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lostfracturess · 2 months ago

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THREE LITTLE WORDS — SATORU GOJO

pairing — satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary — for twenty-four years, satoru gojo has carried three little words on the tip of his tongue, never daring to speak them aloud. growing up as the strongest sorcerer comes with its burdens, and loving someone means putting them at risk. but when you're about to marry someone else, satoru finally realizes that sometimes the biggest risk is never taking one at all.

word count — 7.4 k

genre/tags — childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective gojo, idiots in love

warnings — no explicit content (only kissing), mild violence mentions, references to injuries, angst, alcohol use, mentions of arranged marriages, family pressure, reference to assassination attempts

author's note — hey lovelies, with everything that's going on rn, i wanted to write something cute to maybe make someone smile today. there's a little bit of angst in this (sorry, yk me), but mostly it's (bitter)sweet moments. and i tried to keep it somewhat canon-compliant, but maybe not really. and i've written this with gender-neutral pronouns to ensure everyone can see themselves in this story. if you notice any places where i might have slipped up, please let me know.

masterlist

Three little words.

Just eight letters that had lived on the tip of Satoru Gojo's tongue for what felt like forever, desperately wanting to spill from his lips every time he saw you.

Three words that had haunted him through the years, through scraped knees and graduation gowns, through first dates and near-death experiences.

I love you.

Simple words that carried the weight of universes, that could change everything — or destroy it all. And so, he'd held them back, let them sit heavy in his chest, like a weight that pressed against his lungs with every breath.

Because loving a Gojo wasn't easy. It never had been.

Love had always been a foreign concept to him. Growing up in the Gojo clan meant learning about power before learning about affection, mastering close combat before understanding emotions.

Love was abstract, complex, something other people seemed to grasp naturally while he watched from behind barriers of privilege and power.

But with you? With you, it had been as clear as breathing.

It hadn't been the dramatic, earth-shattering revelation movies always promised. Instead, it was quiet, constant, like realizing the sun had always been there, warming his skin. It was in the way you shared your lunch without being asked, how you never flinched when his powers flared, how you rolled your eyes at his dramatics but smiled anyway.

Love had been the easiest thing in the world when it came to you. Understanding it, feeling it, living it — that part was simple.

It was everything else that was complicated.

Because Satoru knew what happened to people the Gojos loved. He'd seen it, lived it, carried the weight of those consequences since before he could walk. Love, in his world, wasn't just about feelings — it was about target signs and weaknesses, about giving your enemies a roadmap straight to your heart.

And your heart? That was something he couldn't bear to put at risk.

So he had learned to swallow those words, to tuck them away behind smirks and jokes and casual touches that never lasted quite long enough. He had become an expert at loving you silently, at pouring all those unspoken feelings into small acts of protection, of care, of presence.

Some days, the words would claw at his throat like living things, desperate to escape. On those days, he'd find himself watching you — the way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the simple fact of your existence in his complicated world — and the urge to confess would be almost unbearable.

But then he'd remember all the attempts on his life, all the enemies who would love nothing more than to hurt him through you, all the danger that came with the name Gojo, and the words would retreat back into his chest where they lived like a constant ache.

Loving you had been the easiest thing Satoru had ever done. Keeping that love silent had been the hardest.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 6 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The first time Satoru realized he wanted to say those words to you, he had been six years old and you were crying because some older kids stole your favorite crayon. You had both been sitting in the reading corner of your kindergarten classroom, and your tears were making his chest hurt in a way he didn't understand.

"Don't cry," he had said, reaching out to pat your head like his mom did when he was sad. "I'll get it back for you."

You had sniffled, looking up at him with those wide, watery eyes that made his little heart skip. "But they're bigger than you."

He had puffed up his chest. "So? I'm stronger."

Before you could stop him, he had marched right up to the group of second graders during recess. They towered over him, but Satoru hadn't cared. He was a Gojo, after all, and Gojos didn't back down.

Ten minutes later, he had been sitting in the principal's office with a bloody nose and a black eye, but clutched triumphantly in his hand was your favorite crayon. The principal had called his parents, of course. There was talk of his "concerning behavior" and "excessive force," but all Satoru could think about was how your whole face had lit up when he handed you back that crayon.

That night, as his mother tucked him into bed, she had asked him why he did it. And he simply said because you were sad.

His mother had given him a look that he wouldn't understand until years later. "The Gojo men have always been weak to those they love," she had told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He had wanted to tell you then, as you colored together the next day, carefully sharing that rescued crayon. The words had bubbled up in his chest like soda fizz, but he had swallowed them down. Because even at six, he knew that being around him meant trouble, and he didn't want to see you cry again.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 12 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Middle school had brought new challenges and new reasons to keep those words locked away.

Satoru had started to understand what it meant to be a Gojo — the weight of the name, the expectations, the suffocating responsibilities that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

You were still there, though, somehow always by his side despite the chaos that surrounded him. When other kids whispered about his family, about the strange things that happened around him, you just rolled your eyes and shared your lunch with him like nothing was wrong.

He had nearly said it one autumn afternoon when you were both sprawled on your bedroom floor, supposedly doing homework but really just talking about nothing and everything. The late sunlight had caught your features just right, and you were laughing at something stupid he had said, and the words had almost slipped out.

But then his phone had rung. It had been his father, summoning him to an urgent clan meeting.

Another reminder of the life that awaited him — endless meetings about maintaining the Gojo name, about upholding traditions centuries old, about sacrificing personal happiness for the sake of the clan's future.

As he had sat in that austere meeting room, surrounded by stern-faced elders discussing bloodlines and duties and arranged marriages, all he could think about was your laugh from earlier that afternoon. How free it had sounded, how untainted by the weight of expectations and tradition.

How could he tell you he loved you when being with him meant dragging you into this world of rigid traditions and suffocating responsibilities? When loving him meant you might have to give up everything you held dear?

So he had swallowed the words once again, buried them deep, even as they burned in his chest like embers that refused to die. Because he would rather suffer in silence than watch the weight of the Gojo name dim the spark in your eyes.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 16 ⁺ 　 . ✦

High school was when Satoru had started deliberately pushing people away. He had built walls of arrogance and casual flirtation, keeping everyone at arm's length while making it look effortless. He dated casually, never seriously, and cultivated a reputation as someone who didn't do relationships.

Everyone had bought it except you.

You saw right through him, just like you always had. You called him out on his bullshit, threw erasers at his head when he was being particularly obnoxious, and somehow still showed up at his house with his favourite sweets when he was sick.

"Your ego's getting too big for this classroom," you'd tell him whenever he started showing off. He'd just grin and make it worse, because your exasperated sighs had become his favorite sound.

During lunch breaks, while others gathered around his desk trying to get his attention, you'd just roll your eyes and steal food from his plate. He'd pretend to be annoyed, but he had started packing extra of your favorites, just to watch you light up when you found them.

High school had also been the time when the clan's pressure had threatened to crush him. Every day brought new expectations, new techniques to master, new reminders that he wasn't just Satoru but the future of the Gojo clan.

He never told you, but your presence had kept him sane. You had been the only one allowed to see him practice with his cursed technique, sitting on the sidelines of the training grounds doing homework while he worked himself to exhaustion.

On the days when the pressure of being the strongest got too heavy, you'd wordlessly share your earbuds with him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder while some silly pop song played between you. And you'd hold his hand, and he'd squeeze back so tight it almost hurt.

In those moments, the words had been right there, sitting on his tongue. But he couldn't. Not when your friendship was the one pure thing in his complicated life.

But the words had nearly escaped one night when you were both sneaking back into town after a concert two cities over. You had been wearing his jacket because you forgot yours, and you were singing off-key to some pop song on the radio, and his heart had felt so full it might burst.

But then he had spotted a car that had been following them for the last twenty minutes, and instead of confessing, he had to lose the tail while pretending everything was fine. You never noticed, too caught up in your impromptu karaoke session, and he had been grateful for that at least.

He had driven you home in silence after that, the words buried so deep he could barely breathe around them. You had fallen asleep against the window, blissfully unaware of how close he'd come to changing everything between you.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 18 ⁺ 　 . ✦

College had brought a new kind of torture. Because then he had to watch you date other people, normal people who didn't have assassination attempts over breakfast or cursed energy that could level cities.

He still kept you close, though. He couldn't help it. You were his gravity, his true north, the one constant in his chaotic life. You were still the person who brought him coffee during all-nighters, who listened to his ridiculous theories at 3 AM, who somehow knew exactly when he needed a hug even though he'd never admit it.

The campus had whispered about it — about how the untouchable Satoru Gojo let you into his space so easily, how you were the only one who could barge into his dorm at any hour without fear of consequence.

They wondered what made you special, what kind of hold you had over him. If they only knew how many times he had bitten back those three words when you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder during late-night study sessions, or how his heart had nearly burst when you'd chosen to spend the evening with him instead of going to that party your crush had invited you to.

The words had almost broken free during your sophomore year, when you had shown up at his door at midnight, crying because someone broke your heart. He had held you while you sobbed, stroked your hair, and plotted seventeen different ways to destroy the person who hurt you (he had only acted on three of them, and nobody could prove anything).

He remembered how you had curled into his side that night, hiccupping through tears about how you "just wanted someone who understood you."

The irony had burned in his throat — he understood you better than anyone, had mapped every constellation of your moods and meanings, had memorized every shade of your smile.

But understanding wasn't enough when being with him meant inheriting all his complications.

You had fallen asleep in his bed that night, wrapped in his favorite hoodie, and he had spent hours just watching you breathe, his heart aching with how much he wanted to keep you there forever.

When morning came, you had smiled at him over coffee and thanked him for being "the best friend anyone could ask for," and each word had felt like a knife between his ribs.

He had wanted to tell you then, had wanted to show you how you should be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally. But he knew he couldn't offer you the normal life you deserved, so he had swallowed the words again and just held you tighter.

Instead, he had channeled all those unspoken feelings into being the kind of friend you needed. He walked you home from late parties, threatened anyone who looked at you wrong and pretended it didn't kill him every time you gushed about a new crush.

What you had never told him was that each crush faded as quickly as it came, because somehow they all fell short of the impossible standard he had unknowingly set.

He became an expert at loving you from arm's length, at being everything you needed while hiding how much he needed you.

The worst part was how naturally it all came to him — how easy it was to be the one you turned to, to be your safe harbor in every storm. Because loving you had always been as natural as breathing, even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

College became an impossible balance of keeping you close enough to stay in your life but far enough away to keep his heart from completely shattering.

He dated casually, built up his reputation as someone who didn't do commitment, all while knowing that the only person he'd ever wanted to commit to was right there, wearing his hoodies and stealing his fries and completely oblivious to how much power you held over him.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 22 ⁺ 　 . ✦

After graduation, you had both somehow ended up in the same city. Different jobs, different lives, but still orbiting each other like you always had.

You dated other people, and so did he (sort of), but you still met for coffee every Wednesday and dinner every Sunday, still texted each other random thoughts at inappropriate hours.

Those Wednesday coffee meetings had become sacred. He'd show up at your workplace, two cups in hand — one with less sugar but lots of milk, the way you liked it, and his own ridiculously sweet like his smile, as you always teased.

He had memorized your schedule, knew which days you worked late, which mornings you had important meetings. On the nights when your job kept you at the office past midnight, he'd lurk nearby, pretending he just happened to be in the area when you finally emerged exhausted.

You'd roll your eyes but accept his offer to walk you home, and he'd fight the urge to take your hand every step of the way.

Sunday dinners were even worse for his heart. Sometimes you'd cook (badly), sometimes he'd order in (expensively), but it always felt so domestic it hurt.

The way you'd steal bites from his plate, like you always used to do, how you'd curl up on his couch afterward like you belonged there, the casual way you'd rest your feet in his lap while watching movies — it was everything he wanted and nothing he could keep.

The words had nearly escaped during one of those Sunday dinners, when you were both a little drunk on wine and nostalgia, laughing about all the trouble you had gotten into growing up. You had looked at him with such fondness, such understanding, and he had almost broken.

"Remember when you punched that guy at the bar who wouldn't leave me alone?" you had asked, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter.

"Which time?" he had replied, only half-joking. There had been several instances, each one burning in his memory because how dare anyone make you uncomfortable.

"All of them," you had laughed, reaching over to poke his cheek. "My hero."

The word had squeezed his heart like a fist. Hero. If only you knew how selfish his protection had always been, how each act of defending you had been as much about his own possessive need to keep you safe as it was about your wellbeing.

You had shifted closer on the couch then, laying your head on his shoulder in that casual way that always made his breath catch and his fingers had itched to run through your hair, to tilt your face up to his, to finally close the distance he'd been maintaining for so many years.

The words had risen in his throat like a tide. But then his phone had buzzed with an alert about another threat, another mission, another reason why loving him was dangerous, and he had bitten his tongue until he tasted blood.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 25 ⁺ 　 . ✦

It had gotten harder as the years passed. Harder to watch you live your life, harder to keep pretending he didn't want to be more than your best friend, harder to keep those three words locked away.

He had started taking more dangerous missions, throwing himself into his work with reckless abandon. Because if he was busy fighting curses and saving the world, he couldn't think about how much he wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to finally let those words free.

At least, that's what he had told himself as he accepted increasingly risky assignments, each one a little more dangerous than the last.

The other sorcerers had started calling him reckless. But how could he explain that facing down cursed spirits was easier than facing the way you looked at him with such concern? That physical pain was a welcome distraction from the constant ache in his chest?

But you were still there, still calling him out when he was being stupid, still patching him up when he came back injured, still looking at him like he was someone beyond his name and his power.

He always saved one small injury for you to tend to — a scrape here, a bruise there — even though his reversed cursed technique had already healed the worst of his wounds. It had become your ritual, you'd patch him up at your apartment, your coffee table covered in supplies that he didn't really need, both of you pretending this wasn't an elaborate excuse to be close to each other.

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days," you had muttered one particularly bad night, hands trembling slightly as you cleaned a gash on his forehead that would have healed on its own in seconds. But he had let you fuss over it anyway, selfishly savoring every gentle touch.

The words had almost broken free one night when you were stitching up a particularly nasty wound on his side. Your hands had been gentle but your lecture was harsh, telling him off for being so careless with his life.

He could have healed it himself — you both knew that — but he had wanted your hands on him, even if they came with a scolding.

"You're not immortal, you idiot," you had said, and there were tears in your eyes that made his heart clench. "I know you think you're invincible, but you're not. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

The raw emotion in your voice had nearly undone him. He had wanted to tell you then that he only acted so reckless because loving you from afar was slowly killing him anyway. That every mission, every fight, was just another way to exhaust himself enough that he wouldn't do something stupid like confess his feelings and ruin everything between you.

Instead, he had just made a joke about being too pretty to die, and pretended not to notice when you wiped your eyes. But he had caught your hand as you turned away, held it perhaps a moment too long, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in what he hoped felt like reassurance.

Your apartment had become his retreat those days. He would show up at odd hours, sometimes bleeding, sometimes just exhausted, and you would let him in without question. You never asked why he came to you instead of using his technique to heal himself. Maybe you had known, just like he had, that these moments weren't really about the injuries at all.

There had been nights when he'd fall asleep on your couch, lulled by the sound of you moving around your apartment, by the domestic comfort of knowing you were near. He'd wake up to find himself covered with a blanket, a glass of water on the coffee table, and his heart would ache with how much he wanted this to be his everyday reality.

Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he'd catch himself watching you as you worked on your laptop, curled up in the armchair across from him. The soft glow of the screen would wash over your features, and he'd think about how easy it would be to cross that small distance, to finally tell you everything he'd been holding back.

But then he'd remember the last mission, the close calls, the enemies who were getting stronger and bolder, and he'd force himself to look away. Because loving him had always come with a price, and he wasn't willing to make you pay it.

So he had buried those feelings deeper, thrown himself into more missions, and pretended that the ache in his chest was from the fights and not from loving you so much it physically hurt.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 28 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The breaking point had come, as these things often did, on an ordinary day.

You had both been in your apartment, having one of your regular movie nights. You were wearing old sweatpants and one of his hoodies that you had stolen years ago, there were takeout containers scattered across your coffee table, and you were arguing about whether the movie's plot made any sense.

It had been so normal, so comfortable, so perfectly you and him that something in his chest finally cracked.

Because he had realized, watching you gesture wildly about the movie's plot holes, that he had been an idiot. He had spent over two decades trying to protect you by keeping his distance, but you had been in danger this whole time anyway. Because everyone who knew him knew that you were his weakness, his soft spot, the one person who could bring the great Satoru Gojo to his knees.

And you had stayed anyway. Through every fight, every danger, every close call, you had chosen to stay in his life. You had patched his wounds, celebrated his victories, mourned his losses, and never once asked for anything in return except his friendship.

That night, he had decided tomorrow would be the day. No more waiting, no more excuses. He would finally tell you everything.

He had barely slept, spending hours picking out the perfect flowers, hoping they would help say everything his heart had been trying to tell you for years. He had practiced the words in his mirror, ran through a dozen different speeches, each one feeling more inadequate than the last.

But when he had arrived at your apartment building that morning, flowers clutched in sweaty palms and heart thundering in his chest, he had seen them through your living room window. You weren't alone. Someone else was there, someone who had made you throw your head back in laughter, who had pulled you close with an ease that made his chest constrict.

He had watched, frozen on the sidewalk, as you reached up to brush something from their cheek, the gesture so tender it had felt like a physical blow. The flowers in his hands had suddenly felt like they were made of lead.

Satoru had stood there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, watching you be happy with someone else, watching you shine so brightly for another person. Then, with movements that felt mechanical, he had dropped the flowers in a nearby trash can and walked away.

Three words, still unspoken, had burned in his throat with every step.

For weeks after that, he had thrown himself into missions like a madman, taking on the most dangerous assignments he could find. Anything to avoid thinking about how he had waited too long, how he had lost his chance.

But then you had called him one night, voice slightly slurred from wine, asking him to come over. And like always, he couldn't refuse you.

That's how he had found himself back in your apartment, watching you pace back and forth, ranting about how empty it all felt. How you had tried to move on, tried to find what everyone said you should want — a normal relationship, a simple life, someone safe.

"But it's not right," you had said, running your hands through your hair in frustration. "Nothing feels right. They're nice, they're perfect on paper, but—"

"But what?" he had asked, his heart in his throat.

"But they're not you," you had whispered, the words hanging in the air between you like suspended stars.

A movie had still been playing in the background, forgotten as you both stood there, years of unspoken feelings spilled on the floor. The weight of your confession had made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, just a moment, he had let himself imagine what it would be like to close the distance between you, to finally say the words that had lived in his heart for so long.

But then his phone had buzzed in his pocket — another threat, another reminder — and reality came crashing back.

"You can't," he had said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" You had taken a step toward him, and he had forced himself to take one back, watching hurt flash across your face. "Satoru, I've waited—"

"Then stop waiting," he had cut you off, hating himself for the way his words made you flinch. "This isn't—we can't—" A pause. "Do you know how many attempts there have been on my life this month alone? How many enemies would love to know that the great Satoru Gojo has someone he—" He had caught himself before the word 'loves' could escape. "Someone he cares about?"

"I'm not afraid—"

"Well, I am!" The words had burst from him with more force than he'd intended, making you both freeze. "I am terrified, okay? Because everyone I've ever—everyone who gets close to me ends up with a target on their back. And you—" His voice had softened despite himself. "You deserve better than that. Better than looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, better than wondering if each goodbye might be the last."

"That's not your choice to make," you had said quietly, and the resignation in your voice had been worse than anger would have been.

"Yes, it is. Because I'm the one who would have to live with it if something happened to you because of me." He had straightened his shoulders, pulled on the mask he wore for everyone else — cold, untouchable, removed. "Go back to them. Find someone normal. Someone safe. Someone who can give you the life you deserve."

"And what about what I want?"

"Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us." The words had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You had looked at him for a long moment, tears gathering in your eyes, and he had dug his nails into his palms to keep from reaching for you. Finally, you had nodded once, sharp and hurt.

"Get out."

He had turned to leave, each step feeling like he was walking through concrete. At the door, he had paused, his hand on the handle.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered, not turning around. Because if he had looked at you then, his resolve would have crumbled entirely.

The soft click of the door closing behind him had sounded like the end of everything.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 30 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Two years of carefully maintained distance had felt like an eternity. The clan's pressure had mounted with each passing month — meetings about bloodlines, about duty, about carrying on the Gojo name. His parents had finally put their foot down, presenting him with a list of "suitable" candidates from other prestigious families.

Satoru had turned it into something of an art form, really — how to be just obnoxious enough, just impossible enough, that each carefully selected partner would run screaming for the hills without him technically refusing anyone.

"This is getting ridiculous," his mother had sighed after the seventh failed meeting. "Are you going to chase away every eligible human on this earth?"

Yes, he had wanted to say. Because none of them were you.

You still texted occasionally — surface-level messages about holidays or birthdays, the kind of distant politeness that felt wrong after decades of intimacy. He had saved every message anyway, re-reading them late at night when missions left him too restless to sleep.

Your contact photo was still the same one from college, you resting your head on his shoulder, laughing at something he’d said. He couldn’t bring himself to change it.

Sometimes he'd catch glimpses of you around the city. You'd cut your hair, changed jobs, moved to a new apartment. He knew all this from the careful distance he maintained, from the reports he definitely didn't ask Ijichi to give him.

You seemed... fine. Happy, even. It was what he'd wanted, he told himself. You, safe and happy, even if it was without him.

The invitation had arrived on a Tuesday.

The envelope had been cream-colored, expensive. His name written in elegant calligraphy that had made his stomach drop before he'd even opened it. Inside, the words had blurred together, except for the ones that mattered.

You were getting married.

To someone safe. Someone normal. Someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

The invitation had sat on his coffee table for days, taunting him. He'd catch himself staring at it during his morning coffee, during late-night mission reports, during every quiet moment when his mind wasn't occupied with staying alive.

Your handwritten note had been worse than the formal invitation.

'I'd really like you to be there. Please come.'

His phone had been in his hand before he'd realized it, your number still muscle memory after all this time. The cursor had blinked at him mockingly as he'd tried to formulate a response.

'Congratulations,' he had finally typed, each letter feeling like a small death. 'I'll be there.'

Because of course he would be. He'd sit there and watch you marry someone else, would paste on a smile and give a toast if asked, would pretend his heart wasn't being ripped from his chest with every word of the ceremony.

It was what he deserved, really. He had pushed you away, had made the choice for both of you, had convinced himself it was for the best. This was the consequence of his protection, the price of keeping you safe.

He had gotten drunk that night, alone in his apartment, surrounded by the ghosts of all the words he'd never said. The three most important ones still burned in his throat, unspoken after all these years.

His phone had buzzed with your reply. 'Thank you. It means a lot.'

Four words that had somehow hurt worse than the invitation itself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day of your wedding had dawned grey and miserable, as if the weather itself was matching Satoru's mood. He'd been away on a mission until the last possible moment, taking out his frustration on cursed spirits with perhaps more violence than strictly necessary.

He had arrived at the venue late, soaked from the rain, his suit probably ruined. But he'd promised to be there, and he'd never broken a promise to you before. He wasn't about to start now, even if it killed him.

But when he had made his way inside, he'd immediately sensed the chaos inside. Hushed, worried voices had carried through the open doors. "Has anyone seen them?" "The ceremony should have started twenty minutes ago." "Check the dressing room again!"

But Satoru had known exactly where to find you.

The venue's grounds had stretched back to a small lake, and there, beneath an old maple tree whose leaves provided little shelter from the rain, you had stood. Your wedding outfit was getting steadily soaked, but you hadn't seemed to notice or care, staring out at the rippling water.

He had approached slowly, drinking in the sight of you. Even with dirt stained cloths and dripping hair, you had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Everyone's looking for you," he had said softly.

You hadn't turned around. "I know."

"Three hundred people in there wondering where you've gone."

"Three hundred and one, now that you're here." Your voice had been quiet, almost lost in the rain. "Why are you here, Satoru?"

"You invited me."

"That's not what I meant." Finally, you had turned to face him, and the look in your eyes had made his heart stutter. "Why are you really here?"

He had taken a step closer, drawn to you like gravity, like always. "You know why."

"Do I?" Your voice was so small. "Because I thought I knew, once. I thought I knew a lot of things. But then you pushed me away, told me to find someone safe, someone normal." You had gestured toward the building behind you. "Well, I did. So why are you here?"

"I—"

He had caught sight of a small cut on his cheekbone in a puddle's reflection — the one injury he hadn't healed, the one he'd kept out of habit, out of the memory of your gentle hands patching him up all those years.

Your eyes had followed his, landing on the cut. Without seeming to think about it, you had reached up, fingers ghosting over the wound like they had a thousand times before. The familiar gesture had nearly broken him.

"Don't marry them," he had whispered.

"What?"

"Don't marry them," he had whispered again. "Please."

"Why not?" The question had been barely a whisper. "Give me a reason, Satoru. One real reason why I shouldn't walk back in there and marry someone who actually wants me."

"Because—" The words had stuck in his throat, years of habit holding them back.

"I love you," he had whispered, the words falling into the rain-soaked space between you, and suddenly he could breathe again. Twenty-four years of holding back, of swallowing those words, of carrying them like stones in his chest — and now they were free, floating in the air between you like butterflies finally released from their cage.

"I love you," he had said again, stronger this time. "I've loved you since we were kids. I've loved you through every fight, every mission, every time I tried to push you away for your own good. I've loved you so long I don't remember what it feels like not to love you."

"You—" Your voice had broken. "You idiot. You're telling me this now? When there are three hundred people waiting inside? When I've spent months trying to convince myself I could love someone else?"

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry, but—"

"Shut up," you had breathed, and then you had pulled him down by his lapels and kissed him.

He had kissed you back like a drowning man finding air, like coming home after a lifetime of wandering. Your lips had been cold from the rain but soft against his, and when you had melted against him, he'd felt something in his chest finally slot into place.

Years of careful control had shattered like glass, and he had wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a surge of desperate joy. You had gasped against his mouth, and he had taken the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pouring decades of longing into it.

He had spun you around, your hands threading through his wet hair as he held you against him like he was afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. Rain had continued to fall around you, but neither of you had noticed or cared.

His hands had splayed across your back, holding you impossibly closer as he kissed you like a man starved, like he was trying to make up for every kiss he should have given you over the years.

When you had broken apart, you were both breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together as the rain continued to fall around you. Your fingers had still been twisted in his jacket, and his hand had still been cradling your face like you were something precious, something he couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

The weight of all those unspoken words, all those careful distances he'd maintained, all those moments he'd held himself back — it had all lifted away like mist in the morning sun. For the first time in twenty-four years, he had felt truly, completely free.

"You're so stupid," you had whispered, but you hadn't moved away. "There are three hundred people in there, expectations, plans, a whole life I'm supposed to—"

"Run away with me."

"What?"

"Run away with me," he had repeated, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "Right now. Let me take you anywhere you want to go. Let me spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, for every moment I was too scared to love you the way you deserved."

"Satoru—"

"I know it's selfish," he had continued, words tumbling out like he couldn't hold them back anymore. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, not after pushing you away. But I can't— I can't watch you marry someone else. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering what if, knowing I let you go without fighting for you."

You had laughed, the sound wavering between tears and joy. "You really are the most impossible man I've ever met."

"Is that a yes?"

"My parents will never forgive me."

"I'll win them over."

"The clan will be furious."

"Let them be."

"Everyone will talk."

"Let them talk." He had cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the rain and tears on your cheeks. "I don't care about any of that. I just care about you. About us. Everything else… we'll figure it out together."

"Together," you had repeated softly, like you were testing the word. "You won't push me away again? Try to protect me by leaving?"

"Never again," he had promised. "I'm done running. Done pretending I don't love you more than anything in this world. Done letting fear keep me from the only thing that's ever really mattered."

You had searched his face for a long moment, and he had let you see everything — all the love, the fear, the desperate hope he'd kept hidden for so long.

Finally, you had smiled, bright and real, the smile he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Take me away from here," you had said, and his heart had soared. "Show me what it's like when Satoru Gojo finally stops holding back."

He hadn't needed to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he had swept you into his arms, your surprised laugh warming something deep in his chest.

"What about everything inside? My things, the guests—"

"I'll send Ijichi to handle it," he had said, already walking away from the venue, from the life you'd almost had without him. "Right now, all that matters is you and me."

"And where exactly are you taking me?"

"Anywhere you want," he had promised, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Everywhere. We have a lifetime of moments to make up for, after all."

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your face against his shoulder. "I love you too, you know. In case that wasn't clear."

He had tightened his hold on you, something fierce and protective and overwhelmingly tender swelling in his chest. "Say it again."

"I love you, Satoru Gojo," you had whispered against his neck. "I always have."

As he had carried you away from the venue, the rain had finally begun to let up, sunlight breaking through the clouds. A new beginning, he had thought.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Looking back, Satoru couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. All those years wasted, all that time spent pushing you away when he could have been holding you close. He'd thought he was protecting you, but in reality, he'd just been protecting himself from the terrifying vulnerability of being truly, completely loved.

Because that's what you did — you loved him entirely, unconditionally, with a fierce devotion that still took his breath away. You loved him through the dangerous missions and the late-night emergencies, through the clan meetings and the political drama. You loved him through the nightmares and the victories, through every high and low that came with being Satoru Gojo.

Life wasn't perfect, of course. There were still threats, still enemies who thought they could use you to get to him. But they had learned, quickly and painfully, that you weren't some helpless weakness to exploit. You were his strength, his anchor, his reason for coming home safely every time.

Those old fears seemed ridiculous now. Because yes, loving him came with dangers — but you had always known that, had always chosen him anyway. And together, you were so much stronger than apart.

The clan had been furious about the wedding scandal, of course. But it was hard to maintain their anger when you handled every social situation with grace, when you proved yourself more than capable of standing beside the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Eventually, even the most traditional elders had to admit that perhaps the Gojo heir had chosen well after all.

Your old routine had shifted, evolved into something even better. Now when you patched up his wounds (the ones he still deliberately saved for you), he could kiss you afterward. When you fell asleep during movie nights, he could pull you close instead of maintaining that careful distance. When you brought him coffee during all-nighters, he could show his gratitude with more than just words.

The best part, though? The absolute best part was being able to say those three words whenever he wanted. And he said them constantly — whispered them against your skin in the morning, called them across rooms just to see you smile, breathed them into quiet moments like prayers.

"I love you" when you handed him his coffee, exactly how he liked it.

"I love you" when you rolled your eyes at his dramatic entrances.

"I love you" when you fell asleep on his shoulder during clan meetings.

"I love you" when you patched up injuries that didn't need patching.

"I love you" for no reason at all, just because he could, just because the words had lived in his heart for so long that letting them free still felt like a miracle.

And every time — every single time — you said it back, like you'd been waiting just as long to be able to say it freely.

Sometimes, on quiet nights when you were both home safe, he'd watch you doing something mundane — reading a book, making tea, existing in his space like you'd always belonged there — and the gratitude would hit him so hard he could barely breathe. Gratitude that you had waited, that you had loved him through his fears and his mistakes, that you had given him the chance to love you properly.

Because that's what he did now — loved you properly, openly, with everything he had. No more holding back, no more careful distance. He loved you the way you deserved to be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally.

And every day, for the rest of his life, he made sure you knew it. Three words, eight letters, repeated like a promise, like a prayer, like the most important truth he'd ever known.

I love you.

And every day, for the rest of your life, you said it back.

author's note — after editing this, i realised it's more angsty then intended but oh my i'm sorry, i can't help it. but i hope it made you smile anyway. thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read this story. your support means the world to me. in these challenging times, please remember that even the darkest nights eventually give way to dawn. sending lots of love your way <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x gn!reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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littlelamy · 2 months ago

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𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

newest at the top

rafe

moodboards

wedding moodboard

maryjane!reader - coming very soon!

farmer's!daughter-moodboard

racer!rafe x wag!reader

misc

teach me

sneaking into a concert selfish 2k thank you celebration sub!bully!rafe - catching rafe in a very inappropriate position 18+ soft!rafe x reader - halloween w/ the camerons

actress!reader - behind the scenes diet pepsi rafe's panty obsession crossing the line queer reaction untitled 1 - rafe gives you pleasure through your skirt rafe x religious!reader - rafe heads to church with reader assassin!rafe x assassin!reader - mr. & mrs. cameron rafe x reader x jj - three’s a charm 18+ toxic!rafe x sweetheart!reader rafe has a softspot for you loverboy!rafe x reader cowboy!reader x farmer's!daughter!reader

the one where he wants you again

the one where you take a bath together

the one where he meets your parents

the one where you throw him a surprise party

intimacy random times when rafe wanted to please you shopping trip the aftermath of an argument with ward yacht finding out you’re pregnant eight letters, three words victoriasecret!angel!reader: moodboard backstage fun home video walking the runway behind the scenes

taking photos

toxic!rafe x sweetheart!reader

trying on clothes

loverboy!rafe x reader

newlywed!rafe x newlywed!reader; a wedding night to remember

revenge revengept.2

she's not you

drabbles

can't let you go - drabble

𝐿’𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒟𝐸 𝑀𝒜 𝒱𝐼𝐸 - drabble

graduation - drabble

other masterlists

christmas 'n chill masterlist - 2024

with them masterlist

racer!rafe x wag!reader

drew starkey

podcast <- my first ever post

admits his feelings

younger!reader

younger!reader scent

date night in venice

fuzzy handcuffs 18+

victoria’ssecret!model!reader - moodboard delivery untitled fittings

secret relationship: actress!reader press tour

jj maybank

midsommer’s party

taking care of his wounds

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe smut

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iicarused · 1 year ago

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##let us adore you

jeff the killer x reader / eyeless jack x reader / ticci toby x reader / UNEDITED

synopsis: general headcanons in which how you met them

beware: DARK THEMES / yandere traits, stalking, implied manipulation, mentions of murder &&* gore //: if there is any that i missed, please let me know !

envelope from the author: masky, hoodie, and kate chaser will be pt 2 of this:)

JEFF THE KILLER

he met you at a convenience store, how funny. this man planned on killing the cashier, take the cash and leave a meal for his cannibal friend out back, then hop to the next town over. yet, you walked through the aisles of the store at the dark of the night. do you know what kind of creeps are out here at this hour?

he waited for you to leave before he got the job done. you should feel relieved, you should feel like the most luckiest person in the world and it’s because he spared you.

“no, i’m staying back.” he would tell his eyeless friend. “it’s my business to know and for you to fuck off,” he’d argue. “i have a… dilemma.” jeff confessed. for someone he only caught a glimpse of, for a voice he only heard a faint whisper from, he didn’t know whether to stay just for you or to leave while he can.

you were a plague in his mind, because he searched for you. it took three days at most to finally find the dorms you stayed in, and another three to know your roommates schedule. everyone in the area was shaken from the murder, everything including you. but why?

he could not understand why you would lock your windows and double check if the door was locked. both of you lived in a secured building where security littered the grounds and constantly checked ID. jeff would know, he stole a carbon copy of himself (in terms of dressing style) just to make sure of your safety on campus.

“hey, watch it!” jeff barked at the random who sped by you. he fixed his mask and came to your aid, a gloved hand coming over yours to help you up from the grass.

“oh, they’re probably just late to class,” you breathed. “it’s fine, but thank you.”

through the thin lens of his sunglasses, jeff drank in your appearance. “they could’ve bumped you on to the curb side — it really ain’t, sweetheart.” you smell great by the way.

“but they didn’t.” you finally looked at him and smiled. “are you a med student?”

you’re so sweet. so pure, and he wanted to corrupt that. he wanted to see those pretty doe eyes flutter up at him like that again, for the sweetness behind your gaze was enough for him to melt. he wants you, no, he needs you.

EYELESS JACK

you were a curious one, a little too curious in this scenario. a detective in a case of which you were to figure out why bodies were missing organs — or why people were waking up with soreness to their abdomen to only find a stitched up wound.

you took this case as an eager detective who wanted to solve the biggest mystery of north america — but you felt as if you just signed your life away. in the next eight victims that fell to their demise, you made notes of when and where it occurred. it would not be until a night after talking with the sheriff and little too much rum, you found something.

to your horror, the first letter of every street spelled something. two words that nearly sent you running if it weren’t for something stopping you from leaving

“found you.” his voice was a gentle whisper, and almost incoherent if it weren’t for the dead silence in the room. you dared not turn but you felt if you didn’t, it would come closer.

the pistol is on your desk and you’re ready to make a ruckus for anyone on the street to hear. “what? was this just some silly little game for you to show me you could spell?” there were only two regrets you had in your entire life.

the first regret was that you wished you never lied to your mother of who broke the plate that was on the floor. the second regret was turning around and facing a being that was too intricate for you to understand.

“i like playing with my food.” he replied before lunging at you.

you made it out alive — but at the cost of remembering how those sockets were nothing but a void. the liquid that cried on to your face when he was on top of you, and that second, you took your pen and stabbed his side. — but that encounter made you more determined than before

this case turned into a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you know who is cat or who is the mouse. chasing each other became a source of entertainment, and conversations ensued between physical fights

he never intended on killing you, oh no. you were too… fun. the chatting, the hunting each other, the thrill of it all made him go crazy. with time, maybe he can finally sink his teeth into your skin without the murder aspect. he just wants to taste you.

TICCI TOBY

your name appeared on the file of people to “take care of.” why? he doesn’t know and quite frankly, he cannot care. you were just another name on the list that needed to be gone.

he would not lie that it took him ages to find you. the town you were supposedly at was a total flunk, and when he told the boss, he was told to figure it out. at this rate, he wanted you gone for the sake of his own sanity. yet, after a month and hopping two towns, he finally found you.

everything he had on file sprouted nothing but lies because you were a doll, quiet literally if he fixated on your skin. he watched the way you moved and the way you made it seem effortless to walk on two feet. he often tripped over his when gawking over you. your scent is just how he imagined it when he peered over your sleeping form.

you made him forget why he was in search of you in the first place. toby fantasized a lot about you: your curves, your voice, your walk, your life. he often daydreamed of it when watching from afar, especially when you went through mundane tasks such as grocery shopping. the only time he remembered why he was told to end you was when he questioned why you were such a threat.

turns out you were friends of a friend who was a foe to his boss — the eyeless man. he made it no secret when in turn he went to find jack, but he didn’t expect to meet you so soon! oh, this is way too soon, how does he look? is it okay, this setting isn’t the right place, i mean, you were supposed to be

“toby? just toby? that isn’t quiet threatening for a man like that, isn’t it?” you werent speaking towards him, but instead asking jack who snorted in return.

you were a prize on the shelf, and toby wanted to keep you behind glass doors. “listen — pal, friend — how about we make a deal.”

while jack couldn’t see it, your gaze was locked with toby’s the entire time. there was something behind them, something that you couldn’t quite place. you weren’t sure whether if it was a good or bad thing considering the work you found yourself in.

“i give you a useful warning from a boss, and i... tag a long sometimes.”

#ᥫ᭡.#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #jeff the killer imagine #eyeless jack imagine #ticci toby imagine

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vxnuslogy · 6 months ago

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– my proxy.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: belle is currently suffering from an incurable disease of watching her brother play oblivious to your obvious hints of affection. she only prays that you confess soon or at least realize that wise actually feels the same.

– warnings: none

– author's notes: i am so normal about wise. whenever he starts talking in game i just burst into a fit of giggles. filler post for now. | ~700 words.

wise despite his name, wasn’t all that wise when it comes to noticing the very obvious hints you throw at him (or maybe he does know, he just isn’t speaking up about it). but belle does, and it sends her into a fit of giddy giggles that she hides behind her fist whenever it happens.

a fond and amused glint in her eyes whenever wise gets flustered after you call him “my proxy”. it wasn’t anything out of ordinary, wise always calls himself your proxy anyways, but whenever you do it on missions or when you go to hollows to accompany the cunning hares, it never fails to flush his cheeks a pretty pink. belle would let out a snicker and kick his feet from under the table and she’s always met with a warning glare. not once has he mentioned the romantic undertones of your words despite picking up on it himself.

or the times when you would always drop by their store to hangout in his room. more often than not, when belle comes to check on you both, you’d be fast asleep on his bed with a bangboo in between you two. a devious smirk would always creep up belle’s face when she tip toes into the room and quietly open the cap of a washable marker to write on both of your faces. wise, when he wakes up, would come running down the stairs to chase belle around for writing “[name]’s proxy” in big bold letters on his cheek while you laugh. never once wiping the words of “wise’s hollow raider” with a heart on the cheek opposite to wise’s.

belle isn’t ignorant nor is wise, but it does frustrate her when her brother doesn’t speak up about his very obvious feelings about you. a sudden feeling of irritation blooming within her chest when she sees your crestfallen expression when wise keeps calling you “just a friend” when general cop or the tin master ask what your relationship is. belle doesn't miss the flash of slight hurt in your eyes before you mask it with an awkward smile and wave of your hand, agreeing with what wise said even though you obviously want to be something more than just a friend.

she’s frustrated with you too. the hours the two of you spend in their workspace, curled up on the couch as you vent out your frustration at wise’s obliviousness. eight out of ten times, belle would just urge you to confess directly, however, you would always go quiet and murmur into the bangboo in your arms that confessing isn’t an option. at first, belle was rightfully confused. she saw how you looked at wise; you looked at him as if he hung the sun and moon himself. he was your entire world and you had him putty in your hands with just two words. it wasn’t until the day after when belle finally realizes –when nicole has her arms wrapped around your waist and an angry flush on her face when you enter their store battered and bruised, but still smiling– that this was a first for you too.

before becoming a regular client, you would recklessly jump into hollows without a carrot or a proxy. barely making it out alive if nicole hadn’t found you and made you a member of her little band of misfits. you were enamored with wise when he first patched you up. you didn’t have anyone before him that cared enough to lecture you about danger, your recklessness, and bad habits. he was probably the first person that genuinely showed concern for you so belle understood for a moment why you didn’t want to confess. she’s watched enough romance movies and read books and comics to know that confessing has its risks. your friendship that you painstakingly built with her brother brick by brick would come crumbling down if you said those three words.

“my dearest proxies,” you barreled into their store front with a bright grin. belle doesn’t miss the twinkle in wise’s eyes when he sees you. “let’s go out for lunch. my treat!”

“what’s the occasion?” wise asks, putting down the boxes of videotapes on the counter to give you his undiverted attention.

your grin reached your eyes as you waved a piece of parchment in front of them both. “it’s paycheck day! and what better way than to treat my proxies to lunch for taking such good care of me.”

“count me in!” belle merrily jogs towards you and gives you a high five.

“what do you say wise?” belle flashed her brother with a knowing look. the boy only shook his head and started leading the two of you out the store.

“well, how can i say no to free food?”

wise stole a laugh from your lungs as you tangled your arms with them both. “that’s my proxy. now let’s go!”

belle never misses the way wise’s cheeks flush whenever you intertwine your arms together; it was as easy as breathing for you. she just hopes that one day you’ll see for yourself that wise also feels the same, he’s just clueless and a little shy to show it unlike you.

#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#zenless zone zero x reader #zenless zone zero headcanons #zenless zone zero wise #zzz wise #zzz wise x reader #wise x reader #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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httpsserene · 22 days ago

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𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 & 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

summary: you know a thing or two about baking, because you’ve baked a thing or two.

pairing: lando norris & oscar piastri x fem!black/poc!reader (in my head? there’s no physical description of reader.)

content warning: fluff. attempt at banter. dialogue heavy. c0vid lockdown mentioned. baking soda vs powder plagiarized from reddit; thank you redditor fowler311.

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ qatar, you were magnificent until you weren't. this post alone is me putting good energy in the atmosphere for the boys in abu dhabi. is this platonic or not? idk, it's up to you—i just happened to write it. (college semester is over !!! i will be so active you'll wish i never came back xxx) no part two requests, pls 🥺 enjoy reading, loves < 3

⌕ join taglist | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

you grocery shop on saturday night because no one else living in monaco would consider doing the same. usually.

as you’ve been grabbing items off the shelves, you occasionally stumble across two young men—they’re the only other customers in the store with you this evening.

the first time you shared an aisle with them, you offered a polite smile before redirecting your gaze to the various shapes and brands of pasta. the second time, you shyly murmured an “excusez-moi” and they apologized immediately while stepping out of the way, allowing you to grab a pack of chocolate chips. the third time, your polite smile widened in amusement, as you watched the man drowning in an oversized hoodie shadow-box his friend, who remained unfazed at the whooshing fists as he inspected a carton for any cracked eggs.

the fourth time, you realize that the two men are lando norris and oscar piastri—the driver lineup of the mclaren formula one team. and, they’re arguing about the difference between baking powder and baking soda, very loudly. in a carrefour. in aisle three. at eight in the evening. on a saturday night.

surely, these two have more interesting plans for their weekend besides grocery shopping.

“they can’t be that different, can they?”

“hmm. once is soda, and the other is powder. that’s quite different, i reckon.”

“yeah, but, they both start with ‘baking,’ so, i figure they’re more similar.”

“if they’re similar, why would they make two different products?”

“greed? consumption—oh, no, wait—consummate? no.”

“consumerism?”

“consumerism! that’s it.”

“i would agree, but i don’t think that’s the case with these two.”

“well, think harder. it’s freezing in here, osc.”

“i think you’re iron deficient.”

“what?”

“never mind—look, mate, this is your fault, really.”

“woo-oooow, i can’t believe this! so, you’re blaming me now?”

“you wrote the list, lando! how is your handwriting so terrible that i can’t tell if you wrote ‘baking soda’ or ‘baking powder’?”

“first of all, you told me to write the list! nobody writes grocery lists anymore, grandpa! secondly, why would you make the dyslexic kid write the list? it’s cruel and unusual—you know i can’t spell for shit.”

“lando. the word ‘powder’ has two more letters than ‘soda.’ i know that you know that. how did you make—whatever the hell that says—look like it could be either one?”

“osc, you’re hurting my feelings. are—are you saying i’m stupid?”

“i literally never said that. the word ‘stupid’ didn’t even come out of my mouth, you muppet—“

you bang the front of your cart into the end-cap of the aisle, sending a few rolls of bagels to the floor. your cheeks warm as their banter halts and heads snap over to look at you awkwardly rushing around to pick up the floor bagels. the last package rolled unbelievably far to knock against lando norris’s shoe. aren’t you just lucky?

you see lando press his lips together to avoid laughing (you appreciate the effort), and he dismisses your apologies as he scoops the bagels off the floor and moves to help place them back on the shelf.

“uh, t-thank you,” you stutter, as oscar piastri walks over just in time to catch a roll that was eagerly looking to return to the supermarket floor. the two men offer smiles in return—lando’s wide and gap-toothed, oscar’s boxy and toothless.

“soda spreads and powder puffs,” you blurt out, because you left you brain-to-mouth filter at home. maybe they sell replacements here. in the aisle furthest away from the two formula one drivers, preferably.

“what?” lando questions, a matching look of confusion plastered on his teammates face.

“sorry, i overheard your conversation,” you shrug, trying for nonchalance, “baking soda influences spread and browning, whereas baking powder provides puffiness and lift. they’re both leavening agents but, baking soda is sodium bicarbonate and baking powder is a mixture of sodium bicarbonate and an acid. soda needs and an acid to activate but powder needs moisture and heat. so—i guess which one you need depends on what your trying to make.”

you think you failed to portray nonchalance, if the perplexed expressions the two stare at you with are any telling.

oscar blinks, “…we’re trying to make chocolate chip cookies. i tried to convince him to buy cookie dough but he wanted to make them from scratch, even though neither of us can bake.”

“it’s more fun if we do it from scratch,” lando crosses his arms huffily, “you didn’t have to tell her that we’re absolutely hopeless in the kitchen, though.”

“i reckon she already knew that from overhearing our lack of knowledge about baking ingredients, lando,” the australian chuckles quietly, shifting the shopping basket from one arm to the other.

“do you have the recipe on you?” you ask kindly.

oscar hands the scorned grocery list over without complaint, “it’s my mum’s recipe. sorry if it’s hard to read—you’ll have to blame him for that.”

lando scoffs in indignation, “you’re exaggerating, oscar. my handwriting isn’t that bad, is it?”

you feel them watching as you decipher the hieroglyphics that are lando’s letters. you bring a finger up to trace underneath the scrawl, eyes squinting to force the words into focus—oscar snorts and lando sighs in played-up dejection.

“i can understand what you’ve wrote just fine,” you smile at lando, “i’ve seen worse. you know, my younger cousin’s handwritting is miles more dreadful than this.”

the brit knocks his shoulder against oscar’s teasingly, “hah! maybe you just can’t read, osc. have you thought about that?”

you tap your finger against your chin in thought, “—but my cousin is like, five-years-old, with terrible fine motor skills. so, i wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.”

the two are caught by surprise, laughing delightedly at your ribbing. the sound of their amusement is contagious enough for you to crease with your own giggles.

“i didn’t expect to be bullied in a carrefour’s on a saturday night by a stranger,” lando says with a grin, after he’s calmed down.

“sorry,” you shake your head playfully, properly introducing yourself before continuing, “i forgot you usually spend your time here arguing about baking soda. which—by the way, your mum’s recipe calls for both baking powder and soda, oscar. which is very smart and unique! in most cookie recipes, most people usually opt for baking soda alone, for the spread of the batter. but, your mum must’ve liked her cookies puffier and fluffier as well! anyways, that explains why it looks like lando could’ve written either word here—because he meant to write both.”

they thank you profusely for helping them overcome the challenge of lando’s handwriting, oscar returning to the aisle to place each ingredient in his basket.

“sorry, could you grab me one of the baking soda, as well?” you ask, “that’s the last thing off of my list tonight.”

“we’re all done, too,” the australian walks over with your box, hesitating briefly before you gesture for him to drop it in your filled cart.

the duo walks towards the registers with you, lando asking, “are you a baker?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i had a phase during lockdown.”

“ah, i should’ve known,” he teases, “i mean, that’s how you know that baking powder is sodium carbon-fiber—“, oscar echoes his teammates ‘sodium carbon-fiber’ with a soft smile, “—just a baking phase, right. makes sense.”

“oh, come on, lando norris,” you scold him jokingly, “baking powder is sodium carbon-fiber and an acid. keep up—we’ve been over this already.”

you separate from the two as you near the registers, unloading your cart onto the conveyor belt and exchanging polite conversation with the cashier as you hand over your stack of reusable bags. you don’t realize that they’ve waited for you until you start to think about the logistic of carrying all of your groceries home.

“uh,” lando pushes oscar forward with a firm hand on his back, the tips of the australian’s ears are reddening, “would you like help with those? we don’t mind holding a few.”

“would you mind?” your shoulders sag in relief, “i do this in one trip routinely but i don’t think that’s happening tonight. i only live about four blocks over—my doorman will help me get them all up to my flat, so i won’t be keeping you longer than necessary.”

that’s how you find yourself walking home, on a saturday night, with two formula one drivers holding the bulk of your groceries in their arms. you’re going to the casino directly after you put the groceries away because your luck is too good to miss out on right now. your doorman heads inside to grab a cart as soon as he catches sight of you. your two helpers exchange a glance in your peripheral vision as you come to stop in front of your building.

“well, this is me,” you start, pausing to thank your doorman, gabriel, as the boys carefully unload the bags onto the cart, “thank you for the assistance, you are both too kind.”

“mr. norris and mr. piastri are always kind,” hums gabriel, winking at the two men, before rolling the cart inside.

“wait, what? you live in the same building as me?” you’re flummoxed. you knew the rent was too expensive, but you didn’t think it was formula-one-driver-expensive.

“i live here,” lando reveals, holding the door as he lets you and oscar walk inside, “osc doesn’t. i feel like i would remember your face if i’ve seen you here before. what floor are you on?”

“i don’t know if i should tell you that,” you side-eye them flippantly, “i fear for my safety.”

“well, i shouldn’t have told you that i live here,” lando sniffs.

“gabriel blew your cover, mate,” oscar rolls his eyes, “also, she would’ve found out anyways. we would’ve had to follow her in to make the cookies in your apartment.”

your doorman squeezes into the first elevator with your groceries, while you and the boys opt for the second. oscar’s hand hovers over the button while he waits for you to clue him in, pressing lando’s afterwards.

lando clears his throat as the elevator begins to rise. “seeing as your thrilling saturday night activity of grocery shopping is over, what are the rest of your plans for tonight?”

scratching at the nape of your neck, you say, “don’t judge me anymore than you have tonight…i was thinking about watching the entire how to train your dragon trilogy.”

oscar gasps quietly, his eyes bright, “i love those movies.”

“would you like to come up to my flat and make chocolate chip cookies from scratch with us? and watch the movies, too?” lando’s question is sweet, and his eyes are earnest.

“i feel like it would be very dumb of me to visit the apartment of a man i just met in the grocery—formula one driver or not.”

“sorry, i can see how it’s weird. better safe than sorry, i know. i promise we’re not like going to try anything, or we’re not, like, serial killers or anything. oscar’s too polite for that, and i’m too squeamish. seriously, it would be just for the cookies. we didn’t have a baking phase in lockdown like you did, so we’re lost on a lot more than the different between baking soda and powder. sodium carbon-fiber and acid, or not. if it’s uncomfortable for you, that’s fine. maybe we can plan for another day when you know us better.”

“yep,” oscar offers in support of lando’s statement.

you smile, “you remembered about the acid this time.”

the elevator dings before softly jerking to a stop on your floor. the doors begin to slide open, “honestly? i think i’m more afraid about you guys possibly burning our building down rather than killing me in cold blood.”

you step out of the elevator, seeing gabriel waiting by your door with the cart.

turning back to face the two men, you survey them with a serious gaze before breaking into a grin, “don’t turn on the oven without me. that part requires adult supervision. let me put my groceries away and then i’ll be right up.”

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cursed-rat-of-homosexuality · 1 year ago

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Okay so uhhh... visions came upon me and this was the result lol

Based on this absolute atrocity (affectionate... kind of)

[ID: A fourteen panel comic done in grayscale based on a Twitter thread from David Jenkins.

First panel: Neil Gaiman is surrounded by a crowd of fans, a bright spotlight is shining on top of him. One of the fans points a microphone in his direction and says "Mr. Gaiman! How would describe season two using only three words?"

Second panel: A close up shot of Neil, he smiles and says "Uhh... I'd say it's quiet, gentle, and romantic". "Romantic" is written in a flourished cursive font. There are little floating red hearts surrounding him.

Third panel: A shot of the crowd of fans saying "Awww" in unison, there are little hearts floating around. They find it adorable.

Fourth panel: A black screen titled "At David Jenkins' Twitter"

Fith panel: David Jenkins is sitting in table far away from the point of view, at the center of the image, a spotlight is shining on top of him. There is a crowd of fans forming a semi-circle around him, they are squished against one another, stoping at the little fence that is surrounding the table . A fan standing near the front says " I LOVE U... three words to describe season 2?"

Sixth panel: A close up shot of David Jenkins, he is sitting with both elbows proped up on the table, supporting his head with his hands. The harsh light is shining in on him, he looks serious and solemn. His head is tilted down but his eyes are looking directly at the camera, the whites of his eyes make a stark contrast against his shadowed figure. He says " Fucking sweet...".

Seventh panel: The shot is arranged in the same way as in fifth panel. David Jenkins is far away, sitting at his table , the fans are surrouding him in a semi-circle. The fan near the front replies "Give us one more word David"

Eight panel: A huge shock wave tilts the crowd back. All lights are out, except for the spotlight shining in on David Jenkins. David's arms are unnaturally elongated in a spider-like way, fiercely gripping the table with both hands.

Ninth panel: David lauches into the crowd. The point of view remains the same, but now his head is extremely close up the camera. He emphatically says "FUCKING"

Tenth panel: The scene is seen from the side, now we can see that David still remains sitting at his table, but his neck is extended in a long unnatural arch. He is directly looking at the fan from before, his head on top of them. The fan still has the microphone poiting in David's direction. A new spotlight is shining in on both of them. David says, "SWEET"

Eleventh panel: A close up shot of the crowd. The camera lies a little ways below David's head, only the bottom of it is visible. We see that the fan with the microphone is crouched and almost completely tilted back. The fan is looking directly at Jenkins. The crowd continues squished together, watching intently with shocked faces. David continues, saying "YOU"

Thirteenth panel: The shot is arranged in the same way as in the previous panel. David continues, saying "SLUTS". The letters are written in an emboldened font. The crowd is completely shocked, but also weirdly flattered, all of them are blushing.

Fourteenth panel: David Jenkins goes back to sitting at his table, in a movement similar to a metal spring coiling up again after being streched out. He is sitting far away from the camera, at the center of the image. The fans forming a semi-circle around him. They continue blushing, with some assorted murmurs of bafflement as in "oh my god", "dude what" and "why". /END ID]

#long neck david shall haunt me for eternity now #I don't regret creating him though #but he will also definetely appear in my nightmares #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #our flag mean death s2 #david jenkins #ofmd meme #neil gaiman #good omens 2

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margotw10bis · 1 year ago

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Friendly Marriage. JJK [m]

bestfriend!JK x reader

Genre: smut; romance; bestfriend!Jungkook, babydaddy/exhusband!Jungkook (non-idol Jungkook)

Words: 19k

Synopsis: No one can really understand your relationship with your best friend. You are not in love but you did get married and you did have a son. It was just a friendly marriage, wasn't it?

Warnings: unprotected sex; breeding kink; oral sex (m. & f. receiving); In The Soop 2 JK (it's a warning)

Drabble 1

You can't believe Junghee is already three. It feels like he was born yesterday and yet, the big red 'Three' decorating his birthday cake tells otherwise. You want to keep him a baby all his life because he is so freaking cute! Sometimes you wish he'd look more like you but you're actually glad he looks just like his dad: that means he'll be really, really handsome. To be true, Jungkook is the most attractive man you know with his raven hair and his doe eyes. And let's not talk about his body... so damn hot with perfect muscles and a full tattooed sleeve. However, he is your best friend, not your husband. Or not anymore to be precise.

Things with Jungkook have always been weird for other people. You have been best friends since you were eight and your parents and friends were convinced that you two could end up together. Maybe the fact that you got married sent them mixed signals... But it was just for fun, there was no love involved. No romantic love. Sure, you love Jungkook and he loves you but not like that. No one can really understand how you feel for each other because it's way more than a four letter word.

You've always felt safe with your best friend. You know that if everyone around abandons you, Jungkook won't. Ever. And you're sure that you can't love someone more than him, except your cute little son of course.

So, at twenty-two, getting married together seemed fun. You were joking around about some friends asking you for the millionth times if you were dating and then, Jungkook said 'Let's get married'. You laughed and said yes. And you got married. It was just you and him and it was perfect. You remember Jungkook saying his vows 'You are supposed to marry the person you love the most, and it's you Y/N'. You could understand what he meant because you felt just the same.

And living together was nice too. Especially because you were already roommates. Nothing really changed between you, despite the rings on your fingers. But your family and friends were completely lost: you were married but not dating. You weren't even kissing! The only time your lips touched was at your wedding and you couldn't stop laughing.

After one year of a happy friendly marriage, Jungkook asked you if you wanted to have kids. You told him that you sure wanted to but you were not sure to meet someone as loving and caring as him to be the father of your baby. And there came the other craziest idea of your best friend: having a baby together. Which meant confusing your family and friends even more.

The baby making process was so weird. It was the first time you saw each other naked, even though you got peaks of Jungkook's perfect chest and abs a lot of times. Just like your first kiss, you didn't stop laughing, resulting in Jungkook scolding you: 'Could you stop laughing? I'm trying to concentrate here!'. And you laughed even more. He did make you cum though, so it was not so bad.

And then, your beautiful baby boy arrived. You couldn't dream of a more perfect family. Jungkook is the best person you know and your kid was made out of love, even if it's an unconventional one. Jungkook and you felt in love with Junghee the very first second you saw his puffy face and tiny fingers. The fact that he looks just like Jungkook makes you happy because he is such a great father. Honestly, he is the perfect man, except he is not your man.

You decided to get divorced one year ago without a real reason. It was just about time to end the joke and to confuse your loved ones one more time. Things haven't changed so much though. Jungkook still spends most of his time with Junghee and you. Well, maybe things have changed a little since Harin, Jungkook's girlfriend. Your best friend has to split his free time now but Harin is really nice. Junghee seems to like her too so it's all what matter to you.

"Daddy!" Junghee screams when Jungkook appears in the park where your family and a few friends have gathered

Jungkook immediately takes his son into his arms and hugs him.

"Wow, you looks so big! How old are you? Twelve already?" Jungkook jokes, making Junghee proud because your son is always trying to look older — unfortunately for you

"No! Three" Junghee replies, holding two fingers up

"Where's mama?"

"With grandma, I think she is baking the cake"

Junghee hides his face in Jungkook's neck. He missed his dad. He is not used to be without him for more than three days.

"Baking the cake in the park?" Jungkook chuckles before grabbing Harin's hand, still holding his son with one arm

Jungkook's smile brightens when he sees you. The simple jeans and white top you're wearing look perfect on you. You are indeed with your mother and you do have a cake next to you, but it's already baked. His son was right about most things.

Your mother's eyes leaving you to stare at something behind you make you curious. When you turn around and witness your son in his father's arms, your heart melts. It's such a perfect picture. There is so much love between the three of you that you could cry.

"Kook!" You greet him before waving at Harin

"Hi, baby mama!" He gives you a bunny smile but it fades a little bit when he notices the picnic blanket with so many food on it already set up "You should have called me to help you"

"She shouldn't have to ask, Jungkook" Your mother replies

You give her some strong look to ask her to stop. Your parents do love Jungkook, especially because he gave you the most perfect son. But it's true that something's changed since you mentioned your best friend having a girlfriend. Maybe they don't believe you when you tell them that you weren't in love and that you're happy for him. Or maybe they're a little annoyed that Jungkook has less time for Junghee.

"It's okay, Kook, it was not very hard to do. I'm glad you two came" You reassure him

"I want to play" Your son speaks up when he notices some of his friends coming closer

Jungkook drops him down and Junghee is running so fast that some dirt flies up. You watch your son hugging his friends and you wave at one of the dads. He is actually your colleague too and your sons go to the same kindergarten. It's not rare that Yoongi and you have lunch together and talk about your children. He is a nice guy, even though he doesn't talk much — you do much of the talking. He surprises you when he walks to you. You know that he is not a social butterfly.

"Hi, Y/N, how are you?" He asks you softly

"I'm fine" You answer with a sweet smile "Do you want to stay for the cake?"

"I'd love that" He replies, a little bit embarrassed, with a slight blush on his white cheeks

"Hi" Jungkook steps in the conversation "I'm Jungkook, Junghee's father"

Your best friend reaches out for Yoongi's hand and you can't help noticing how much alike and different they are. They have the same black hair and the same natural attractive aura. But they're so different for everything else. Jungkook is taller and brawnier while Yoongi is thiner and more delicate. His skin is pure white, even more when his veiny hand is close to Jungkook's inked skin.

"Yoongi. I work with Y/N"

Jungkook seems surprised but he doesn't have time to say anything because he can feel something squeezing his other hand. He now remembers that Harin is standing next to him.

"This is Harin, my girlfriend" Jungkook explains and Yoongi nods

Your colleague and you exchange a well intended look. You've talked about Harin before. You didn't say anything bad about her, of course, but you did mention that she was pretty and a little younger than you. In Yoongi's head, he just can't understand how Jungkook could prefer Harin to you. You're kind, smart and funny. You're a great mother. Yes, he just can't understand... But he is glad though.

"Daddy! Come push me" Seung asks Yoongi

"Mama, me too" Your son steps in

You chuckle and start walking to the swings. Yoongi and you make sure to bring your sons high in order to hear more of their happy cheers.

"Jungkook seems to be a nice guy. Good handshake, too" Yoongi says

"Sorry" You wince, clearly understanding that your best friend might have crashed your colleague's hand "He is just protective. But he is great. I hope you'll get to know each other"

You look into Yoongi's intense and dark eyes and you both know what your words mean. Yoongi is a great guy and spending time with him made you develop a little crush on him. You know he is not married and that the relationship with his ex-wife is a little complicated — not everyone has the chance to have Jungkook as an ex — so you don't want to make things harder for him. But you do hope that things evolve between you. You haven't been with a man since before you got married and it's been a long time since you felt those butterflies in your stomach.

"Me too" He replies simply, no other words are necessary to say what you want to say

A few hours later, everyone is around your son to sing the Happy Birthday song. He claps his tiny hands with enthusiasm and laughs. It makes you so happy to see Junghee happy. You love your son so, so much that your eyes water. He is growing up so fast and you're scared to miss some moments of it.

"Don't cry, mama" Jungkook teases you, pulling you to his side, and then whispers into your ear "We can have another baby if you want"

You gasp and smack his buff chest.

"Let's take a photo" He says "Yoongi, right? Can you?"

Your best friend hands his phone to your colleague and you grab Junghee into your arms. You three pose next to the cake. You absolutely love taking photos of your family, it brings so many memories when you look at them later. Jungkook brings you closer and looks straight. Not into the camera but into Yoongi's eyes. He paints a genuine smile on his face but his eyes are sparkling with challenge.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

"You look so pretty, mama"

"Aw, thanks baby" Your heart melts at the compliment

You apply at last layer of gloss on your lips and turn around to hug your son. You feel a little stressed: it's the first date you have in almost five years. And you're not used to wear such elegant clothes. But you really wanted to feel like a woman tonight and not only a mom. So you chose a tight but not too short black dress. The square cleavage and the thin straps makes it simple enough to feel comfortable.

You take a last look in the mirror to fix a strand of hair that managed to escape your low ponytail. You look like an adult and it feels weird. However, you do like how you look.

"I'm home!" A well-known voice comes from the entrance door

Junghee jumps off your bed and rushes to hug his dad. You follow him and you notice that Jungkook's jaw almost falls on the ground. You chuckle and make a turn.

"What do you think?" You ask Jungkook with redden cheeks

"You're beautiful"

Jungkook's deep voice makes you shiver. You try to look into his doe eyes to detect any sign of teasing but there is not. There is only sincerity in them.

"So, you're going out with Yoongi?" Jungkook asks, a little tensed

"Yeah. We'll see. I haven't been on a date for ages" You joke and bite on your lower lip

"It's gonna be fine, Y/N" Your best friend reassures you "You're gonna have fun and you can call me if you need anything"

One of the reasons you love Jungkook so much is because of how supportive he is. You know he is as stressed as you are and that he is super protective toward you but he also roots for you. You give him a tender smile while your son is almost climbing on you because he wants to be held.

"So, what's up for you guys?" You ask, kissing Junghee's chubby cheek and leaving a stain of gloss

"There is a water show at Banpo Bridge so we'll have fun too, right buddy?" Jungkook cheers with his big bunny grin and scrunched noise

Your son mimics him without even meaning to and suddenly you feel bad to miss a nice moment with your family. The truth is that you're never happier than when you see your son smiling and having fun with his mom and dad.

"Hey, don't make that face" Jungkook tells you, rubbing your bare shoulder with his big and rough hand due to his boxing "We can go back another day with you"

You nod, appreciating how well your best friend knows you. With heavy heart, you hug Junghee and kiss Jungkook on the cheek, and finally leave your apartment to meet Yoongi.

Yoongi has chosen a fancy restaurant with a very sophisticated atmosphere. The place is really nice and the food is delicious. Yet, all you can think about is sitting on the grass on the Han River banks and watching a water show from a bridge. Yoongi's hand patting yours brings you back to reality.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I was thinking about Junghee. I'm not used to be away from him" You reply, head down in embarrassment

Yoongi is very thoughtful and he is great company. You feel bad to make it look like he is not.

"Don't apologize. I know how you feel. I miss Seung every time he is staying at his mom's" He reassures you "If you want to go, I won't be mad"

You smile at him. God, he is such a great guy. He is the kind of guy you want, the kind who would never blame you for putting your son first because he would do the same for Seung. The thought drives you a little crazy and you begin to fantasize about a future with him, Junghee and Seung. A house full of laughs from your boys. It's a beautiful dream and it deserves a shot. Yoongi deserves a shot.

"I'm sure he is fine for the night" You say with a shy smile, squeezing Yoongi's hand a little and appreciating his cute gummy smile

"I miss mama" Junghee tells his father with watery eyes

Jungkook brings him on his lap to soothe him. Actually, your best friend misses you too but you deserve to be taken on a date. You deserve the flowers, the fancy wine and all the attentions a man should have on a date with you. And Jungkook is happy for you. Ever since Junghee's birth, all you have done was taking care of him. You're a great mother but sometimes Jungkook is afraid that you give up on other parts of your identity.

"I know, buddy" He gives his son a peck on his head "But look at show! Isn't it great? Don't you like the music and the water jets?"

Junghee looks up and even if he is young, he appreciates the beautiful night view of Seoul reflecting in Han River. The atmosphere is cheerful with the music, the blue and purple spots illuminating Banpo Bridge. And Junghee loves water too so he does find the water jets cool. But it doesn't prevent him from crying. Jungkook is trying to comfort him but your son just repeats that he wants you. Desperate, Jungkook pulls off his phone and dials your number.

You answer at the first tone, worried.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, Junghee just wants to talk to you"

Jungkook feels bad for ruining your date — well, only a little bad. He gives his phone to his son and a shaky voice reaches your ear.

"I miss you mama"

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. Will you ever be able to spend a night without your son and not feel guilty? Especially now that you hear his cry.

"Oh, honey, I miss you too. I promise I'll be there soon. And I'll read you a story, okay?" You can't see it but Junghee nods, wiping his big rounded tears from his cheeks "Try to enjoy the show with daddy, okay?" Once again, your son nods

You hung up and look at Yoongi with sorry eyes.

"It's okay, Y/N. I told I wouldn't be mad" Yoongi gives you a sweet smile and it makes you even more sorry

"Well, if you are really not mad, maybe we could do that again another time?" You attempt, shyness painting your cheeks red

"That would be great"

Your last bold move of the night is a peck on Yoongi's cheek, right before you jump in your car and drive to Banpo Bridge. You spot Jungkook and Junghee almost immediately. Well, it's not very hard, you just have to follow the little whisperings of women who are commenting how hot your best friend looks, especially with a toddler in his arms. And you can only agree. His black oversized clothes, his eyebrow piercing and his tattoos make him look like a bad boy but the tenderness he is giving to Junghee is a dangerous weapon for hearts, including your weak one.

You try to approach as discreetly as possible and jump in front of them while shouting 'Surprise!'. Junghee chuckles and hugs you, so happy to finally see you. Jungkook's big dark eyes seem to be illuminated with all the stars of the galaxy and his bunny smile is wide and genuine.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, happily surprised, making some room for you next to him on the blanket

"I missed my boys" You simply answer

You shiver a little because of the light breeze and your best friend notices it. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his chest. You hum at his warmth. You are feeling so happy right now: Junghee is happy, Jungkook is happy and you are together. You can't dream about something more perfect than that.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Jungkook has just opened his eyes that he knows it's going to be a long day. Not because he has a lot of things to do for his boxing school but because Harin has dropped a bomb and the conversation can only end badly.

"Would you want to get married?" She asked

And now, Jungkook doesn't know how to answer. He means, they've only been dating for a few months. Isn't it way too soon for this kind of commitment? Does he even want this kind of commitment, at all?

"I don't think I'm ready" Jungkook chooses to settle with

"But you already got married" Harin argues, crossing her arms on her chest, which makes Jungkook wince

"Yeah but it was like a joke"

He doesn't add that the joke doesn't mean it wasn't serious or it didn't involve love. He can't say that, no one but you can understand what he means. It's just like he said in his vows: you marry the person you love the most in the whole word and this person is you. He knows he can't love someone more than you because you're not his lover, you're his best friend. The person who knows him better than anyone, the person who knows all his flaws and still wants him. And god, he loves you even more since you give birth to Junghee. You gave Jungkook the most beautiful thing in the whole world and nothing could overcomes that.

"You had a kid, Jungkook" Harin spurs, reproach in her voice

And once again, it was serious. Junghee is truly a baby you wanted both and you conceived with love, maybe the purest love that exists. But he still can't say that to Harin. All his girlfriend sees is the fact that you've slept together and pretend you're not attracted to each other. Your best friend sighs, running his hand into his raven locks. God, it's going to be a long day...

"Listen, I got married with Y/N because we were young and foolish. I don't think I'm husband material"

Harin scoffs. She knows damn well how good of a husband he was to you. All your friends talk about it when Jungkook and her are hanging out with them. Except that you were married only on paper and that what made Jungkook a good husband was that he was actually your best friend and not your husband.

"Listen, babe" Jungkook tries to ease the tension "It's just too soon and Junghee is still going through the whole process of me being in a relationship. And now, his mom is also setting into a relationship so I guess he is a little bit lo—" He is cut off by Harin sudden bright eyes

"Wait! Y/N is dating?" She oddly sounds happy about it

"Uhm... Yes? I think, I don't know. But it's not the point, the point is—"

"It's okay!" Harin kisses him on the cheek "You're right, we have time to think about marriage and kids"

With that, she jumps off the bed, leaving Jungkook completely lost. When did they pass from marriage to having children? This is not good for Jungkook. He doesn't even want to talk about that. Not with Harin, anyway. She is fun and cute but Jungkook doesn't love her that much. He growls and puts a pillow upon his face wondering when his life went wrong.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Junghee is drawing on your coffee table while you're taking care of your laundry. It's a very hot day and you're so glad that Jungkook has insisted in setting an air conditioner at your place. Speaking of the devil, the door opens and lets appearing a very handsome black-haired man. A smile grows naturally on your face. Your best friends walks to Junghee to rub his hair and then comes to you.

"Wow, is it Hot Moms Day?" He teases you, pecking your cheek

Jungkook actually only half-jokes because he's always had a soft spot for you wearing large loungewear pants and styling your hair in a bun secured with a hair grip. Maybe Jungkook has some kind of housewife or baby mama kink but he's not sure because it only makes him horny when it's you. Watching you taking care of Junghee makes him hard someway. Maybe it's because the only time he fucked you was when you conceived your son. Not to mention that you were gorgeous when you were pregnant and seeing your big belly full of his baby provided a great feeling of pride in Jungkook's chest.

"Don't you have boxing classes today, baby daddy?" You tease back

"Nope so..." Your best friend makes a dramatic pause to enhance your natural curiosity and it works, according to your questioning eye "I was thinking we could go to Busan. We could go to the beach and crash at my parent's. Junghee hasn't seen them in a long time"

"Yah!" Your son cheers, already running to you

You have no doubt that the word 'beach' attracted him. You're kind of worry because Busan is far away but the smile on your son face is enough to convince you. Jungkook takes Junghee in his arms and you know damn well what they are trying to do. They are looking at you with their big doe eyes to charm you and it works every single time.

"So, what do you say, baby mama?"

"Okay, let's go" You sigh, just for the appearance because deep down you feel pretty excited too

After packing some clothes for the weekend, you three took Jungkook's car and drove to Busan. Jungkook and Junghee sang so loud that you had to put your hands on your ears but you were actually happy.

Despite your best friend's exhaustion, he is cheerful while dining with his parents and you. It's been a long time since you saw them and they are like your second parents. Moreover, Junghee is really excited. Especially since his grandparents spoil him with so many toys you're not sure they'll fit in the car. It just feels good to be around your family and spending simple moments that mean everything.

Junghee is already asleep in Jungkook's old room between you and his dad. Your best friend is looking at you in the dark while you're patting your son's black hair. It's as smooth as his dad's.

"Are you happy?" He asks quietly

"Yes, I am. Kook, I'm always happy when I'm with you and Junghee"

Jungkook rubs your cheek with his thumb. The softness of his gesture makes you hum and you grab his hand to kiss it.

"I won't ever love someone more than you. You and Junghee will always mean everything to me" He confesses

"You're not really a good boyfriend" You joke, referring to Harin who obviously doesn't have a lot of room in Jungkook's life

"I'm not" Jungkook agrees with a sigh "I'm too busy being a dad and your best friend. And before you argue, I don't want to change that"

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

The next day, you go to Haeundae Beach with Jungkook and Junghee. As you has anticipated, you're not the only one who wanted to enjoy the ocean on this hot weather. The beach is full of families, groups of friends or couples and your little family blends perfectly in the landscape. Your son has his bunny smile on his chubby face, which makes him so damn cute. Jungkook settles your beach towels and parasol while you're applying sunscreen on Junghee. It doesn't take long for him to beg Jungkook for a swim. You watch in awe your two men walking hand in hand towards the water. Your son looks so small next to Jungkook's muscular body. However, you grow a little bitter when you notice some women looking at them too. You know damn well how hot your best friend is, especially at the beach where his brawny chest is at full display along with his sexy tattooed arm. But it makes you uneasy when women try to flirt with him in front of you.

It's a weird feeling. You're jealous but an odd type of jealous. Jungkook is your best friend, but also the father of your son. When you think about him having another child with someone else, it really bothers you. However, you're not fool enough to deny the possibility of it. And you have no doubt that Jungkook will always be there for Junghee but you can't help wondering 'what about me?'. Things won't be the same if he gets married or has a child. You love your little family and, as selfish as it might be, you don't want it to change, even if you won't ever admit it out loud...

You sigh and decide to occupy your brain by applying sunscreen on your own body this time. When you look up, you see two black-haired boys close to the shore, building sandcastles. A tender smile appears naturally and grows wider when your son lifts up his head and waves at you. You wave back and pull out your phone to snap a photo. Jungkook notices it and waves at you too.

"Isn't mama so pretty?" He asks his son and Junghee vigorously nods

"I love mama"

"I love mama too" Jungkook chuckles before bringing his attention back to his sand creation

Your smile disappears in no time when a — you hate to say it — hot woman approaches Jungkook and Junghee. An unpleasant, yet familiar feeling fills up your chest: possessiveness. If you didn't have to take care of your belongings, you would already be running towards them. You watch the woman shamelessly flirting with your best friend in front of your son! You scoff and roll your eyes.

Jungkook, on the other hand, tries to be polite but he doesn't really acknowledge the stranger's beauty. For him, no one can compare to you. So he says a few words but his tone makes it clear that he is not interested. However, the young woman doesn't seem to get the message so Jungkook, not so subtly, mentions you as his wife. God, he wishes he'd kept his ring... To hide the fact, he carefully keeps his left hand buried in the wet sand. Thankfully, the woman decides to leave and Jungkook releases a relieved sigh. Junghee is cheerfully clapping at his castle and Jungkook smiles at him with tender eyes. His son is growing up so fast. Maybe he should have another baby, just like he teased you on Junghee's birthday.

"I want to drink apple juice" Junghee states with a confident voice, just like if he has make a life-changing decision

He doesn't wait for any respond and runs to you. You giggle at your son clumsily heading in your direction. He jumps on you, almost kicking the air out of your lungs: he is getting a little too big to jump on you without hurting you but you can't care because the gesture is just full of love. Even more when he pecks your cheek. Jungkook loves witnessing these scenes. He joins you and grabs a brick of juice for your son before settling down on his own towel.

"I'll go for a swim" You notify them

As you're mindlessly walking to the ocean, Jungkook's fists clench a little when he sees some men eyeing at your perfect ass. Fuck, he knows how hot you are but he doesn't like the way strangers are looking at you. How ironic that he is in the same place you were a few minutes ago. He strategically lays on his stomach to hide his boner. You look good in your navy bikini. Your bare thighs look inviting and your swinging butt is to die for. He quite praises himself for your full breasts because you took an extra bra cup after your son's birth. Your whole body looks delicious with sexy curves. The thought of you being his baby mama clearly makes him horny. He loves being the one who got you pregnant — geez, him and his fucking weird kinks when it comes to you... Jungkook wishes he could mark your bare skin to keep men away but he knows he can't.

"Daddy, what does 'slutty' mean?" Junghee asks with his big innocent eyes

Your best friend almost chokes on his spit. What the hell?!

"Where did you hear that?" He tries to shirk

"The man next to us said that mama was slutty" Your son explains, unaware of the anger building in his dad

"Which one?" He asks with gritted teeth

Junghee points with his little finger a man, probably about the same age as Jungkook, hanging out with his friends, a beer in his hand. Jungkook pokes his tongue on his cheek before standing up and asking his son to stay here.

"Having fun?" Jungkook asks with a harsh tone that matches his dark eyes

The group of men lifts up their heads, quite surprised.

"Yeah, it's a nice day" The little fucker who called you 'slutty' answers with a proud smirk

"Checking out hot chicks?" Jungkook hoaxes

"Yeah, why?" The same one replies, growing frustrated

"You see the one with the navy swimsuit over there?" Jungkook points towards you with a head motion but doesn't wait for any respond "That's my wife. If you call her slutty again or anything at all, I can guarantee that you'll not have fun anymore. You don't talk about her, you don't even look at her, is that clear?" He adds with a threatening tone, trying not to think about the fact that he has lied twice today by calling you his wife — in his defense, you actually were not so long ago

If the other men nod, the one who seems to be dumb has a big ego. He is not going to let someone speak to him like that. He stands up and gives a harsh eye to Jungkook.

"What can I say? Your wife is slutty" He snaps back with a smirk, full of provocation

Well, the provocation doesn't set well with Jungkook since his fist meets the man's face in no time. However, the stranger fights back and the mess going around catches people's attention. On your way back, you see some people looking and gasping at something. You step closer and gasp when you see your best friend, panting, with bruised knuckles and death stare. He looks down at a man with a bloody face laying on the floor and growling of pain.

You quickly check on your son before joining your baby daddy.

"You need to stop, you could lose your boxing licence" You whisper in his ear

Jungkook is looking at you and it takes him a few seconds to get rid off his harsh dark eyes as the anger slowly decreases. He nods and steps back, not without wrapping an arm around your waist in a protective and possessive manner. Jungkook is angry and maybe he is afraid of loosing you in someway so he needs to feel you close to him. You grab an ice block from your cooler and pull it on Jungkook's hand.

"What happened?" You ask

You see Jungkook avoiding your eyes and you frown.

"The man called you slutty, but I don't know what it means" Your son answers

Your mouth snaps open out of shock. Did Jungkook punch a guy for your honor? You don't know if you want to yell at him or to hug him.

"Kook! You shouldn't have said anything!" You scold him

"I can't do that!" Jungkook defends himself "I can't stay here when someone is disrespecting you. Wouldn't you do the same if you were in my shoes?"

You look into his doe eyes and you find nothing to reply because it's true: you would react if someone said horrible things about your best friend.

"No more fighting, please. I don't want you to get hurt" You end up saying

"He didn't punch me" Your best friend replies with a stupid cocky grin and you slap his shoulder

"Daddy is like superman!" Junghee shouts, which makes you sigh

Now, you'll have to explain to your three-year son that he cannot beat people like his dad.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

In front of his parents' house, Jungkook kneels in front of his son who is looking at him with a question mark in his big doe eyes.

"Look, buddy, how about you keep secret about what happened at the beach? I don't want grandpa and grandma Jeon to worry" He says, embarrassed

You can only smile at this big and strong man being afraid to get scolded by his parents. But you understand. Jungkook's parents are not big fan of their son's job and being a mother yourself, you perfectly get how worry it makes them. You often wonder if Junghee will want to fight for a living and the thought of him getting hurt squeezes your heart in a painful way.

"Okay!" Your son replies, not really understanding why his dad doesn't want to say he is a hero "Pinky promise!"

"Pinky promise" Your best friend repeats with a sweet voice, wrapping his finger around Junghee's tiny one

As you are applying a thin layer of mascara to get ready for diner in the backyard of Jungkook's parents, your best friend enters his childhood bedroom. You're surprised to see him wearing a black shirt, looking well dressed up for a casual diner at home.

"Going somewhere?" You ask with a lifted eyebrow

"Indeed, with you" He answers with a playful grin "It's been a long time since we've spent time together, I mean just you and me. So, I asked my parents to watch out for Junghee and I booked at table for us" Jungkook proudly announces

You are amazed by the place your best friend has chosen. It's fancy yet cozy but above all, you really appreciate spending time with him. You've missed those moments with your best friend. You sip on your wine while chatting with Jungkook. As usual, the talk goes smoothly and it seems like you never run out of topics. However, Jungkook's next line makes you freeze.

"I would like another baby"

You gulp with difficulty. You didn't know that Harin and him were already at this stage. A weight is crushing on your chest and it's hard to pretend like you're not broken at the idea. Yes, you're happy for your best friend and you know he'll be a great dad for this second child but like you explained, things won't be the same between the two of you. You'll need time to get at the idea.

"Oh" Is all you manage to respond

You don't even know what to say to him.

"I know it's quite sudden but Junghee is already three and this afternoon he asked me about a sibling... I don't think it's completely unimaginable" Jungkook explains

He is looking into your eyes to get an hint of your thoughts but you can't understand them yourself.

"So, what do you think?" He asks, stress making his heart beating fast in his chest

"I-I think it's great" You lie with a chocked throat that spurs you to finish your glass "It'll definitely take your relationship with Harin on another level"

Jungkook frowns immediately.

"No, I meant having another baby together, Y/N" He clarifies, gesturing between you and him

"Oh!" You say, once again, surprise more than noticeable on your features

"I already told you, I can't imagine having a family with someone other than you"

Your cheeks take a light pinkish color and you bite your lower lip. You also have thought about having another baby recently. And you can't imagine someone other than Jungkook for the father but what about your friendship? Being a mom is the most beautiful gift in the world for you and to be honest, you miss being pregnant. You miss feeling your baby moving in your belly. You miss feeling Jungkook inside y— Wait, what? No, you don't! You shake your head to get rid off this ridiculous thought.

"I think I need time to think about it" You whisper, eyes down in shame of your filthy ideas

"Sure, take your time. Don't pressure yourself, it's okay if you don't want to, I won't be less happy with Junghee and you" Jungkook reassures you, grabbing your hand

You are still a little bit lost when Jungkook parks his car in his parents' garage. You wonder how your life would be if you decide to have a new little member in your family. You'd surely be beyond happy but how would be things with Jungkook? You had the feeling that your relationship was a little confusing when you were married and when you decided to have Junghee in someway. Now, you're divorced, parents but still best friends. Things got back to normal. Having another child might rattle everything...

If you stopped lying to yourself for one second, you'll admit that it's not having another baby that scares you. It's being intimate with Jungkook again. He is so perfect, so caring. It's quite hard to not fall for him. So far, you manage to avoid it by clearly delimited your relationship as friends. Things almost got out of control when you conceived Junghee and you can't deny that your heart was doing some weird tricks in your chest for a few months — which you easily convinced yourself that it was the hormones talking. But now, there is no hormones and your heart does it again...

"Hey, are you okay?" Jungkook softly asks you, cupping your face with one of his big and warm palm "You've been quiet all along"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I guess I was just deep in thoughts" You confess in a whisper

"Like I said, don't pressure yourself. It was just an idea" Your best friend reassures you

God, he looks so handsome right now in the dimmed light, the room only lightens by the pale moon coming from the window. He looks unreal. His eyes are as shiny as ever, his cute bubble nose makes you smile and his lips... You should stop looking at them. It's bad. It's really bad. Jungkook is your best friend, he has a girlfriend and you have Yoongi — even though your relationship is quite undetermined — and most of all, he is Junghee's father! Only bad things would follow if you let your desires control you.

Wait a minute.

What desires? You don't have desire for Jungkook! You don't! Impossible. That's completely ridiculous and crazy and impossible. Not to mention impossible. Have you already say impossible? Because it is impossible for god's sake.

So why are you scooting closer to him and kiss him? Your brain is not responding to any of your pleas and your lips press deeper against Jungkook's ones. It gets even crazier when he kisses you back! What in the world is happening? You can't really think about it because it feels too good.

The kiss is passionate, your hands making a mess in Jungkook's black hair and his tongue is entering your mouth. Your moans are swallowed by him and your panties get soaked. It's the first time you two share such an amazing kiss. The most amazing kiss ever.

You clumsily reach his seat to sit on his lap. The lack of room makes the position quite awkward and you have no choice but to press your boobs against his firm chest. Your hands caress his biceps through the fabric of his shirt and your pussy clenches around nothing when you feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. Jungkook's hands don't stay steady either: one goes up to grab your hair and pushes you deeper against his lips while the other one squeezes your ass through your dress.

When he leaves your swollen lips to drift away to your throat, your hips start to grin on his crotch and you can feel his boner despite the layers of clothing. Your moans intensify and you have to secure your arm around Jungkook's head not to fall into the abyss of pleasure. The friction applied on your covered clit is great but you need more. A sneaky hand finds its way between your bodies and starts unzipping his jeans. You whimper when you feel your best friend hard in his underwear. You caress him as well as you can despite the uneasy position and Jungkook lifts up your dress to get access at your bare ass skin. He growls when he roughly grabs your juicy flesh, sending a wave of arousal to your already wet cunt.

You finally free him from his briefs and manage to push aside your soaked panties. You grab his thick length at the base and impaled yourself on his cock. Your wetness and his pre cum make it easy to enter, even with your tightness. You hide your face on his neck to mutter your loud moans caused by the stretching. Fuck, he is big. Especially since you haven't had sex for years! But you're too high on arousal to care about the slight pain and start riding him like a freak. Maybe the man from the beach was right, you are slutty with Jungkook right now. You don't even recognize yourself. It's even the first time you fuck somewhere other than a bed!

Jungkook helps you by placing his hands under your ass. The whole car is filled with moans from both sides. You kiss Jungkook's throat messily, leaving wet stains of saliva on his thin skin. He runs one of his hands up and settles it in the back of your neck to make you take him deeper and harder. He is so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. Animalistic growls escape his lips and he urges you to kiss him again. Your groans mix with your tongues and salivas in a real messy and sloppy kiss.

You can feel your orgasm building up in you despite the aching feeling growing in your legs. You're out of breathe but you don't seem to be able to stop. You're completely controlled by your arousal and you wish you could fuck him all night. The way you're riding Jungkook's big cock tells enough about your desires. Your walls clench, making his dick throb inside you and you know that you are both close. A few more jumps are enough to feel his cum shots painting your walls, sending you on the edge too. His seeds mix with your juices, creating a pool of arousal between your legs.

You're both panting and you rest your sticky forehead against Jungkook's one. He is keeping you tight in his arms, gently caressing your back. You are slowly coming down from your high and your eyes snap open. What have you done?! You fucked Jungkook, your best friend! You have risked years of friendship for a quickie in his fucking car! While your son and his parents are sleeping in this very same house. Panic fills your body and you gasp at the realization.

You jump out of the car, only pulling down your dress to cover the mess between your legs and run in shame. You lock yourself in the bathroom, unable to think straight. All you can do is crying for hours, despite Jungkook gently knocking on the door and asking you to open the door — which you never do.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

You ended up discreetly sneaking into Jungkook's bedroom late in the night, praying for him to be asleep or at least pretend to be. You didn't sleep at all and by the absence of light snoring, you know that Jungkook didn't either. You don't really know what to say to him despite you're sorry: for having sex with him and for running away right after it. If the shoe was on the other foot, you know how hurt you would be. But you're ashamed and embarrassed to face him just yet...

If Junghee is way too young to get the tensed air between his mom and dad, Jungkook's parents can clearly feel it. And it does nothing to ease you. You try to focus on your son during breakfast, doing everything you can to avoid Jungkook's eyes that you easily imagine on you. At some point, your best friend grows sick of it, sighs loudly and grabs his plate to escape the room. When his mom joins him in the kitchen, she can't hold her worry and questions her son.

"I told Y/N I wanted another child" Jungkook confesses with a low voice and a defeated look

His mom is not as surprised as he thought she would be.

"How did she react?" She asks with a comforting hand on her son's large shoulder

"She said that she needed to think about it. I mean, I understand but just look at Junghee. We have been so happy since he was born, I don't think another child would fuck things up between us" Jungkook growls in frustration, running his tattooed hand in his hair

His mother doesn't scolds him on his bad language and rather asks:

"Is that why things are tensed this morning?"

"Maybe. Actually... Something happened" Jungkook winces, embarrassed to talk about his sexual life with his mom "I didn't see the problem before Y/N ran away. And now she doesn't even look at me! I don't know what to do"

"Do you regret it?"

Your best friend takes a few seconds to think. Does he? Maybe he wishes that your second time together were in a more romantic atmosphere but he doesn't regret one bit. He missed your touch, he missed your body. He missed feeling physically connected to you. Sex with you is so different, way more powerful and emotional because he cares about you. He fucking loves you. And honestly, it breaks his heart that you shut him down after sharing a bed — or his car seat to be precise.

"No. I mean, I wanted to but I don't want to hurt her, you know?" Jungkook replies with blushed cheeks

"Y/N has always had a special place in your life, Jungkook. You've known each other for a long time. Maybe the idea of things changing between you scares her. But never doubt her love for you. She deeply cares about you and you'll always be the father of her child. I know you'll figure things out" His mom reassures him with a tender smile but a hint of worry in her eyes

A little knock on the kitchen door drives Mrs. Jeon's and Jungkook's eyes on you. Your red cheeks clearly notify how embarrassed you are. Even quite mad — against you or him or anything else because he can't quite decide —, your best friend finds you cute.

"Can I talk to you?" You shyly ask him and he nods before leading you to his bedroom for privacy

Your eye is everywhere except on him as you gather your courage to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Kook" You apologize

"For what?" His voice is a little bit cold but you can't resent him

"For everything?" You try and sigh "I think I was a little overwhelmed about what happened but I want you to know that you didn't do anything wrong, it was entirely my fault"

Your eyes water and your chin is shaking in a dangerous way. Despite his frustration, Jungkook pulls you into a hug.

"I get it. Please, don't cry. Let's put that aside for now, okay? We can talk about it when you're ready" Jungkook comforts you, pecking the top of your head

Fuck, why does your best friend have to be this great? He should be mad. You would in his shoes. But he is comforting you instead! And it makes you feel even worst. You keep repeating that you're sorry while you're crying in his arms.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

It has been one week since your trip to Busan and things have been back to normal. In appearance only but your mind is a real mess. You blush every time your best friend gets close to you and your heart beats heretically whenever he touches you. You feel like you're going insane. You need you convince yourself that you don't love Jungkook and that it's just a side effect of your roll in the hay.

That's why you've called your mom to babysit Junghee and went on a date with Yoongi. After all, he is a fine man and he is available. You feel terrible when you think about Harin and you still don't know how you'll be able to look at her in the eyes... The thought makes you stress. You try not to think about it and concentrate on the movie you're watching with Yoongi.

Why don't you feel any butterfly anymore when he grabs your hand? It's not good for you or your heart. Yoongi is really great so why don't you love him? You kind of like him and you find him attractive but he doesn't fill your mind like Jungkook does. And it's not fair for Yoongi. He deserves to be someone's first choice, not some consolation.

At the end of the movie, you tell the truth to Yoongi and you hope not to hurt him too much. He tells you that he understands and that he is a little bit sad because you're a great woman — which makes you feel worst. You feel nothing like a great person lately, quite the opposite actually.

In another part of Seoul, Harin has brought the marriage topic on the table. Again. Maybe she feels threatened after the weekend you've spent together. And Jungkook doesn't know how to escape it because he really doesn't want to marry Harin. Or any other woman but you.

"I think it could be great to be a real family, you and me and our babies" Harin states, a dreamy smile on her face

"Sorry to remind you but I have a family" Jungkook replies with irritation in his voice

"Yeah, yeah, I know that Junghee will always be part of your life but he'll get along with our children. Oh, and for the wedding, I was thinking about..."

Harin explains her theme and everything she wants to have for her big day but Jungkook stops listening. His mind drives him back to you. He remembers your wedding and how simple and perfect it was. Full of authenticity. It was a perfect day. His second best day after Junghee's birth. Which leads him to remember it. How scared he was for you but also how impressed he was. How you grabbed and firmly squeezed his hand until hurting him — not that he cared anyway — when you were pushing. How he encouraged you and told how amazing you were. He remembers your tired yet wide smile when you held your son for the first time. He remembers how he felt when he held Junghee for the first time. His body was so small he was afraid to break it. And he remembers the promise he made to himself that day: to always protect you and your son and to love you even after his last breathe. Nothing could be stronger than the bound you share. Maybe it's cruel but Harin would never compete against you. There is no choice to make because you are the only one for him.

But judging how panicked you reacted one week ago, Jungkook doesn't think he is even an option for you. So he lets his girlfriend blather on her fantasies of wedding and children.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Jungkook is picking up Junghee at the kindergarten because you have a meeting for your job. While he is happy to spend time with his son, your best friend's body tenses a little when he spots Yoongi in the crowd. Should he greet him? It's so awkward because Jungkook fucked you while you are in some kind of relationship with the man. Did you tell him? Did you see him after that? Did you sleep with him? Gosh, he hopes not... He would rather get punched for having sex with you than having his heart broken for you having sex with someone else. He can't help but feel hypocrite when he had sex with Harin this week even though he didn't really want to. What reassures him a little is that he always wears condoms.

Wait a minute.

He hasn't with you. Do you take the pill? He is pretty sure you don't. Oh god, the whole situation is getting out of control. Yes, he wants a baby with you but he doesn't want to trap you into the situation. Anxiety is eating him alive and he doesn't even see Yoongi approaching until he is right in front of him.

"Hi" The man greets him

"Hi, how are you?" Jungkook tries to hide his panic and his guilt behind a smile

"Fine" Yoongi lies, his heart is still a little broken but he doesn't resent you — you can't control your feelings and he knows it damn well "Seung's birthday is next weekend and I'm checking on the parents to see who'll come at the party. Can I count Junghee in?"

"Sure, he'll be more than happy" Jungkook releases a sigh, glad that he won't be punched after all

A little boy with black hair and a bunny smile runs to him, waiting for his dad to hold him in his arms. Jungkook's heart melts at his son and he can't help but wonder if Junghee will soon have a little sister or brother. He tries not to think too much about it and walks to his car.

The drive to his boxing school doesn't take long and he mentally thanks you for that: you have insisted for him to choose a building in a district close to all kinds of educative establishments, mainly because it'd be great for his business, but also because it'd be handier when he would be a dad.

Junghee is always excited to see his dad boxing. He loves imitating him, throwing his little fists in the air. Your best friend has started giving him lessons and he loves the fact that he can deepen his relationship with his child this way. He also hopes that his son will be able to defend himself if he gets in trouble or defend you because you're way too stubborn to listen to Jungkook and take boxing lessons... On the other hand, he pretty likes being the one to save you.

Jungkook is kneeled down in front of Junghee and keeps his palms up so your son can punch them. Jungkook can't help a chuckle at the cute pout adoring the toddler's focused face. His son smiles proudly whenever Jungkook praises him. Your best friend has no doubt that you would look at them with awe eyes if you were there.

However, the little lesson has to end when some students enter for their class. It's not the first time Junghee sees them but he grows shy and hides behind his father's leg. Surely, the little group of teenagers impresses him. Your best friend smiles tenderly at Junghee and rubs his tattooed hand into the sleek hair of his child to soothe him. He tells him to sit on the bench and grabs an apple juice for him before heading to his students and giving instructions.

You rush out of the building to take your son home. You gasp when you see some teenage boys punching each others on the ring. You don't like Junghee to see violence. You know that Jungkook couldn't do otherwise but it doesn't please you. Definitely, you had a long day... You're sure Junghee will have nightmares tonight.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Jungkook asks when he spots you

You nod, quite surprised by his embarrassment and follow him to his office. You frown when he closes the door. What's so serious?

"I need to ask you something'"Jungkook looks down a moment before returning his eyes into yours "Are you on the pill?"

Your eyes widen. You really didn't expect this question. And it's another reminder of how stupid it was to fuck your best friend.

"I am" You answer

Now, it's Jungkook's turn to be surprised. He thought you weren't. You always told him that you didn't want to intoxicated your body with unnecessary doses of hormones if you're not in a relationship. Does that mean that Yoongi and you have turned a corner? His heart is squeezing painfully in his chest.

"Oh, okay then, I was worried about nothing" Your best friend says, his hand messing his hair up

"About that..." You start, embarrassed too "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened" Jungkook opens his mouth to argue but you stop him "I shouldn't have reacted like that, especially when I'm the one who initiated things. I feel terrible towards you and towards Harin. I really hope that I didn't make things tensed between you" The idea of it makes you wince and you hide your face in your hands "God, I'm such a horrible person"

"Hey, don't say that" Jungkook grabs your hands to look at your face with affection in his doe eyes "I could have stopped you and I didn't because I wanted it too. Please, don't blame yourself. To be honest, I liked it"

Jungkook's words make you blush and you look away to prevent yourself from jumping on him once again. Your best friend pulls you to his side to hug you before letting you go. Jungkook kisses Junghee's chubby cheek to tell him goodbye and you grab you son in your arms to bring him home.

In his bed, after you've read him a book, your son surprises you. Or more like breaks your heart.

"What?" You say because maybe you haven't heard well and gosh, you wish you haven't

"Daddy and Harin are getting married" He repeats

All blood leaves your face and you feel like your heart has stopped.

"Why do you say that?" You ask with a white voice

"Harin told me"

You might be completely broken at the news but you need to know how your son feels like because it's the most important thing for you.

"What do you feel about it?"

"I'm okay. I like Harin, she makes good pancakes" Junghee replies innocently

You nod and kiss his forehead before escaping his room to cry in your bed. You made Jungkook cheat on his future wife! You're so horrible! Worst, your heart is broken while you should be happy for your best friend. Why didn't Jungkook tell you? Is it because you had sex? You knew that you've fucked things up! Now your best friend isn't confiding to you anymore, even for something as important as a fucking wedding! You feel bad. Terrible. You're the one who provoked what you absolutely wanted to avoid: things has changed between Jungkook and you.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Junghee is playing with the new toys his grandparents gave him in Busan. You look at him with a distracted look because your attention is set on the news channel. It's not the first time Seoul has to go through a typhoon, however, you're a little worried because the TV keeps repeating that this one is especially violent. You try to keep calm for Junghee but the dark sky and the pouring rain don't help. It's the first time you have to face such a weather condition without Jungkook. You mentally note the advises the anchors give: preparing some candles or flashlights in case of blackout, making sure to stay away from the windows and closing the blinds if possible. You sigh and join your son, innocent as usual, only caring about the little imaginary world he has created in his mind. It helps to soothe you, even though you wonder if your best friend is okay.

"Where are you going?" Harin asks with an irritated tone when she witnesses Jungkook grabbing his car key

Jungkook stops his movements and looks at his girlfriend like it was evident. They have just listened to the same news as you and Jungkook immediately reached the entry of his apartment — where Harin seems to spend more and more time each day.

"I'm worried about Junghee and Y/N" He explains

"They're fine!" Harin scoffs "And look outside, it's pouring! You can't go out"

Jungkook is growing frustrated. He is worried, he doesn't want to leave you two alone. His heart is beating so fast in his chest because of the stress. His whole body is begging him to go and make sure you're safe. Why can't Harin understand that? You're his family! Anger is starting to build inside him and he can't help but yelling at Harin because she has been acting like a crazy woman lately and Jungkook is sick of it.

"I can't leave my kid and my wife alone!"

"Your wife?!" Harin snaps "Really Jungkook?" Her voice is nothing sweet and it's full of grudge

"You know what I mean" Jungkook replies with a roll of eyes

"No, I don't actually. You are not married! And I am your girlfriend" Harin reminds him

It's true. Jungkook knows it. But he can't help feeling upset at that thought. He is still seeing himself as your husband, maybe because for him it's complicated to separate that from being Junghee's father. His instinct is always to protect you and your toddler. When he pictures his family, it's you, Junghee and him. Harin is never in the picture to be honest. What he wants is to be with you. Right now, he can't even remember why he agreed to sign those stupid divorce papers.

"I need to go" Jungkook settles to say, his voice a little softer than before

"If you pass that door, it's over" Harin says with confidence, her arms crossed on her chest

Your best friend has never liked ultimatums and this one is by far the worst. He scoffs before opening the door and leaving. He doesn't even give a last look to Harin.

The rain might be pouring, the wind might be going wild, nothing could prevent Jungkook from reaching you. Actually, the hostile weather convinces him that being with you was the right decision. He just can't imagine not being there for you while he knows that you are worried and alone with your son. He is not scared about the road but about leaving you alone. It's all he can think about while driving toward you and Junghee.

The door opening makes you jolt. The familiar face with soaked, dark hair appearing provokes a weird trick in your chest.

"Kook?" The surprise is evident on your face and in your voice but everything disappears when your best friend gives you the most tender smile ever "What are you doing here? Are you crazy? You could have had an accident!" You scold him even though you're so glad he is here

"I was worried about you" Jungkook simply replies

Your mouth mimics a silent 'Thank you' and Jungkook joins Junghee at the coffee table. Your son has given up his toys to get down on one of his favorite hobbies: drawing. He chuckles when he spots his dad and almost immediately tries to climb on him. It doesn't take long for him to use his pens on Jungkook's tattooed sleeves. From time to time, Junghee nods proudly at his art piece, filling with color some patterns of the tattoos or adding completely new drawings.

"I want to have drawings on my arm like daddy" Your son suddenly states

"Wow, not until eighteen, right mama?" Jungkook laughs, imagining his three-year old toddler with tattoos

"You mean not until at least forty" You correct him, half-joking half-panicking at your little boy covered in ink

Junghee pouts but focuses again on his pens. You and Jungkook are looking at him with love eyes. He is so cute! His doe eyes are wide open and his little mouth is slightly open. You love how immersed he gets when he is doing something. He doesn't care one bit about the weather raging outside, he is in his little bubble and he has trapped your best friend and you in it.

"Mama, come help me"

You chuckle and grab a pen yourself. You scoot closer to Jungkook, feeling the warmth of his body. While Junghee is sitting on Jungkook's lap, you're against your best friend's side. One hand rests on his shoulder to stay steady while you're drawing a little flower on his hand. Jungkook hums at your touch. It feels good. The simple moment with his son and you fills up his chest with joy, he feels like he is the happiest and luckiest man on Earth. He can't help himself and grabs your small hand in his, not caring about the pen between your fingers. You lift up your head in surprise, trying to understand why he has done that but you find yourself unable to say anything.

Jungkook's handsomeness and closeness just cut your breathe. He is so pretty and the way is looking at you, like you're the most precious thing in his life, is destabilizing. You're two seconds away from kissing his pulp lips that attract you. Thankfully, you get back to your senses, shake your head and remove your hand from his grip.

"I, uhm, I'll go take some milk for Junghee" You stutter, cheeks completely blushed

You escape as fast as you can and welcome the cold air coming from the fridge on your burning face. You need to focus. You need to stop thinking about your best friend this way. You hate how hot, handsome and caring he is right now. Last time you did something stupid, you almost ended up pregnant and destroy Jungkook's future wedding. You have to stop! You need to keep your distance with Jungkook. He is only here for Junghee.

Your baby had hidden in Jungkook's arms when the typhoon was at its climax. Thankfully, your building was far enough not to suffer from big damages and the city went back to normal only a few hours later. All the emotions of the day pushed your son in a sound sleep. You watch in awe your best friend putting Junghee in his bed. You close the door as softly as you can and you face an embarrassing silence between Jungkook and you.

"So, what's the date?" You ask after clearing your throat

You hope that bringing the wedding topic with a light tone will spur Jungkook to see that you are still his confidant. You don't want to let the incident in his car ruining your friendship. In fact, things have to be even smoother than before if you want your growing family to work.

However, Jungkook is frowning and looking at you with a confused face.

"The date for what?"

"Kook" You sigh, a little hurt that he doesn't trust you "You can tell me, it's okay. Actually, I would have rather liked hearing it from you and from our three-year old son. But I get it, things have been... strange lately. Nevertheless, I want you to know that I am sincerely happy for you and Harin" You manage to give him a small smile

"I'm sorry but I really don't know what you are talking about" Jungkook replies, working his brain out to get a clue

"Your wedding, Jungkook!" You clarify, frustration noticeable in your voice

"My what?!" Your best friend shouts, completely taken aback

"Did you think that I wouldn't know?" You ask, trying to make sense of his genuine incredulity

"Y/N, I am not getting married! Don't you think that I would tell you? Where did you get that idea?"

It's your turn to frown. What's going on?

"Junghee told me that you were getting married... Maybe he didn't get it right?"

"I've never told him anything like that, like never. I don't want to marry Harin for fuck's sake" Jungkook says

You purse your lips because what you are thinking about is way too crazy to be the truth. Did Harin lie to your son? Why? That's just horrible! It can't be...

"What?" Jungkook spurs you to speak up "What did you think about? And don't lie, I know that face"

"I don't want to create problems" You finally decide to say "Maybe... maybe you should talk to Harin and clarify the situation because I think it's just a big misunderstanding"

Jungkook is feeling his anger growing inside his bones. What did Harin do? After promising he'll be back soon, he drives back to his apartment. His fists are so tightly clenched around his wheel that his knuckles are white. He wants some explanations now. Did she dare messing up with his family? With his son? With you? Jungkook is fucking pissed. He storms in and hardly contains his wrath.

"What did you say to Junghee?"

His angry tone makes Harin jolt. Her eyes widen in fear because she has never seen him this angry.

"I-I don't know what you are talking about..." She lies

"Speak now!" Jungkook shouts, his eyes even darker than usual

"I, uhm, told him that we were talking about marriage?" She tries with a small voice and Jungkook almost looses it

"You were talking about marriage!" He rectifies "Do you have any idea of what you've done?! Are you fucking insane? He is my son! You can't tell him something like that! Don't come near me or my family ever again. Now, get the fuck out!"

Witnessing Jungkook's fury, Harin doesn't argue and leaves as fast as she can. Jungkook needs a couple of minutes to calm down. He needs to let go of his anger and there is no better way than boxing for him. For the third time of the day, he steps in his car to head to his boxing school. He doesn't even know how many hours he hits the punching bag. He can't believe that Harin almost destroyed his relationship with his son and with you! He can't imagine what was in your pretty head when you thought he was getting married while he told you hundred of times that you were the only one for him. He makes a pact with himself: he will put a ring on your and his fingers so no one will ever make you feel like you're not the love of his life.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

It's already three am and you still haven't heard about Jungkook. You're way too worried to sleep and you're walking back and forth in your living room. You've tried to call him but gained no response. He told you he would be back but he hasn't. And he left pretty pissed off. Furious, actually. You're scared something has happened to him. Did he get into a fight with Harin? Did they make up? Did he have an accident? There are so many different scenarios possible and you don't know which one is the truth. If you didn't have to watch Junghee, you would already be in your car, looking all around Seoul for him.

When you're about to officially lose your sanity, the door opens. You run to Jungkook and hug him out of relief. Thank god, he is okay. You step back just enough to look at him: he is sweaty and tired and his clenched jaws are a clear sign of how tensed he is.

"I was so worried" You whisper, not to wake up your son "Is everything okay? Did you talk to Harin?"

Your best friend scoffs at the name. He still feels angry but less since you've hugged him. Your touch has always had some kind of magical power when it comes to soothe him.

"She told Junghee that we were getting married. I can't believe she lied to our son. You don't know how mad I am right now. I ended things with her"

You nod, trying to integrate the news. Despite being completely taken aback by Harin's actions, you feel terrible to have doubted Jungkook. He is your best friend, your baby daddy, the man you trust the most in the entire world. You should have known that he would never hide something this huge.

"I'm sorry" You tell him because they really are the words that sum up pretty much everything you want to say

"Don't be. I'm not sad because of her. But I am sad because I feel like I almost lost you" He explains with sincerity and it breaks your heart

"Kook, you will never lose me" You put a delicate hand on his jaw "I love you so much, you have no idea. I'll always be there for you. You're an amazing man. An amazing dad and the best best friend ever and I don't think you know it"

Emotion fills the air between you two. Jungkook's heart melts at your words and you can see it in his eyes becoming tenderer. He deserves the whole world. And suddenly, an idea comes to your mind and your look changes. Jungkook must misinterpret it because there is no way you're looking at him with lust right now. It must be the fatigue from his boxing.

His heart stops and he gulps loudly when he watches you kneeling down. He wishes his dick wasn't hardening by seeing you down in front of him and lifting up your pretty face to look into his eyes. The sight is sinful and he can't let his fantasies controlling him because he would do unspeakable things to your mouth. However, he doesn't have time to question you that your hands are already working on his sweatpants to take it down. You caress him through the fabric of his briefs and it makes his cock almost completely hard in no time.

"Y/N" He whispers with a chocked and raspy voice "What are you doing?"

"I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. Don't you want it?"

The innocence and insecurity in your voice mixed with the way your eyes seem bigger when you look up at him prevent him from thinking straight. He can only nod, waiting for your next move. A wave of arousal goes straight between your legs when you grab the hem of his underwear and push it down, freeing his hard cock. Your mouth waters at the sight and you realize that it's the first time you get to really admire his dick. It's thick and big and you know how much pleasure it brings. But you are a little worried at the size of it and you wonder if you'll be able to take him entirely in your mouth.

The drop of pre cum escaping his tip is way too tempting so you poke your tongue out to lick it. Both Jungkook and you moan. He tastes sweet and you want more. You rest your hand at his base while you start kissing and taking fat laps of his head. Jungkook can't take his eyes off of you because it's too good to be real. Your lips are soft against his velvet skin and the wet strains you leave with your mouth and tongue are driving him insane. He has to control himself not to fuck your throat like a maniac.

When his tip is glistening with a mix of your saliva and his pre cum, you open your mouth wide, stick your tongue out and take him in. It feels good to have Jungkook's cock filling your mouth. You have never been fond of blowjobs and yet, sucking your best friend's dick arouses you more than you want to admit. The sweet moans and growls from Jungkook spur you to fasten your pace. You take him quicker and deeper each time, creating some sloppy and sinful sounds. Your tongue caresses his vein and the sweet spot connecting his tip to his length. Your hand frees his base and heads south to cup his balls while you push deeper, making you gag when his tip hits the back of your throat.

"Oh fuck" Jungkook moans in pure ecstasy "Your mouth is so fucking good"

His praise makes you proud and you want to give him even more pleasure. Your free hand that was resting on his hip grabs his to put it in your hair. You look at him through your wet lashes and Jungkook gets the message. You're so perfect, he thinks while he intertwine his fingers with your strands. You open your mouth a little wider and lets him settle the pace and the deepness of his thrusts. You can't help a few tears when he deep-throats you but you actually love chocking on his cock. The wetness of your pussy is a clear sign of it.

"Fuck, baby" He hisses when he pushes deep and rests a little to feel your throat contracting around his dick

He pulls out to let you breathe and enjoys the line of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his member. You're so fucking hot like that. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now to keep the memory because he knows it's a once in a lifetime thing.

"Cum in my mouth" You tell him with a oh-so-sweet voice and he can't believe it's true

He rubs his soaked tip against the pillow of your lips, making a glistening mess that turns him on so bad and pushes his cock right back in. Your hand is deliciously cupping his heavy balls and Jungkook growls while throwing his head back with delight. Feeling your wet and warm mouth around him is really, really good. He fucks your mouth like there is no tomorrow, bringing more tears to your eyes. Your other hand caresses his firm abs and the flexing muscles underneath your fingertips provoke a sweet moan from you. It vibrates on Jungkook's cock and he can feel how close he is. His thrusts are not soft but you know he tries to hold himself back.

You pray for the sinful sounds not to wake up Junghee and you push your head further, your nose almost touching his pubic.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna cum'"Jungkook informs you

You hum to notify him that it's okay and you feel his grab tightening in your hair. You think that Jungkook is going to go a little wilder but he surprises you when his other hand gently settles on your cheeks to caress you with his thumb.

"Look at me" He asks but his voice is so weak that it's more like a plea

You do as he says and meet your best friend's frowning and fucked up face with a slight open mouth. He is damn hot. Your eyes are shiny because of your tears but you are so gorgeous. He can't believe how lucky he is. You're so fucking sexy and the fact that he is the one to see this side of you makes his dick throb. You're usually his very sweet baby mama — which also makes him horny to be true — but right now, you are like a goddess coming straight from his wildest sexual dreams. You are looking at each other with your usual affection eye but there is a sparkle of lust too that sends him on the edge. He is fully focused on you: your tongue, your hands on him, the sleek of your hair tangled in his fist, your soft skin underneath his thumb and your fucking beautiful eyes that he would like to look at forever. Jungkook cums on your tongue with soft growls.

Your cheeks are burning red when Jungkook steps in the bathroom to clean himself. You can't believe you've just done that. However, it's not panic that takes over you like the last time but a sweet feeling and a huge wave of arousal. It just felt right. Maybe the fact that you are both single eases you too. You sigh in content as you drop onto your couch, blushing when you replay the filthy scene that just took place in your living room.

"Shit" Jungkook curses when he drops the towel down after washing his hands

He bends over to reach it but his eyes get attracted by something in your bathroom bin. His body freezes for a second and his hand is shaky when he grabs the little box. Carefully, he opens it and pulls out the pregnancy test. It's negative.

Jungkook doesn't know if he is relieved or sad about it. But you're on the pill so did you take the test just to be sure? Did you think you were pregnant? Is it after you had sex or is it because you've slept with Yoongi too? There are so many questions in his mind right now and the only way to answer them is to ask you directly.

Your best friend finds you on the couch, a gentle smile on your face. The room is quite dark, only enlightens by the moon so you don't see that Jungkook has the test in his hand. He sits next to you and he clears his throat.

"I found this in your bin" He says as softly as he can

He doesn't want you to feel accused. He just wants to know and he knows you: you must have your reasons not to tell him.

Your eyes widen and your heart starts beating fast.

"It's negative" You say with a chocked voice

"I know. Did you think you were pregnant?" Jungkook asks and you bite your lower lip — there is no point in lying since everything is fine

"Maybe?" You reply "I wanted to be sure because, you know, we had sex" You explain with blushed cheeks

"But you're on the pill" Your best friend tries to understand

"I... I'm not. I lied because I didn't want you to panic and you were with Harin. I already felt so guilty. And then, the test came back negative so I didn't see the point of telling you. I would have had if it were positive" You explain

"Is that weird that I wish it was positive?"

You look up at Jungkook and shake your head: you have wished too in someway. You know damn well that he is confessing that because you've come clear too. He always tells you a secret when you share one of yours. He has been doing that since you were eight and you love it. There are so many things you love about him actually.

"Come here, baby daddy" You whisper, opening your arms for him to scoot closer

You rest your head on his shoulder while he wraps you into his embrace. You both enjoy the peaceful silence and you close your eyes when Jungkook gently rubs your side.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Jungkook is watching you getting ready for Yoongi's son birthday party. He doesn't know if he should enjoy how good you look in the dress he has bought you — an ankle-long tight black dress with long sleeves from the lounge wear collection of Skims that really pleases him because you're like the perfect hot mom — or if he should grow grumpy because you might put efforts for another man. The way the dress hugs your curves is insane: your boobs and your ass are perfectly accentuated and you are fucking sexy. Jungkook can't hold himself and hugs you from behind. Despite looking like one of your usual friend hugs, he presses his crotch a little further against your ass and you can't deny that a wave of arousal washes over you.

"You look good, baby mama" Jungkook says with a voice a little raspy

"You do too, Kook" You reply with blushed cheeks as you're eyeing his white shirt perfectly holding his buff chest and his strong thighs covered by his black jeans

You can feel your best friend's inked hand slowly rubbing your stomach before going up and stopping right under your boobs. Your breathe is cut off and all you can think about is feeling Jungkook everywhere on your body. Your eyes cling on each other through the mirror. You notice how Jungkook's eyes are even darker than usual and the way they look hungry. He tilts his head and lightly kisses the thin and sensitive skin straight below your earlobe, which makes you shiver. It's so erotic how slowly and delicately yet sensually Jungkook moves. You press your thighs against each other because your panties are more than wet now, which causes a smirk on Jungkook's face. His hand is about to finally grab your tit when a little boy jumps on your bed.

You immediately put some distance between your bodies.

"Come on, we're gonna be late!" Junghee whines

You know he has been waiting all day for his friend's birthday. You pick him up in your arms and Jungkook takes care of the present and your bag. Your best friend smiles at the scene: you're a beautiful family. A tender smile paints his face when he sees his son tightening his little arms around your neck to hug you. The amount of love he is feeling right now is indescribable.

Your son is immediately running to Seung when you arrive at the party. You're feeling a little embarrassed to face Yoongi after what happened. You have managed to avoid him at work but there is no way to escape now. Your colleague spots out and gives you a nod to which you reply with a smile. Jungkook is watching the interaction between you and he frowns. Why are you not talking to him? Why is the atmosphere tensed? He can't say that he is not happy about it because to be honest, he was a little stressed to be the fifth wheel with Yoongi and you. It would have broke his heart to witness some sweet gestures between the two of you, especially since your best friend and you have been intimate.

"What happened?" Jungkook discreetly asks in your ear, unable to keep his curiosity away any longer

"Yoongi is really great" You start with a sigh and the compliment makes Jungkook jealous "But I just think that there is not enough place for another man in my life right now"

"Well, you know I'm the only man for you" Your best friend teases you, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you into his side with possessiveness

"Actually, Junghee is the only man for me, he fills up all my dreams" You reply and stick out your tongue in a playful way

"Then we have to make a little baby girl to be even" Jungkook says lowly, squeezing your flesh a little which makes you blush

You are helping to set the food on the table while Jungkook is giving a spontaneous boxing lesson to the children after Junghee has bragged about his dad being a superhero, resulting in all the kids wanting to be one too. Your eyes are sparking with affection when you watch the scene. Jungkook is really good with kids and he is a great father to Junghee. The idea of having a baby hasn't seemed too crazy lately. Having a little girl or a little boy with him fills your chest with happiness. Maybe you should do it. The only thing that holds you back is your relationship with Jungkook. You're not sure you want to have a baby with your best friend anymore... You wish you could have a baby with your husband. You miss the ring on your finger, you miss Jungkook as your hubby.

You're not stupid enough to not have noticed that your relationship has slightly evolved recently but marriage is a big step. However, it's the twenty-first century so if you want to be married, you don't have to wait for the proposal: you can ask him yourself, for real this time. Perhaps, after all, your friends and family were right all along: you were bound to fall in love with your best friend.

You don't know when you fell in love with Jungkook. Was it after having Junghee? When you got married? Or have you actually being in love with him since you were eight? Maybe you didn't know that your love for him was actually a romantic love because it's all you've ever known. It doesn't really matter though because now you know. You love him. As your best friend, as your baby daddy and as the best man you've ever met. You just love him, as a person, all of him.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

Your son wanted to stay for Seung's sleepover so you went back home with Jungkook only. Your heart is beating like crazy. You try to imagine how your best friend will react when you ask him to marry and the stress is filling your whole body. You can't look at him in the eyes.

"I can't believe Junghee is old enough to go to sleepovers" Jungkook jokes "He'll soon have his first girlfriend"

"Don't you think it's a little bit young for a girlfriend?" You say with a sigh because your baby can't grow up so fast

"I had my first one at three" He proudly informs you but you're too tensed to laugh

You keep avoiding his glance and you fiddle with your fingers as the anxiety directs your blood to your feet to run away.

"Is everything okay?" Jungkook asks, worried

"Yes. Can you... wait here please?" You reply, escaping the living room as fast as you can

You breath deeply before looking into your nightstand. The sliver ring is immediately noticeable with the way it shines under the light. A light smile appears on your face when you remember putting the ring on your best friend's finger a few years ago. After your divorce, you agreed on keeping Jungkook's ring and him yours. It was a way to always have a small part of each other as spouses. You are so glad to have it right now, even though you can feel the stress filling up your body. Are you really going to ask him to marry you? Yes, you are. The thought could make you giggle if the possibility of rejection didn't make you nauseous.

When you enter the living room, you find Jungkook sitting patiently on the couch. He immediately stands up because he can sense your uneasiness. He frowns and opens his mouth to speak but you stop him by showing the ring. Confusion is clear on your best friend's face.

"I know that it might sound crazy" You start, gathering all your courage for your confession and grabbing his left hand at the same time, the contact of your skins smooths you a bit "But you and I have shared so many things. I've never been happier than when we were married. It took me years to finally notice that..." You gulp, the next words being the most important yet scary words "I love you, Kook. I truly, deeply love you. So, will you marry me? Again?"

You end up your proposal with a hitch pitch tone that fakes chill while you're going crazy because you have just opened your heart and you feel vulnerable. You look at him and the few seconds of silence are killing you.

"No"

"No?" Your heart stops, breaks, burns or maybe everything at the same time

You feel stupid. It was so stupid to think that Jungkook would marry you or love you the way you do. You agreed on being friends years ago, why did you think something has changed? Because of the few loving eyes you shared? Because you had sex? Because he said you were the only one for him? You can't believe you've interpreted it all wrong. You want to cry but you fight the tears to maintain your dignity. And even if Jungkook doesn't want to marry you, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you because you know he does. Maybe just not the same as you do.

Jungkook starts to panic when he notices the hurt on your face. He steps closer and cups your face with his big palms.

"No, no, no, it's not what I wanted to say!" He adds quickly "I want to marry you!" The confession makes your heart jumps in your chest "God, you don't know how much I want it but you can't ask me to marry you" Now, you're the one confused and your heartbeats are going wild but you don't even know why "You can't ask me because I want to ask you. So your proposal is going to mess up all my plan to set up a very romantic diner with flowers and all that shit"

You can't help a giggle.

"I don't care about that, Kook. Our wedding was perfect as simple as it was and I don't need anything more than you and Junghee. So please, marry me?" You ask again, tears — of joy? — in your eyes

"Yes!" He exclaims, right before kissing you

The kiss is good. So damn good. You release all the stress you've accumulated and Jungkook's lips have never felt so sweet. It's addictive and you're not sure you can live without them anymore. You pull away just enough to put the ring on his finger and it fits perfectly. Not only because it was his ring before but because it belongs here. His hand seems empty without it and his life is not complete without you as his wife. The strong emotion of the moment brings tears to your eyes: it's so much love that it can't contain in your body.

"I love you" He whispers, his shiny doe eyes even brighter than usual

You are going to marry your best friend. Again. But this time, for real — but can you really say that the last time was not real? All these years, you were blind or maybe too afraid to notice that you actually were in love with him. It's in fact impossible not to when Jungkook is perfect. He is your family and not only because he is your baby daddy. He feels like home. His strong arms are your shelter and gosh, you love him so much.

"There is another thing I want to do with you" He announces, his voice deep and thick with emotion "I want to make love with you" Those words send delightful shivers down your spine "And I want another baby. Maybe not now if you're not ready, but someday"

"I'm ready" You softly reply "I've been thinking about it for a few months now and I don't want anyone else but you"

Jungkook's heart jumps in his chest and his euphoria takes control of his body. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. You gasp and laugh while you instinctively circles his hips with your legs. You put your lips on his again, craving for his touch everywhere on you. Butterflies fill your stomach when he walks to your bedroom. He delicately lands you on your bed and lifts up your dress to access your covered pussy. His eyes shines with lust and you bit your lower lip. He circles your clit with his thumb through the thin fabric, making your head roll back and your panties wetter. You wish he could just take if off already to feel him skin to skin.

He places himself between your open legs and slowly drag down your underwear. He is amazed by your glistening cunt, so appetizing. He kisses your inner thighs, which causes you to jolt a little so your future husband has to hold your legs open for him — thinking about Jungkook as that creates a fog of delicious delirium around your brain, or maybe it's just the way he touches you?

"Can I taste you?" He asks with eagerness and you blush hard

You nod and bit your lip with anticipation, and Jungkook doesn't waste time. He takes a fat lap of your arousal and hums at your sweet taste. He then gives a quick and tender kiss on your clit before diving into it shamelessly. His expert tongue rolls around your sensitive bud and you can't help tugging on his black hair. You moan, a harmonious melody to his ears. His mouth gets rougher, taking sinful gulps from your dripping pussy.

Jungkook notices your walls clenching around nothing and rectifies it by entering you with his tongue. It feels so fucking good, especially when his nose bumps against your clit.

"Oh god!" You moan, your cunt throbbing around his wet muscle

Your back arches because you want to feel him more. It's paradoxical because you don't know if you can take any more pleasure. He settles his inked hand flat on your lower tummy, appreciating the softness of your skin and willing to protect the place where his second child will develop — he hopes — soon, and takes it as an opportunity to rub your clit with his thumb. Your pussy is so wet with your arousal and his saliva that your fiancé's mouth is making sloppy yet so arousing sounds. Jungkook's hums echo into you, driving you completely crazy.

"I want you" You groan as you tug on his hair to bring his handsome yet ruined face to yours

You kiss him passionately and you taste yourself on his tongue. It feels so sinful yet so arousing. To be honest, you could have cummed just with his tongue but you want to do it around his big fat cock. And now that you know that you're going to spend the rest of your life with Jungkook, you know you can use his mouth on your cunt another time. Every time you want.

Your hands impatiently grab the hem of his shirt, urging Jungkook to reveal his perfect body to you. And he does. Your breathe gets cut. He is gorgeous. His bare torso is even more beautiful in the sunset light coming from your window, or maybe it's love that taints your vision. Your hand caresses his skin and you feel his muscles flexing under your touch. You run your hand on his biceps and abs and finally reach his own hand. You squeeze it tenderly and look at Jungkook in the eyes. The time seems to stop for a second. There is no words needed because you both know what you want to say: you love each other.

Jungkook brings your hand to his lips and kisses it before helping you to take off your dress and your bra. It's weird to be all naked in front of him because, even through it's only the second time, you feel comfortable. And you know it's because it's him. You feel his doe eyes traveling on your body, making you blush.

"You're beautiful" He tells you

"You're beautiful, too" You whispers back

Jungkook feels like he loves you even more. Every time he hears your sweet voice, every time he sees your face, every time he looks at Junghee, he loves you more. He wonders how it's even possible since his love for you is already endless.

He grabs a pillow and places it under your head to make you comfortable since he intends to make love to you all night long. His breathe aches when your hands unbutton his jeans. His own hands join yours to peel himself naked. Your thumb spreads a drop of pre cum on his tip, making Jungkook moans softly yet huskily.

He brings your legs to your chest to admire your pussy once again. He can't wait to enter you, especially when he sees your hole clenching. Fuck, it's so hot, it's like your cunt is craving for his cock. With two fingers, he penetrates you, just enough to gather enough of your juices to lube his hard length.

When his dick is shining with your essence, he grabs the base of it and brings it closer to your pussy. He looks at you another time, silently asking you if it's okay and you vigorously nod, owning a smirk from Jungkook. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shut close when the tip passes over your entrance. He goes slow, making you feel every single inch of his cock. It's so big that it stretches you in the best way possible. When he is entirely in you, you let go the air you were keeping in your lungs.

"Fuck, it's big" You moan, filling Jungkook's chest with pride

You might have had sex not so long along, the position and the no-rush of the situation makes you feel him more. Last time, you didn't really take time to appreciate how well he opens your cunt and how fucking good it feels.

"You're the one who makes me this hard" He teases but bends over to kiss you and soothes a little of your discomfort — which is not, it's pure pleasure

You want to move your legs but the inked man has other plans. He keeps them close to your chest by holding the back of your knees and starts humping into you. His pelvis snaps against your pussy and ass, making your head foggy with delight. You have to put a hand on your mouth to cover your loud moans but Jungkook doesn't like it. He frees your legs, which automatically wrap around his waist, and intertwines yours fingers with his, placing both hands next to your head.

"Let me hear you" He cockily says and you immediately groan louder — you can't really do otherwise when he is pounding harsher

"Oh god, Kook!"

You squeeze his hands harder to hold onto something, the pleasure way too big not to loose your sanity. Immediately, Jungkook's eyes are attracted by your bare finger and he frowns. He doesn't like it. With a swift move, he slides his own ring on your left forefinger. Despite the ring being too big for you, his chest is filled with happiness and pride. Your small hand adorned with his ring next to his tattooed skin is so beautiful and romantic and means everything to him that he wishes he could take a picture — he would if he wasn't ball deep inside you right now. It feels right yet extraordinary. Loving you was never a choice he made but if he had to, he would. A hundred times, in a hundred different lives.

"Look at me" He asks you gently, slowing his dick strokes a little

His pace is more passionate and romantic now, rolling his hips deep against you. Your eyes are drawn into his black irises full of love. You free your right hand and cup his face. Jungkook presses his cheek against your palm and slightly turns his head to settle a soft kiss on it. The gesture is sweet and attacks your heart.

"My beautiful man" You whisper, your eyes getting watery by the emotion even though it's hard to believe that Jungkook is now yours because you can't be this lucky

You can feel his tip brushing against your g-spot from time to time. Your fiancé gets a clue of it since your walls tighten around him. It's so fucking good and your bouncing boobs are like a challenge for him: he wants to fuck you harder to make them jolt more. So he does, the low and deep pace long forgotten to set a quick yet still deep rhythm. He grabs one tit and pinches your nipple quite hard.

"Kook!" You whine

"Sorry, I couldn't resist, I love your boobs" He apologies but still keeps his hand around your breasts

He digs his knees firmly into the mattress and straightens up to pound into you harder. He places one of your legs on his shoulder and wraps his strong arms around it to keep you in place. The change of angle sends his cock directly to your sweet spot.

"Oh, god, right here! I'm gonna come!" You notify Jungkook and he nods

"Go on, baby, make me see your pretty fucked face" He replies with grinned teeth due to the effort

The sound of your clapping skins is hot and all your senses are filled by Jungkook. Your room even smells like sex. And what a great sex... You've never felt this good while fucking because it's more than just the physical aspect, it's also the emotional side.

Your left hand reaches for one of his and your fiancé tenderly smiles at the silver band around your finger shining with the light. You feel real close to the edge. Your cunt becomes tight and Jungkook hisses with pleasure. He leads your hand to your pussy so he can use his thumb on your clit. It's what you needed to feel the wave of arousal washing over you. You loudly moan his name while you're cumming, creaming Jungkook's fat cock. He helps you reach your high with his poundings and the delicious circles he draws on your sensitive bud.

You're out of breathe when you come back to Earth and the tattooed man has slowed down his pace but he hasn't come yet. That's something you need to fix. You push on his pec to make him rest on his back. You're quick to sit on his lap, knees on both sides of his perfect and sexy body, especially with a thin layer of sweat and a heavily breathing chest. You hold his dick up to impale yourself on it.

Jungkook settles his hands on your hips and guides you to find the good rhythm. You take support on his strong chest and smile at the ring. You can't wait to have your own.

You ride him like a maniac despite your exhaustion. Your hair sticks to your forehead and to the back of your neck but you don't care. You take him deep, so deep that your clit brushes to his pelvis every time.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good" He growls, his eyes set on your bouncing tits

He gives you a quick slap on the ass, provoking a squeak of surprise from you, soon replaced by arousal. There is a pool of mess between your legs and Jungkook can feel your juices dripping down his balls.

"I want to fill you so bad" He continues "I can't wait to see pregnant again"

His words make your heart jump and your pussy clench. Why does pregnancy turn you on so much?

"My gorgeous baby mama" He whispers, more to himself than to you but you hear him nonetheless

"If having a baby make you this hard, then we should have more than two kids" You tease him

"You make me hard and it's having a baby with you that makes me happy" He rectifies, your cheeks taking a darker shade of red

The butterflies coming from his confession spur you to faster your pace. Your ass slaps against his thighs, filling the room with sinful sounds. Jungkook squeezes your asscheeks and controls your moves by pulling you harsher on his cock.

"Fuck, you ride me so well, baby"

Your moan are louder as you feel another orgasm approaching. Your moves get unsteady and Jungkook takes over by lifting his hips and thrusting into your throbbing cunt. Your head rolls back, making your groans raspier and your hands fitting into fists on his chest.

"Kook.." You try to say between dick strokes "I'm close"

"Me too, baby" He growls

Your body shakes, your toes curl and you fall on his torso as you cum again. White dots paints your vision and you feel like in another world. Jungkook's arms wraps around your frame to hold you in place as he chases his own high. You settle some kisses in his sweaty neck and your hands run through his black hair.

"Cum inside me" You plea, driving your fiancé crazy

"Oh, fuck..." He moans as he releases his hot shots of seeds

You are both panting and none of you wants to move. So you stay like that, sweaty and exhausted but cuddling. You hum when he caresses your back and kisses your temple.

"I love you" You whisper, your head beyond the clouds because of your orgasms and your happiness

"I love you, too" He replies gently before jokingly adding "If that doesn't make you pregnant, I'll be happy to try again"

A tired laugh escapes your lips. You are happy. So, so happy right now in your best friend/baby daddy/fiancé's arms. All the things he is for you reflect how much he means in your life. Now, you can't wait to be married with him again and you add another baby to your family. Jungkook told you he wanted a girl and you find the idea very pleasing, even though a cute little boy like Junghee would be perfectly fine too.

✧˖°⋆˚ ✿˖°

2 years later

You are stressed. More than stressed actually but you can't show it to Junghee while he is so excited. You kneel in front of your five-year old — already — son. You make sure to fix his equipment again, not wanting him to get hurt.

"Are you sure it's not dangerous?" You ask your husband for the hundredth time, making him roll his eyes

"Babe, it's a children competition. They are not even allowed to hit each other except than on the chest protection" Jungkook tries to reassure you

You nod but you don't feel better. Why did you agree with your son taking boxing classes? Yeah, of course you remember: Junghee has begged you for it, wanting to be 'as cool as his dad'. With heavy heart, you let him join his friends and you head to the coach corner where your husband gives the last instructions to his students.

It's quite funny to see your big and strong husband talking with such seriousness to a bunch of children. Especially when he has a baby-carrier on his chest with your baby girl in it. Your 15 month-old daughter seems calm, sucking on her pacifier while looking with big eyes at her dad. Her cuteness makes you slowly lose your sanity every day. You step closer, not even caring about the questioning look Jungkook is sending you and you kiss your daughter on her chubby cheeks, which makes her giggle.

"Hum, babe, I'm trying to give important explanations here" He catches your attention and only then you realize that all the children are looking at you

"Oh, sorry" You apologies with blushed cheeks — but how could you resist your adorable baby?

You stay close to Jungkook the whole competition, cheering for his students. Your heart stops and you grab his hand when your son steps on the ring. He looks confident and the fierce in his eyes is similar to his dad's one before a fight. It's painful to watch Junghee getting hit, even if it's just on his chest and if he has a whole equipment to protect his small body.

When the bell rings and Junghee wins because he has given more hits than his opponent, you jump of joy — and relief.

"Mommy!" Junghee exclaims, running to you with a big bunny smile

You take him in your arms and kiss his cheeks, even though you're kissing his protection helmet more than his skin.

"You did so good, baby!" You praise him

"Gaaaaaw!" Your daughter shouts against Jungkook's chest

She certainly wants to congratulate her big brother.

"I won for you, Jiwon" Junghee proudly announces and your heart melts instantly

"I see, now you can protect your sister and mama, right?" Jungkook asks and his son nods

"Can we have pizzas for diner, please?"

You can't resist his big doe eyes. You can't believe Junghee is already five. You can even less believe that Jiwon was born almost a year and a half ago. It's just that happiness makes time pass quicker. You look at Jungkook and your smile grows wilder. You love the man, and you love even more the family he gave you.

Drabble 1

#bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #jjk #jjk x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan sonyeondan

2K notes · View notes

ichorai · 5 months ago

Text

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind.

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?”

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground.

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along.

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend.

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed.

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children.

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose.

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance.

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb.

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother.

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything.

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you.

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror.

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell.

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end.

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys.

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak.

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them.

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd.

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them.

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod.

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once.

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story.

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you.

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril.

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods.

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder.

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow.

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak.

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon.

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them.

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off.

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted.

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied.

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters.

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.”

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror.

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done?

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more.

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances.

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs.

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.”

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.”

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage?

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected.

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air.

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me.

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants.

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father.

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little.

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that.

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever.

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye.

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago.

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well.

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered.

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally.

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words.

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper.

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister fanfiction #jaime lannister fluff #jaime lannister angst #jaime lannister fic #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister x stark!reader #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #jaime lannister

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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.

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