#i was not kidding when i said i am the author of one too many unfinished wips because i couldn't even find the word doc for this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asahicore · 1 year ago

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!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mean it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see Jake before he sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you beam.

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

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

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

“Good night!”

“Night, Y/N!”

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

“Gosh, what’s all this for?”

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

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

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

“And what?” you ask.

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

“What?”

“Is that it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know that, no need to remind me.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t-”

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

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

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

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

“You do English Lit.”

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

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

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

“You’re not answering my question.”

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

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

You pause. “He did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hadn’t started unusually.

“So, bad news first, right?”

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

“I’m moving to Korea next month.”

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

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

“Forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You dated your boss?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long were you together?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How much of a bonus?”

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

“Okay. Got any more specifics?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tea tastes even sweeter that day.

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

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

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

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

All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could fix him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Snax? What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

“But… I’m scared,” Jake says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Like kissing her, or some-”

“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First, he has a trip to plan.

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

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

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

“Oh, we’re not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“People are used to the cold here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such an idiot.”

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?”

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

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

And this is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you so much, Jakey.”

He smiles. “It’s no worries.”

“Did you do it all this afternoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am. It’s just a lot.”

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

“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

“No, just… I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would’ve been hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I guess.”

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

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2K notes · View notes

feyburner · 9 months ago

Note

In ur version, does Batman or Superman even approve of Kon and Tim being together?

Lol sorry I’m sure you intended this as an art prompt but instead I used it as a silly little writing exercise.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« Bruce Wayne

That depends.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

On what?

« Bruce Wayne

On the subject matter, Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Shoot. hang on

Superman (Justice League) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« B

How many times a day does that happen

Just tell me. I can take it

Superman (Justice League) »

Not… that many…

« B

How many records are we scrubbing.

This week.

Superman (Justice League) »

Listen

You are the one who chose to make secret phones that are identical to normal phones

I don’t know what you were expecting

« B

It’s precautionary. In case they get lost.

They’re not identical. The Batcell’s haptic interface hardware is superior to the iPhone’s.

Slightly bigger too.

0.3mm.

Superman (Justice League) »

I’ll refrain from the obvious comment

But know I am thinking it

« B

So there’s a visual difference.

You have x-ray vision.

Superman (Justice League) »

If you think I’m going to x-ray my phone to figure out if the haptic interface software is 0.3mm larger than an iPhones every single time I need to send a text you are nuts

That’s you

« B

Learning memes are we.

Superman (Justice League) »

That’s not a meme. It’s a reaction image

I think

« B

Doesn’t a reaction image have to be sent in reaction to something? By definition?

Superman (Justice League) »

I dont know.

« B

I don’t either.

Superman (Justice League) »

Okay.

« B

You said you wanted to chat?

Superman (Justice League) »

Yes

And let me just preface this with:

I am about to tell you something and I need you to be, with all due respect, so normal about it

« B

Jesus fucking Christ, what happened?

Superman (Justice League) »

Nothing!! bad

Nothing bad

« B

Where are you? Can you call?

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok calm down, I’m fine, everything is fine

I can theoretically call but I think this is the kind of thing you’re going to want to sit with, on your own, for a second

Maybe 30 full seconds actually. Maybe sit for 30 full seconds before taking any action

« B

Kal El, I am catastrophizing at the speed of sound.

Superman (Justice League) »

Then I bet it will be such a huge relief to learn that all Im going to say is I have it on good authority that Superboy has something to tell you, and normally I would never breach his trust like this, but again: I cannot emphasize enough that I need you to be so, so normal. When he tells you. Which I have reason to believe he will, imminently

« B

Alfred has just informed me that Superboy is on the doorstep.

On the doorstep, Kal.

Of my home.

Superman (Justice League) »

Huh!

« B

He’s asked to speak with me in the parlor.

“In the parlor.” Quote.

I forgot we had one of those.

What is this.

Superman (Justice League) »

Well

I think there’s a chance Kon is about to be very, very brave, to your face

And—keep in mind I’m saying this as someone who thinks the world of you and has boundless trust and faith in your ability to be kind, selfless, and accepting—

If he doesnt leave that house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step I will ruin your life.

« B

Jesus.

I know you’re only threatening me because of that, thing I said. Last time.

And yet, it’s still effective.

Superman (Justice League) »

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah?

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

« B

I have to go meet your kid. “In the parlor”

Superman (Justice League) »

Be nice :)

« B

I will.

I know what he’s going to say anyway.

Superman (Justice League) »

Oh?

« B

He, and coincidentally also Robin, needs to work on his situational awareness.

With an emphasis on remembering to scan the environment for CCTV cameras.

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok to be fair there are a lot of cameras these days

« B

The incident in question took place on the rooftop of Wayne Tower.

Superman (Justice League) »

I see.

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah.

Unrelatedly are you coming over later?

« B

So you can ruin my life?

Yes.

Superman (Justice League) »

See you then :)

« B

Yes.

Wait.

It’s not weird now that…?

Superman (Justice League) »

Holidays may get awkward but I’m sure we will all cope.

« B

Okay.

Superman (Justice League) »

Tell Kon I said hi!

« B

I will.

« B

Hey it’s Batman. I fucked up.

Superman (Justice League) »

What??

« B

Not with Kon’s thing. That went fine. But we kept talking and I mayh ave let something slip and I’d liek to apologize in advance bc I htink he’s on the way

Superman (Justice League) »

Kons at my window???

« B

Sorry.

Superman (Justice League) »

I will ruin your life!!!!!

« B

Nuts.

#feyburner ask #my writing

867 notes · View notes

bestlilithian · 8 months ago

Text

The lilithian experience (lilith dominant chart)

Personal experiences w having heavy lilith influence

- Older people being creepy subtly or overtly, but usually subtly with certain looks or touches or comments, especially strangers in public or distant family friends

- Being told Im scary or intimidating, or that I look mean (a girl once told me she thought I wouldnt want to hang out w her and her friends because I looked 'too pretty and kinda mean') [this is esp w lilith/asc harsh aspects]

- Lilith square asc culture is walking into a room a little pissed or in a hurry and everyone shutting up (also works for mars/pluto)

- Now Ive never heard anyone else talking about this but as a lilithian woman Ive always been disgusted by the idea of having sex with a man because in our culture a woman who has sex w a man is seen as having been dominated and degraded by him ("I fucked her" "I hit that" "I scored") also the act itself is very power struggle-ish like no *I* want to bend over a man and make him suck *my* dick

- Being hyperaware of people looking at you (even if youre dressed extremely modestly or without makeup)

- Lilith/moon aspects 🤝 your mom making inappropriate comments about you and your body

- Lilith/sun aspects 🤝 your father insulting you or making weird comments (more subtle w soft aspects so you might brush it off but its still not okay girl)

- People thinking youre flirting with them or others (esp men) but youre just hot and talking, and you cant help that ppl have strong reactions to anything you say really

- Loving eye contact <3 (w the right people)

- Lilith square saturn culture is not being afraid to stand up to authority <3 and having to quite often because they have a pick on you and try to tear you down

- also w lilith square/opposite saturn grown ass adults will have beef w you when youre a kid, esp those w authority over you like teachers, coaches etc

- Lilith/asc harsh aspects and overthinking whether a fit is too revealing or not (because you dont want to get harassed and looked at again) (but then youll grt harassed even if you go out in a priests suit so 🤩)

- People (esp men) trying to use you for sex

- Always being the one guys want to be friends w benefits with while theyre crushing on another girl

- "I dont like what you do to me" - most men Ive interacted with for a while

- A guy told me he liked me for who I am but he couldnt stand "the effect I have on him"

- lilith in 4th house culture is attracting men w mommy issues and being looked at by guys in relationships

- lilith/mercury and needing to know all your friends bdsm test results

- People liking when youre mean 2 them

- People who hate you often want to have sex w you

- Ive had so many guys in my class literally have to gather up courage to talk 2 me, even for basic things like asking me to help w something, they approach me looking all tense and worked up like Ill slice their head off for asking me to help them with their math lmao

- A classmate (and friend, apparently) of my friend once didnt want to come out and meet me when I went to my friends school to give her something because she thought Id beat her up (for context I found out she said some nasty things to my friend and was not happy about it)

- Being told by ppl (esp men) that I remind them of characters who are villains

- People esp girls not liking me for no reason or being rude

- Guys in relationships being extremely cold and rude to me or even shittalking me to their gfs (you can guess why)

- People trying to 'put you in your place'

- Recognizing other lilithians immediately

- Being insecure about your private parts, your body in general and your appearance

- Sex obsession since a young age

- Sexual harassment unfortunately

#lilith #astro observations #astro placements #horoscope #plutonian #astrology #lilith square ascendant #lilith astrology #lilith aspects #pluto placements #tw mysoginy

779 notes · View notes

interact-if · 6 days ago

Text

Black History Month Author Spotlight: Lapin

To kickstart the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, I'd like to introduce everyone to our first IF author, Lapin (@harlequinoccult)!

(I had a ton of fun reading Lapin’s answers, and I’m sure you will too! Read on for a celebration of ‘weird,’ Lapin’s Black southern gothic / horror influences, and how a D&D game could lead to interactive fiction!

Lapin, thank you again for your candid, humorous responses, I am very honored to have gotten to know you better :D)

Author: Lapin

Black creole and cajun, artist and writer, and wannabe game developer

Games: Slaughter Squad (Horror, Slasher, Romance)

Synopsis: YOU HAVE A HUNGER A HUNGER THAT YOU’VE BEEN NEGLECTING For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your.....”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer, and quite frankly, a sloppy one at that. And you’re the accessory to his crimes. No matter what way you’ve gotten to know the man, or how you feel about him, you’re stuck with him, and stuck with just being his little “helper” ........Or are you? Especially when you’re suddenly given a....Unique opportunity.

Games: The Valley of Luck (Fantasy, Adventure, Romance)

Synopsis: The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale. Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some. However, your quest, whether related to The Valley or not, will lead you down a much stranger path.

Quote from the interview:

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household… Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. … I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs….I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

Both parts of my family are 100% from Louisiana, New Orleans and the deep south. My moms side have been there so long, we have two streets named after us.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My main project, of course, is Slaughter Squad. I love slasher movies and horror media in general. But what I always noticed with horror/romance, at least in the visual novel scene, is that the main character is nearly always the one getting screwed over, so I thought, well, what if the bad guys actually are your peers? How would this dynamic change if they don't see you as prey? I never thought that premise would appeal so much to so many but hey, I can't complain! I adore seeing people having fun with the silly little concept I had.

Now, my secondary project, The Valley of Luck. Some may not know this, but this story is based off of a D&D campaign I DM'ed back in the day with my friends. All the ROs are NPCs that my friends had, or where going to encounter. I won't lie, I did shy away from it and changed some things when the whole debacle with Wizards of the coast (the company that "owns" D&D) Where making some...questionable decisions. But this story is my baby. My first born. This one has been in the works far longer than SLSQ and has a lot of background lore that I hope I get the opportunity to share.

I do have a few other projects bumping around, One I am particularly excited for, But that one will have to wait a little bit~

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household. I never felt that I truly had a sense of identity until that household inevitably split up. Everyone talks about being the weird kid in middle school, but no one mentions being the "normal on the outside but wants to be the weird kid so bad its painful on the inside but can't because you were told that stuff is 'white people shit' " type of kid.

Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. I was a little shitter on the internet, I can't lie about that, as much as I want to. But I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs....I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Let your characters speak through you like you're being possessed by a demon.

What’s the one thing you’re really proud of that you’ve written so far? Do you have a favorite character or scene that you’ve written?

I am so serious.

is it wildly inconvenient? yes. does it help your writing a ton? also yes. Doing Roleplay with friends is a fantastic way to learn to do this. being a DM for a D&D game has basically made it so characters can simply speak from my brain at any given moment. It's also annoying because some of these people do NOT shut up. Learning how a character would react on the fly does wonders for dialogue writing and character analysis. Roleplay with your friends, or hell, strangers who are down to clown that could become friends. Be cringe. be free.

I love the opening to Slaughter Squad and if you told me to rewrite it with a gun to my head I would tell you to shoot me. I love how punchy it is and it came out exactly how I wanted it to. I don't play favorites with characters (<- lying) but my two favorites to write are the stinky little bastard cat Sterling in TVoL and.....Carter, from SLSQ. I love writing complete bastards. One being lighthearted and gets a pass for it because he's just a kitty cat and the other you want to actively beat his face in with your bare hands. It's SO funny.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

Write. Write it now. Doesn't have to be good doesn't have to be polish all that matters is that you WROTE IT. All the bells and whistles can come later!!!! Stop thinking about the later and think about the now!!!! Write what you love and never give two shits about if it's cringe!!! Be excellent to each other!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

GO LISTEN TO CHROMAKOPIA BY TYLER THE CREATOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Lapin’s pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Lapin’s custom “this-or-that” pairing: Rain or Shine

More on Black Southern Gothic:

Black southern gothic can vary a lot, but when I think of it, I think of old semi abandoned wood shotgun houses in the swamp, all white tiny baptist churches where the white paint is peeling from the heat and humidity, riding horses down a dirt paved street while people still ride by in their old busted down 1960s chevys. Old plantation houses that have been reclaimed by the swamp. The dark, humid heat of the night on a street with no streetlights. Every house you see is absolutely haunted by something and not just ghosts. Voodoo and hoodoo is different than what people will tell you it is.

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jessamin Ward, and anything by Toni Morrison 100%.

#author features #spotlight #black history month #interactive fiction #interactive games #if: features #itch.io #slaughter squad #the valley of luck #interview feature #game dev

178 notes · View notes

charlotteking23 · 7 months ago

Text

No Fool - LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando tries to make you feel better after your award show goes wrong, but instead creates chaos.

requested: anonymous

"Baby, I am so proud of you, getting this award is a big deal", Lando breathes out running his hands across my body lightly squeezing me.

"thanks", I mutter shyly. I was so nervous about this award. what if I made a fool of myself, all these what ifs running through my head.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look in the dress", Lando smirked as he squeezed your thigh as we rode to the award show.

I couldn't stop admiring him, he looked so sexy in that suit with one hand driving the car and the other hand on my thigh.

"take a picture, it will last longer baby", Lando chuckled seeing my face hot with embarrassment being caught looking at him.

As we arrived, the paparazzi immediately swarmed the car, recognizing the vehicle belonged to the Lando Norris.

As we headed inside the ceremony, Lando's hand never left my waist. Lando and I took our assigned seats next to each other, we weren't in the back but also not in the front it was perfect, made felt invisible.

As time went on Lando's hand never left my thigh whispering some not-so-kid-friendly things. We were in front of the other drivers as well Max, Daniel, Charles and etc.

Finally, my name was called as I got up Lando took my hand squeezing it lightly reassuring me. As I walked on stage, the host introduced me making a little speech.

It was supposed to be a heartwarming speech but had turned into a nightmare. He talked about how the beginning of the season was terrible, making me blush in embarrassment. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I spoke through the microphone.

I felt like an idiot, I practiced my speech a hundred times but as I started speaking I completely messed up my speech, even stuttering. Finally, when I was done the party could start because I was the last one.

I brushed past Lando when he tried to congratulate me and instead walked over to the bar to order some strong shots.

After a few I walked around stumbling over my feet, everything was so blurry. I couldn't remember how many drinks I had, only remembering the horrible speech I had presented.

I spotted Lando by the tables talking to Daniel and Oscar, looking around every minute as if he was looking for something or someone.

I stumbled towards Lando thinking how do I get his attention, I didn't want to interrupt him so I tugged on his shirt. Immediately Lando turned around, sighing softly as he realized I was the one who tugged slightly at his shirt.

I crashed into his body, hugging him as tightly as possible. "I made a fool of myself", I said pouting slightly against Lando's chest.

"Oh baby, you didn't make a fool of yourself, you did wonderful", Lando whispered in my ear leading me towards the table where he gave me a bottle of water.

"Do you want to go home", Lando whispered. I nodded yes not wanting to say anymore, only wanting to get out of this suffocated place.

Lando waved his friends bye, gathering my arms into his embrace walking me out to the front. As exspected Paparazzi and fans were lined up.

It felt too much, seeing people push each other to see a glance at the F1 driver and his girlfriend. The crowd got pusher and pusher leading you to almost fall when a guy trampled you to see Lando.

Lando immediately helps you, pulling your hands to hold his waist.

“Hey, watch it you nearly hurt my girlfriend”, Lando grunts not trying to get into a fight and reframed from saying anything bad.

“Please Lando, you could do better than this bit”-, before the man could finish Lando punch the man in the face.

You look around blinded by the media flashing lights wanting to see Lando fight. You turned a few seconds later to see Daniel holding Lando back and Oscar calling someone, probably the authorities.

You look at the guy seeing some nasty bruises and cuts. You saw Lando with no bruises and just a cut on his lip but that’s it.

Lando finally calmed down, his number one priority was to look for you when he finally saw your figure frozen a few feet away from him.

He took your arm dragging you to his car where the media flashed both you and him wanting his reaction and comment.

Just as quickly you both left, a deafening silence in McLaren’s car.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you”, Lando said quietly not wanting to scare you.

After a couple of seconds you responded with, “it's not your fault, and thank you for defending me”, you said just as quietly.

“You hungry?”, Lando questioned trying to change the subject.

“I could eat”, you replied starving only eating those mini dishes from the fancy restaurants that barely gave any food.

“McDonald's”, Lando said pulling up to the fast food places. Knowing it's your favorite late-night craving.

“McDonald's”, you said excitedly.

326 notes · View notes

kaciebello · 9 months ago

Text

King of thieves

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Summary: Luke is naturally borrowing things without asking. He is rather shocked when someone beats him at his own game Warning: no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) Word count: 1,7k Song: Karma by Taylor Swift

May 3rd

Luke was the son of Hermes. The god of messengers and travellers. The god of thieves. It made sense he couldn't help it. Sometimes, his hands just moved independently and suddenly he was carrying a gold bracelet in his pockets. Nonedobletly belongs to one of the aphorides kids. He's used to giving a few days and then pretending to find it in one of the fields. He watched his sibling bring many questionable things to the cabin, with even more questionable origins. That is was he not surprised by his friends' accusations.

“Give it back.” She said, one hand on her hip and the other palm up to him.

“I don't have it.” He argued back. His arms crossed over his chest. The girl just narrowed her eyes.

“I don't have time for this. Give it back.” The girl said as if it would suddenly jog his memory if he took her bracelet with the scythe charm on it. So again, he shook his head, signalling he did not have it. The girl just sighed and let her hands hang around her body.

“I swear if this is another paintbrush situation, I will burn you on a stake Castellan.” Grin spread across his face as he watched her walk away. Possibly trying to retrace her steps, trying to see if she just lost it after all.

She didn't. The bracelet was burning hole in his pockets right now. Had she just searched him better, she would have noticed him moving it from pocket to pocket. He snatched it first thing in the morning, they made a bet during breakfast and shook on it. She did not even notice it. Luke thanks his chams for that.

In his defence, he had all the reasons to steal it. Well maybe not legal reasons, but reasons nonetheless. He turned around on his heel and walked back to his cabin.

–

May 10th

“Are you sure you don't have it?” She said as she circled him, her sword lifted his way just a little bit. Luke couldn’t do anything but laugh. They were both sweaty from all the sparing, and the bright sun did not help. Her hair was messy from all the jumping and rolling around. He found her endearing like this.

“It's been a week, If I did I would have given it back to you at this point.” He turns his body to face her. It was the truth, had he taken it by accident, which wasn't the case. The girl just frowns at him before looking at him in the eyes.

“I feel like you're lying.” She says taking a few steps to him. Her sword taps his chest as she does. Luke could only smile. He knew the bracelet was placed safely in a box that was wedged between the wall and his mattress.

“ Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.” he teases her, placing his hand on the sword. Not worrying about any scratches.

“Which one is it, Castellan?” Now it was his turn to take steps closer to her. They were almost chest-to-chest at this point. Looking at her doe eyes, a smirk spread on his face.

“ Do you consider telling half-truths a lie?” The girl just snickered at him before moving back. he would feel the sword moving and tap him on his biceps.

“Pull your sleeves down, it's distracting.” Luke flexed his mussels one more time before doing so.

–

May 17th

“Did you steal this too?” She says looking at the can of Diet Coke in her hand. Luke just rolls his eyes. He did.

“No, now shut up and enjoy the view.” He took her can and set it aside alongside his. The Girl just shrugged and lay down, watching the stars. Luke followed suit. Although it was his idea to go stargazing, he didn't pay much attention. sure, his eyes were very much watching the stars, but he was mentally screaming. Probably more than the younger campers he could hear in the background. They were so close that their hands were brushing against each other.

His pinkie itched to wrap around hers, but his nerves only allowed him to twitch without actually moving it. The girl was babbling something about the stars but he really couldn't make out any words. Only focusing on the way her voice made him feel. All silly and like he was made pudding.

His ears almost perked up when he heard her sigh. Turning his gaze from the stars in the night sky to look into those in her eyes, trying to figure out what was annoying her. It was like his heart stopped when she turned her whole body to face him. They were so close he could almost feel her breath on his face.

He mimicked her. Resting on his side next to her. To others, they may look comical, but Luke certainly did not care.

“Ya know,” Her eyes shift behind him. “ OH MY GOD, THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A SCYTHE!” She yelped and pointed to something behind him. He could only turn his head before he let out a laugh.

“You're still one that?” He turns to her with moon-crescent eyes. The girl had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Yes, I'm still on that! You stole it and won't admit it!” Her finger poked his chest. He could only grab her wrist and pull her on top of him, shaking them both in laughter.

–

May 24th

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he says over his food. The girl pointed her fork at him.

“Yes, you do. this is like the paintbrushes and the bracelet. Where is my book.” She says. Luke just rolls his eyes as he has nothing to say. For once, this wasn't his fault. Yes he borrowed her paintbrushes once and forgot to give them back, and yes he's currently in possession of her bracelet, but he would never take her books. He's not a monster.

He leans over and takes a bite from her fork. The girl just huffs.

“I wasn't even near your room.” He defences himself. She has nothing to prove him wrong.

“I just have this feeling it was you. It's like my 6th sense.” She says again and looks into the distance. Intentionally avoiding eye contact.

“Well, I don't know what to tell you. What would I even do with your book.”

“Read it.” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“ Medical books?” He questions her. She just nods, as if any of this makes sense.

“Yeah, maybe you wanna steal my job too. Who knows.” She shrugs and returns to her food.

“I do not want-”

“Yes! Sorry for bothering you guys, but I found this book outside by the beach. And you're the only one I know that actually reads stuff like this.” The small Apollo kid places the book on the table and skips away.

The girl's gaze fixated on the book. Her tongue poking her cheek. Luke smirks before chuckling to himself.

“looks like your 6th sense is broken, sweetheart.”

“Oh shut up.”

–

May 31st

Luke was nervous, and he did not like it. He was used to making people nervous, not the other way around. So why was he fidgeting with his fingers? The little box in his pockets burned more and more every minute.

He was standing in the little clearing in the woods. Enough trees for them to have privacy but clear enough for them to stargaze again. He could hear the snap of a twig, making him turn around to the sound.

There she stood in front of him. In his eyes, she looked as much as any goddess could. he was seen if he ever met Aphrodite, she would resemble his dearest friend.

A smile spread across his face and she mimicked him.

“Grover told me to meet you here. He said it was an emergency. You don't look very emergent.” She joked and made her way to him. He let out a huff, but let her to the little blanket that was laid out on the floor. They took their shoes off and sat down.

They both took half of a sandwich he stole from the kitchen today and looked at the stars again. Luke already learned that stargazing gives him time to gaze at her without her noticing much. Today he wasn't so careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, swallowing the last bite of her food, her eyes not moving from the stars.

“Like what?” he cocks his head at her.

“Like I stole something from you.”

“Because you did.” An offended gasp left her as she whipped her head from the stars to him. He just giggled at her expression.

“Excuse you?? I did not. That’s your speciality and we both know that!” She argued back. “There is nothing I could steal without you noticing.”

“But you did.” He says again, moving closer to her. She glares at him while she moves to sit in his lap. Frowning her eyes, she takes a breath to speak again, but Luke stops her by shaking his head.

“You, my little star, have stolen my heart.” He says, looking her straight in the eyes. Again before she can speak he interrupts her. “Also, I have something for you.”

He reaches into his pocket to pull out the little box. Her eyes were glued to it. He turned it around and opened it. Inside was absolutely nothing. Luke's eyes widened in shock and fear. Little whispers of no’s and panicked patting of his pockets.

“What's wrong? Looking for something?” She says flashing her wrist at him. Luke didn't pay it much attention. He started to apologise and grabbed her arm. His palm lands on something cold. he stops and turns her wrist to his vision.

There sat a bracelet with a scythe charm on it. the one that was supposed to be in his pocket. Frozen he stared at it before shifting his eyes at her. She just smiled at him.

“How?” He breathed out. She just laughed.

“I snatched it from you like a week ago. Surprised you didn't notice.” She says it with such ease, knowing she beat him in his own game. He can just shake his head.

His arm sneaked up to her neck as he pulled her to a kiss. She may have stolen his heart and her bracelet back, but from now on, he's gonna steal all the kisses he can.

420 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 3 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you become friends with Skye Riley and watch her grow into the pop star she is, that unfortunately means you get a front row seat into her demise.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, injury and death.

author's note: okay so this took forever and i’m very sorry for the wait! i started writing it but it just kept getting longer so now it's 3 parts 😂

a few things to note - the smile demon thing doesn't exist, it's just a story about her bc why not. Also her friend Gemma (?) also doesn't exist bc i couldn't think of a way to include her in the story lol

okay that's it, enjoy!!

The thing with Skye Riley was she was always so full of hope and passion and optimism for her craft. From the very first day we met, I knew she would become something special to so many people out there. I just never intended for her to become something special to me.

She was just starting out, some rising star doing a performance for a local TV station in the city. I didn't even know who she was, never having heard of nor seen her before. The reason I was at the station was because it was another one of my odd behind-the-scenes photography jobs I'd landed, fresh out of university at twenty-two years old.

I was messing with my camera near the snacks table when I felt a presence and looked up to see her grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl. She didn't notice me at first, but I definitely did a double take, not knowing she was the talent at first, but thinking how pretty this girl was. She must have felt my gaze as she looked up and flashed me a picture-perfect smile, almost making me melt there and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

I blinked before smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She chuckled before nodding to my camera. "You work here?"

I glanced down at my camera. "Yeah. Well, kind of. It's only temporary. I'm doing some stills for their website. You?"

She hummed, intrigued. "Nice. I'm performing, so it might be me you're shooting. Do get my good side, please."

It was then that I realised she was Skye Riley, the talent booked for the day. "Shit, you're the guest."

She began to laugh, in a sweet, reserved kind of way. "I am, yeah. I'm Skye."

"My apologies, Skye," I said sheepishly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," she repeated, before smiling softly. "It's all good." She picked at another grape before continuing, "Between you and me, this is my first ever TV appearance and I'm scared shitless."

I realised she wasn't kidding when she didn't smile. Clearing my throat, I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be great. Clearly you're here for a reason. Just... try not to overthink it. Be yourself."

She glanced out at the stage. "I suppose you're right." Her gaze returned to mine with a half smile. "Thanks."

"At least if the interview goes south, you know you'll get some good photos from it," I joked, lifting my camera in the air playfully.

She laughed wholeheartedly, thankfully not offended. "Gee, thanks. Can't wait to see 'em."

I couldn't help but smile as I said, "I'm kidding. I'm sure you'll be great, Skye."

Before she could respond, someone called her name and she looked out to them before giving me a nervous smile. "I guess that's me. Was nice meeting you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You too," I responded. "And yeah, maybe. Break a leg out there."

She gave me a final smile before leaving to join her manager – who I eventually discovered was her mum – by the stage. I wasn't expecting to see her again, though I was definitely blown away by her talent when she performed that night. And as far as TV appearances went, she nailed it.

I suppose that being the same age in a world of adults and both starting out in our careers at the same time made it easy to talk to her. Especially when I was covering another last-minute paying photography gig at some flashy charity event that she just happened to be at.

It was her who spotted me this time, as I got some shots of the guests dancing around on the dance floor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and straightened up, wondering who it could be.

"Y/N?" her voice called as I turned around, certainly surprised to see her. When she saw me, her smile widened. "Yes, I knew I recognised you. It's me, Skye! Not sure if you remember me from the TV thing last month."

I was surprised to see her, but equally thrilled, returning her smile. "Skye, yes, of course I remember you. I didn't expect to see you again if I'm being honest, let alone so soon."

She chuckled. "At least you're honest. I'm glad though. I really enjoyed our chat last time." Her eyes looked me up and down. "You look good."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing she didn't mean it like that but still unable to accept compliments from pretty girls. "Thanks, so do you."

And I wasn't lying. She looked amazing in her glitzy purple dress, long, curled dark hair and smokey eye makeup. In just the month since we'd last seen each other, her music was already blowing up more and more, and she was really starting to come into herself as a star.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, are you working this event too? That's so cool for you!"

"Yeah, it's definitely a great opportunity," I replied, glancing around. "Just trying to get the best gigs I can, y'know? Get my name out there."

"Well, I personally loved the stills you took of me," she complimented sincerely, dark eyes glittering under the lights. "I think you're really talented."

"I think you might be biased," I said, unable to take the compliment, "but thank you."

She rolled her eyes playfully before nodding behind her. "Do you wanna get a drink and chat or are you not allowed? You're actually the only person I know here."

I was surprised she wanted to talk more, but also felt the same way. "Erm...," I paused, checking my watch and glancing around. "I should really work or I might get told off. But I finish in an hour, before the event ends. I don't know if you're still around then?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she said with a bright smile. "I'll be hanging around if you wanna find me? I'd love to know more about these photography gigs of yours."

I exhaled softly, nodding. "Sounds good. Only fair you tell me all about this becoming-a-celebrity gig of yours then." She laughed at this and it brought a smile to my lips. "I'll catch you later, Skye."

She nodded, satisfied. "See you in a bit."

And from there, it was safe to say we became friends. After getting to know each other better and exchanging numbers, it was easy enough to make a friend in the same boat as me, even if her boat was slightly different to mine. Of course, it was my mistake to be even mildly attracted to my new friend because that was not a good starting point for our friendship.

Because of how close we got, close enough for us to consider each other a best friend, she invited me to join her on tour as a documentary-style photographer. I was still building my experience and portfolio whilst she claimed she just really didn't want to be alone on her first ever international tour, so it was a win-win.

It was during the tour that I realised how much I actually liked her, in a dangerously non-platonic kind of way. And any little thing she did that was slightly touchy had me stumbling over my words – which was almost all the time because she was the touchiest friend I'd ever had.

It could be something as simple as braiding my hair for me and I'd forget how to breathe, or one time I was sat in her dressing room, listening to her mum talk about the show when she decided she wanted sit on my lap. Such casual friend things and yet I was malfunctioning every time.

Naturally, I forced myself to get over it.

—

Spending our 20s together meant I got a front row seat to her eventual decline into substance abuse. She was already an anxious person, though did well to disguise it, but her quick rise to fame and the constant pressures of her team did her no favours.

The first time I truly witnessed just how much she dealt with was about a year later, when she lost her voice in the midst of preparing for another tour. I was hanging around the side of the stage as they did a rehearsal a few nights prior to her first show, simply showing my support, when everybody noticed the croak in her throat as she attempted to sing a verse. After realising she couldn't, she was taken to a doctor.

"She's been under too much stress and her vocal cords are worn," the doctor explained to her mum in her dressing room, Skye sat opposite her. "She needs vocal rest."

Her mum seemed uncertain. "How long will that take?"

The doctor began to pack her things away as she spoke, "I'd advise a minimum of a few days, but she probably needs a week."

"She doesn't have a week," her mum snapped. "Her first show is in a couple of days. Thousands of fans are expecting to hear her sing."

I glanced at Skye, noticing the guilty expression she wore as she looked down to her hands. Her mum was always putting pressure on her like this and it was never nice to see her. I settled for resting my hand on hers, earning her attention, and squeezing it gently to let her know I was there for her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley, but your daughter is in a lot of pain and if she keeps going like this, she won't even have a tour," the doctor said impatiently. "Give her the rest she needs and she'll be okay."

Her mum sighed. "Fine. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded before giving Skye a reassuring smile and leaving the four of us alone – including Skye's mum's assistant.

"Sorry, mum," Skye muttered, and I nudged her gently in warning.

"You just heard the doctor," I reminded her. "No talking."

Her mum merely massaged the bridge of her nose with frustration, as if working out what to do next. It was harsh, insensitive even, but it wasn't my place to intervene.

"Okay, it's okay," she decided, before looking to her daughter. "You can still rehearse everything else. No vocals until the first show."

Skye nodded, standing up, but I quirked a brow as I looked to her mum.

"Shouldn't she rest?" I said, holding back my critique as much as I could. "If anything, it'll help her recover quicker. The doctor said she's already under stress."

"Dancing won't kill her," her mum said dismissively, before nodding to Skye. "I'll see you back out there, okay?"

Skye nodded as I raised my brows with disbelief, watching her mum and mum's assistant leave. Only when they were gone did I scoff and look to Skye.

"Are you serious? You need to rest, Skye," I told her. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."

Skye closed her eyes, frowning as she shook her head. I then realised my complaining wasn't helping and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But it's not right. And if you were hurting, you should've said."

She swallowed thickly before opening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach them.

"Skye...," I started, but didn't want to upset her anymore than she clearly already was. Instead, I gave her a hug, hoping it would mean something.

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't let go, not until I did, and I only did because we were hugging way too long and I didn't want to piss her mum off even more.

"Take it easy," I said to her when we pulled apart, searching her gaze. "Stop if it's too much, alright?"

She nodded, squeezing my hands gently, but I knew deep down that she was only saying what I wanted to hear, or rather doing what I wanted to see. She was too obedient to her mum and didn't want to let everyone down, even if it meant working herself to death.

It was all of these little things adding up that inevitably pushed her to seek out an escape where I just couldn't help her anymore.

The first time I realised it might be an issue was that same tour, about halfway through, when I was photographing some of the crew the day before a concert to eventually use in the tour documentary they were making of Skye. It was a fun day for me since I loved hanging out with the people who made the magic happen, and I was excited to show my photos to Skye back at the hotel like I always did. Only, this time, when she let me into her room, I realised she was drunk.

If it wasn't the acrid scent of alcohol that clung to her clothes that gave it away, or her giddy nature as she flopped on her bed, it was the countless mini bar bottles and cocktail glasses littered around her room.

"Did you... have a party with yourself or something?" I asked with confusion, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughed like I'd said the funniest thing ever smacking my hand gently as she stared at the ceiling. "Something like that."

I watched her, mildly concerned. "Are you gonna be okay for sound check tomorrow? Your mum might actually kill you if you show up with a hangover."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's a one-off, honest. I just wanted some fun."

Stupidly, I believed her. "Okay, well... maybe we should attempt to sober you up. C'mon."

She groaned, rolling over to stick her head under her pillow. "Later."

"Skye, please," I tried to reason. "Have you eaten anything?"

She ignored me and I took that as a no.

"I'll order some room service, yeah? Get some food in you," I said, talking to air as she continued to ignore me.

I had it easy enough that evening, looking after her. And even though she did wake up with a hangover the next morning, she promised she'd never act so irresponsibly again. I didn't care, I just didn't want her to struggle.

Of course, that was only the start. Whereas we'd usually hang out together after her shows, she began to leave to hang out with some of the crew and their friends. I wouldn't have minded since she was her own person, but it meant she'd come back absolutely hammered and it only worried me. It kept happening, to the point that it was a regular thing. Even after the tour ended, it was almost impossible to see her without a drink in her hand.

We fought about it at first, but I didn't want to push her away even more, especially into the arms of her shitty Hollywood friends. She was once open but now she'd hide things from me, making it difficult to know exactly what she was up to. I couldn't control her and I didn't want to, but she didn't seem to understand the severity of her actions.

It kept getting worse as the years went on, especially when she got a new boyfriend. They were awful for one another, terrible influences. Skye became more irritable to everyone around her, including me. It was like being friends with a completely new girl. Between the drinking and the partying and the drugs, I couldn't keep up. And as much as I cared about her, I wasn't important enough in her life for her to even consider listening to.

The final straw was when the paparazzi released some photos of her having a breakdown, screaming at some poor makeup artist for no reason at all. A joint was in her hand, she looked a mess, and it was enough to send her mum in a livid spiral. I wanted to stay out of it, but when her mum practically forced me to go to her and try to knock some sense into her, I had no choice.

When I knocked on the door of Skye's apartment, she saw it was me and rolled her eyes but let me in.

"She send you to fix me, did she?" she asked, walking to the kitchen.

I tried not to get offended as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. "It's bad, Skye. You look insane."

She faked a laugh. "Wow, way to fuckin' sugarcoat it."

I sighed, leaning on her kitchen island and looking over at her. "Are you gonna act childish with me right now or are we gonna have an actual conversation?"

She raised her brows, surprised and irritated. "Seriously?"

Maybe it was the years of putting up with her on-again off-again mood swings, or maybe it was just her complete disregard to listen to anyone who cared about her, but I'd had enough in that moment.

"Skye, you're embarrassing yourself," I said sternly, meeting her red-rimmed gaze. Of course she was high. "It's concerning and these pictures should be a wake up call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Good job I didn't ask your opinion."

I rubbed my face, fed up of her anger. "Skye, I'm not trying to argue."

"Then stay out of my fucking business, Y/N! You're always on my back about this shit and it's getting old."

Ignoring her tantrum, I said, "I'm worried about you."

Suddenly, she began to laugh slowly, quietly, mockingly. "I bet."

Confused, I watched her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She tilted her head as she nodded at me, arms crossed over her chest condescendingly. "It's written all over your face. You're in love with me."

I couldn't really comprehend what she'd said, not at first, but then my face felt hot and I felt like I'd been caught out.

"God, you're so obvious!" she whined loudly, approaching me. "You've been obvious with it. All these fucking years."

How did she know? How could she?

"You- you don't even know what you're saying," I finally spoke, cursing inwardly when I stumbled. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning, you're that fucking high."

"Oh, I'll remember," she assured me with a smile so cruel that it looked nothing like my best friend. "Because it's written all over your face."

She poked me in the cheek and I swatted her finger away instinctively, ashamedly, making her laugh.

"You're terrible at hiding it," she continued, eyes flickering between mine. "It's laughable."

Every part of me was screaming to leave, to run away and never come back. My skin was crawling and I wanted the earth to swallow me up, hot with shame. Tears pricked my eyes, embarrassed and hurt by how cruel she was being, how careless she was with my feelings.

"Did you think there was a shot?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you stuck around all this time?"

I frowned, attempting to glare at her, but it was a foolish one. "I stuck around because I care. Because you're my friend."

"You're lying." She laughed again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Forget it."

"It's forgotten."

I couldn't even look at her, turning around to leave. Never had she been so hurtful with her words.

"Oh, fine, fuck off like you want!" she shouted as I opened the front door.

I clenched my jaw as I glanced back at her. "You've become such a bitch."

She glared at me. "Better a bitch than a shitty admirer."

My heart crumbled, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

And with that, I slammed the door and left. Though, not without breaking down on the lift down to the lobby.

—

She never called to apologise. She never texted to check in. And I wasn't going to crawl back to her, not out of worry or friendship or anything. She'd made a fool of me, hurt me so much that I felt like an idiot. Because I was. I was the idiot who had my love for her practically tattooed all over my face. How could I have been so foolish?

An almost ten-year friendship gone, just like that.

Months passed and it was admittedly strange not to have her in my life. Even though our relationship had drastically changed for the worst, she'd been a consistent part of my life. And now she was just... gone.

The anger and embarrassment easily turned into hurt, which turned into sadness, and I found myself missing her greatly. But she made no effort to get in touch, so I knew I needed to move on.

It was those few months later when her car accident was all over the news. That was how I'd found out. She'd been on a drive with her boyfriend who unfortunately died, and she was in hospital. Or, at least, that was all the press knew.

As frustrated as I was with her, none of it mattered when I found out what had happened. Every part of me was concerned, wanting to know if she was okay. I was so close to calling her mum and asking to visit Skye in hospital, but I was too cowardly to do it. I'd convinced myself that she wouldn't want me there. Still, I missed her greatly.

A year passed soon enough and the only connection that I had with Skye Riley was the same as all of her fans – through a TV screen. Her story was in the headlines for ages – her public breakdown, her accident, her rise back to stardom. Interviews, the announcement of her new album, her new tour... I avoided it where I could, but she was a superstar and it wasn't always easy.

I'd gotten over her. I had. I never expected to hear from her again and that was okay.

Until I got a call out of the blue and it just so happened to be her.

"Hello?" I answered the unknown number with confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you might still...," the girl on the other side mumbled, before clearing her throat. "It's Skye. Erm, Skye Riley."

I stopped what I was doing, surprised to hear her voice. "Oh."

"Sorry, I know this is really random," she said quickly, nervous, "but, erm, I... I wanted to– I'd like to see you." She paused, then added, "If that's possible."

My brain was still playing catch up from the fact that she'd even called, let alone that she wanted to see me. I didn't know what to think.

"Why?" I finally asked, not trying to be hostile, but genuinely surprised.

She paused, and then spoke, "I miss you. A lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down. "Skye, it's been a year."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I've been in rehab for half of it..." When I didn't laugh, she continued, "Sorry. I just– I want to apologise. To explain. Ideally in person."

It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Please," she said quietly, noticing my silence.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As easy (and satisfying) as it would've been to tell her no and hang up, a part of me still cared. And annoyingly enough, I'd never gotten closure which had haunted me for a while. Maybe this could be it.

"Okay," I breathed out.

"Really?" She was as surprised as I sounded when I'd answered.

"Yeah," I said before I could change my mind. "Maybe this–?"

"Tomorrow?" she cut me off without meaning to.

"Oh," I started, but she spoke again.

"Sorry, never mind," she said nervously. "When did you want to meet?"

"No, tomorrow should be fine," I agreed.

I heard her exhale with relief. "Great. Good. Is around three okay? Maybe we can get a coffee or something."

"Sure."

"Great, thanks," she said quietly. "I'll text you."

"I'll save your number," I said without thinking.

She laughed awkwardly, making me cringe at my own discomfort. "Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

After saying my goodbyes and ending on an awkward note, I took a moment to acknowledge what just happened. Getting a call from her was genuinely the last thing I'd expected, but I was willing to hear her out. If not for her sake, then for my own.

—

I couldn't stop spinning the ring on my finger, a nervous habit of mine, as I walked into the bistro downstairs to Skye's dance studio. We'd agreed to meet there after her rehearsals since it was usually only staff that frequented it so it wouldn't draw attention from her fans.

When I walked in, I glanced around, seeing it was empty for the most part, save for one or two patrons. And then I finally spotted her sat at a booth on the side, looking a lot different to how I'd last seen her, though still very similar to the girl I once knew.

When she saw me, she perked up, looking as nervous as I felt, and I had no choice but to walk over to her. She stood up, blinking, unsure whether to speak first.

"Hi," I said, when she didn't, meeting her flittering eyes.

"Hi," she responded, before swallowing thickly and glancing at the table and then me again. "Erm..." She leaned in to give me a hug, which I had no choice but to return, but it was awkward on both sides. When we pulled apart, she smiled uncomfortably. "I– sorry, I–"

"It's fine," I said quickly, before nodding awkwardly.

She slid into her side of the booth so I did the same, hoping she couldn't hear my irregular heartbeat. I looked over at her, noticing her new look. She'd cut off the long, dark hair she'd had as long as I knew her, donning a pixie cut that was now dyed blonde. I'd seen it in the press, but it still took some getting used to. Suited her though. Annoyingly, she was still as beautiful as she was the day I'd met her.

"The new look is nice," I spoke, breaking the silence and nodding to her.

A nervous smile crept on her lips. "Thanks." A pause and then: "You look good, Y/N."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling just as nervously.

She pushed an iced coffee towards me, saying, "I ordered for you, but I'm now realising your favourite order could've changed since we last... yeah. I can get you something different if you want."

I looked at the drink, reading the label, surprised she'd even remembered. "No, no, this is still my favourite. Thanks, Skye. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do," she replied with a shrug, playing with the lid of her own coffee. "I... thanks for meeting with me."

I glanced up at her. "I thought I'd never hear from you again to be honest."

She frowned, looking down. "I know. I debated calling sooner. I... I owe you a huge apology." Her eyes met mine with the utmost sincerity. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For the way I took advantage of your kindness, your friendship. The way I ignored your warnings and support. And–"

She stopped, eyes flickering to her drink guiltily, and she didn't even need to say it for me to know what she was remembering next. Everything she'd said to me before I left for good. How horrible it was, how embarrassing it was. Even now, I couldn't look at her, my face growing warm. After all this time, it was still so humiliating.

"It was awful, I know," she said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say other than, "It was."

At this, she sighed. "I know it's unforgivable and that this isn't an excuse, but I wasn't in the right head space then. I just– I miss you. After the accident..."

When she was quiet for a second longer than usual, I looked up at her, seeing a faraway look in her expression.

"Skye?" I prompted, a hint of concern in my voice.

She shook her head, glancing at the table before meeting my gaze. "Sorry. I just– I miss you and I wanted to see you."

"You keep saying that you miss me, but you had a phone," I pointed out gently, not trying to argue but unsure how to believe her. "You could've called. Especially after the accident."

I wanted you to call, I so badly wanted to add, but it was embarrassing to admit.

"I tried to," she said with a frown. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again after what I said."

I searched her gaze, saddened to hear that. "You thought I wouldn't have wanted to make sure you were okay? Just because of one argument? That I wouldn't have put all of that bullshit aside to make sure you were actually alive?"

She didn't meet my eyes, but she shook her head weakly, and I realised I was a being a little unfair despite it all.

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, drawing shapes in the condensation of my cup mindlessly. "It's not fair of me to say you should've called. It was a lot, I can imagine. And I had a phone too, I know. I just... I didn't think you cared anymore. After everything, I thought the last person you'd want to see in hospital was me."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," she muttered, picking at her coffee cup lid again. "It's far from the truth though."

A quiet fell between us as neither of knew what to say nor where to go. It was a lot to digest, knowing she regretted how things had ended up. Selfishly, it was all I'd wanted all this time – an apology and some closure.

"I want to make things right," she said, eyes flickering up to mine.

I met her halfway, exhaling gently. "I forgive you, Skye. I appreciate your apology."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, as did her expression, and she nodded slightly. "I'd like to try again. If you would."

"I figured that's where this was going," I admitted, before nodding slowly. "I'd like that too."

She breathed out with relief, containing it behind a simple nod, and it meant a lot to me that this meant a lot to her, more than I thought it would.

"I really missed you," I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Her eyes were glassy as she gave me a small smile. "I really missed you too, Y/N."

I stood up, as did she, and hugged her properly. It was unlike the previous one and she returned it with just as much relief, the two of us clinging tightly to one another like it was the last.

It was still a mystery to me as to whether rebuilding a friendship with Skye would be for the better, but my heart was saying to do it and I couldn't help myself. She was so easy to give into, so easy to fall back into place with.

#smile 2 #skye riley imagine #skye riley x reader #naomi scott #smile 2 imagine #skye riley x you #skye riley

210 notes · View notes

nomatterwhatnomatterwhere · 4 months ago

Text

Feels (Warm) like Sunlight

Max Verstappen x reader

author note's: this story has been floating in the back of my head for longer than I am willing to admitt, so although I'm not really sure about how I feel about this , I hope you enjoy it even a little bit

Kelly's pov :Feels ( Harsh) like Winter Wind

Reader's pov: Feels (Wistful) like Summer Rain

You were really beautiful.

You always had been but that night you were much more beautiful than he remembered.

The dress you were wearing seemed to be sewn on you. For you.

You shone that night, maybe more than the lights that brightened the terrace, maybe more than the stars.

It was one of the things that drove people to notice you, to approach you, not that you were aware of it, anyway.

But it wasn't that that led him to you, it was your laughter: a sound he would have recognized among a thousand, a sound he wouldn't have been able to forget, even if he tried.

It was strange, seeing you again after so long. To see you again in person.

It tasted like remorse mixed with regret.

You and Max had known each other since middle school, when you were kids with social problems who were only comfortable on the Kart track.

Max used to race there, on karts. The kart track was practically his home. But for you it was a different story: you were at the top of the class, the teachers loved you, and not all the students seemed to like you, and Max knew this despite the absences because of racing.

It was clear, any place you were in was illuminated by your presence alone.

Yet that light was not warm. Max knew this well.

He knew it because the light you gave off when you were at the kart track, though smaller and dimmer, warmed everyone around you.

The atmosphere was different when you were there, and Max had seen it with his own eyes: no one on the staff would point out to you that there were places you couldn't be, not when you asked them if everything was okay, if they wanted some water, if they wanted one of those milk candies you always carried around.

Max didn't ask, he didn't know you, he had no reason to ask. He was there for the karts.

The kart track owners had taken you under their wing, considered you a daughter.

They were your foster parents, after all.

You weren't quite sure if the staff knew, that you weren't really their daughter, but given how they turned a blind eye to some things, they probably thought you were really the owners' natural daughter.

( How could you not think so when it was obvious you were their daughter: it was obvious in the way they looked at you, the way they talked about you, it was the light in their eyes that made it obvious.

You were the only one who did not see it )

You had said it yourself once when his father had dropped him off at the kart track.

You were at the reception desk, doing your math homework. You asked him if he wanted to be driven home, since the go-kart track would be closing soon and going home alone could be dangerous, he told you that you didn't have to worry, and then you offered him a milk candy.

You had started doing this every time his father left him there: asking him if he wanted to go home and then offering him a candy after he refused.

When he came back from competitions you would get him the list of school subjects he was supposed to catch up on, sometimes you would give him your notes.

You started studying together, there at the reception table.

His father didn't seem bothered, in fact, since studying with you Max's grades had improved, and as long as he was doing well in school the too many absences didn't matter.

“He has a strange way of showing that he loves you.”

You should have been in class, but he had received permission to leave the classroom because of the situation between his parents, divorce papers and all, you, on the other hand, had simply decided to skip class.

( which was strange on your part, which is why you were only sent home with a reprimand.)

You had been sitting on the steps of the emergency stairs when you had told him and he was eating one of your candies, you gave him the whole package.

You had talked about you, about your biological family that you knew existed but didn't really spend time with, about your foster family that you didn't really feel a part of but were grateful for, about the fact that you hated studying despite the fact that studying came easy to you and that sometimes you thought it was the only thing you were good at, about a book that looked interesting but you hadn't bought because you had three other books looking at you judiciously from your nightstand waiting to be read, about a scarf that you thought would look good on him but you weren't sure he would like the fabric and that maybe you could go shopping together.

You had talked about everything that had crossed your mind in order to give him something else to think about.

You could have listed the characteristics of cockroaches and Max would still have listened to you.

He liked your voice; it was cozy, warm, gentle.

Completely different from what he heard at home.

You were not exactly his safe place, but at that moment you were what he had closest to a pleasant place.

Following his parents' divorce and his moving in with his father, your relationship had strengthened.

You continued to see each other at the kart track, study together, sometimes even went to his races, even when they were not in your immediate vicinity, even when your priorities should have been other

“I understand that the race has your undivided attention and interest, but the literature assignment will not do itself alone.”

Again, his father did not seem bothered by your presence; when you were there Max had better performances-he cared about making a good impression when you were there.

It was nice when you complimented him, meant every word, were genuinely happy for him.

It was less nice when, at the end of the race, he wasn't the first person you complimented because you were talking to someone else

It was the same in school, too. No matter how out of place or socially awkward you felt, your light attracted people, just as it did for moths.

It was obvious, how every time there was someone trying to get your attention, even for a moment, to enjoy your warmth. And you, like the kind person you were, gave your undivided attention to those who demanded it.

It was annoying.

But then, as if sensing it, you would find him in the crowd and run in his direction, smiling, congratulating him on the race.

He didn't even realize the smug look he took on when you preferred him over everyone else; it was his sister who had pointed it out to him.

It was his debut in Formula 1 and his race had ended after 32 laps due to engine failure.

His mood was not the best when he had returned to the pits, but he was not the only one, as you seemed rather annoyed as well

“Some people can't take no gracefully” was what Victoria had said after your umpteenth frustrated sigh and his raised eyebrow ‘ One of the older guys asked her out and she turned him down, but the guy wants a ’valid reason.' Not even the time difference seems to stop him.”

He wasn't surprised: you were pretty, people liked you, and more than once Max had witnessed guys asking you out. A couple of times even girls.

That wasn't new.

What was new was the fact that someone demanded a valid reason for a rejection.

What the fuck did that mean? You were not required to give any 'valid reason,' but knowing you, you had already given the asshole an explanation.

It bothered him. The situation bothered him. It bothered him that he never noticed your situation.

“I'm pretty sure she thought about throwing the phone into the street, hoping one of the cars would run over it-”

“Then I thought it might cause serious trouble” you had inserted yourself into the conversation after spending a good quarter of an hour on the phone "Sorry about the race, you were doing well-ugh" you had just leaned into him when your phone had started ringing again, but you refused the call, as you had for the three that followed because ”I came for you, not to talk on the phone”

“She kept rejecting every other call because ' you deserved all the attention you could get-wipe that look off your face. You're disgusting.”

Max didn't think he was disgusting. There was no reason why he should hide the satisfaction he felt at being the recipient of your attention. Especially after a debut that had not yielded the desired results.

He is not sure what happens next, not sure when your attention becomes part of the background, not sure when your presence is no longer needed for better performance, not sure when your light, your warmth, are no longer the same.

He is not sure when all this is happening, because otherwise he would have noticed how you started to stop showing up at his competitions, to stop sending him good luck or congratulatory messages, to remove yourself from his life.

Because otherwise he would not have felt so bewildered when, after years, he heard your voice again and realized that you had only disappeared from his life, not from his family's.

That you were no longer an integral part of his life, but he was no longer an integral part of yours.

He had been leaning back, sitting with his back to the wall, as he listened to his mother and sister talking to you in the next room, blissfully unaware of his presence.

Your voice had remained the same, always warm and kind, as you mediated between his mother and Victoria about Victoria's current boyfriend, as you updated them on your plans for the day, when you would show up for lunch at their house now that you had finally moved to Monaco, what to expect from the new radio show you would be hosting.

Max had no idea you lived in Monaco, had no idea you worked in radio, had no idea you were a well-known name, even outside the radio world.

He found out the next morning, while listening to the column you had talked about the day before, when your co-host introduced you as the host of the most popular late-night column. Not only of your radio station, but in general. Or when one of the guests very shyly asked if they could be invited on your youtube channel, which you had accepted without any problem.

Before Max knew it, with your gentle voice that smelled like home,and your being able to talk about anything while putting others at ease, you were back to being what he had closest to a pleasant place.

It was your voice that listened when something in the race didn't go as planned and he had to calm his nerves. It was your videos he followed between training and simulator sessions.

You would talk about the pros and cons of doing a job like yours, in the public eye but whose physical and mental stress many ignored, recounting some funny episodes, making some criticism of the system, sometimes inviting guests to take the floor and express their thoughts.

Occasionally you would talk about your life, what you liked and what you disliked, the more or less peculiar hobbies you had, as you got ready to go to work or work-related events.

Those were Max's favorites, which in a rather unhealthy way, felt that he was a part of your life again.

It was during one of those episodes, one of the rare live ones, that he realized he was still part of your life. Indirectly.

“Is there an F1 race or something?” you chuckled slightly ”I guess that means you can hear the noises. Uhm-” you had looked to the side, then started walking ”I mean someone sure is racing but is not an F1 race, sorry. Just karting” you had arrived near a track that Max knew well, having spent most of his life there, apologizing for the noise by raising your tone of voice as you picked up the passing karts ”I'll make sure to pass the compliments tho. Pretty sure they'll be happy to hear someone thought they were F1 drivers”

You had said this with a look that to Max seemed nostalgic, or perhaps he hoped it was; he selfishly wanted to believe that you were thinking back to the time you both had spent there.

Since you 'revealed' you had spent most of your life between races and motors, your audience had not only expanded, but had also begun to ask you for content about that world you knew from the inside.

It was frustrating, walking around the paddock and having the feeling of having heard your voice in the confusion, of catching a wisp of your hair among the people and feeling like he was hallucinating in some way when he couldn't find you.

It was even more frustrating when you had talked on the radio about how much you would love to be a correspondent at a Grand Prix or when on the channel you had seemed so enraptured to be in the paddock, to talk to anyone who could - and would -have a chat with you, which to be understood, was really a lot of people, from drivers to mechanics to fans.

Everybody seemed to be enchanted by you, Max was sure they were, because he was enchantment too and he yearned for the warmth that they had felt. He yearned for it as much as he yearned to win every race.

Never before had he longed as in those moments to go back in time to when he didn't have to hope you would turn in his direction, that you would be in the same place as him, that you would be beside him.

That your attention was on him because you wanted it, not because he asked for it.

When he had heard your voice he really thought he was in the grip of some auditory hallucination, because you had said so yourself, that when you could you preferred not to attend.

“Although it may not seem like it, I don't really like staying in crowded places for too long, I get easily overwhelmed by all of that.”

He had tried not to jump whenever he heard a sound that sounded like your voice, but it was impossible not to when he heard your laughter.

Not when he was so sure he wasn't imagining everything. Not when you were so close-

You were talking to someone Max didn't know, but you both seemed engrossed in whatever you were discussing, at least until your interlocutor had been pulled into another conversation.

You physically relaxed, releasing the tension in your shoulders, as you shifted in search of a slightly quieter place before throwing yourself back into the fray.

You leaned against the parapet, running your gaze through the crowd, watching people from your little bubble.

Unlike in the past, you no longer seemed to sense his presence, because no matter how much Max stared at you, hoping that like in the old days somehow, he could still be the recipient of your attention, just like that, effortlessly, just because you wanted him to.

It didn't matter you hadn't met his gaze, he couldn't take his eyes off you, now that he had a chance to have you back in his life.

You didn't noticed he had approached you with two glasses of champagne, so absorbed in your thoughts.

It took you a millisecond too long to recognize him; it had been obvious when your eyes had widened and your shoulders had stiffened again.You looked like a deer in the headlights.

He had never gotten such a reaction from you. It did not felt good.

You accepted the glass with a slight smile, even though you had not the slightest intention of drinking its contents.

It was strange, he didn't know what to say to start talking to you. He rarely did not know what to do, how to act.

As a pilot he was used to deciding how to act, in the time of a blink of an eye, because in a job like his, hesitating for a second too long could be lethal.

These were decisions he had to make, and he couldn't overthink, because at that moment, in that car, on that circuit, in that corner or on that straight, he has to start and finish first. Even if it meant being unfair.

The media had exaggerated about him, but he still was Mad Max.

Yet at that moment he did not know what was the best thing to do, to say. He had too many things on his mind and none at the same time.

“It's been a while, hasn't it?”

You had always been good at putting others at ease, at making a situation less burdensome, your work showed that, and maybe it was something that was inherently part of you, but the way you had spoken to him was not what Max had hoped for.

It was still your voice, warm and gentle, tasting of home, but it was different from what he remembered, from what you used in videos or on the radio, from the voice he associated with you.

From his pleasant place.

There was an undertone that he didn't recognize ,that he couldn't associate with your person.

It felt a little cold, sharp. Like the air on the terrace, not cold enough to feel at the poles, but cool enough to bother you.

You still emanated that light, that warmth. He knew it, he had seen it only a few minutes before, but now it seemed feeble.

“Less than you think.”

At his words, blunt as ever, you had turned in his direction with a confused expression but before you could ask what he meant, he continued

“Why didn't you come to the Redbull pit?”

“Sorry what-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the races? I could've-”

“ I didn't have to tell you tho” you interrupted him by crossing his eyes as you leaned your arms on the railing ”We hadn't talked in ages, I couldn't just text you. It didn't feel right, you know?”

It didn't feel right to you to do a lot of things, you were like that as a kid and hadn't changed even as an adult, but he didn't think you would find yourself saying something like that to him.

It was true that you hadn't been in touch for a long time, and certainly mending relationships takes time, but he had never stopped to think about the fact that you might feel uncomfortable, as if you were disturbing him, in talking to him.

He was the person you preferred over everyone else

“Didn't think you knew I was there … Was it Vic who told you?”

He and Victoria talked, sure, but it wasn't like Vic was talking about you. Not to him, at least.

In fact, when they were both at their mother's house, and she happened to be on the phone with you, Victoria would switch rooms if he was around. She did the same when she was talking to someone about you and he was within earshot, if she didn't change the subject directly, let's be clear

“Heard you on the radio.”

His was a half-truth, if he had told you that he followed almost religiously every social communication from you he would have sounded more like a stalker than he already felt.

There was another silence, a little less tense than the previous one, which was short-lived anyway

“Heard the news” you had finally met his gaze ”for all that matters, I'm sorry.”

It hadn't taken him long to figure out what you were referring to; the fact that he and Kelly had broken up had been making the rounds on gossip sites even before they officially broke up, and once official they had been one of the most talked-about news stories in and out of the paddock.

It was a courtesy apology, but the fact that you were apologizing was somewhat ironic considering how much you were, albeit indirectly, involved in the situation.

The relationship with Kelly had been his corner of heaven since it began.

Kelly understood him on levels that no one seemed to reach, probably also complicit in her family history and her relationship with Daniil.

She did not marginalize him as most of the grid did.

She did not treat him like the kamikaze kid the media liked to write about.

She didn't look at him as if he might collapse into a thousand pieces like you did.

Being with Kelly made him feel good; he felt almost like when he was racing on the track, it was a great feeling.

When he was with Kelly he felt … understood.

Not to mention how he felt when he was with P: they had so much in common, Max could read them, those similarities, he could see so much of himself in the little bundle of tenderness that she was

He had a soft spot for P, and P seemed to have the same soft spot for him.

Or at least that was what the people around him said.

After a while, however, everything had become repetitive, boring, stagnant.

It wasn't bad, but not as pleasant as it was in the beginning either.

Something was missing.

The same something he sensed when he heard your voice, when he watched your expressions change.

It was something that made Max never tired of listening to you, that you never came across as boring, never dull.

Kelly knew this; she was neither stupid nor blind.

He didn't know how she knew, but it didn't matter so much.

Not when their last conversation had ended in screams and slamming doors.

“Mmmh” he didn't think there was any way to respond to what you said, so he merely nodded, ready to change the subject ”I can get you a pass, if you plan to watch the race.”

You laughed lightly, and Max felt that warmth again

“ If I plan to watch the race?” you had lifted your lips in that smile you used to make when you were joking ” I don't think you will ever find someone who's not here for the race. Well, they sure have other things to do, but you know what I mean.”

Yes, he knew. Formula 1 at the Montecarlo circuit was almost a sacred ritual, not only for people like you who lived there, but for the entertainment world in general.

Formula 1 was not called 'circus' by chance, the silly season was now intrinsic to its essence as Formula 1

“I appreciate the thought, but I already got my pass, but thank you,” you said as you began to walk away from the rail.

“Even for Quali?”

Max knew he had just made you a difficult offer to refuse, and it wasn't just your stopping to look at him, scrutinizing him, as if you were watching him for the first time, that made it obvious.

“You … have my attention.”

You were about to say something else, it was quite obvious, but Max was nevertheless pleased with your choice of words.

He was again the stated object of your attention, and he wasn't sure there was a feeling that felts as right as that

He had been talking to Raymond, while you pretended not to listen, deciding to focus on what was around you

Max didn't almost heard what Raymond was saying to him, so taken by the small, but sweet, smile on your face when you had heard the smile in Ray's voice greeting you

You had known Ray for as long as you had known the Verstappen family ,he had been his father's manager, it had seemed natural that he would take care of Max as well.

To be honest, Max didn't think you had who knows what relationship, he didn't even remember ever seeing you speak togheter, but from the small reaction of both of you, it seemed to him that he was missing something.

You gave him your email, your work email because you checked that one the most, so that Ray could contact you to get the details he needed.

When the call was over, you had thanked him, and asked him to apologize to Ray on your behalf for disturbing him at that ungodly hour. He had tried to reassure you; Raymond was used to keeping late hours.

That had earned him a look from you that was meant to be scolding, but had lost its value when you had chuckled, shaking your head

“You really are awful.”

And then Max had felt himself going back in time to when you were two kids with social difficulties, only unlike Max, you had stopped feeling comfortable only on the kart track.

Although you were sidelined, lots of people had come to say hello, to chat with you, to take pictures that you could post.

To enjoy your warmth, your light.

And you didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable, no longer hiding behind your kind smile and no longer giving the attention that was asked of you just so you wouldn't come across as rude, just because you were kind.

You were aware of your light, you had learned to handle it.

Perhaps, it was that awareness that made you so beautiful

you had always been but that night you were much more beautiful than he remembered.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #mv1 imagine

163 notes · View notes

regalastor · 1 month ago

Text

Amor in ea Purissima Est

Lucius Verus Aurelius x fem!OC

summary: Lucius makes a new friend who causes him to reflect on his own loneliness.

author's notes: This is my first time posting my writing in years, so I would love any and all feedback! I would love to continue this story if people are interested. Lots of canon divergence is present in this fic!

warnings: discussions that hint at violence, abuse, and loss of a spouse. rating: 18+ (eventually).

It was only just over six months since Lucius’ ascension to the throne before women were being thrown at him by his mother. They had spoken at length about the loss of his wife, and his old life, but as time went on, she became more insistent that he not only needed an heir, but also he needed a companion. He knew she did not only mean the physicality of a relationship, but the trust and comfort provided by a partner. He had met with the women she’d asked him to, and sat at tables with noble families, but he had been painfully uninterested. His mother had accused him of being difficult only for the sake of disagreeing with her, and part of him wondered if that was true, but either way, he remained uninterested in his options.

“What did you not like about her?” His mother asked one day after yet another social gathering had ended. Lucius knew she was referring to his newly appointed general’s daughter; with whom he had spoken to at great length.

“It was not that I did not like her,” He thought about his words for a moment. “I have been in love, I know what it is supposed to feel like, and I will not settle for less.” Lucilla demonstrated her agreement by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

><><

Lucius grabbed the arm of the young boy and yanked him backwards, nearly knocking him off of his feet, just in time for the child to evade being run over by a carriage. The streets near the Senate building were always bustling and he could often make it through without many people noticing him at all, but it was rare to see a child wandering around this part of the city alone.

“Eyes forward around here,” Lucius said, helping the child to stand up straight. The boy blinked up at him a few times, and Lucius could tell his eyes were beginning to water. He couldn't have been older than six years old, and his chest ached a little, he hadn’t intended to scare the boy. “What are you doing here alone?” Lucius asked, looking around for any sign of parents.

“I am not alone,” The boy huffed slightly, making Lucius’ lips turn upward a little at his attitude—the boy clearly had no idea who he was, but that did not bother him in the slightest. “My mother was with me, and she told me to stay close, but then I saw-” The child’s eyes drifted towards the Praetorian Guard that was stationed outside the senate.

“The Praetorian?” Lucius asked, and the little boy nodded, his ears turning red as if he were being scolded for his disobedience. “What is your name?”

“Cato.”

“I am Lucius,” Lucius offered the child his hand; the boy shook his hand strongly, making Lucius smile slightly once again. “Come,” He gestured towards the guards, making Cato’s eyes widen. As Lucius approached the guards, Cato still a step behind him, he shook his head slightly, hoping they would get the hint not to bow, or frighten the boy. Cato looked at the tall soldiers, who were still standing at attention, with adoration in his eyes as he examined their swords and armor. “Have you ever held a sword?” Lucius asked the boy, and he shook his head.

“My father died when I was too little,” He shrugged, looking up at Lucius for a moment. The emperor reached out his hand and was quickly handed his own sword; he knelt down and held it in front of the boy, carefully keeping his hand away from the blade. While Lucius had never had kids himself, he was a part of a community for most of his life and therefore surrounded by children.

“This sword was my grandfather’s and then my father’s and now it is mine,” Lucius explained, watching as the little boy took in every detail of the golden hilt.

“Are you a gladiator?” Cato asked after a moment, and Lucius sucked in a breath at the memories.

“Once, yes, but now my purpose has changed,” He said gently. Cato’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What could be more important?”

“You, your family, your friends, the people of Rome. I have sworn to protect them and to help them all with all of my strength and power, and I intend to do so,” Lucius said, he realized he was talking too broadly and in too grand of a manner for the boy to understand, but Cato nodded along nonetheless, acting as if he was fully in on the meaning of the conversation.

“I want to be a warrior,” Cato said after a moment. “I want to protect my mother,” He said resolutely. Lucius smiled at him.

“I want to protect my mother as well,” He agreed. “We should find your mother before she worries too much about your safety,” Lucius took the sheath from the guard and wrapped it around his waist before sliding his sword into its proper place. Lucius sent the Praetorian a nod in a silent instruction to stay put. “Do you know where she may be?” Lucius asked Cato; the boy thought for a moment before nodding. He reached out and pulled on Lucius’ hand, a gesture that made the emperor’s jaw drop slightly, but one he accepted nonetheless.

“She makes medicine and stuff, and then we bring it here to sell it,” Cato explained, weaving through the crowd. Some people turned to look at Lucius, but in the clothes of a warrior, and with his hand in this little boy’s, it was very unlikely that anyone would recognize him. Lucius just followed and kept an eye on the little boy as he searched the crowds for his mother, after a while of his pulling on women’s skirts and then being disappointed by the face that looked down at him, Lucius decided to pick him up, in hopes of helping his see amongst the crowd. So, they continued wandering around the market, with Cato on Lucius’ hip as he looked around wildly for his mother.

“Mama!” Cato yelped and quickly attempted to squirm out of Lucius’ grip, causing the emperor to quickly put the boy on his feet. Cato gripped Lucius’ hand again and pulled him through the crowd. Soon, Cato was throwing himself at the legs of a woman, she all but fell down as she held him against her. She pressed her cheek to his head, and it was obvious she was crying. She must have been so scared, all the while her son was playing with swords and making new friends. Lucius shifted on his feet; he knew he should leave them, but he also felt uncomfortable leaving the child alone without explaining himself, or at least greeting the woman.

“Never, ever, do that again! How dare you run off like that?” The woman cupped Cato’s face in her hands and she ran her thumbs over his cheeks and flattened his hair like she was assuring herself that he was really in front of her and alright. Lucius could fully see her face now. She was younger than he had expected, with lightly tanned skin, light blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Her lips were plump and her face was defined, yet soft at the same time. She was stunning, and something about her made his heart beat faster.

“I’m sorry, mama, I didn’t mean to,” Cato said earnestly, and the woman sucked in a deep breath like she was trying to remain calm and not lose her patience with him. “I saw the soldiers,” The boy turned slightly and pointed at Lucius. “And got distracted,” The woman looked at him for a second before her eyes widened and she stood up quickly. She spun Cato around and pulled his back into her front, her arm wrapping around his chest protectively.

“I am so sorry, sir, if he disturbed the peace. I can promise you he is not a defiant boy, he just-” Lucius realized she thought he was Praetorian—-someone who could act violently with no justification. She was scared her son was in trouble.

“Please,” Lucius interrupted her, and he held out a hand in front of him, in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. “He has done no harm, nor is he in any trouble,” He assured the women. Her grip on Cato loosened a little. “He nearly wandered into the road, and then I helped him find you.” The woman swallowed once, still clearly assessing him. She seemed so frightened, so tense, and Lucius wondered what Cato was so adamant about protecting his mother from.

“Thank you for your help, truly,” She spoke softly. Lucius inclined his head in her direction.

“Lucius is my friend,” Cato said looking up at his mother. The woman smiled a little at that, but her eyes still seemed panicked.

“I see,” She slowly released her grip on her son fully, allowing him to stand in between the two adults. She stared at Lucius for a moment, and her heart began to beat faster as their blue eyes met. Something about him felt familiar, but that feeling of recognition was overtaken by her attraction to him. He was tan, tall, and muscular, with short, chocolate-colored, wavy brown hair and deep blue eyes. His nose was perfectly Roman, his beard was short and well-kept, and his lips were full and pink. “Well, we should be going,” She said after a moment, realizing she had most certainly been staring at him for too long. She didn’t seem to notice that he was staring back at her in order to admire her beauty as well.

“Can Lucius come to dinner?” Cato asked and the woman’s cheeks flushed.

“No, Cato, he-” The woman looked to Lucius for help.

“You are very kind to invite me,” Lucius assured. “But, I think your mother needs your help, and I have to go back to work,” He squatted down so that he was closer to eye-level with the child. He placed a hand on his little shoulder. “Protect your mother, and be strong, and you will be a warrior,” He said to the boy and Cato nodded resolutely.

“Thank you, again,” The woman said once he stood back up to his full height.

“May I ask your name?” Lucius asked just as she took Cato’s hand to guide him away.

“Anna Evander,” She smiled softly. The family name sounded vaguely familiar, but he did not recognize her.

“I am at your service, domina,” He smiled gently at her. She smiled back once more before guiding her son away.

That night, as Lucius sat on one of the many balconies in the palace, alone, all he could think about was Anna, and that maybe, he did not have to be sitting alone.

#lucius verus #lucius verus aurelius #gladiator ll #paul mescal x reader #gladiator movie #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x oc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #maximus decimus meridius #emperor commodus #emperor geta #fanfic #ancient rome #original story

132 notes · View notes

aurorasgate · 2 years ago

Note

Aaaa I would love maybe a fic? With satoru gojo and non-sorcerer s/o who are forced into an arranged marriage. And s/o wants to make it work but satoru is a brat and refuses to be nice to her but he can't deny his growing feelings for her because she is a lovely girl and then maybe something happens like a curse attack and he almost loses her and feels very guilty for how he's been acting and confesses? Happy ending please

I love angst to fluff stories so much

Thankyou in advance! I love your writing

will you spend the night and maybe your life with me?

satoru gojo x fem!reader | 9.1k+ words

warnings: arranged marraige au, brat!gojo, sweet+patient!reader, hurt/comfort, mentioned of neglectful/hurtful marriage, blood and injury mentions, feral gojo, the fushiguro kids are basically yours so a little found familyish i couldn't help myself, uhh i think that's all but please let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: so um. i think i got a little carried away with this one and i love it and am so exctied about it hehe i hope you enjoy it! <3 thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting something babes!🥺💕

satoru always wondered if before your wedding you were aware that your to-be husband was not happy about being wed. not when this decision was forced upon him by his family and the higher ups of the jujutsu world. he wondered if you blame him for his actions, for his shitty attitude that showed every bit of his distaste, if you wished to marry someone you loved, someone who could treasure your heart and give you their own in return. but surely you had known, just as he had, that you would be married off for politics whether you liked it or not, that marrying for love was not in the cards.

for these many months he can’t say he’s made it easy for you, he knows he hasn’t, and yet you’ve kept smiling, kept being your caring and loving self and putting effort into a man that thus far hadn’t given you much in return. you put up with his lack of kindness, kept welcoming him home and bidding him sweet dreams before sleeping in separate rooms even though for far longer than he’d like to admit now he never said anything in return. you kept leaving sweets on his desk when you knew he’d be up late doing the paperwork he’s always been putting off when he’s never once thanked you for it. he watched you love the fushiguro children just as he had and made him question if perhaps you could love him too.

the first time the question came to mind, when you had scolded both him and megumi for doing something reckless with no anger but rather genuine worry in your eyes, it was the quickest of thoughts. one he pushed out and forgot just as easily as it had come before brushing off everything you said about being more careful to him and megumi. but as more time passed, as you continued to be your lovely self, the thought kept coming, staying for longer, evolving into more questions like.. could he love you- was he already falling in love with you when he was supposed to loathe you? pretend to play the loving and doting husband in public when at home you used to be nothing but strangers but he hates the thought of that now.

being a stranger to your kindness, ignorant of your smile, never being blessed with the melody of your laugh.. he could hardly imagine his life without you but after spending so long rejecting you, pushing you away, was it too late to make amends, to maybe have you love him in return?

right now, while he was trying to sleep, was not the time to be deciding on such things. not when he felt it easier to give in under the light of the moon on your skin and your cute sleepy voice. yet he was restless, his thoughts wandering back to you; if your room felt as soon as his did, if you had eaten dinner alone or with the kids since he hadn’t made it back from his mission until late, if he had even spoken to you at all today except for the text he sent telling you not to wait up for him when you asked if he’d be home for dinner.

brought from his thought, his cerulean eyes are drawn to his closed door, his attention peaked at quiet footsteps and the lights in the kitchen being turned on and dimmed. he taps the screen of his phone to see the time; 2:27 am and doesn’t think twice before getting up from bed and going to the kitchen himself, not caring about putting a shirt on.

you don’t seem to notice him leaning against the wall with his hands in his sweats pockets as you sip a glass of water, your lower back resting against the kitchen island. you're in an oversized shirt and tiny shorts that makes his gaze linger on your body, in your pretty frame, but when he comes back to your face he notices the tears streaming down your cheeks, the tremble of your hands.

lifting from his spot he calls your name, more gentle than he remembers doing before and finds himself frowning at your reaction.

“oh!” you stand a little straighter, put your cup down, try to pretend tears aren’t clinging to your lashes and smile even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. “i’m sorry satoru, i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t,” he says, deciding to close the distance between you. he’s always been quite soft to the tears of others but with you.. the sight sinks into his heart like claws of a nasty curse and makes him nearly irrational in the way he would do anything to make your tears stop. your eyes widen a bit in surprise at how close he is to you but you don’t back away from him, don’t resist him when he towers over your shorter frame and reaches for your cheek to wipe a tear you couldn’t hold back. “what's wrong?”

“it’s nothing,” you try to brush it off still with that fake smile and he hates it.

“you’re a terrible liar,” he voice is soft, playful, hopefully hiding the feelings of his heart tightening in his chest and the way his fingers twitch against your skin as he tries to swallow it down. what were you doing to him..

“am not!”

cute, he thinks at your pout and glaring eyes with no bite behind them, though he must admit he much prefers when you smile at him.

is all of you this soft? he ponders as his touch ghosts along the skin of your cheek to under your jaw, curled fingers resting there, keeping your gaze lifted and on him but you could easily pull away if you really wanted to.

“tell me, please,” again he’s speaking so tenderly, with a smile that was meant to fluster, maybe even comfort you and by your reactions anyone could tell how foreign this is to you both. your cheeks flush with warmth and you try to hide your eyes from him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt while deciding what to do, what to say, but you still don’t pull away from his grasp and he’s resisting the urge to pull you closer, to kiss your forehead and tell you it’s okay, the strongest was your husband after all, all the while unable to stop his deepening breaths.

if this was at the beginning of your marriage satoru isn’t sure he would have checked on you. even just a few weeks ago he would have been asking himself how much he should hold back his affections, his comfort, if something like this were to happen but he isn’t sure he could do that anymore, hold back, and those questions hadn’t passed his mind since you saw your sad state tonight.

“it was just a silly nightmare,” you eventually say, quiet and weak. you still don’t look at him but there's no hiding the way you bite at your bottom lip. “i’ll be fine, i just need a few minutes to calm down more.”

“i’ll stay with you then.”

your eyes shoot back to him, confusion and surprise painted on your face and he’s surprised too. what reason would you have for feeling comfort within him or wanting it in the first place? he knows you have every right and reason to tell him no but he just.. doesn’t want to see you cry anymore and he would do anything to take your sorrow away even though all he had to offer you right now was himself.

“a- are you sure?” you stutter, nervousness laced in every word and fuck you look like you’re going to start crying all over again but he knows he deserves this, the guilt building within him. “you don’t have to-”

he pulls you into him before you can talk either of you out of this, effectively cutting off your words and pressing you against his chiseled chest. “come one y/n. can’t a husband want to comfort his wife? indulge me, yeah?”

he still feels shitty but the heat of your cheeks against his chest, the speechlessness he rendered in you is quite the stroke to his ego and he knows he’s won you over, at least for tonight, as you wrap your arms around him and rest your palms against his bare back.

it’s quiet, the muted sounds of your breaths and beating hearts in both your ears and as minutes pass, satoru feels you relax against him and decides he’s going to try pushing his indulgence more, actually try to be a nice and loving husband. the husband he should have been from the start..

“let’s go lay down,” he suggests and you tiredly nod in agreement, letting him go too quickly, before he unwraps his own arms, but he doesn’t stray far from your side.

turning off the kitchen lights behind him, he follows you into your bedroom like a lost puppy. if he’s being honest, he hasn’t spent much time in here despite it being right next to his own room and as he slips into bed beside you, the sheets of his own wife so unfamiliar to him, he hopes you’ll tell him if this isn’t what you want but more than that, he hopes you won't reject him. not like he had to you for these months when you didn’t deserve it..

“satoru, you - you really don’t have-” you stammer as he collects you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, not a bit of infinity between you as he spoons your smaller frame, collecting your heat. normally he’d have a smirk tugging his lips at your shyness, how easily flustered you become while still clinging to him, but more than anything he cuts you off because he didn’t want to hear your finish telling him he doesn’t have to.

he knows he doesn’t. who knows how many nights you’ve cried alone in this bed but he won’t let that happen anymore, not as long as you were his.

“i said i’d stay with you, didn’t i?”

satoru has always had a specific vision on what love is and he knows he has loved. like in the way he loves his students, his friends, two strong, amazing, children and sweet mochi. he knows that love isn’t painted in roses and blanketed in crystalline sugar, especially when you were a sorcerer. love is complicated, messy. love is a curse. but it's more medeled now, tempting to give into, with his inability to deny what’s in front of him, with the way his heart reacts to you.

or in this case, the way it reacts to the absence of you.

it’s been a few weeks since you had that nightmare and he held you till morning, his hands caressing and soothing you for long after you fell asleep. the following nights he found himself back in your bed even though neither of you spoke about it, but you hadn’t protested either. the last night before this work trip you had whispered his name in your sleep, reached out and clung to him, when you stirred as he joined you after a late night dealing with curses. the past three nights he's been far from home, as work often took him, and more restless than he’s been in a long time.

he can’t ignore or distract himself from how often you pop up in his mind throughout the day, enough so he’s going through his phone pictures as he’s being driven from place to place and frowning at how little pictures of you there are in his album. he had started taking more of you recently, most of which when you weren’t looking or weren’t aware you had captured your husband's eyes but it didn’t feel like enough. throughout the day he's missing you and your smile and the texts you scarcely send to each other aren’t long or personal enough to make him feel even a little better. he’s coming to realize how much more he preferred to have you sleeping next to him rather than sleeping alone and the way it could make him hustle to finish this assignment just to get home a little quicker. tomorrow he'll return to tokyo, a day before he was supposed to, but even that thought can’t stop the bubbling pot of his heart and the lid that rocks anxiously at the thought of you and your marriage thus far.

in the quietness of his dim hotel room, the food he didn’t have the appetite to eat cold on the table in front of the chair he sits in, satoru fiddles with his phone between long fingers and wonders what you’re doing right now, if you miss him too, if it’s too late for you-

love was messy and complicated indeed but as his phone rings twice and a moment later his reflection is replaced with your visage, that anxious rocking simmers.

“hey satoru,” you smile as you say his name, not noticing how he returns it in full with your eyes focused elsewhere.

your phone wiggles from side to side while tsukimi adjusts it to rest on the ledge of the kitchen window in front of the sink. you must have just finished with dinner, washing the dishes while the kids cleaned up behind you.

“hi sugar.” oh that gets your attention just as he hoped. he can hear the clattering of dishes as you drop them, see the flush of your cheeks through the camera and how adorably shy you are when you look up at him finally and see he’s without his blind fold, eyes soft and locks of snowy white hair resting over his eyebrows. his attention is fully on you and it seems to be the giggles of the teenage girl whipping off the counter near you that snaps you back to reality and causes you to return your attention back to the dishes, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“is everything okay?” you ask, that cute shyness to your voice.

of course it was just like you to worry for him, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“other than the fact i’m missin’ home, yeah.” home, he chooses because even though he was missing you, and meant his answer just the same, his stubbornness had him holding back.

while you finish the dishes you chit chat, the kids interrupting every now and again to talk to him or you about one thing or another until you were all giggling and he was aching to teleport back home, to be there drying plates that you hand him until you’re swaying in the kitchen to music that isn’t playing anywhere but your hearts and the kids are calling you gross before going to their own rooms.

he had never done that before but as he watched you all through his phone screen, he hoped it wasn’t too late for that with you.

“how was your day?” he asks when you grab your phone from the window seal, probably ready to say goodnight to him but he wasn’t nearly satisfied with this short interaction.

“well.. megumi got in trouble at school again today,” you sigh and shake your head, the background behind you changing from the kitchen to your bedroom, the lights in the far hallway from the kids room flickering on before they close their doors. he’s sure you handled megumi in your elegant way that both the boys have learned they aren’t immune to.

satoru chuckles. “did he give you any trouble?”

“you know he’s not really like that with me,” you smile, genuine and sweet and god he wishes he could kiss your lips. “he only gives you trouble because you’re just as bad as he is.. maybe worse.” you giggle at that last part and there is no way denying or ignoring the way it makes him burst with warmth.

“oh yeah?” he teases right back. “bet you’re missing your annoying husband though, huh?”

maybe he shouldn’t have said that because your prolonged silence made his throat feel tight, his palms sweaty but before he can say anything to make up for it, to change the subject, you reply, not looking at the camera.

“.. the house is lonelier when you’re not here,” you admit, quiet and low. “i guess i’ve gotten a little used to sharing a bed with you.”

so you were having a hard time sleeping without him too..

“me too,” he admits, letting out a sigh like your confession had lifted a weight off his chest, pumped hope into his veins. would you care to know just how much he misses you? “but i’ll be home soon so just wait a little longer for me, yeah?”

“o-okay.”

to the surprise of many satoru was at jujutsu tech reporting on his mission right on time, though he was leaving just as swiftly as he came. he purposely didn’t tell you he’d be coming home one day early because he knew you’d be coming to the school tomorrow to bring megumi to train with some of the other students. it would still be another two year before megumi was a first year himself but he had gotten plenty acquainted with the current first years through satoru. he wanted to surprise you, whisk you away while the kids were busy and before more work could come his way, try to ease the longing in his chest that had weighed on him like a boulder since he spent that first night without you beside him.

but what weighed on him when he saw you, unaware of your husband's arrival and under the attention of one of the new teachers, was much much worse and far nastier than his yearning. it was ugly and all consuming and made his mind run so quickly he was going to get whiplash.

the man couldn’t be any more obvious that he was flirting with you and it made satoru seeth, his chest filling with deep, hot breaths. couldn’t he see the wedding band on your finger? as a non sorcerer you weren’t entirely a part of the jujutsu world yourself so maybe he could justify that this man simply didn’t know who you were but even when you likely had not wanted to, you were always diligent in wearing the proof of your commitment.

the proof that you were his, the one and only mrs. gojo.

and what were you doing? laughing and talking with this man like you were so familiar, more familiar than you were to your own husband.

were you so fed up with satoru but so unwilling to end your arranged marriage that you’d go behind his back like this and entertain another person? if he was in a more calm state of mind he could be more rational, remind himself that this was not in your nature, not even with the way he had treated you had you ever been a person he thought would cheat. but with so much uncertainty between you two, the way he refused to admit those three words despite the fact he found them occupying his heart and mind anytime he thought of you, how he had no idea how you felt in return because he had forced you to shut yourself away..

the man reaches for you, helping you brush a stay piece of hair from your face to behind your ear and lingers with a smile that satoru swore he would wipe right off his smug face. your fingers touch, the man lacing his between yours for a moment before you pull away with burning cheeks.

satoru feels like he’s losing it, losing you, letting his emotions guide him to your side to snake a hand around your waist and step so very close, not letting the breeze between you, using his other hand to lift your chin and bring you in for a soft and fleeting kiss.

“i’m home baby,” he coos before kissing your cheek, a little for show but mostly because the only thing he had the will to hold back right now was his physical strength.

“s-satoru!” you’re beyond flustered, he can feel the beating of your heart through your clothes and the shake of your hands that hold onto his dark jacket.

he doesn’t give you much more time to say or do anything else before he looks down at the man you were speaking with and even through his blind fold you could tell how serious, how intimidating, his expression was. he held onto you so protectively, powerful hands sinking into your skin like you would slip through his grasp if he let you go but soft enough you wouldn’t break under the pressure. the way you don’t push away, don’t fight him and keep holding onto his jacket, your eyes only on your husband, are the only things grounding him from losing it completely..

“keep your hands off of my wife,” he spits like venom, accentuating the last part especially so before whisking you away without saying another word and he doesn’t say anything to you either the farther and farther you get from the man. you nearly trip over your feet trying to follow his long strides as he's huffing and practically dragging you along with him with a large hand around your wrist.

“satoru, please slow down. what’s wrong?” your words fall on deaf ears. he isn’t hearing anything but his own echoing thoughts and his unsteady, drumming, heartbeat until you’re in a quiet and secluded place on campus and he finally looks at you, so many emotions written on your face; confusion, fear, worry.

“what in the world has gotten into you?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

“you’re mine,” his profession is muffled and near inaudible under his steaming breaths, not a bit of his sanity returning with how it looks like he’s scared you, how he’s coming to realize he might have lost you long ago and didn’t know it. “what were you doing letting him hit on you like that?” he hardly knows what he’s saying, the words coming out without thinking.

“are you serious?” you ask, devastation laced in your tone. “he was just being nice and if he wasn’t.. it’s not like i was.. why.. why do you care?”

“you’re my wife!”

“when has that ever mattered? that's never stopped you from flirting with anyone before and i.. i’ve never said anything..” tears start to pool in your eyes and the last bit of the grip he’s had on this situation slips completely. please don’t cry.. i know i’ve fucked up but.. “even when it hurt i didn’t..”

“it’s not like i asked to marry you - but-”

before he can tell you, but that was back then because he hadn’t looked into another's way since these feelings started; before he can realize what he’s said and the way it would hurt you further, you interrupt, unable to hold back your tears.

“i didn’t ask for this either satoru,” your voice is broken and he knows every waver behind it and your tears are full of months worth of bottled up emotions from when you smiled despite his bullshit. “..but i'm trying.” in a matter of painfully slow seconds you're sobbing as you rip your wrist from his grasp and he feels his heart cracking, the cold nail of your withdrawal striking against the pumping muscle. “i.. just..” it's as though you want to say more and even if there wasn’t a lump in his throat making him utterly speechless, he wouldn’t have interrupted, he would have let you scream and yell and spew hurtful words. “i have to go..”

that nail digs deeper and he fights it, reaches for you and calls your name, feeling it stop when he’s met with the softness of your skin but the strongest strike, the blow that embeds it deep, was the way you cry out his name, begged him to let you go with crystalline tears flowing uncontrollably from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“satoru, let me go! please!”

you know you should be used to his hurtful words by now. they’ve been thrown at you for months, if he chose to speak to you at all. though you can admit that things have gotten better, if not a bit confusing. you would never deny your marriage was turning around, not when weeks ago you weren’t sure if you were going to survive not divorcing and avoid facing the consequences of that with both your families but now you felt yourself genuinely and completely falling for your husband.

yes he was so unbelievably handsome, charming to match, well, when he wanted to be. anyone could see that but the longer you were married to satoru the more you saw his heart, despite the fact he thought he was hiding it from you. he couldn’t hide the way he loved the fushiguro children and had since he started to look after them or the way he turned younger, more reckless around shoko, a reminder of more carefree years. in short and infrequent moments sometimes his heart was opened to you too and during those times, when you weren’t his enemy but rather a part of his family, made you wonder what it might be like had you had a normal marriage and married satoru for love or fell in love somewhere in the mess of how it started.

it was a ridiculous thought. you knew it would never be like that, you didn’t ask that of him and you didn’t entirely blame him for his behavior. he had chosen not to be nice but it was just like you to be patient, understanding and kind. by being the one he was forced to marry, you did understand why that dislike would be directed at you even though you know it didn’t make it fair, didn’t make it okay.

after all of that, months of feeling like a burden to the strongest sorcerer in the world, you didn’t expect to find yourself wanting, maybe even needing, your husband or that he might want you too. he had been around so much more recently, whether it had been him coming home in time to have dinner with you nearly every night or to be sleeping next to you or spending all night facetiming with you while he was on a trip until you fell asleep, like he had last night. but those feelings he had made bloom within you brought with them greater pain when hurtful reminders of the truth of your commitment came back to the surface.

‘i didn’t ask for this.’

how many times had you heard that by now? you had stopped keeping count, for your own sanity, but this time had by far been the worst. you fought so damn hard not to cry, to stay strong but still you burst into more tears than you wanted to shed in front of him.

maybe it was time to give up, consequences be damned.. how much more did you really have in you? how were you supposed to get through these mixed signals and still leave with your heart intact? and why did it break it further to see the pain written on his face when you ran from him?

you weren’t sure you could bear to be home, not when there were reminders of satoru everywhere, including your bedroom now as some of his nightstand items had made it to your room and had kept you company in his absence the past few days.. an absence that would apparently be longer even though you still missed him. he would show up there eventually anyways, was maybe there now but at this moment you didn’t have it in you to fight more, to be reminded of how little you meant to your husband when all this time you would have done anything to be sure he was happy too. when you found yourself holding him closer and closer to your heart.

you can admit that you didn’t handle your last interaction with your husband the best either though. asking why he cared when you knew the reason didn’t really matter. what reason had you had to hurt over the others he flirted with other than the fact he was your husband on paper? you had just never acted on the emotions swirling within you during those times aside from crying alone and by yourself but satoru was never really one to hold back. and the way it made you feel when he proclaimed you as his in such a way, when he held you so close to him, kissed you like he hadn’t before, like you really were his and he didn’t intend to let you go. it made you happy, confused and upset all at once.

was it all just for show? but then why comfort you after a nightmare or do any of the more thoughtful gestures he had shown recently? you had hardly seen his eyes ever that soft for you before, maybe in moments of pity then, but that wasn’t what this was and like the waters filled with the bluest stars and galaxies, you waded into their azure depths. found comfort in its warmth and the way he wrapped you in the protective blanket of his arms. you woke up with him still sleeping soundly, peacefully, while holding you and hadn’t had the bed to yourself since.

he seemed sweeter after that; hardly ever missing dinner, especially when he knew you’d be eating alone when the kids couldn’t join you. his texts throughout the day became more frequent, less transactional and though it still happened from time to time, his stinging words became less harsh. and when he called you last night, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, how you both lost track of the time until you woke up with your phone in your hand and a goodnight text sent after he had hung up. things almost felt normal, like maybe you really could be friends but there was no denying that your heart was feeling much more than that. still, you were cautious, kept your feelings closed off and hidden but you now realize somewhere along the way it wasn’t enough, not when it could let those painful reminders dig their way deep into your flesh in a way it hadn’t before.

satoru once told you, within the first few days of your marriage, that he had no intention of ever loving you and that you shouldn’t try loving him either. that love was a curse that wasn’t worth his trouble when it came to you.

perhaps you were finally understanding what he meant and were ready to give up, but after all this effort.. would it be easier for the both of you to not be tied together, burdened by your growing feelings when he would never feel the same? or would you become the curse of his life because you had done the one thing he had told you not to do, fall for him, and continued to try to make it work despite it?

instead of going home you let your aimless feet carry you, just as your mind carried away your many thoughts until your tears stopped, until your heart numbed and you were left feeling empty and tired. there were so many quiet whispers in the back of your mind, worries and reminders of your failing arrangement, so many questions without answers but you tried to shake them off, tried to quiet them so you could have a moment to just breathe. maybe then you could try to make sense of it all, though you weren’t sure you would ever understand all of the different emotions satoru was putting you through.

you aren’t really sure where you’ve ended up, somewhere on a cold bench as the afternoon turned to evening. you ignored the way your phone rang and the pings of the messages that came through. right now you didn’t have the energy or strength to do anything, are on the verge of giving up when your heart is screaming that you couldn’t possibly and all you can do is sit in your loneliness, back to more familiar times in your marriage, as you watch people pass you by.

in the end, when the evening sky began to cover the city in colder air and little light, you knew it was time to go home, to face this even if you weren’t ready to. maybe it would be easier if this was older times, when you knew you could walk through the front door with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks but it wouldn’t make satoru look your way. so you could hide away, pretend you weren’t breaking on the inside until you could face him with a smile again. but it couldn’t be like that anymore, not when the cause of your pain had also become your comfort, your most restful nights on hard days, the giggles you erupt in when he’s being silly and teasing, the person you wanted to hold you when dark fog surrounded you and threatened to swallow you whole.

you’re surprised to see the time on your phone, how late it actually is and just how many messages have come through. the latest one being from satoru; y/n please come home

it makes your heart feel like it’s beating again and you don’t know if it's good or bad, if you feel better or worse. all you knew is your chest aches and you do want to be home even if it scares you to not know what’s waiting for you; the satoru that seems to have grown soft for you, that couldn’t stand to see you cry, or the husband that said ‘i do’ not minutes before reminding you how much he detested your union.

your finger hovers over the call button, the small icon picture of him and megumi looking back at you but before you can call him back, not even sure if you were prepared to, a crowd of terrified screams pulls you from your phone and frantically you look around for its source, unsure if someone needed help or if you were in danger too.

before you can react after realizing which it was, that you were mostly certainly in danger and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it, your world begins to fade into black. the last thing you remember is hearing your husband's voice and a pitiful call of his name escaping your lips as your body falls to the ground, the scent of copper filling your senses before all consciousness is taken from you.

satoru stares at his phone with wide glowing eyes, tearing off his blind fold like it was possibly skewing his vision, messing with his other scenes despite that being impossible. for a moment he felt the first drops of relief seeing you finally return his call. you had ran from him so quickly and with it took his heart, left him standing there with a gapping, bleeding, hole in his chest that made it impossible to move. it’s been long agonizing hours since then, unable to reach you, not knowing what you were doing or where you were or if you were okay. he knew you weren’t and that it was all his fault.

finally, you were calling him but the first thing he heard was not the sweetness of your voice. instead his ears rang with the screams of others, the crumbling of concrete and a pleading call of his name from his wife that brought him past the point of manic in a matter of seconds.

he doesn’t dare hang up the phone but it’s not helping hearing noises of destruction that he can’t quite make out and the silence of your voice with each gut wrenching call of your name that’s begging you to say anything but continues to be met with silence.

the wildness in his eyes lingers but his attention is brought from his phone screen to the sniffles coming from the doorway to the living room where megumi and tsukimi stand with fear in their own eyes, tears streaming down her sullen face. had they ever seen gojo like this? tsukimi reaches for her brother's hands, to bring some comfort to them both even though she’s far worse off than megumi right now. or at least she’s the only one outwardly showing it. satoru can see the rise in megumis energy despite him wanting to remain strong for his sister.

she’s the first to speak too, reminding satoru that he wouldn’t be the only one suffering without you. “w-whats wrong? where- wheres y/n? is she going to be okay?” she doesn’t give him a moment to answer before she's crying out, “gojo!”

in a few long strides he’s standing in front of him, their seafoam and brown eyes staring back at him, his phone still connected on your call slipped into his pocket so his hands are free to pat both of their heads, ruffling their soft hair in tandem, keeping the last thin strand of his sanity from breaking until he could promise them none of them would ever be without you.

“don’t worry,” he says, that confident smile on his face. “i’ll bring her home safe. i’m the strongest after all.”

in a moment he’s teleported away, swearing to turn over all of japan in search of you. his presence was so overwhelming, the air nearly crackling with the electricity emanating from his barely contained furry. he’d let that barrier shatter soon, when it would be to his best advantage in bringing you home, until then the auxiliary managers helping him find your location through the never ending curse reports were under the pressure of the strongest sorcerer might.

the moment ijichi gave him the most likely places you could be, an eerie thankful smile came on gojos lips before he disappears, the light air finally returns the moment he was gone, before he can even mention there are already sorcerers on the scene. ijichi just hopes they’ve had the time to put the veil up before gojo goes all out without a second thought and that they’ve gotten you out of there. for everyone’s sake.

from the point in the sky where satoru hovers, just above the curtain trying to keep this shit show of a grade one contained, messy white locks blowing in the wind high above, it doesn’t take a moment for his six eyes to sense you. not when they had spent countless minutes taking in every bit of you when you thought he was looking at others..

he swears he’ll make it up to you. even if you could never love him back or forgive him, from this day on he wouldn’t hold back, he wouldn’t deny it. he loves you and the thought of losing you, in any way, without ever admitting it to you and asking for a chance to show you he meant it, is tearing him apart.

he’d get the chance to tell you, to shower you in his unbridled affection like you had always deserved, try to be the husband you could maybe love one day too. even if you couldn’t love him.. if he could make sure you kept smiling, that you could continue to be your amazing loving self, he would do anything.

the atmosphere back on solid ground is thick, the sky covered in a dark blanket that matches how dreariness seeps into every crack in the sidewalk, into the roots of the trees and across crumbles of buildings and cars that laid around. buried beneath it, alive but still somehow so lifeless, holding onto the phone still calling his, was you. blood dripping down your pretty face, debris and dust coating your skin, the disgusting curses attention on you as well.

satorus presence electrified the air enough so to make the grass stand up straight, his deep breaths huffing white clouds in the cold air, his blue orbs standing out like the eyes of an ethereal creature in the fog. a devil more so than an angel, one that would burn the world down to protect those he loves, even if he had failed at it before. the look of him would have stopped any sorcerer in its track, sent smaller curses scurrying away and it had kept this grade one from moving another inch, just like he intended

he was so gentle in the way he lifted off every piece of destruction that kept you pinned to the ground and pulled you into his arms with ease, infinity compassing you so nothing else could touch you except for him. nothing would ever hurt you again. it all happened so quickly to the world around him but in his eyes everything moved in slow motion. the way your eyes flutter open behind your lashes as he picks you up, unsure of what was going on around you, not fully conscious but enough so to whisper his name from chapped lips and hold onto him with the remaining strength that you had.

“‘toru..” a few tears roll down your cheeks, mixing with the blood still dripping from your hairline, draining the color from your face, making you so very weak.

“i’m here angel,” his voice sounds so unfamiliar to you both, shaking with pain and rage, relief and regret. “hold on a little longer for me, yeah?”

it takes everything in him to take his eyes off of you. you were now passed out in his arms and couldn’t say anything, couldn’t see the swirls of red and blue as they merged into deep purple and shook the earth beneath satorus feet. he only spares the curse a long enough glance to aime, holding you with one arm so tightly, feeling your shallow beating heart through his shirt soaking in your blood as he uses the other hand to use his jujutsu. the world around him is engulfed in purple, pulverizing the curse, shredding the trees, blowing out the windows of nearby buildings and burning the grass but the destruction he’s caused is the last of his concern.

all that’s left in the wake of his furry is your silhouettes in the smoke and aftershock, the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man shedding tears over his wife's limp body in his arms, kissing her cheeks as he pulls her so impossibly close before disappearing into thin air.

ieiri was the only person who could coax satoru to release you, sympathetic to the agony behind his eyes, not unfamiliar to it from when another left his life, but she was still seriously insistent that if he didn’t let you go, didn’t let her heal you, then he really might lose you. the fight to keep him out of the surgical room so he wasn’t suffocating her while she worked, so he didn’t have to see how truly worse off you might be with your lack of jujutsu to have helped you through this, was far more difficult, left satoru begging his friend to not let him leave your side but in the end he gave in and anxiously he waited outside the room.

he was still covered in dirt and blood. it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time it had ever been yours and he hoped it would be the only time, wished it had never happened at all. he blames himself and as he sat in silence, dying on the inside not knowing what was going on in the other room, he recalled his sacred oath to protect you till death due you part. it hadn’t meant anything to him when he said it and back then he never would have thought he’d be here, willing to give anything to get on his knees before you at that alter, bury his face into your middle while his hands hold you close and he swears to you that he will cherish you, protect you, love you, until death takes him from you.

with his head buried in his hands, head hanging low, tears pooling on the ground near his feet, he can’t help but think how right he was about love being a curse. nothing had brought him more pain and agony than love. there was nothing that had torn his heart apart like love had but for fucks sake he wasn’t ready to lose you too, to lose the most amazing parts of your love before he even got a true taste of it, before he could do you right by you and attempt to make up for his mistake.

long fingers grip onto strands of snowy hair and tug. he’s sure some would find it laughable to see the strongest in such a pitiful state, with no ability to fight back with annoying words and cocky smiles when the thought of being without you and your light made him think he’d never smile again. he didn’t want you to leave without knowing his love either, not when he had so much of it to give to you now that the cage he held it behind was shattered and forgotten.

his chest aches in a way it never has before. it made him sick to his stomach, angry enough to release all of his power at once, consequences be damned, it turned his tears from sorrowful to full of self pity to hysterics at what a world without you might be like. all because he broke his promise, because he had been a blind idiot and a stubborn fucking ass hole. would he never get the chance to show you with confidence how much you meant to him? he knows he didn’t deserve it but if.. no, when you make it out of this, he swears he’ll give you all of him. reject him, tell him you hate him, ask for a divorce and tear his heart out- none of it would stop him from trying to win your heart, from letting you go.

the more time that passes the more he feels like he’s losing it for the third time that day. he’s restless, sitting and bouncing his leg, getting up to walk just to pace the hallway endlessly until he ended up right back where he started and started the cycle all over again. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

shoko could yell at him all she wanted. he had to see you and know you were okay, to tell you he loves you and-

“gojo, take a breath okay?” ieriris voice breaks him from his thoughts, stops him from not even bothering to use the door and just teleport past the walls. “i told you i’d take care of her and i meant it.”

in a few steps he’s in front of her, leaning down to envelope her in a hug. he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath and let out the pent up air when she hugged him back. it wasn’t usual they shared moments like this but when it was.. it was when they were at their most vulnerable. even when they were younger, even when geto left them. his arms shook around her, silently begging for what he could not find the words to say.

“she’ll be fine,” her voice is soft, understanding to how he feels about you and thankful he’s done being a shithead about it. “she’s asleep for now but you can go in as long as you’ll let her rest.”

he didn’t wait a moment, didn’t even break their hug, before he teleported to your side and left shoko to smoke outside while she gave him some time alone with you. he was quiet and hesitant to touch you even though his fingers screamed to feel your skin, feel your pulse and prove to him without a doubt that you were okay. he saw it with his powerful eyes, your now clean skin, a few bandages here and there but your major injuries were healed. you looked so similar to how you did when sleeping at home and there was no doubting the truth in front of him but it wasn’t enough to ease the tightness of his chest.

let you rest. it was hard to do when he would have melted his body with your own given the chance but for now he’d have to settle for your smaller hand resting in his and the caress of his thumb against your soft skin swiping back and forth in comforting and gentle motions. you were warm, much warmer than the last time he held you and he swore he could cry at the feeling.

thank god for shoko and your resilience that filled him with such pride to call you his.

sitting on the chair next to your hospital bed, he lowers his head to rest against the hand he held, soft white hair tickling your skin as he kisses you knuckles and whispers an apology he would repeat to you in his words and actions for the rest of his life if he had to, until he could prove to you his utter devotion.

he isn’t sure how much time has passed and didn't notice that he had fallen asleep resting his head on you while waiting for you to wake up. his body ached, for more reasons than just the awkward sleeping position, he had gone through a whirlwind of emotions in one day and only next to you, knowing you would be okay, could he finally relax from it all but at the smallest twitch of your fingers he's alert, his head shooting up and he waits eagerly, moving from the chair to your bed, body hovering about yours, never letting go of your hand but instead pressing it against over his beating heart with gentleness, as you slowly wake up.

you blink slowly, your eyes in obvious protest and still heavy with exhaustion as you try to become more aware of your surroundings and what had happened with the aching of your head and a familiar scent in your nostrils.

“satoru?” you croak and in response he cradles your face in his hands, strokes your cheeks, kisses your lips soft and sweet and honest. your arms are weak and shaky but that doesn’t stop you from reaching for him and when you feel him shaking too, you ask, “are you okay?” oh that’s right.. you were fighting.. the remembrance was written on your face. “i'm.. i’m sorry i left so suddenly..”

leaning his forehead against your own, the laugh he lets out is full of relief and disbelief and is warm against your face. how could you possibly ask about his well being now or be the one apologizing? “my silly girl.” but it was the most wonderful thing to hear your voice and it takes all of his strength. he catches your wobbly smile and blushing cheeks before he collapses against you, enveloping you in his arms and letting his face rest in the crook of your neck, warm tears dropping along your collarbone.

his words, his confession, is all he can manage to say in his state and he whispers it against your skin, kissing you skin after each repeat of the words he would never hold back again. “i love you.”

bonus!

neither of you had expected to walk into the house and smell something delicious being made, ginger and onions and other delicious things that made your stomach growl with one whiff. you could hear the pair arguing and tsumiki pulling the big sister card before they become silent upon hearing your husband coo at you to be good and stay still followed by a defeated huff and a triumphant chuckle.

satoru had hardly let you go since leaving the hospital, even before that- from the moment you woke up he was touching some part of you, and insisted on carrying you up the steps even though you could walk just fine. at most you were tired and sore but not enough to render you unable to use your limbs.

in the end, it was impossible to say no to him. he wasn’t going to let you either so with burning cheeks you agreed to let your husband carry you bridal style into your home and held onto his strong shoulders as he so effortless carried you. he didn’t put you down once you were inside either, despite your protests, smirking at you when you wiggled in his arms but he only tightened his grip.

his overzealous affection and care didn’t stop there either and it only spurred him on when you became flustered because of it. oh loving you was going to be so very fun, he thought as you pouted when he wouldn’t let you feed yourself the meatballs megumi and tsumiki made together. you all ate on the couch, to be sure you were comfortable and resting like shoko had said you should, also because the table didn’t allow any of them to be close enough to you. tsumikis eyes welled up with tears when gojo told them what happened over dinner but when he patted her head with a wide smile and promised her nothing like this would ever happen again, looking at megumi and telling him he should look after both you and his sister too, you all smiled and laughed. he didn’t speak the words outloud but satoru swore he would remarry you right here and now when you returned your own promise to watch after them too, in your own loving way.

it was obvious that gojo was jealous of the kids hanging all over you, even megumi hardly left your side and was as doting as he was whenever his sister was ill. satoru couldn’t help but make you all of you blushy cheeked for different reasons when he pulls you into his lap and kisses your cheek before trying to whisk you away to your bedroom with a promise for naughty things that he didn’t intend to follow through with just yet, not until you told him you were ready and not until you were all healed up so he could love you properly.

the kids were too quick on their feet, laughing and arguing about who would sleep where while trying to push past the tall man even with his long and fast strides. he couldn’t keep them away no matter how hard he tried and admitted defeat when they jumped into bed after you.

main masterlist

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo #gojou x reader #jjk x reader

1K notes · View notes

chelseasdagger · 1 year ago

Text

Teacher - Chapter III

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank invites you to hang out with him at a bar on the outskirts of town. After some good food, and lots of teasing, you get invited back to his place to take care of the problem you caused him.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, grinding, detailed handjob sorry, slight praise kink

Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out!! I had a lot of life issues that delayed this, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so please accept this super long chapter as my apology/holiday gift!! And if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know. As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 9k

Previous Chapters: I, II

“So I was thinkin’… Said you didn’t get many experiences even after high school, right?” Frank asks. His voice slightly muffled through the phone, which is wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you drag the spatula over the food you’re cooking on the stove. He had randomly rang you out of the blue and, after attempting to control your breathing, you answered the call. This was what he chose to greet you with and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confused by the topic of conversation.

“Good morning to you too,” you tease, the food sizzling as you flip it in the pan. “But no, I haven’t. Why? What’s up?” you question.

“There’s this bar on the edge of town,” he begins his offer. “Little bit of a drive but they got good food,” he explains.

“Tempting…” you trail off, trying not to immediately agree just because it’s Frank. “Who all is coming?”

“Just me,” he replies. “That alright?”

“Yeah!” Your answer is too loud and far too fast to be playing it cool. After cursing yourself mentally, you try again. “Yeah, I was just wondering if it was a whole… get-together thing.” Your voice grows quiet at the end, not wanting to plant the idea in his head that you’d prefer it if there were more people.

Honestly, you were surprised he was reaching out this soon after the bonfire. It was one of the best nights of your life. Whenever you think about it, there’s this warmth that rushes through you; you’re not sure if the heat was from the big flames or his strong chest you laid against all night.

“Nah, just me. Just thought it would be somethin’ you might like,” you push the spatula around in the teflon pan as he speaks. “Plus it’s another thing off the list, right?”

“Yeah, it is! Thanks, Frank,” you say cheerily as you turn the burner off and open the cupboards to grab two plates.

“No problem, kid. Just thought about you, y’know?” You sink your teeth in your lower lip to calm yourself down before another thought comes to mind.

“Oh! When are we going?”

“Tonight,” he answers nonchalantly and your eyes grow wide. “If you’re free.”

You seriously weren’t expecting him to want to see you only two days since you two were last together. In your head, Frank is so calm and collected and you’re practically certain that this… thing you two have going on isn’t as big of a deal to him as it is to you. Still, you try not to question too much why he actually seems to enjoy having you around. Instead, you decide to just take the good as it comes.

“I am, I can do tonight. But I’m not sure I have something to wear. Is it like a club? Should I dress up or is it more jeans and—?” You don’t even realize when your voice picks up in speed and the questions fly out faster than you intend for them to, but Frank is quick to center you out of the beginning of your spiral.

“Just wear somethin’ cute, alright? I’ve seen some of your outfits, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment and inhale deeply before sighing. “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” You hum an agreement as he confirms the time and say a goodbye before hanging up.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, you see an incoming text from your best friend drop down from the top of the screen.

“I’m two minutes away! I can’t wait to hear everything.”

That night when you got home from the bonfire, she had sent many texts in hopes of finding out the reasoning behind the newfound closeness between you and Frank. In your exhausted and slightly inebriated state, you told her that you would have her over Saturday morning to explain it all to her. You were much too tired to string the words together and you also know how she can tend to put her own emotions onto words; the last thing you needed was for her to hear the little arrangement you and Frank have and blow it out of proportion.

You set the table as you wait for her, making sure to leave a mug beside her plate for her tea that tends to be the staple of her breakfast. By the time the food is divvied up for each of you, there’s an impatient knock at the door. You shake your head with a smile as you open the door and she’s pushing past you as the questions immediately begin to roll off her tongue.

After guiding her to the small dining table in the kitchen, you watch her sit down and her eyes never stray from you. Her voice continues to fill the air as she talks over herself; there’s no distinct end to one sentence and the beginning of the next. By the time you’re sitting beside her and about to dig into your meal she finally covers her mouth, stopping all the enthusiastic queries she desperately wants to know.

“I’m gonna let you talk,” she mumbles behind her palms. You laugh at her attempts to force herself to be quiet and pick up a forkful of your food.

“I promise you it’s not as exciting as you think it is,” you warn her before popping the food in your mouth.

You start at the beginning—trying to skim over the details of your not-so-controlled crush on Frank as well as the more heated parts of the things you two have done together. Excited gasps fill the space surrounding the dining table and you watch as her eyes go wide when you mention it was his idea. Her mouth gets the better of her though and she begins to ask more questions while you speak. You make sure to answer all of them in time, save for a few chuckles here and there, before finishing your last bite.

“I actually have a question for you now,” you start again, watching as confusion washes over her features. “Frank called me this morning and he wants to take me out to this bar he likes. I just don’t know what to wear and I was hoping… you could help me?” You hesitantly look up to face her and you’re met with a beaming grin.

“Is this a date?! Is this the first one? Are you going back to his place after?” You shake your head once again as the sudden influx of questions fill the air.

“No, it’s not a date. I mean… I don’t think it is?” you let your thought process be shown aloud and watch as her giddy expression comes back to the surface. “It’s not! We’re just friends and he’s doing me a favor. I’m sure of it.” You decide then and there that you can’t afford to hold out hope and expect more than what he’s given you—which is already so much.

She raises her eyebrows up from behind the rim of her mug and you scoff at her knowing look. You brush your hand through your hair and try your hardest to not let your anxiety creep in about the idea of being on a proper date with Frank Castle.

And so together the two of you spend the afternoon diving through your closet together for something that could fit. It felt similar to a movie montage where the teenage girls toss different colorful fabrics through the air. With a growing pile on the floor of your bedroom, she gasps once you stand in the completed outfit.

“That’s the one!” she says excitedly before tugging you towards the bathroom. “Time for makeup!” She eagerly pats for you to sit on the counter while searching through your, admittedly limited, makeup bag. Doing the best with what she’s got, she gets to work on the eyeshadows and blush, finishing up with a curl of your eyelashes and combing mascara through them. You always loved how focused she got when it was time for something special; her tongue pokes past her lips as she concentrates, her eyes squinting to get the very last detail to sit right.

Once she’s satisfied, she spins you around to see yourself in the mirror and you’re actually surprised at how nice it all came together. You’re wearing an oversized, comfy jumper, tights that line your legs, and a black skirt that accentuates your frame. It’s not too fancy, but the black tights make your outfit more sleek and you silently hope that Frank will like it. As you fluff your hair up to give it some more volume, you thank her behind a wide smile.

A buzz of excitement rushes through you as you wait by the front door and hear the heavy revving from the engine of Frank’s van. You physically shake your arms in an attempt to let go of some of the nerves that built up and your friend gives you a quick hug.

“You got it, baby!” she encourages sweetly. “Have fun!” she calls out as you slip past the door. Making your way down your porch steps, you hear her shout something else from behind you. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

You chuckle at her warnings and make your way to the big, black van. You open the door and find Frank sitting with his elbow on his armrest and his head in his palm as he turns to face you. You stand there for a moment and await his initial reaction to your outfit. His eyes widen slightly before they rake over your boy, his lips parting as he takes it all in.

He brushes his thumb along the defined line of his jaw before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes settle on the small slit of the skirt that rests high on your thigh. There’s a pause for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Told you you’d find somethin’ cute.” He fixes his posture and gives you a smile as you roll your eyes and sit in the passenger seat. Being with him felt easy now—of course there’s still the butterflies, which you’re expecting to make a permanent home in your stomach any day now, but it’s mostly when you’re about to see him. When you’re actually in his presence, it all fades away and you love how comfortable he makes you feel.

If you had told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d be on a half hour car ride with Frank Castle to the outskirts of town, she probably would’ve brushed it off as some sick joke. But here you are, sitting beside him and watching as he flips through radio stations until he settles on a classic rock song. You enjoyed getting to discover little pieces of him the more time you spent with him.

As he drives under the lamp posts longing the winding roads, you watch as the passing lights illuminate his face before it’s cloaked in shadows of the night once again. Each time you move underneath them, light showcases his features in a warm glow for mere moments at a time. You think your new favorite thing might be when the gleam seeps into the small dip in the bridge of his nose. That small highlight makes you smile and he catches it as he turns to look at you once you’re stopped at a red light.

“What is it?” he questions, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at you. With a shake of your head, you face back to the light strung up in the air. His gaze doesn’t leave the side of your face though, and you know he’ll want an answer.

“This is just nice,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you for thinking of me,” you add. You want to make sure he knew how happy you were to be doing this, despite your quiet nature due to your fear of somehow screwing this up with your words.

“Haven’t even done anything,” he laughs softly.

“Well, I’m still enjoying myself,” you reply in a gentle tone. Frank doesn’t say anything more as he continues to look at you. The light changes and a green glow washes over your face, queuing him to face the open road once again. You glance down as his hand moves to the gear shift, trying not to focus too long on how the veins in his hand are accentuated as he curls his fingers around the knob.

Frank speaks up again after a moment and you quickly recenter your attention. He engages you in some light conversation and pretty soon you’re laughing along to his comedic storytelling. You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until he’s put the car in park and turns the key off in the ignition. Looking out from behind the glass in front of you, you see the neon lights surrounding the big, bold letters of the name of the bar. It shines brightly in the night sky and acts as a small beacon in the dark parking lot.

You look up at the sound of the driver side door closing and realize Frank has left the car. You reach for your bag that’s resting on the floor between your feet and by the time you move for the handle, he’s opening your door for you. It’s the first time you’re able to truly take him in. He’s wearing a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans and a grey jacket, complete with the black boots you’ve never seen him without. You can’t tell what he’s wearing under the thick material that conceals his chest though, and you find yourself hoping it’s something tighter and hugs his torso.

“You ready?” he asks, and you nod in response. “Alright, watch your step,” he warns and you feel his hand bracing your upper arm as you hop out from the slightly lifted van. Once you’re secure on the ground, the two of you begin making your way towards the entrance. As you pass by the cars parked in organized rows under dim lamplights, you begin to make out the few scattered people smoking and even spot a couple sharing a cigarette just outside the main doors.

Once inside the building, he shrugs off the jacket and you can finally piece together his outfit. Frank’s broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the dark blue button up shirt. It’s tucked into his denim pants and secured with a black belt. He fits the attire of everyone else here in the bar, but still stands over a head taller than the rest—not to mention infinitely more attractive. You try desperately to rip your eyes away from him, and in doing so, take in the scenery of the pub.

The bar is crowded but not so occupied that you can’t move. The loud, overlapping voices meld to create a soft droning that accompanies the background. It doesn’t stand a chance to the band though, whose loud amplifiers cause a shake in your chest with each note they strum. Polished wood lines the walls and there’s photographs of smiling people decorating them, forever cherished behind glass frames. It feels oddly homey, admittedly impressive for a place you’ve never stepped foot into before tonight.

You accidentally bump into Frank and he steadies you with his large hands on your waist. He’s staring down at you with a subtle smile on his face. He begins to talk but you don’t have the slightest clue what he’s saying; the song that’s playing is far too loud to hear the lower tone of his voice. Shaking your head with a frown, you let him know you can’t understand him and his smile grows wider. He then leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from your ear before he speaks.

“Asked if you wanted to eat,” he starts, his breath immediately warming the side of your neck. With just those few words, it feels like all the other noise falls away. All you can focus on is the rumble in his voice and how the words feel as if they dance down your spine. “I’m starving,” he adds, and you’re certain your new headspace gave his words a different context than he intended.

He pulls away for your response and all you can muster up is a slow blink and a delayed nod. There’s no cocky smirk at your expression and you wonder if maybe he decided to spare you the embarrassment this time. He promptly turns and you fall in line beside him, letting him guide you around the crowd. His palm finds its way to your lower back as he leads you and just like that, your heart picks up in pace once more.

You’ve only seen the same small movement depicted in movies and you can now safely say that experiencing it is so much more exhilarating. Part of you is frustrated that such an insignificant touch can make you this excited, but Frank’s charm has a tremendous effect on you. Still, you tell yourself it’s the anticipation of his hand being elsewhere on your body that riles you up.

His hand stays put until the two of you reach a booth lining the back wall. There’s a small lamp that bathes the whole table in a warm glow and you and Frank place your things down before sliding into the long seats. As you stare at him from across the table, you watch as his eyes scan the crowd and then the main stage as he focuses on the band. They’re currently playing a cover of a classic rock song and Frank smiles as he nods his head to the music.

“This place is nice,” you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the music. He turns to face you and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah? You like it?” His question is accompanied by your own nod and he continues. “I’m sure there’s fancier ones close to town, but I’ve been coming here for years and they’ve always been good.”

He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head up and leaning to the side as if to catch someone’s attention. You follow his line of sight and look over your shoulder to see a woman with a black apron tied around her waist. She looks slightly past you as a grin covers her face and walks over to your table quicker than you expected.

“Frank?! What are you doing here?” Her voice is already grating and she’s only said a handful of words. Her tone is drawn out, almost flirtatiously, and she stands closer to him than you would’ve liked.

“Just showing her around,” he answers simply. He looks at you and when the waitress does the same, her face falls. You muster up an awkward smile and try to shake off the weird look she gives you. “She’s never been here before, you think we could get some menus?”

“Sure thing,” she mumbles, stepping away only to return a moment later with two long, laminated sheets of paper. She drops them to the table and you spare yourself the trouble of looking at her again.

“She sure seems to like you,” you speak up once she’s left. Frank scoffs before grabbing a menu and shaking his head. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What did I do?” You ask with a frown, wondering if you did something unintentionally.

“She’s probably just pissed cause you’re sitting with me and she’s not,” he answers with a sigh. He flips the paper around and you notice the way his eyes dart around the page. His answer wasn’t very reassuring though, and you still feel the tension in your body. As you scan the small print of the menu in your hands, you can feel his gaze on you. You try to shake the disappointment and to make it less obvious that what she said affected you, but you’re not certain how good of an actress you are.

“Y’know what?” he speaks up after a few seconds. You raise your face to him as he continues, “I know this place a couple of blocks down? Best god damn beer I’ve had.” His hand disappears under the table and a moment later you see his fingers curled around his jacket. “It’s German! You haven’t tried that one before.” He leans across the table before whispering, “You’re gonna hate it.”

His attempts at distracting you work well and you can’t help the laughter escaping you at the final thing he said. Frank’s own crooked smile returns at your reaction and a softness settles into his brown eyes.

“There she is,” he mumbles once he sees your regular self bubble back up to the surface. You bring in a deep breath and choose to shake off any residual awkwardness you felt from before.

“No, no it’s okay. We can stay here.” You finish your sentence and look back towards the music before facing him. His hands are empty now as he continues to stare at you and you feel confident in your choice to stay.

After looking over the endless list of drinks, burgers, and other appetizers, you read a description of a sandwich that makes your stomach rumble to life. You immediately decide on it without a second thought and smile up at Frank, watching him run his finger across the page between two options and looking quite indecisive.

Before long, the ill behaved waitress is back to take down your order. You pick your sandwich, remembering to take off the toppings you aren’t too fond of, add in an order of fries, and your usual favorite drink to top it off. With a hesitant glance up, you see her scribbling down your order on the small notepad in her hand. Her expression is twisted up as if she smelled something foul and you feel that uneasy feeling settling in once more.

“I’ll have the same as my date here,” Frank answers before she can ask about his meal. He gently taps the two menus on the tabletop before handing them over to her. His lips part as his eyes drag over your features and you notice the way they stop for a little longer than they should when they reach your mouth.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he said it just to get under her skin or not but part of you didn’t really care. He said it regardless and that made a smile carve its way onto your face. An annoyed scoff is heard from above and you see a hand come into view to snatch the menus away from Frank. He never looked away from you once.

The moment the food arrives, you’re excitedly grabbing your sandwich and lifting it to your mouth. As your teeth sink into the toasted bread, the flavor hits your tongue and a satisfied moan escapes you. Frank is quick to lift his eyes at the sound, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene in front of him. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin to grow bashful at the look on his face.

“Sorry!” You apologize, your voice muffled behind your palm. “It was just really good,” you explain once you swallow your food down.

“Don’t gotta apologize for that, kid,” he replies through his own raspy chuckle. You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before reaching for the fries in your basket next.

The two of you dig into your identical meals and make some easy conversation in between bites here and there. You’re honestly impressed with how good the sandwich is and you’re glad you picked it out of the infinite number of items on the menu. Frank wasn’t lying when he said he loved this place. You watch him look up from his meal every now and then with a big smile on his face as he moves his head to the beat of the music. His energy was infectious and you found yourself tapping your toes along too.

“Y’know,” he speaks up after finishing the last bite of his sandwich. At the sound of his voice, you begin to look up to his face, but your eyes latch on to something else. Frank sucks his fingers clean of the salt from his fries, his lips pursing as his cheeks hollow, and you immediately lose any grip you had on controlling your thoughts around him.

“When we ordered I saw your beer on the menu.” You hear his words but they have absolutely no meaning, no way of stringing them together to make a continuous thought as you watch him suck the seasonings from his thumb. You begin to feel a sense of injustice at the fact that those fingers weren’t where you desperately wanted them to be. With a pout, you look back to his gaze and see the confusion clear in his eyes.

“What?” you blurt out, finally remembering he had spoken and that you hadn’t processed anything he had said. He scoffs before shaking his head, his smirk spreading wide across his face before he speaks again.

“Said they have the beer you like here,” he repeats himself, his cocky grin a clear indicator that he saw how you froze up at sight just moments ago.

“I’m actually good tonight,” you say confidently. Reaching for your glass, you take a sip of your drink and hold his gaze as you stare at him from under your eyelashes. He sits back against the cushion of the booth and his eyebrows pull together as he thinks about what you said.

“Yeah?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Mhm, not letting a few beers stop me from what I wanna do after this,” you explain. You’ve never felt more frustrated than when he stopped you from kissing on his neck. You understood why he did it, and are actually very thankful he didn’t want it to go further, but the disappointment coursed through you all the same.

“Hmm? And what exactly is that?” he questions as the band finishes up the song they had been playing. Your eyes follow the noise as the crowd erupts into whistles and claps, applauding the musicians. When you finally look back over, Frank’s in the same position. It’s like he never looked away from you—hell, you’re not sure if he even blinked.

You don’t answer him though and make up your mind to keep him on the edge of his seat. Instead, you smile sweetly before picking up a fry from your basket and popping it past your lips.

He gives you a knowing look, but doesn’t pry. Perhaps he was looking forward to the surprise of it all. You only hope you can remain as confident as you feel now so you can properly act out your plan. Before long, he swallows down his last french fry and Frank speaks up with a question.

“You wanna go dance?” Your whole body freezes at the mere thought of attempting to dance, not to mention the added nerves of doing it in a crowded room with Frank Castle standing witness. But as you look out onto the dance floor full of moving bodies, you realize most of them are probably far too intoxicated to really pay attention to you. Deciding to push past the initial fear, and wanting to be fully present with him and have fun, you nod and scoot out of the booth.

Frank stands in front of you and his hand soon comes into view of your eyeline. You place your hand in his and feel his fingers curl around your palm as you brace your weight on him and rise to your feet. You stand on your toes and motion for him to come closer so you can speak into his ear.

“Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer,” you say after he’s tilted his head towards you.

“What part of me screams that I’m a good one?” he asks, and you chuckle at his joke. He smiles down at your laughter and nods his head behind him, letting you know he’s going to the dancefloor.

Frank keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you through the crowd. His broad body splits the sea of bodies as he walks and you follow close enough behind him to squeeze past them as well. There’s blue hues from the dim lights that shine over the people, but other than that you can’t see much beside their moving feet. He must’ve gotten to a clearing where there’s not as many people bumping into one another, because he stops walking and turns to you.

You’re sort of frozen still for a moment as the reality of it is beginning to creep in. But then Frank starts to shimmy his shoulders and you can’t help but break into a wide grin. Just like that, you’re thawed. The awkwardness you felt is starting to leave you as you begin to loosen up in front of him.

The band plays a fun, upbeat song that you don’t recognize, but he seems to be making the moves up as he goes along. You follow his direction, copying him but still keep some distance, trying to slowly shake off those nerves that are still lingering around. Suddenly, Frank does a move that you can’t even begin to describe with words alone and you burst into laughter as you watch him. Holding your stomach, you shake your head at him and he begins to laugh too.

The band then retires from the stage, saying their farewells as the crowd applauds and whistles. Frank claps along with the rest of them and you cup your hands around your mouth to give a small cheer. You really enjoyed their set and wouldn’t mind coming back here again to watch them play once more.

Once the stage is clear, music begins to play over the speakers and Frank’s face lights up. His excitement is clear after just the first few notes.

“God, this takes me back,” his wide grin causes his eyes to squint up. You smile up at him, happy at his enjoyment, but you can’t help your head from tilting to the side confusedly.

“You haven’t heard this before?” he asks incredulously and you shake your head. “It’s literally my favorite song, how do you not know this?”

“When did it come out?” you ask, and watch him look up as he starts to think.

“Must’ve been… right after graduation, I think?” He does the math for a moment longer before answering with the year it was released. The answer has you fighting back a giggle as you stare at him awkwardly.

“Frank, I wasn’t born until two years later,” you answer honestly, and the look on his face is priceless.

“Jesus Christ…” he replies, dragging his hand down his face. You begin to worry now, wondering if you shouldn’t have brought up that point. He must’ve caught a glance at your anxious frown because he’s quick to explain himself.

“You’re fine just… my back hurt when you said that.” His hand comes to the back of his neck to emphasize his point and your smile finds its way back to your lips.

Despite the initial embarrassment you ran into after being reminded again of the gap in age between you and Frank, you found yourself really enjoying the song. He was honest when he said it was one of his favorites. You’ve never seen him this lively before and you love being able to soak up every minute of it. He’s so animated as he dances, holding you close to him with his hand secured at your back. The lines to the song fall past his lips like muscle memory as his forehead presses to yours.

You can’t stand being this close to him. Your whole body feels like it’s been shot with a current of electricity and you’re desperately wanting him to stop singing and put his mouth to yours. He might have a sixth sense—or simply just picked up on the timing—because his lips are on yours a second later. He kisses you deeply, his tongue brushing your lower lip for a moment before you eagerly let him in. Your head tilts to the side as you kiss him back and your arm wraps around his wide shoulders to ensure you’ll have your fill.

All too soon he’s breaking the kiss and you immediately suck your bottom lip behind your teeth to savor the feeling of him. He suddenly lifts his arm into the air and cues you to spin. You twirl under his hand with a huge grin and then he yanks you in for the finish, timing it so that your back is to his chest when you land against him. His same palm immediately finds your hip and tightens to keep you flush to him. His opposite hand travels down the length of your torso, his index finger tracing your side as he moves.

He begins to whisper the lyrics against your ear and you can’t bring yourself to focus on their meaning. He’s all over you and it’s making you feel dizzy, as if you’re drunk on his scent alone. Each pass of his finger along your ribs alights a fire at your side and you try to keep up as he begins rocking you from side to side to the rhythm of the song. His breath warms the entire side of your face and neck with each word he whispers. You fall under his spell and roll your head to the side at the feeling of his warmth all over.

When the song starts to fade and a new one begins overlapping it, you’re left with a bittersweet feeling; part of you never wanted to leave that moment and would gladly listen to that song on loop for the rest of your life, but the other half of you was almost frightened at how easily you turned to putty in his hands. You felt the need to have a better grasp on yourself, especially if you wanted to stay courageous for what you had planned for tonight.

The mix of two songs smoothen down into one and you instantly recognize the slow, sexy bassline that’s pumping through the speakers overhead. You’re not sure what came over you. Perhaps you wanted to prove to someone that you’re not that same timid, little girl. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins, you’re thankful that it gave you the strength to grab his large palm and put it back into place at your hip. You use the extra support to push your ass back into him, making sure to press hard enough until you feel the bulge in his jeans.

Frank doesn’t show any reaction except for his fingers tightening into your skin as if you were a lifeline. You smile as you continue to grind into him, your hips following the similar movements he taught you just a few days prior. Facing away from him gives you the extra boost of confidence needed to perform this act, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t kill to see the look on his face right now.

With each push of your ass against the denim fabric, you feel the heat of his bulge so close to where your own warmth had started to pool. This felt good and you felt pride surging through your chest once you realized exactly what you were doing.

And then his arm crosses your chest and pulls you flat against him once more. His forearm is pressed against your collarbones and you feel your breath hitch at the hold he has you in. With a shaky inhale, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wait for him to speak.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” the tip of his nose brushes the curve of your ear and you try your damndest to not let your body double over. “Someone’s getting confident, huh?” His arm begins to slowly drop from across your chest, and instead reaches your lower stomach. From there, he applies pressure until you’re as close as you could be to him.

“You feel that? Hmm?” There’s an undeniable hardness under the thick layers of fabric. It doesn't feel as big as the last time he got turned on from you, but it’s still noticeable. “That’s all you,” he finishes with a lower tone of voice before taking half a step back and leaving you to sit with his words.

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around this entire situation. It’s abundantly clear that the mood has changed from light laughter and awful dance moves to something more sultry. You can feel the warmth slowly spreading between your legs and it leaves you with a buzz that makes you feel like your movements are slowed. When you turn around to finally face him, he’s already staring down at you expectedly.

“Why don’t we get outta here?” he asks, deep voice blending in with the booming bass. You nod at him and it feels like you’re moving in molasses. The dull, blue light from above catches his face for a moment. There’s something deeper to his unreadable expression; his jaw is clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back.

Once the two of you make it back to the table, Frank reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbs through the notes before tossing a few bills onto the table. He reaches into the booth seat for his jacket and shakes it out before draping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you mumble in a quiet voice.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, insisting that your gratitude isn’t needed. He begins to walk towards the door with his hand in its designated spot at your lower back to help guide you once again. The chill of the night air hits you the second you step out of the building and you find yourself curling his jacket snugger around your body. His scent is stuck to the collar and it helps lessen your shivering from the cold breeze.

He walks you to your side of the van and opens the door for you to climb in. Even after he gets in and begins driving down the same winding roads, there’s not much conversation between the two of you. The tension in the car is thick and incredibly palpable. You’re indecisive about whether to break the silence or leave it untouched so as to not make it worse.

Eventually Frank pulls into his parking spot that faces the front door of his apartment. After putting the van in park and walking around to open your door once more, you take his hand and carefully step down. He unlocks the door and gets you inside quickly, trying to shield you from the chilly air. Once he flicks the lights on, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of his living room and feel that desire to touch him creep back in. Your name falls from his lips and you turn your head at the sound.

“I’m sorry if I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have—,” he begins to apologize, but you’re quick to interrupt by pressing your lips to his. A surprised grunt comes from him and you smirk into the kiss, pleased to have caught him off guard. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and begins leading you towards the couch. When you feel the back of your knees hit the curve of the cushion, you angle yourself in front of Frank and push him into the sofa below.

He looks up at you with his lips parted and his chest is noticeably bringing in deeper breaths each time he inhales. His usually soft, brown eyes have a darkened glint to them and you’re certain you’ve never seen this emotion on him before. Your pulse is racing through your own body and you swiftly straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.

His impatient fingers grab hold of you in a way no one ever has before. The action causes a surprised gasp to fall past your lips, but it’s swallowed down by Frank who can’t seem to keep his mouth off of yours. The light stubble decorating his jaw scratches at your skin and the rough feeling does nothing but spur you on further. You begin to roll your hips into his as you fall into a familiar pattern and he uses his hold to help guide you into moving faster.

His movements are rushed and needy and it makes you feel reassured that he wants this—he wants you. That little boost to your ego has your hands tracing down his body, your palms rubbing down his strong chest, before finally reaching his belt. Your fingers search blindly for the leather and the sound of the buckle clinking sounds out in between the wet noises of your kisses.

“Woah, easy,” Frank breaks the kiss the second the sound reaches his ears. “Let’s just, uh…” he trails off and you feel his fingers gently prying yours away. “Let’s take it slow, alright?” His tone is so soft and the concern is written clearly across his features.

“Frank, please,” you try to reason with him. “I didn’t even drink tonight! And I just… last time I was all worked up and I really want to do this.” You finish with a pout as you glance up at him with pleading eyes. He swallows hard as he stares at you for a moment, probably battling something internally.

“What do you wanna do?” he asks slowly, trying to make his words clear. The question is so simple but admitting it to him makes you feel small again.

“I… I want to touch you,” you mumble, silently hoping he doesn’t ask you to be more explicit than that.

“You sure you want this?” His eyes never leave yours as he confirms your consent.

“I really do,” you reply, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin and watch as he begins to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. “Please?”

You’re not sure if it’s the quiet plea, his own craving that’s swaying his decision, or some combination of the two, but he slowly uncurls his fingers from your wrist. You beam brightly at him and whisper a thanks as you peck him on the cheek.

“You’re still gonna have to walk me through it, Frank,” you say through a small chuckle.

He nods with an equally quiet, “I know.”

From there, he doesn’t try to deter your movements any longer. He lets you continue as you slide his belt past the metal buckle. You look up at him for reassurance and he nods his head with a smile. He takes your hand in his and pulls it to his bulge, letting you feel it properly for the first time. Excitement races through you and settles in your lower stomach as you watch your hand touch him over the denim.

“Can I take your jeans off?” Your question is met with another nod as he lets go of you. Slipping the button past the slit, you then lower the zipper past the teeth and the sound feels so loud in the otherwise silent room. You move to sit beside him and Frank helps you tug his pants down, raising his hips to lower them some more until they fall past his knees. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and your eyes linger far too long on how they hug his thighs.

The thick outline stretching the fabric is enough to recenter your attention though. You start to feel the nerves coming back once you register just how big he is as he lies against his hip. You always had a feeling, given the sheer size of the man, but seeing it is a whole other experience. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t rush you as he lets you take this all in. You hesitantly move your hand over the length of him, brushing your fingers over the defined line underneath the head of his cock.

The next thing you reach for is the waistband of his boxers. You curl your fingers over the edge and tug them down, watching as more and more of his happy trail becomes exposed. He once again helps you pull them past his legs and now that he’s bare in front of you, you can’t help your eyes from widening. You had thought the bulge was big, but it was misleading; Frank is actually much larger than you had anticipated.

“What? You’ve never seen—?” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I have. I’ve seen, like, porn before but…” you find your voice leaving you as you stare between his legs. “It’s just bigger in person.” His chuckle sounds out and you raise your head to the noise only to be met by an amused smirk at your confession.

“S’not just cause it’s in person, kid,” he laughs through his words and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. You like that you can still crack jokes during a time like this and you find yourself thankful that you get to have Frank as your first introduction to sex. Feeling more relaxed, you reach forward and gently curl your fingers around his thick base.

“You can hold it tighter than that,” he speaks up after a second.

“I know,” you respond, tightening your hold on him a little more. He snorts lightly at the, apparently, subtle increase in pressure and you feel his larger hand curling around your own. His long fingers squeeze over yours, adjusting your grip on his length as he begins to move your hand up and down. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, two things you hadn’t given much thought of before now. Frank lifts your hand once more and a satisfied sigh leaves him.

The sound stirs something in your stomach and you try to swallow down your own growing arousal at the noise he’s making. He loosens his hold on you and you watch as his hands find the hem of his shirt before bunching it up and exposing the lower half of his stomach. There’s so much to look at and it’s pulling your attention in too many ways. You try to focus on him in your hand though and begin speeding up your movements.

“You can spit on it,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You turn to face him and feel your eyebrows pull together at his words.

“Like just… spit on it?” The confusion is more than likely obvious in your tone but you want to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself with him. Not now when you’ve made it this far.

“Yeah, go for it,” he encourages gently. With one last glance at him, you lean forward and lower your head over his length. You purse your lips and part them as you let the split slowly drip until it’s sliding over his head. You watch as it runs down past the tip and Frank clears his throat.

“Shit, yeah that…” he trails off as he raises his hips slightly. “That works too.” You smile at his words and wonder if his movement was an instinctual reaction to the warmth running along the smooth skin of his cock.

With the help of the extra slick added to his length, you begin to work your hand faster on him. You know from what you’ve heard that the tip is more sensitive, so you raise your hand right underneath his head and tighten your grip. A grunt immediately falls from him and you impulsively let go of him. You face him with a worried expression and watch as he brings in a deep breath before swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just felt real damn good.” The praise in his words immediately rushes to your heart and you feel yourself swell with pride. You can’t believe you made him feel that good, but now you’re determined to see what other sounds you can pull from his pretty lips. As you focus your attention back to his cock, you see a few beads of precum beginning to bubble up at his swollen tip. You rub your thumb in circles over the slit, spreading around the proof of his pleasure, and you feel him twitch in your hold.

“Shiiiiiit,” the drawn out curse sounds raspy and you don’t stop your movements as you check once again to see his reaction. Frank’s head is tilted back slightly against the couch cushion, his mouth is parted, and his eyes are scrunched up slightly. You try your hardest to memorize this version of him. You wish you could ingrain this memory so you’ll never forget how good he looks when he’s succumbing to his pleasure.

Twisting your hand as you move it over his length, you notice the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows down presumably another groan. You can’t resist the urge to feel even more of him, and press your lips against his neck. Lazy kisses are littered across his skin while you work your hand faster, intermittently tightening your hold on his thickness. His throat tightens as he feels the wet marks of your affection, and the next thing you feel is his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls gently as he tugs your head up to his and he kisses down your surprised gasp, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You’re having trouble keeping up with his movements and you realize this must be what it’s like to be kissed breathlessly. Any moment you get, you’re greedily gulping down air before he continues his ravenous attack on your lips. You never slow the speed of your hand and press yourself against his side, trying to feel more of him to satiate your need. Frank tries to break the kiss but you push against him harder, not wanting to let go for a second. But he tries again, grabbing your wrist gently and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“What did I do?” you ask in a worried tone. He’s quick to lock his eyes with yours and speaks clearly.

“You’re okay. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he starts, and then nods down towards his lap. “I’m almost there, kid. Just wanted to warn you before it happens.” And just like that, a wide grin splits across your face. I’m making him feel that good?!

“I really wanna make you come, Frank,” you tell him honestly and you notice his cock twitch slightly as he registers your words.

“You keep talking like that and you will,” he grumbles in a low voice. His tone almost seems as if it was meant as a warning, but all it does is add to the fire in the pit of your stomach. You’re quick to reach for him again and fall back into the rhythm you established just seconds ago. With each pass of your hand you feel the veins protruding slightly through his skin and make sure to add slightly more pressure to the ring underneath his tip—he seemed to like that in particular.

“Just like that—fuck, attagirl,” he breathes through gritted teeth while he stares down at your smaller fingers wrapped snugly around him. The praise courses through you and you hide your face in his neck. You place sloppy kisses under his jaw and listen as more grunts start to fall from his parted lips. They slowly twist into a new sound and it takes you a second to realize it’s your name that’s coming out in a twisted groan. You glance down and watch as he raises his hips for a moment to chase after the feeling of you, his orgasm following soon after.

One long moan falls from him as warmth spills over your hands. You make sure not to miss a single second and don’t dare slow down or pull away. You want Frank to feel as good as possible and so you’ll drag this out for as long as you can. White begins to coat his head and the rest of his length as you continue moving over him. It isn’t until he reaches for your wrist that you take notice of the way his thigh is tense and you let go to give him some relief.

“T…That’s enough,” he pants as he speaks through uneven breathing. You mumble an apology as you snuggle into his side again, leaving the remainder of your kisses on his collarbone. His hand rubs at your back while he regains his breath and you feel him press his lips to your forehead.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you follow his gaze to the mess in his lap. His cock lies on his hip, all spent and giving a weak twitch once or twice. You don’t even try to hide the smile that grows on your face at the sight.

“Oh, you proud of yourself, huh?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. “You should be,” he holds you to his side again. “Did so fuckin’ good.” You feel another long kiss to the side of your head. Pride isn’t even a strong enough word to describe how you feel at this moment.

“Thank you, Frank,” you smile up at him.

“Thank me? Nah, you did all that,” he brushes it off just like last time. “Thank you for making me feel good, kid. You were absolutely perfect.” The warmth spreading to your cheeks makes you hide your face in his chest again. You weren’t really sure how a scene like this was supposed to normally end, but Frank doesn’t say anything more. He keeps you close in his arms and you can still hear his pulse attempting to slow in his chest. For now, you don’t want to question what comes next; for once, you’re comfortable exactly where you are.

Taglist: @chellestrash @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl @xxdrixx @yaminax @nabiiturner @imwaytoolazyforthis @vechkinfan @himesuedi @0-goblin-0 @soleilcastle @innebulae @punishersmainchick @eddiemunsonsbelover @tea-drinking-nerd

#new writing record WOOO! i just couldn't shut the hell up :)#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal fic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fanfic #chelsea writes

663 notes · View notes