught at the new information. It only lasts a second, though. âOkay, letâs go now.â
âNow?â you echo, and he nods. âBut-â you start, but are interrupted by your thoughts. âI guess thereâs no reason not to. The weatherâs nice and itâs not like I have any uni work yet. Letâs go,â you agree, looking up at him with a smile. Youâre so pretty he almost forgets to look away, until the employee calls Next in a bored drawl.Â
An hour later, youâre 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 itâs still nice, and because youâre with him, itâs even better. Youâve 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 doesnât want to forget on his phone and snaps a few pictures, sneaking a few of you when youâre 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.Â
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. âDepends. What tea do you have?â he asks, trying and failing to play it cool. Heâs just grateful he doesnât 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. âI can make you hot chocolate, Mister Tea-Is-For-Old-People.â
He chuckles. âActually, Iâll have you know I started drinking tea at uni.â When you turn around to look at him, a surprised look on your face, he nods proudly. âMh-hm. I got addicted to caffeine very quickly into first year so I started drinking black tea for the sake of my heart,â he explains.
âGod,â you say breathily, sounding mildly horrified. âA caffeine addiction sounds intense.â
âIt was, yeah,â he says, laughing as he follows you into your flat.Â
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. Heâd met them the previous weekend when you had all gone for drinks together, along with Jay, Yunjinâs boyfriend, and they had all but grilled him on his relationship with you. He hadnât 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 heâs having with you, heâs also having it with them. âHow do you take your tea?â you ask.
âUm, three sugars and lots of milk, please,â he says, smiling innocently when you slowly turn to look at him, a mix of disapproval, disgust, and offence on your face.Â
You sigh deeply. âI mean, Iâll do it, but Iâm not sure thatâs even tea anymore.â
âYouâre one to talk, Miss Caramel Frappuccino,â he says, recycling your bad joke from earlier.
âAt least I donât claim to be drinking coffee when I order a frap,â you argue. âAnd this is how you battled your coffee addiction? Youâll be getting another kind of heart problem, Jakey.â He doesnât know if you even notice your use of his old nickname - the first time youâve used it since heâs been here - but you donât make a big deal of it, so he doesnât either. Not outwardly, at least. Mentally, heâs running laps around your small kitchen.
Jake laughs it off. âI thought I came here for tea, not a health check-up,â he says, smile growing wider at the sight of yours.Â
âRight, sorry,â you say, giggling. âIâll make your tea just how you like it,â you add in a sweet voice. Jake knows youâre just doing it as a joke, but it still manages to make butterflies erupt in his stomach.Â
His tea tastes even sweeter that day.
--
A few days after your impromptu trip to the beach, youâre waiting for Jake outside of his class. He heard of this donut shop he âabsolutely needs to visitâ and is dragging you along with him - well, âdraggingâ is a big word considering youâd 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. Youâre only mildly surprised to see Jay leaving the classroom behind him.
âY/N! Can you believe that Jay and I are in the same class?â 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.
âI can believe it, actually. You two do the same degree.â
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 thereâs 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 itâs 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.Â
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. âYeah, of course,â you say, smiling. Itâs 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 thereâs a bit of a queue of other donut-enjoyers in front of the boutique, but you donât 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.Â
âMy friend Sunghoon would love this,â he says after taking a hearty bite. âHe goes crazy over tiramisu. Like a cat with catnip.â
Jake chuckles, mouth full of Biscoff. âThatâs funny, I also have a friend named Sunghoon who loves tiramisu back in Seoul.â
Jay punches Jakeâs shoulder, eyes wide in amusement and shock. âBro, thatâs crazy. You have to be lying at this point,â he says, but Jake shakes his head fervently.Â
âI promise Iâm not. Iâve even saved his number with the tiramisu emoji.â
âThereâs a tiramisu emoji?â Jay asks, already over questioning the existence of Jakeâs Sunghoon.
The conversation circles back to the courses youâre all taking this semester, and Jake tells Jay about Discover Scotland and the trips heâs planned so far. âWell, if you really want to discover Scotland as a student, you need to go on a night out in Glasgow,â Jay says. Going by the look on Jakeâs face, Jayâs idea seems to have struck a chord in him.
âY/N?â
You nod, finishing your mouthful of donut before speaking. âYeah, Glasgowâs really fun. We should go,â you say, laughing when the two boys high-five in victory. Between the train, the drinks and the club entry, going out isnât a cheap ordeal, and getting to and fro also takes a while - even so, the smile on Jakeâs face makes it worth it.Â
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 youâre 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 donât hear a word - the feeling of Jakeâs thumb so close to your lips takes away your ability for coherent thought.
âItâs decided, then. Weâre going out tomorrow night,â Jay loudly announces. âLet me gather the troops.â
Thatâs how you find yourself in line for the club the next day, already tipsy from pre-drinking on the train and at the pub. Itâs 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, youâre 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. Jakeâs only been here for over a week, but itâs like heâs always been around, and you couldnât be happier about it. Him and Jay hit it off immediately, and although the girls needed some time to warm up to him (itâs not everyday that you meet your friendâs ex-best-friend sheâs practically always been in love with; you understand why they mightâve 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 Jayâs fancy vodka have made you more grateful than ever for them - if you drink too much in the club, youâll be hugging them and crying about how much you love them. Youâre not sure what that might look like around Jake, so you decide to keep yourself in check for the night.Â
It takes about thirty minutes before you manage to get into the club. Itâs not coat check season yet, so you head straight to the bar. âSunghoon said heâd meet us here,â Jay says, lifting his head to spot his friend in the sea of drunk students. âOh yeah, there he is! Hoon, hey!âÂ
You hear a loud âJongseong!â being shouted from somewhere in the crowd, but youâre 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 heâs 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.
âJake, my man!â he shouts, taking a stunned Jakeâs hand and bringing him into a hug.Â
âSunghoon? What the hell are you doing here?â he asks, chuckling and frowning in confusion.Â
âIâm just partying, man! Same as you!â
âNo, I mean here in Scotland, you dumbass!â
âYou two know each other?â Jay asks, looking back and forth between his two friends.
âJakeâs my man!â Sunghoon exclaims, unhelpful and stumbling as he throws an arm around his manâs shoulders. Jake shoots you a distressed look but you just laugh at him.
âThis is Tiramisu Sunghoon I told you about,â Jake says, helping Sunghoon stand up straight.
âGod, what I would do for a tiramisu right now,â Sunghoon says, looking at Yunjin like she might relate. She chuckles awkwardly.
âI have no idea what heâs doing in Scotland, though. Hoon, I thought you were going to NYU for your exchange?â
Sunghoon pauses to think for a second, looking like heâs never heard of NYU in his life. âOh, that! Yeah, I did an online orientation thing and⊠it did not go well. Letâs just say thereâs someone in New York City who wants me dead,â 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. âSo I transferred here instead!â
âI didnât know you were an exchange student,â Jay says, still looking just as confused.
âYeah, man! But anyways, letâs not talk about uni right now. Iâm on a bender, day three, baby! Do not talk to me tomorrow,â he says, chuckling until the smile suddenly drops from his face. âI mean that.â You look around yourself, glad to find everyone is just as baffled as you. âLetâs party!â 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.
âThat. Is the most beautiful man I have ever seen,â Chaewon blurts, staring blankly at the spot Sunghoon stood in a second ago.
âYeah, he also seems to be a raging alcoholic. And heâs what, twenty-one?â Yunjin says, a scowl on her face.Â
âI could fix him.â
âOkay, letâs go,â 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 theyâre leaving and donât 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 canât stop laughing at all the silly moves he pulls.Â
Youâre 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 itâs just me in your ear, and you simultaneously relax and tense up knowing that Jake is standing right behind you. âThereâs a creep staring at you,â 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 youâre not sure the sight youâre 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 Jakeâs 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.Â
âIs this okay?â 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. Itâs 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 Jakeâs face is slowly inching its way towards yours when youâre abruptly taken away. Yunjin has grabbed you by the forearm, leading you and Chaewon to the bathroom as she chants âBathroom break! Bathroom break!â, clearly unaware of the moment sheâs just interrupted.
Because of the queue for the girlsâ bathroom and Chaewonâs decision to console this random girl who was in the middle of a breakdown, itâs 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.Â
âY/N! Youâre back!â Jake calls out happily when he spots you, and you can tell right away that heâs much drunker than when you left him. His whole face is flush, his eyes donât open quite all the way, and a lopsided smile wonât leave his lips - even like this, heâs so pretty that you want to grab his hand and take him somewhere itâs just the two of you.Â
Chaewon gets drinks for the three of you and then youâre dancing again. Itâs 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 youâre 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 donât close until at least five or six and how trains run all night there.Â
The bus is already at the station when you get there, and the driver doesnât seem too pleased about having six mildly drunk kids get on his bus, but heâs probably used to questionable people taking public transport at this time of the day anyway. Physically, Sunghoon is sitting across from you, but mentally, heâs 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 heâs any second away from obnoxiously snoring. Jay and Yunjin are sitting somewhere you canât see them, probably eating each otherâs faces; she once told you they had their âmost mind-blowing sexâ when both a little drunk, and much to your dismay, you havenât 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 itâs a nice eleven in the morning right now.Â
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 Jakeâs 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 canât 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.Â
When he softly says your name, you donât raise your head, simply humming to let him know youâre listening. You close your eyes, cherishing the way your name sounds on his lips. Itâs his tone, tentative and vulnerable as he tells you thereâs something heâs been wanting to ask you, that makes you look up at him. He, however, wonât meet your eyes, and settles his gaze on the window, even though itâs so dark outside you canât make out a thing.
âHow come you never replied to my letter? I know itâs been ages, but⊠I still find myself wondering about it.â 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 hadnât remembered who it was that had sent the last letter, while heâd been wondering all these years why his words had been left unanswered.Â
He seems set on not looking at you, so you rest your head back on his shoulder. Your hand is still in his. âIâm not sure, Jakey. Iâm sorry,â you say, aware itâs not a satisfying answer. Youâve thought about why you and Jake had stopped talking for hours on end; youâve 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 donât come easy. Youâve 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 didnât have that anymore - it just hurt. So what was the point? And how could you phrase all this without betraying your feelings for him?
âOur 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, Iâd get into the same argument about being too close to you over and over again, even though you were literally on another continent.âÂ
âYou know, I always felt sorry about that.â
âAbout what?â
âThose boyfriends of yours. I felt like you waited for me to leave before you started dating-â
âIt wasnât like that!â you exclaim, lifting your head again. Finally, he meets your eyes, gaze softening upon seeing your affronted expression. âIt wasnât like that,â you repeat, relaxing your tone. âIf anything, they were the ones that waited for you to be gone. I'm sorry I let their jealousy get to me.â
Jake smiles, the tenderness in his gaze making your whole body turn to jelly. He squeezes your hands. âItâs okay. I just⊠I felt like I was always in the way of your relationships, even after I left.â
âYou donât have to feel sorry about that. They shouldâve had more trust in me.â
He pauses, gaze dropping down to your intertwined hands. âI wouldâve been jealous.â When his eyes find yours again, thereâs something in them that you quite canât place. It creates a ball of nerves that pull at your stomach. âIf I were dating you, and you had a guy friend you were as close with as we were back then, Iâd be jealous. You know, Iâd assume he had feelings for you. And that you might have feelings for him, too.â
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 youâre thinking, turning away from Jake to avoid his gaze. You watch the dribble of saliva trickle from Sunghoonâs lips. âThatâs not a great view of male-female friendship.âÂ
Jakeâs retort comes immediately. âBut we were different, right?â
His words echo through your head until they make even less sense than they did initially. Different from what? From who? Youâre 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. âRight.âÂ
Slowly, his grin fades and turns into a worried expression. âY/N?â
âMm?â
âWeâre still different now, arenât we?â
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. âCourse we are.â Your whole being relaxes when his face breaks into a smile again.Â
--
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 CafĂ©. On one hand, youâre grateful that she thought of you and that in thirty minutesâ time, youâll have the greasiest sausage wrap and hash browns known to man in your hand; on the other, youâd like to think that she knows you well enough to know to order your regular from there without asking. But thatâs probably the hangover talking.
You stumble out of bed, thanking last nightâs 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 doesnât feel like itâs been split into two. As Yunjin barges into Chaewonâs room just as she had done yours, you head for the kitchen to get yourself a tall glass of revitalising tap water. Youâre 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 hourâs 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.
âFuck, Iâd kill for a Snax right now,â he groggily says before heâs 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 isnât until Jay comes wobbling out of Yunjinâs bed to the couch opposite Sunghoon that the memories seem to piece back together in his head. The three of you watch him like heâs an unstable mental patient and youâre his doctors.Â
âNo need for that, Iâm ordering it on Deliveroo.â He nods his head and goes back to sleep for the time being.Â
Just as youâre 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.
âI slept pretty well too. Iâd 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?â
Youâre 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 canât 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 itâs because when it comes to him, youâre still the giddy schoolgirl you used to be.)
âYeah, of course. I was going to ask you if you wanted anything from Snax, actually.â
âSnax? Whatâs that?â
âOh my God, Jake, am I about to introduce you to Snax right now?â
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, itâs fairly quiet; plus, the food hits such a spot that itâs hard to talk and eat at the same time. Jake eats like heâs never had a breakfast wrap and hash brown in his life. Itâs an endearing sight if youâve ever seen one.Â
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 thatâs 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 youâve already seen so that you donât 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 shouldnât feel weird, but it decidedly does, probably because youâre much more aware of him now in a way you werenât before. Â
As hard as you try to figure out what exactly he meant by âdifferent,â you draw a blank. The only way youâll understand is if you ask him, and youâre far too scared to do that. You donât 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 thatâs enough for you.Â
You look over to him when the second movie comes to an end. Heâs sleeping peacefully, lashes caressing the skin under his eyes and cheeks looking rounder than usual. Itâd 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. Â
You donât think youâll 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 youâve woken up, his honey-coated smile washes warmly over you, and he makes a joke about how he keeps on falling asleep when heâs with you. âI feel that at ease, I guess,â he says, and you hope youâre not making up the small blush that spreads over his cheeks.Â
--
Semesters are always a short and intense affair, but this one passes by even quicker with Jake by your side. Before you know it, itâs 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 couldâve asked of you.Â
Youâve gone back to Glasgow, during the day, this time, as well as St. Andrews and Aberdeen. Youâve 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. Heâs even said that your trips should continue being a thing next term, and you couldnât 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 didnât 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 youâre 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.Â
--
âI feel like at this point the only way sheâll understand that I like her is if I kill myself and write in my suicide note that itâs her fault for not loving me back.â
Jake has been pacing back and forth in Jayâs living room for approximately twenty minutes, with no end in sight. At least heâll have gotten most of his ten thousand steps of the day in.
Jay sighs heavily. âOkay, I really donât think you need to go that far.â
âSounds romantic to me,â Sunghoon says, mouth full of salted caramel popcorn.
âI hope you never get a girlfriend,â 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.Â
âI mean, I told her we were different. Different. That we werenât like regular friends. I tell her sheâs pretty every chance I get. I give her my jacket all the time, even though this country is fucking cold. Iâve even given her a t-shirt of mine, sprayed with my perfume and everything. And donât get me wrong, I do it âcause I love doing that for her-â
âSimp,â Sunghoon snickers.
âBut what the hell else can I do? Like, she has to be ignoring it on purpose at this point.âÂ
âYou could always, you know⊠tell her?â
Jake scoffs, fixing his friend with a derisive look. âWow. What a great idea, Jay, I never thought of that one before!â
A popcorn lands right on Jayâs cheek. âYouâre so clueless, man,â 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 heâs been disparaged. âSorry, I didnât know being straightforward and honest was such a bad thing. It would just make things a lot clearer for the both of you.â
âBut⊠Iâm scared,â Jake says.Â
âMan up!â Sunghoon suddenly yells, punching the sofa next to him, making his friends jump. âHow can she ever figure it out if you donât tell her?â
âYou were on my side just a second ago, man, what are you doing?â Jake asks, confusion written all over his face. Sunghoonâs eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, retreating into silence as he stuffs his mouth with another handful of popcorn.
âJust ignore him,â Jay says. âBut for once, he did say something that makes a modicum of sense. You think youâre 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 werenât into him, but being totally oblivious if they did like him.â
âWhere did you hear that?â Jake asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.
â...Instagram Reels,â Jay reluctantly admits, frowning at Sunghoon who bursts into laughter.Â
Jake holds the bridge of his nose between two fingers like his head aches. âYouâre both so useless, Iâm never coming to you with my problems ever again.â
âIâll pretend Iâm not offended by that.â
âIâd rather you didnât, anyway,â Sunghoon says. Heâs smiling but Jake genuinely canât tell if heâs joking or not.
âBut seriously, if you think youâve done everything, then just do one last thing thatâs so obvious she canât misinterpret it,â Jay says.
âLike what?â
âLike kissing her, or some-â
âKissing her?!â Jake echoes.
âThatâs wild, man,â Sunghoon uselessly butts in.
âItâs just an example, calm yourselves,â Jay says. âOr, again, just straight up tell her how you feel. Itâs what I did with Yunjin, and it worked.â
âYou and Yunjin are dating?â Sunghoon asks, bewildered.
Jay shakes his head at him. âWhere the hell have you been, bro? We were literally cuddling on the couch the other day.â
âI just thought you were really good friends, or something.â
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.Â
It was the day he had told you he was moving to Korea, which he himself had learned that morning. Originally, heâd 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 werenât 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, youâd be relieved of that responsibility; that his wish to hold your hand and kiss your forehead wasnât one-sided.Â
He decided not to prepare anything - just a couple sentences that heâd rehearsed over and over in his head. Declarations of love, bouquets of flowers, chocolate and couple keychains, all that could wait until after youâd said yes to being his girlfriend. He didnât 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 wasnât familiar with, but that couldnât mean anything good.Â
âYour dadâs job is sending us back to Seoul next month,â 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. Heâd 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 didnât, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasnât 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 wouldnât 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 didnât 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 doesnât 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, heâd start worrying about long distance then.
First, he has a trip to plan.
--
You shouldâve 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, itâs pitch black and storming like youâve 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, thereâs an inn right across the road from the pub; you have no choice but to spend the night.Â
The inn receptionist is sitting so low on her chair, you can barely see her over the desk until youâre standing right over it. Her face is hidden by a book and itâs only when you say hiya that she seems to realise youâre 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. âHi there. One room for the lovely couple?â
âOh, weâre not-â
âYes, please,â Jake interrupts, smiling down at her, then at you. âItâll be cheaper if we share a room.â
âOur only room with two single beds is already taken, Iâm afraid. One double bed okay for you two?â
You feel like youâre about to faint, so youâre glad Jake is there to answer. âYeah, of course.â How the idea of sharing one bed with you is so okay to him, youâre not sure - granted, youâve done it before, but this feels different. For all intents and purposes, this is a hotel room youâre staying in. And youâre staying in it with Jake.Â
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 itâs just Jake and you again, together in this small room until tomorrow morning. Your chances of survival are very, very low.Â
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 wasnât for Jakeâs 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.Â
His voice brings you out of your thoughts. âRight. Do you, um, do you wanna shower first?â he asks, setting his bag on one of the armchairs.
âOh. Yeah, sure.â There has never been such an awkward tension between the two of you, but you know youâre 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. Youâve never been this nervous around Jake before; back when you were fourteen and again in these past few months, youâd gotten so used to dealing with your unspoken feelings for him that you could almost forget about them when you were with him. Theyâd come back to you when you were alone and dwelling on the moments youâd 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, theyâve floated to the surface, becoming as obvious to you as a stain on your skin you canât rub away. Youâre scared Jake will notice it, and, in the worst case scenario you often thought about, would run away and never speak to you again.Â
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 canât 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. Heâs 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.Â
You wrap the bathrobe around yourself, tying it in place around your waist, and decide that itâd 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 youâre 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.Â
Your stomach twists when he gives you a once-over, letting his gaze linger on your legs. âDid you bring a bathrobe with you or was it included?â he asks with an annoyingly handsome smirk.
You roll your eyes. âYes, I bring a bathrobe with me wherever I go,â you say sarcastically. âNow shut up and go shower, you stink.â Reverting to insults is always the solution when youâre internally freaking out.
âYes, maâam.âÂ
He takes so long in the shower that by the time he comes out, youâve 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.Â
âItâs still early. Do you wanna go grab another drink?â
âIn our bathrobes?â you say, laughing. âNah, I donât really feel like drinking anyway.â Read: Iâm not sure what Iâll do with alcohol in me.
âOkay, no worries. Um, I think I saw they had board games in the lobby?â
Your ears perk up at this. âOoh, what kind of board games?â
Putting jeans on underneath his bathrobe, Jake slips away for a minute and comes back with Monopoly, Uno, and a deck of cards. âThey didnât have much for two players,â he says, dumping everything on the bed.Â
You already knew that anything would become fun if you did it with Jake, but you definitely didnât 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 otherâs bathrobe even though youâre 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 thatâs miraculously still open because you lose the first round of Uno.Â
After some time, Jake lets out a loud yawn, which in turn makes you yawn too. He checks his phone to find that itâs close to midnight already. âTime for bed?â he asks, and your nervousness that had finally dissipated as you played came rushing back.Â
You nod. âYeah, sounds good.â
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, Jakeâs 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 itâll 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.Â
âGosh, Iâm really sleepy all of a sudden,â 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, youâre in complete darkness, and Jakeâs body is mere inches from your own.Â
Itâs eerily quiet for a while, and when youâve 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 Jakeâs low, sleepy voice breaks the silence. âCanât sleep?â he asks, and you freeze.
You sigh. âNo. Iâm sorry for keeping you up,â you say guiltily.
âItâs okay. I canât really sleep either. Itâs a bit cold in here.â
You pause. âRight. Yeah, it is,â you say, even though you feel like youâre sweating buckets.Â
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 itâs his foot. âJake!â you whisper-yell, withdrawing your leg as he bursts into giggles that warm your heart. âYour feet are so cold,â you say in-between chuckles.
âIâm cold all over,â he whines. âHave they not turned the heating on yet? Itâs already mid-November.â
âPeople are used to the cold here.â
âWell Iâm not. Can we cuddle?â he suddenly asks, and he must somehow feel the way you freeze in place because he stammers out a justification straight away. âFor, I mean, just for warmth, you know. I donât think Iâll sleep otherwise.â
His foot finds yours again and you canât help but laugh. âSure, fine,â 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 youâd daydreamed about one too many times before.Â
Your heart is beating a thousand miles a second when you scooch closer to Jake, his hands finding your waist as easily as if theyâd 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 canât 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 canât stop the smile that spreads on his lips. Jake always thinks youâre 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 donât catch him staring. It seems like youâve raised your head, chin tilted towards him - if heâs lucky, youâre watching him âsleepâ 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.Â
âShit!â 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. âYouâre so annoying,â 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. âSorry,â he says, the smile evident in his voice. âThe opportunity was right there. Caught you staring, huh?â
âYouâre such an idiot.â
âIâll take that as a yes.â Itâs quiet for a few minutes, and Jake is more than happy to enjoy this moment in silence, but thereâs something burning the tip of his tongue. Itâs been there for a while now, but he thinks heâs finally found the right moment. âY/N?â
âMm?â
âThereâs something I couldnât tell you last night, but I feel oddly okay saying it right now. Are you listening?âÂ
âI am, yeah,â 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, heâs scared youâll hear that his heart is beating faster than it should. âBad news first?â he says with a nervous chuckle.
âUh-oh.â
âThereâs no roundabout way to say this, so here goes, I guess.â He takes another breath. âIâm in love with you, Y/N.â You tense in his embrace, and he waits for you to say something, anything before he continues.
âOh,â is all you say. He hopes itâs a good oh - even if it isnât, he doesnât let it deter him.
âYeah. I really debated telling you this⊠I know you might not feel the same way. But I also know that if I donât say anything and make the same mistake twice, Iâll beat myself up over it for the rest of my life.â
âThe same mistake?â you ask, looking at him over your shoulder.
He gazes down at you tenderly, pushing hair away from your face with a gentle hand. âI 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 didnât wanna risk ruining the little time we had left together.â
The look on your face both breaks his heart and patches it up again. âJakeyâŠâ 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 youâre not saying much is making his stomach twist in agonising stress, but he takes it as a good sign that youâre still holding him tight and not running away.
âI think Iâd be the luckiest guy on Earth if you felt the same way,â he says, hopefulness clear in his voice.Â
And then he finally hears the words heâs been dying to hear all these years. âOf course, I feel the same way, Jake,â you say, eyes meeting his. âThis isnât bad news at all, itâs like, the best possible news ever.â
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 - heâs not sure. Perhaps everything at once.
âOf course?â he echoes, smiling wildly. âIt wasnât obvious to me.â
âOh, gosh,â you murmur, burying yourself into him once more. âI canât believe this is actually happening.â
He tightened his hold around you, bringing you to him as close as physically possible. âMe neither.â
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 hadnât 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.Â
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 youâd 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 heâd like to think, you just really want to kiss him - either way, youâre the one who closes the gap and presses your lips to his.
Your lips. So soft, so delicate against his, absolutely perfect. Itâs a simple, tentative touch, but heâs 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.Â
He doesnât know whatâs better - the fact that youâre 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 arenât 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.Â
Unfortunately, the only melody he gets to hear is that of his phone alarm, informing you that itâs 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.Â
The both of you reluctantly break apart, bursting into giddy laughter when your eyes meet. As said before, Jake always thinks youâre pretty, but with your pupils blown and your lips plump from kissing, this might just be the prettiest heâs ever seen you.Â
âYou know, I like you a lot, but Iâd like you even more if you could stop time,â you say.
He looks down at you with a smile, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen on your face. âSure, Iâll learn how to control time for you.â
âThanks, Jakey.â You peck his lips, lingering, and he closes his eyes to savour your sweetness.Â
âAnything for you, baby.â His eyes widen at the nickname slip, but you erupt into giggles.
âBaby?â
âWould you look at the time, we really got to go,â he says, detangling his limbs from yours. He pauses for a second. âBaby,â 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 heâs ever done. Youâre all over each other, attacking the other with kisses and hugs; Jake doesnât think heâs ever felt quite this happy.Â
And this is only the beginning.
--
Thereâs a glint in the receptionistâs eyes when you check out of your room, as if she knew something you and Jake had been oblivious to all along. Itâs 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, Jakeâs hands barely leave yours. When they have to, like when youâre searching for the perfect seat on the train or when the controller checks your tickets, theyâre back together within a minute, like two magnets that canât 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.Â
Now that your mutual feelings donât 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 heâs 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 youâll get used to it in no time.Â
As you unlock the front door to your building, you donât ask him if heâs coming up - to you, itâs a given that youâll be spending the rest of today and every day after that together. So when he doesnât follow you, staying still on the threshold, you turn around with a questioning look on your face.Â
âThereâs something I need to do this afternoon,â he says, taking both of your hands in his.
âCanât I come with?â you say. Jake wavers for a second, but sadly, he stays firm in his decision.
âSorry, baby, itâs a surprise. Iâll be back at seven with takeout?â
You canât possibly be mad at him when he calls you baby and offers food in the same breath. âOnly if you bring takeout.â
âYou only love me because I feed you, donât you?â he asks, a smile on his face.
âYup,â you reply. Youâre standing on a step, so you bend down to kiss him - you intend for it to be a peck, but when your lips touch, youâre 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.Â
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.Â
âSo this was a sexcapade?â 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 donât 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. âI knew you could do it!â she exclaims. When she pulls away, she seems so moved, it looks like sheâs about to cry. âYou finally popped your Jake cherry,â she whispers, but itâs loud enough for Jake to hear. A bark of laughter escapes his throat.
âOkay, thanks, guys,â you say, escaping this awkward situation and going up the stairs. âIâll see you later, Jake!â you yell over your shoulder. The girls seem to be on their way out, and youâre more than happy leaving him to deal with them on his own. God knows youâll get the worst of it when they come back.Â
As soon as you get to your flat, you make a beeline for your bedroom, plopping on the bed. Youâre 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 wasnât something utterly different about them after having held Jakeâs hand for so long. Just to be sure, you sniffed your right hand, but it didnât smell any different, either. But you still felt Jakeâs hand on yours, like headphones youâd 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. âYou guys are acting like this is my birthdayâŠâ you say, eyeing the cake greedily as Chaewon cuts it into three equal parts (even though it says serves eight on the packaging).Â
âThis is more important than your birthday, Y/N,â Yunjin states as she pours oat milk into three cups of Earl Grey tea. âThis is, like, the moment of a lifetime.â
âAre you saying a girlâs importance depends on her having a boyfriend?â
âYes, Y/N, thatâs exactly what Iâm saying. Especially when said boyfriend is the guy sheâs been pining after for all of her teenage and adult life.â
You sigh. âWell, he hasnât exactly popped the boyfriend and girlfriend question yet.â They both turn to look at you, an annoyed look on their faces. You stand up straight, uncomfortable under their gazes. âWhat?â
âUsually, Iâm all for clarity on this issue,â Chaewon starts. âBut isnât it pretty obvious here?â
âYouâre still gonna have to tell us everything in minute detail, but Jakeâs already told us what happened. He had no qualms referring to you as his girlfriend, so I really donât think this is something you need to worry about. What you should worry about is when and where youâre going to hop on that dick.â
Chaewon bursts into laughter, and you canât help but follow suit. âGosh, Yunjin, you really do have a way with words.â
âI know. This is what having a Jane Austen hyperfixation at fifteen will do to you.â
Following Yunjinâs 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. Youâve talked to them about Jake so many times that thereâs 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.Â
Youâre in bed reading for your Middle English Literature class when the doorbell rings. Itâs seven on the dot, so it can be no one else other than Jake. Itâs been mere hours, but youâve missed him enough to last you for weeks.Â
He brought takeaway from the Indian place youâd raved about a hundred times but hadnât 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. âI havenât booked my flight home yet, so Iâll add the second date later,â he explains.Â
When you flick through it, youâre met with photographs of you and Jake on all of the trips youâve done so far, as well as the various adventures you got up to in the city. Thereâs 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. Itâs not only photos - itâs also ticket stubs, receipts, stickers, and even a dried flower you had found pretty on your trip to St. Andrews. Heâs also written quite a lot, from diary-like entries about what you got up to that day or songs that reminded him of you.Â
âYou misspelt right here,â you say, pointing to a sentence that reads This is the cafĂ© 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 Yunjinâs 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. âThis is the level of todayâs English Lit undergrads,â 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, itâs filled with Jakeâs tiny handwriting. You can tell he put effort into making it neat. Thereâs a singular photograph of you, one that dates from the first days after Jakeâs 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. Â
Youâre 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, youâre 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 canât take it. He mentions things about you that you didnât 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.
âWhy are you crying, is- Did I write something bad?â
You shake your head fervently. âNo, no, Jakey, this is⊠Itâs perfect. Iâm justâŠâ you trail, letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle. You look at him with a smile before pulling him into a tight hug. âI love it so much. I love you so much.â
You can feel Jake relax against you. âI love you too, baby. Iâm glad you like it.â
You pull away after a small while, and turn the next page over. Itâs a picture of you over breakfast this morning, with words WEâRE 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. âI, 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 itâd be more fun doing it together.â
âIt would. This is such an amazing idea,â you say, flicking back through the pages.
âI 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 wasnât sure how much my professor would appreciate that⊠So I decided to make one more personal. One for us,â he says shyly, shrugging like itâs no big deal.
âThank you so much, Jakey.â
He smiles. âItâs no worries.â
âDid you do it all this afternoon?â
âI 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.â
Your heart leaps. Youâre not sure youâll ever get used to hearing such words from Jakeâs mouth.
Sometime later, youâre 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 wasnât for his occasional chuckles, youâd think he had fallen asleep. You chat for a bit after the movie, but you find that after such an emotionally-packed day, youâre ready to call it a night fairly early. But when the lights are off and itâs just you lying against Jakeâs 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 shouldnât feel so nervous - you had fallen asleep in his arms last night, and it had gone well. Really well.Â
âThis is different from yesterday, isnât it?â Jake suddenly says, breaking the heavy silence with a low voice. Itâs like he read your mind.
âYeah,â 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 donât know if youâll be able to handle anything more.
This is still new territory, but youâre 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. Itâs a kiss that somehow leaves you breathless and breathes oxygen back into your lungs at once.Â
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. Itâs so distracting, you canât even kiss him back properly anymore. Jake doesnât seem to mind. At first, when he starts pressing hot kisses to your jawline and your neck, you think heâs giving you a respite - but when he gently sinks his teeth into the skin there, leaving marks that will later remind you tonight wasnât a dream, chuckling as you squirm and whine under him, you understand that this is anything but a respite.Â
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.Â
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 itâs you heâs looking at with those eyes.Â
His soft lips attach themselves to your nipple while his fingers continue their work on the other one. Youâve 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 youâre already trembling so hard from Jakeâs attention to your breasts that you donât know what will happen to you once he actually touches you down there.
âYou doing okay, baby?â 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. âYeah? You want more?â You pause at his question. You do want more, but is it worth your sanity?
It takes you a second to decide that itâs worth that and more. You nod again.Â
Jake seems to have sensed your hesitation. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âYou sure youâre okay?â
âI am. Itâs just a lot.â
His expression of worry softens into a smile. âIâll take it slow for you, love. Itâs a lot for me, too.â 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. âBut it feels good, right?â he asks, lips moving against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
âSo good, Jakey,â you reply shakily.
âGood.â
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, heâs 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.Â
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 canât take more than thirty seconds of this.
âJakey,â you say, voice practically a moan. Your brain is fuzzy and it takes a distressing amount of time to form a simple sentence. âCan you come here?â
âIs something wrong, baby?â he asks breathily, sliding his finger out of you and coming back up so that his face is right above yours.Â
âNo, just⊠I want you.â
Any trace of worry on Jakeâs features dissipates as he cocks an eyebrow, one corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk. âIs that so?â
This kind of boldness would usually have you rolling your eyes, but here, it only makes your core throb more violently. Itâs almost humiliating how much you want this man. Itâs definitely humiliating, how easy it is to swallow your pride and play into his game. âYes, please,â you say, eyes pleading with him.
He smiles almost giddily before burying his face against the side of yours. âMy babyâs so polite,â he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. âIâll give you whatever you want.â
âTake this off, then,â you say, grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt.Â
âSo she says please and gives orders,â he jokes, quickly obliging anyway.Â
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 youâre 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. âFuck,â you sigh, bucking your hips into his to feel him over and over again.
Itâs so much, but itâs 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 donât 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.
âCondom?â he asks, but you shake your head.
âIâm on the pill. And even so⊠I usually always use a condom, but I donât want to now. Not with you.â
Jake closes his eyes as he takes a deep, stabilising breath. âI feel totally normal about that. Not crazy at all.â
You giggle, and he opens his eyes, a wide smile gracing his lips before he bends down to kiss you. âYou ready for the night of your life?â he asks against your lips. âItâs gonna last five minutes, tops,â he says, making you laugh again. âIâm sorry, baby, I canât do anything about it. I think I couldâve cum just from eating you out.â
âThat wouldâve been hot.â
âReally? Weâll make it a challenge for next time, then.â
When Jake plunges into you, itâs unlike anything youâve ever felt before. He fills you up, slow inch by slow inch, until heâs 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 youâve 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.Â
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 itâs the perfect kind of torture, the kind that has tears brimming in your eyes. Itâs so hard to take, and yet you want more. Youâre 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.Â
You can tell heâs 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.Â
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. âYou did so well, baby. So good for me.â You think you might be ready for a second round if he keeps talking to you like that. âI love you so much.â
You sigh deeply, as if you were just told disconcerting news. âOkay.â
âOkay?!â he echoes, looking up at you with an outraged expression on his face.
âIâm sorry, I love you too, I just- Iâm not used to this yet! You canât just tell me you love and expect me to be normal. You have to warn me first.â
âCan I just warn you now that Iâm going to tell you I love you every time I get the chance?â
You sigh. âI guess.âÂ
âCan I tell you now?â he asks, and you hum. âI love you.â
âI love you more.â
Jake tuts. âI highly doubt it, but whatever makes you happy.â
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 mightâve fallen asleep, and youâre close to drifting off yourself when he speaks. âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to do this. Not just the sex, although that has been on my mind for a while now,â he says, making you laugh, âbut all of this. Being together, getting to be in your arms like this, kissing you whenever I want. Calling you my girlfriend.â
âMe too, Jakey. I waited so long I didnât think it would ever happen.â
Jake chuckles. âHow stupid were we not to have noticed we felt the same way?â
âVery stupid. I think we felt so sorry for ourselves that we were stuck in one-sided love, that we didnât even realise the other was going through the exact same thing. But at least weâre now.â
âAt least weâre here now.â You and Jake yawn at the exact same time, making you burst into giggles, giddy with sleep and love.
âLetâs sleep, baby,â you say.
Jake hums, burying himself deeper against your body. âSleep well, my love. Iâll be here.â
--
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 Jakeâs 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 thatâd imply he saw you as a tree. Make-out sessions were a particular favourite of yours - how could they not be when your boyfriendâs 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 Godâs will when you kissed Jake. Â
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 Jakeâs parents after so long, you feign sleepiness after lunch as an excuse to get some time alone with your boyfriend. Ironically, this âtime aloneâ is spent so intensely that you do end up falling asleep afterwards.Â
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 werenât around to witness. Friends you donât recognize, places youâve never heard of, phases youâd never known heâd 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. Jakeâs family hadnât adopted Layla yet. You realise that even if thereâs whole parts of your life you didnât 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 youâre missing with furrowed eyebrows. When he opens his eyes and they settle on you, a sleepy smile will grace his dazzling features, and heâll say, âCome back to bed.â
Youâll 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!)
© asahicore on Tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!
#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
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I just want to take a few minutes to ramble about the inherent hilarity of Caleb Widogast becoming a professor as a level 17 wizard.
Caleb became a professor after turning down becoming an Archmage and deciding that TIME TRAVEL wasnât for him. While that is all very in character, itâs also crazy as all hell and just very funny to me. Cause like, most of the professors there? Probably around level 8-10. Maybe one or two level 11 or 12, excluding the Headmaster because Archmage.
Level 17-20 is you are a legendary hero, pretty much a Demi-god. Once a character reaches level twenty they only way they can get more powerful is if they start developing legendary resistances and lair actions like Goddamn dungeon boss or bbeg. And Caleb is just. Teaching, and fiddling with the highest level magics and digging out evil on the side. And like, this sort of thing is all true of all the M9, and itâs funny for all of them, itâs just funniest with Caleb to me.
Just- Caleb apologizing to his class for missing a few days, he was dealing with something. Dealing with something being he and Beau were in some epic battle with an evil wizard or something. Itâs his go to excuse when he gets caught up in business with Beau or has a high magic accident. âI was dealing with somethingâ could be as simple as the normal he was moving, some friends got married, to he physically fighting corruption, he accidentally trapped himself in a demiplane for 24 hrs while he was trying to figure that spell, ect.
Caleb, chatting with other professors
Random Professor: I finally got Telekinesis working properly. Math isnât my strongest suit, I got forcefully flung into the ceiling so many times before I figured the equation out with my notations.
Caleb, who has fought Demi-gods, dragons, and can teleport long distance a few times a day if he wants: Ja, I hear that. Itâs fun to use for pranks, though.
RP: ???
If a bright wizard of the far future tried to dig into the legendary Wizard Caleb Widogast, after like finding an artifact or scroll Old Man Caleb made or something, theyâd have such a weird time. The source of this powerful Magics they found and he was just a dude. He was rumored to have a harem of male lovers (just Essek in his many disguises), he taught transmutation, there is cat imagery all over his stuff, every portrait they find of him has like 12 dicks hidden in it. What the hell?
I just- itâs just really funny to me.
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
can you write sub!aemond going into subâspace mid fuck? like he switches to highâvalyrian, eye all glassy and pupil dilated, and no control over his body (hips bucking up subconsciously etc)
maybe some overstimulation because he's so sensitive and he's all pliant and grabby with his hands? đ€
I⊠anon you are truly a visionary.
NSFW sub!Aemond below the cut :))
So firstly, Aemond has no idea what subspace is before this happens, but I do think he actually would have been sort of teetering on subspace for a while whenever you and he would spend quiet time alone? Like if he knelt for you or you let him rest his head on your chest or if you read to him. His mind just switches off and he lets himself relax and float, knowing that youâre there if anything happens.
Because if that, I think the first time it would happen would be one of those times that turned into sex? You were laying in bed with his head resting on your inner thigh. You had one hand in his hair, gently stroking and massaging his head and then you were reading something to him, usually something calming and familiar.
He was letting himself relax, but he also hadnât seen you in a few days and while you were absolutely right when you saw him and said he needed to calm down with you before he did anything else, he is now calm and far far too close to your undergarments to not want to taste.
You see that coming from a mile away of course, Aemond can never hide his intentions with you. You wait until he starts to get squirmy and grinds against the bed before you give him permission to eat you out, which he immediately dives into the moment you let him.
Heâs so good with it, and by the time youâre pulling him away from you heâs so turned on and so so needy.
You get him to lay on the bed then with his back against the headboard and you ride him. When you start heâs not in subspace, but he is just⊠really settled? Thereâs no urgency, no begging or gripping of your thighs. Itâs like he knows now that when heâs this vulnerable you will always give him exactly what he needs, so he doesnât beg or try to do anything, he knows youâll make this perfect.
And you do, of course.
You start off riding him nice and slow, listening to all his little whimpers. Itâs when you pick up the pace that you see something has changed.
The first thing you notice is that his grip on your hips tightens and then his hips buck up. You had told him not to move at all, so feeling his hips buck up into you surprised you, because heâd normally never ever disobey you like that.
Youâre about to tell him off for that, but then you look at him and heâs just so clearly gone. Heâs leaning his head against the wall, panting and whining and mumbling something in high Valyrian so soft that you canât make out what heâs saying. You tell him to look at you and he only whines louder and bucks his hips again.
You gently take his jaw in your hand and directly him to look into yours and thatâs when you know for certain that heâs in subspace. His eyes are all glossy and looking right past you. He mumbles in high Valyrian again and this time youâre able to actually make out the word.
Wife. Heâs mumbling wife.
And well, youâre certainly not going to tell him off now.
You tell him heâs so pretty like this, which makes him whine again and then you start riding him properly once more. He no longer knows what to do with his hands, canât seem to make his mind up. Heâs grabbing your thighs then hips then breaths then face and repeating it over and over, like he doesnât know what to do with himself.
You end up taking his hands and putting them on your waist, telling him to keep them there. He throws his head back in response and whimpers out something that sounded like âyes, wife, I will tryâ in high Valyrian. The poor thing seems completely incapable of English.
When you can see he starts to get close, you tell him immediately that he can cum because you really donât want to risk how he might react if he came without permission and thought he disappointed you.
Heâs so loud when he comes, whimpering and whining and saying âwifeâ and âthank youâ over and over in high Valyrian.
The moment his orgasm is over, heâs straight into overstimulation because youâre still sitting on him, but heâs so pliant? He tries to push you off him, but itâs like he has absolutely no strength? He ends up kinda just weakly pushing against your hip.
You only ride him a little while longer and then get off because you donât want to overwhelm him when heâs this vulnerable.
The moment youâve rolled off him, he rolls to follow you and buries his head in your chest. He just holds you tight and whines and cries as he slowly comes down.
You ensure not to leave his side until youâre sure heâs recovered.
When he does recover, heâs just so thankful? He felt so so safe and well looked after by you. For the next few days heâs in the best mood that anyone has ever seen him in.
#sub!aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond x you#aemond fic#aemond smut#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd#house of the dragon imagine
861 notes
·
View notes