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asahicore · 1 year ago

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bad news first - sjy (m)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mean it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see Jake before he sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you beam.

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

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

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

“Good night!”

“Night, Y/N!”

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

“Gosh, what’s all this for?”

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

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

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

“And what?” you ask.

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

“What?”

“Is that it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know that, no need to remind me.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t-”

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

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

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

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

“You do English Lit.”

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

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

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

“You’re not answering my question.”

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

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

You pause. “He did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hadn’t started unusually.

“So, bad news first, right?”

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

“I’m moving to Korea next month.”

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

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

“Forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You dated your boss?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How long were you together?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How much of a bonus?”

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

“Okay. Got any more specifics?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His tea tastes even sweeter that day.

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

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

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

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

All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could fix him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Snax? What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

“But… I’m scared,” Jake says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Like kissing her, or some-”

“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First, he has a trip to plan.

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

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

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

“Oh, we’re not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“People are used to the cold here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such an idiot.”

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?”

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

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

And this is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you so much, Jakey.”

He smiles. “It’s no worries.”

“Did you do it all this afternoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am. It’s just a lot.”

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

“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

“No, just… I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would’ve been hot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I guess.”

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

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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maureenjohnsonbooks · 2 months ago

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A friendly hello in an unfriendly time

(The following was the content of my most recent newsletter, which you can get for yourself if you like.)

HELLO FRIENDS So. Um. What a time, huh? Things are not great. I really hope you are doing okay. I went a bit quiet on social media after the election (at least on IG--I am on Bluesky ALL THE TIME). It felt weird to be talking about my own books, so for a few months I didn't. But I was making them! I am currently well into the sixth STEVIE BELL MYSTERY, and I have finished (along with my friend Jay Cooper) a MYSTERY that is coming out in September! It is called You Are the Detective: The Creeping Hand Murder. The book is a dossier, a collection of documents and pictures. You are the detective and Scotland Yard has handed YOU the case file. You have to solve the mystery. When you think you have the answer, you open a SEALED ENVELOPE IN THE BACK WITH THE SOLUTION.

Here is a Proof of Life pic of us working on page proofs:

Working on this side by side on art and design to put together a GREAT MYSTERY has been amazing. It looks REALLY, REALLY GOOD. I cannot wait to show it to you.

MORE BOOK STUFF. I am thrilled beyond belief say that Death at Morning Househas been nominated for an Edgar Award by the Mystery Writers of America. As a mystery person, this is very meaningful to me. I don't know if I will get that little Poe head, but I'm just happy to be invited. Death at Morning House is a story about a few things that are relevant right now. It's about how our American past informs our American present, which is currently a tire fire. Our history isn't buried that deep. It's just that people don't want to acknowledge it, and they don't want you acknowledging it either. They will take every book out of the library rather than let history be told. A few things in the book that are ringing some bells right now. Two things I knew about while writing it and one I did not. 1. America's history with eugenics. Whoooo. We loved eugenics and Nazism (the literal kind) was WAY TOO POPULAR. We need to know this history--and this is the story book banners are trying to retell or erase. The backstory of the book involves a family, the Ralstons, who are regarded as the ideal American family. Look at them! They are rich! They wear matching outfits and live in a mansion! And they love eugenics! (Well, some of them do.) In creating the Ralstons, I kept things very close to historical reality. I actually had to tone things down for the book because the reality would have become so overwhelming that the story would tilt off balance. But we built a lot of things on the back of eugenics and racism and those things cannot stand.

2. Queer joy is important and needs to be front and center! Marlowe, the main character in Death at Morning House, is proudly and cheerfully queer and in love! She is romantic! And sure, her timing isn't always great, but love will prevail! Affirm queer lives. Protect trans kids. Never, ever, ever back down from this. 3. Canada is our friend. This one, I didn't see coming. I didn't think we were going to get into a TRADE WAR WITH CANADA because I don't drink bleach and hallucinate weird events. Ralston Island is on the imaginary line that squiggles through the St. Lawrence River that separates America and Canada. We are intertwined. WE LOVE CANADA. (Bonus fact: my grandfather was Canadian. He was born in British Columbia, in Nanaimo, and my aunt there made the best Nanaimo bars. If you have never had one, don't sleep on this. Try one now. Here are dairy and vegan versions. GO CANADA!) Whether you read my books or not--reading ANY books, supporting libraries, talking about books, sharing books--THAT IS WHAT IS IMPORTANT. Use your library. It really, really helps them to get footfall. Ask the librarian how they are doing. Aside from books (though books will help you through just about anything), I wanted to recommend a few silly and life-affirming things I enjoy. Just some stuff you can watch or listen to that are a guaranteed GOOD TIME. 1. I'm a recent and massive fan of Watcher TV, specifically Shane and Ryan (who used to do Buzzfeed Unsolved). They have a few shows out there, but I am going to recommend Puppet History, which is spectacular. You can get started maybe with this episode on the straw hat riot, but they are all funny. MAKE SURE TO WATCH THE SONGS. 2. I'm a long time fan of The Dollop history podcast, which is a comedy podcast that gets very, very real! But is also comedy? They get into the reality of American history and talk about a lot of the things I mentioned above. But they also have some absolute classics that are just VERY FUNNY. A quick playlist of pure absurdity: the Egg Nog Riot, the 1908 New York to Paris Car Race, and Action Park. 3. I can't speak highly enough of Anxious People, which you can watch on Netflix. A mysterious person runs into an open house apartment viewing and takes a group of people hostage--then vanishes? And no one saw a thing? This locked room mystery turns into something magical and will reaffirm your faith in other people. IT'S SO GOOD. 4. Two UK shows that own my heart (well, many do, but these will fix you): Ghosts and Ludwig. (Note: NOT the Ghosts on CBS. I am strict about this.) You can see Ghosts some US streaming services, but come closer...I will whisper something to you...*looks around*...you can get into BBC iPlayer by using a VPN and then entering some random UK post code and saying that you have a TV license. They won't come after you. You may have to try a few VPNs but one will work. Using this method, you can also watch Channel 4 online. GET YOURSELF SOME UK COMEDY. UK, WE NEED YOU. 5. If I only have three minutes to dispel the vapors I watch this. If I have five, I do a Murdle. If I have ten, I do this thing where you look at art for ten minutes. If I have fifteen I play Splendor Duel on board game arena. Whenever you are, whatever is going on, I hope you are okay. Remember, the answer has always been and will always be taking care of each other. None of this is easy. With love, I remain, Maureen Johnson, author

#death at morning house #maureen johnson #yabooks #activism #history #book banning #mysteries #cozy mystery #uk comedy #queer #queer romance #lgbtqia #reading #books #books and reading

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gucciwins · 1 year ago

Text

Y/N just wants Harry to like her.

Word count: 5964

A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.

Now happy reading! I love you

Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.

Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer.

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers.

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is.

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy.

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be.

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend.

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden.

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job.

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them.

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

Everyone would ask Harry to join.

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud.

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage.

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him.

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?”

No answer.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

He fidgets with his fork.

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?”

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate.

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.”

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction.

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft.

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.”

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself.

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile.

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends.

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?”

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover.

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.”

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.”

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her.

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old.

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait.

“Where to?” He asks curiously.

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?”

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?”

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement.

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else.

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly.

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.”

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers.

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached.

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door.

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her.

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused.

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned.

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.”

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to.

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.”

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof.

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.”

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.”

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them.

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.”

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind.

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.”

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?”

“See you in a bit then.”

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats.

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event.

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.”

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!”

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together.

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised.

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.”

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day.

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year.

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is.

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her.

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls.

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way.

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence.

“I did,” he answers.

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales.

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.”

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.”

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.”

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead.

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France.

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.”

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees.

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry.

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her.

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands.

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible.

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends.

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this.

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay.

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully.

And so they continue on.

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush.

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is?

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up.

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.”

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes.

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?”

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.”

“Paul Mescal,” he adds.

“Hozier.”

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles.

“You’ve got taste, Styles.”

“As do you.”

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her.

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.”

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.”

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?”

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.”

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.”

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry.

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?”

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too.

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.”

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly.

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?”

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.”

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.”

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door.

“Let me walk you up.”

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way.

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters.

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.”

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.”

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.”

“Ask me,” he pleads.

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly.

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.”

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes. Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss.

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises.

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up.

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat.

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back.

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?”

Harry can’t say no.

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last.

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps.

“Morning,” he answers timidly.

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off.

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes.

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.”

“How does this weekend sound?”

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?”

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises.

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door.

“Yes, love?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?”

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.”

Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles story #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry story #harry fic rec #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles halloween #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #fic rec #harry styles pleasing

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gracieheartspedro · 5 months ago

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an: hiii lovers! this is the first year I'm doing this! I have been compiling my favorite fics this year and wanted to list them all out for you! there's a wide variety of characters here, so I am organizing them that way. just note, I am not putting all their warnings as all these fics have their own warning lists. please don't read anything that'll make you uncomfortable.

all these fics are smutty. I am a bit of a whore.

also would love to say that these may not have been written this year, simply just ones I've read this year!

happy reading <3

Joel Miller:

bitter by @pedgito - a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

cherry thrill by @hellishjoel - your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity.

Homemade by @gutsby - While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

The Hills by @honeyedmiller - drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

Dirty Laundry by @pedgito - you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

Brat (the entire series) by @shellshocklove - joel is having a brat summer.

The Right Kind of Wrong by @myownwholewildworld - your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it?

October's End by @salingers - a filthy halloween night with your dad's best friend, joel miller.

that's the way road dogs do it by @joelsdagger - on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past.

wherever you stray, i'll follow by @cavillscurls - Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

absolution (the entire series) by @pedgito - Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

positions by @hellishjoel - You and Joel mutually pleasure each other while “researching” porn.

hook em (series) by @joeloverture - trying to get back at your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you right into the arms of his coach. you plan on staying there for a little while.

Dave York:

let them feel by @guiltyasdave

Notes On Tutoring by @honestly-shite - Mr York becomes your new classical guitar tutor in your final year at music college. A dark, mysterious man, you struggle to get a read on him but that doesn't stop you from finding many ways to push his buttons. You manage to infuriate him with your stubbornness and forced complacency but there is definitely something else too. There's a pull that you feel whenever he is near. You wonder if he feels it too.

Javier Peña:

Unscripted Desire (the entire series) by @gothcsz - you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him?

When in Positano by @honeyedmiller - honeymooning in italy with your husband is a dream, especially when he reveals he wants to start a family with you.

three's a crowd by @amanitacowboy - you hadn't been with a woman for years, but for javi? you would do anything he asked and more

helping hand by @mrsmando - you and javi take a bath together.

Marcus Acacius:

Acta Non Verba by @myownwholewildworld - scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all.

Shadows of the love under the laurel by @stylesispunk - In the shadows of the Roman Empire, you, a devoted servant, discover love with the honorable General Marcus Acacius. You both navigate the treacherous current of social expectations when a looming marriage comes to risk everything.

Prima Nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin - Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Dieter Bravo:

It's Only Make Believe by @jennaispunk - What began as a publicity stunt turns into much more than you expected.

bouquet by @mypoisonedvine - being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.

salt, shot, lime by @freelancearsonist - You meet your celebrity crush in a bar; he turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected.

Lucien Flores:

Mutual by @luxurychristmaspudding - you and lucien have both been invited to this dinner with explicit instructions: play nice. but it's kind of hard when you can't stand each other. even harder when the meaning begins to blur with his hands on you.

Fortnight by @pedgito - it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

Azalea by @morallyinept - A man from your past shows up at a party and leaves you on the cusp of making a life changing choice. Do you stay, or do you leave with him?

Frankie Morales:

Listen by @luxurychristmaspudding - you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

End Up Here by @undrthelights - you’ve had a distaste for frankie for as long as you can remember, so how did you end up here?

Din Djarin:

New Perspective by @mellowswriting - teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

just can’t say goodbye by @saradika

Ellie Williams:

make a woman out of me by @pearlcigs - you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

too little too late by @elleloquently - " can you see me? i'm waiting for the right time / I can't read you but if you want, the pleasure's all mine "

Infiltration by @astralnymphh - your suspicious encounter has given ellie her five minutes and her knife—but can she truly measure insincerity?

Abby Anderson:

hers only by @abbyshands - gf!abby does not like clara, the gym trainer who can’t keep her hands off you. so who’s surprised when she loses her composure, channeling her rage in the form of rough, hard sex?

good luck, babe! by @studioghibelli - your boyfriend has been cheating on you. when you confront the woman he’s been seeing, she offers you a proposition.

don't fuck your coworkers by @untitledgf-pdf - you're a server and abby is a line cook

Eddie Munson:

please, please, please by @/keeryhours - Eddie is no stranger to the Hawkins legal system. It’s no surprise to anyone when he’s dragged in cuffs again, but it is unexpected when someone catches his eye - the police chief’s daughter.

COME AGAIN by @mediocredreams - When you go to your best friend for dating advice, his perverted ways come in handy.

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart (Are Harder to Hide Than I Thought) by @andvys - A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

smoke me out by @strangerstilinski - you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends?

#gracieheartspedro fic recs #fic recs #joel miller #dieter bravo #javier pena #din djarin #frankie morales #abby anderson #ellie williams #eddie munson #lucien flores #pedro pascal #gracie’s fic recs #EVERYONE IS SO TALENTED GO READ!!!

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auspicioustidings · 2 years ago

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Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

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mordredpendragon · 17 days ago

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SIR MORDRED, The Traitor: A Masterpost

“Know that he will be born the first day of May in the kingdom of Logres.” ⸺ Post Vulgate

In celebration of Mordred's birthday, here's a compilation of all things Mordred!

Majority of these links are supplied by the Arthurian Preservation Project! 💕 Would just like to shoutout @queer-ragnelle and @tboymordred for the help in making this! As well as many of my beloved friends and mutuals for their extended support. I put a whole lot of time and effort into this post, so to anyone reading this, I hope it will be of use to you in some way.

I would just like to preface that while I do try to be as thorough as possible, this is by no means an exhaustive list of every single Mordred appearance that exists. That would be impossible. Consider this moreso a curated list of based on what I have seen and what has been available to me thus far, so this will be updated as I go along.

There's a myriad of things I elected not to include for numerous reasons, so the media and literature I have chosen are ones that I think would be of interest for someone seeking out Mordred content specifically.

Last updated: 1/5/2025

Medieval Texts

Exhibit A

British History and The Welsh Annals by Nennius (Latin)

⭐The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth (Latin)

⭐The History of Scotland by Hector Boece (Latin)

⭐Chronica Gentis Scotorum by John of Fordun (Latin)

The Dream of Rhonabwy (Welsh)

The Welsh Triads (Welsh)

⭐Lancelot-Grail Vulgate Cycle (French)

Post-Vulgate (French)

Merlin and the Grail by Robert de Boron (French)

⭐Roman de Brut by Wace (French)

⭐Layamon's Brut (Middle English)

Stanzaic Morte Arthure (Middle English)

⭐Alliterative Morte Arthure (Middle English)

Le Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory (Middle English)

Mort Artu (Middle English)

La Tavola Ritonda (Italian)

These are the texts translated into English that I'm aware of where Mordred is a central character or plays a significant role. Out of all of these, I personally recommend Alliterative Morte Arthure, Layamon's Brut, and Vulgate the most. In these texts Mordred is given a surprising amount of complexity and nuance, especially in Alliterative Morte Arthure. He even gets a sick title, Mordred the Malebranche/Evil-Arm. Below in the essays section there's plenty of literature analyzing and discussing it, which I suggest you go take a read if you're curious. His characterization in Vulgate is also one of my top favorites and is also incredibly in-depth, especially prior to his rebellion. He was described as having been "kind and compassionate" at the start of his career as a knight, only for him to spiral after finding out his true heritage.

The Scottish Chronicles (such as the accounts written by John of Fodrun and Hector Boece, although there are more of them not listed.) are also fascinating since they talks about how Arthur is actually illegitmate and Mordred is the rightful ruler all along. While Fodrun speaks well of Arthur as an admirable king, Boece is biased against him in favor of Mordred/Modredus.

Exhibit B

⭐Perceval + Continuations (French)

I put this text in an entirely separate section purely because Mordred is just a side character here, but I think it's worth looking into if you like Mordred. In the Perceval Continuations, particularly the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Continuations, he is primarily shown as an antagonist for Percival. They have an intense duel where Mordred loses and begs Percival for mercy, to which he then sends him off to Arthur's court as his prisoner. Admittedly, I am biased 🌈 but Mordred shows up more often than you'd expect. The tone is moreso lighthearted and humorous with his rebellion against Arthur seemingly absent in it.

Retellings

I'm working on this in a time crunch so not everything has commentary (might update it when I feel like it lol) All my favorites and ones I consider must-reads/watches are listed with a star⭐ That being said, enjoy!

Novels

part I (Main Character)

⭐The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart

⭐A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

⭐Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Queen's Knight by Marvin Barowsky (cw: pedarasty)

The Book of Mordred + The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty

part II (Secondary Character)

Arthur The Bear of Britain by Edward Frankland

The Eagles Have Flown by Henry Treece

The Great Captains by Henry Treece

The Green Man by Henry Treece

Poetry

The Song of the Four Knights by Ernest Rhys

The Fight at Camlann by John Masefield

⭐Modred: A Fragment by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The Death of King Arthur by Your Loving Granny

King Arthur's Death by M.G Lewis

Plays

⭐Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

King Arthur by J. Comyns Carr

The Misfortunes of Arthur by Thomas Hughes

Guenevere: A Play in Five Acts by Stark Young

Short Stories

⭐Mordred and the Green Knight by Phyllis Ann Karr

Night Mare by Chelsea Quinn Yaribo

Told by the Moonlight by Darrel Schweitzer

Films and TV

Films

⭐Knights of the Round Table (1953) dir. by Richard Thorpe, played by Stanley Baker

Sword of Lancelot (1963) dir. by Cornel Wilde, played by Michael Meacham

Camelot (1967) dir. by Joshua Logan, played by David Hemmings

Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) dir. by Russ Mayberry, played by Jim Dale

⭐Excalibur (1981) dir. by John Boorman, played by Robert Addie (adult) and Charley Boorman (child)

⭐Morte d'Arthur (1984) dir. by Gillian Lynne, played by Nickolas Grace

⭐Knightriders (1981) dir. by George A. Romero, played by Tom Savini (technically his name is Morgan here but he's basically just Mordred.)

⭐New Adventures of a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1988) dir. by Viktor Gres, played by Mark Gres

Camelot (1998)

King Arthur Excalibur Rising (2017) dir. Antony Smith, played by Gavin Swift

Arthur & Merlin Knights of Camelot (2020) dir. Giles Alderson, played by Joel Phillimore

Everything listed with a ⭐ are genuinely some of my top ever favorite portrayals of Mordred. Absolute must-watch. 80's Arthuriana is life changing.

Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949) uncredited for whatever reason :/ if anyone knows who his actor is please let me know!

⭐BBC Legend of King Arthur (1979) played by Steve Hodson

⭐Merlin (1998) played by Jason Done

BBC Merlin (2008-2012) played by Alexander Vlahos (adult), Asa Butterfield (child)

Other

Music

⭐Mordred's Song by Blind Guardian

Mordred's Song by Grave Digger

Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale

Crashing Down by Heather Dale

War Between Brothers by Heather Dale

⭐Seven Deadly Virtues from Camelot (Musical)

Demon Down by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

The Hard Way by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

Peacemaker by The Mechanisms

Skin and Bone by The Mechanisms

TTRPG's

I, Mordred: The Fall & Rise of Camelot

Fair warning that I reccomend this with HUGE caveats as this contains violent misogyny, racism, and homophobia. If you like Gareth please look away because he sucks in this. That being said, Mordred is very much intended to be the hero you root for and he's so dreamy. He's described as pure of heart. He seems cold, but is warm to those he's close to. He has war dogs and they're all named after the 7 virtues. In a dark, bleak and gritty fantasy setting, Mordred is a shining beacon. It's adorable. I haven't played this myself, only read through the entire booklet but there's a lot of cool concepts and story beats that you can definitely expound upon yourself. Even the less savory elements, especially the misogyny and racism, can honestly just be ignored by the GM.

Video Games

King Arthur: Knight's Tale

I haven't played this so I can't tell you much about it, but it's a turn-based strategy game where Mordred is the main playable character and it's set in Post-Camlann.

Resources and Essays

Books

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles Especially Those of Great Britain and France by Robert Huntington Fletcher

The Arthurian Way of Death: The English Tradition edited by Karen Cherewatuk & K.S Whetter

Essays

⭐Mordred: Heroes and Anti-Heroes in Medieval Romance by Judith Weiss

⭐Arthur, Mordred, and Tragedy in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Gillian Adler

Friendly Fire: The Disastrous Politics of Friendship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Christine Chism

Re-presenting Mordred: Three Plays of 1895 by Pamela Yee

⭐Mordred's Lost Childhood by Elizabeth Archibald

The Sword and the Scepter: Mordred, Arthur, and the Dual Roles of Kingship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Steven P.W Bruso

⭐Who Was King Arthur’s Sir Modred? by Andrew Breeze

#sir mordred #mordred #arthuriana #arthurian mythology #arthurian legend #arthurian legends #knights of the round table #reading list #masterpost #happy maydred! 💕#maydred #maydred 2025

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bluelizard100 · 1 month ago

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Here’s a WIP I had sitting in my notes app for forever that I finally got around to finishing

Study abroad reader x Soap (my beloved) !!!

Warnings: kidnapping, non-con, bondage with a belt, post TBI Soap, very little editing, obsessive & unstable Soap, poorly written Scottish accent lmao

4.1k word count

Studying abroad seemed like the best opportunity you ever could’ve gotten. You were ecstatic, packed up and ready to fly over to Scotland, knowing there was a room at the university of Edinburgh waiting for you.

It all seemed so perfect. You got to travel without having to worry about missing your studies, and this was a wonderful opportunity to meet new people and make connections.

Just as you had wanted, everything was perfect. It would’ve stayed perfect if you hadn’t met Johnny.

“John MacTavish, but a bonnie thing like you can call me Johnny,” he’d said to you.

He was a flirt, and to you it was harmless, temporary fun. The two of you grew close fast. You ate lunch with him, hung out with him during your breaks, and you even spent the night at his place a couple times. You’d spend evenings texting or calling, unloading your stresses onto him while he cracked jokes to make you feel better.

He never talked much about his own problems with work— you understood, though. How much can he really talk about his problems with the military? He was special forces, after all— SAS. He never even told you how he got the gnarly scar on his temple. He talked about his team sometimes, but rarely ever a few words. He always just seemed happier to listen to you.

It was a wonderful thing, your friendship with him. There was an obvious connection between you two, an unspoken chemistry. You entertained the idea of something more with him, but you never brought it up; how could you? You had to leave eventually, so what was the point? What if he didn’t feel the same way, and you were just reading too far into things? He seemed like the type to flirt with his friends. If you went for it and asked him out, and he said no, you’d ruin the entire friendship. He probably wasn’t interested— you’re just a friend to him. Right?

After an entire year in Scotland, it was finally time to pack up and fly back home. You didn’t want to leave, but you missed home. It’d been a whole 365 days since you had seen your friends and family back home, and you longed to sleep in your own bed again.

When you told Johnny it was time for you to go back home, his eyes flashed with a dark intensity. You should’ve acknowledged the subtle shift, should’ve known something was wrong. You shouldn’t have ignored the unease building in your gut, but you didn’t.

He’s probably just pushing down his emotions. He’s a soldier; I bet he’s not even allowed to have feelings. You rationalized your disquiet away as you shoved haphazardly folded clothes into a stuffed suitcase.

It was the night before your flight that he finally showed you how he felt. You don’t remember much other than a prick to your neck, and then darkness.

—

You wake up in what you think is Johnny’s sitting room, sat on the couch with your wrists tied behind your back and your ankles bound together. Your head is pounding, your eyes burn, and your mouth and throat are dry. It’s too painful to think. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth, desiccated by whatever concoction was injected into your veins.

It takes you a moment to realize that you are, in fact, in Johnny’s sitting room, and not some random person’s house. It’s both relieving and terrifying to wake up in your friend’s home; you know where you are, you know you’re with someone who’s supposed to be safe… but you’re tied up and you were very obviously drugged.

Thoughts race through your head. Why am I here? And where is Johnny? What did he give me? Is Johnny okay? Did a terrorist capture him? Am I being used as a hostage?

Your thoughts spiral out of control with each scenario you came up with. Each new hypothetical has your blood pressure spiking and your heart fluttering. Just before you can open your mouth to scream, you hear footsteps.

Johnny emerges from the kitchen, stepping through the doorway lightly and almost calmly. You melt with relief, so glad to see that he’s okay that you don’t even notice his lack of panic.

“Johnny!” You nearly weep. He walks towards the couch, giving you a warm, loving smile. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he kneels down in front of you and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Oh, baby, ye dinnae need tae cry,” he coos.

You squirm on the couch, tugging against the ropes that keep you immobile. “J-Johnny,” you stammer, “you gotta untie me.”

His expression darkens, the warmth fading away.

You’re still panicked, though. You haven’t realized yet that there isn’t any danger except for the man in front of you.

“Johnny, we have to hurry.”

The danger in Johnny’s expression fizzles, replaced by confusion. “What?”

“Before they come back,” you sniffle. “The men who took me— they’re terrorists, right? We have to leave!”

Again, Johnny smiled at you. Poor thing. So naive.

“No terrorist, baby. We’re safe, aye?”

You break down again, crying with relief. Johnny sits himself on the couch and pulls you up into his lap, gingerly untying your wrists and ankles.

“Just you an’ me. It’s okay, ye dinnae need to cry.”

You babble into his neck, blaming your tears on whatever drugs you were given. He only shushes you, rocking you gently in his arms.

You cry for what feels like an eternity, but Johnny holds you tight. To you, he’s comforting you, offering himself as an anchor to your out of control emotions.

To him, he’s holding you tight so you can’t run away. He’s the anchor that’s going to keep you here, with him.

Where you belong.

—

You wake again, this time in Johnny’s room. In his bed. Wrapped in his arms.

He’s already awake, staring at you with unnerving intensity. It disappears as soon as he catches your eye, replaced with another one of his warm smiles.

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened, and even then, your brain decides to focus on your flight.

“Holy fuck!”

You spring out of Johnny’s bed so quickly that you stumble, the too-sudden postural change making your vision spot. Johnny hurries after you, wrapping an arm around your waist when you wobble.

Then his grip tightens. You’re being dragged back to the bed.

“Johnny,” you gasp, “I gotta- I gotta go. I missed my flight!” He pushes you back into the bed, grumbling when you slap at his arms.

“I need to go now!” You shout. You’ll have people waiting for you, school expecting you. You have to at least call.

You don’t get a chance to explain any of it. Johnny pushes you down onto your back and clamps his big hand over your mouth.

“Stop fuckin’ moving,” he demands, frustration turning his tone rough and mean. He stares into your wide eyes, his face inches from yours. You freeze out of pure shock, and when Johnny’s sure you’ll listen, he pulls his hand from your mouth.

“There we go,” he hums. “You’ve got nowhere ta be, baby. Ah took care o’ everythin’ for ya.”

The fuck does that mean?

“You… what? No, Johnny, I have to—“

You’re cut off again by him clamping his hand over your mouth.

“I said nae. Yer’ stayin’ here.”

You push at his shoulders, trying to get him off you, but he collects both your wrists in his free hand and pins them to your chest.

“I cannae let ye leave.” Johnny’s voice is thick with emotion, so intense that it scares you. You’ve never heard him like this. He’s always so lighthearted and unserious, turning everything into a joke. Now here he is, so genuine that his voice is unsteady.

“I need ya. I need ye here with me, by my side. They dinnae need ye; I do. They don’t deserve ye. They— they abandoned you, let ye come to a strange country all by yerself. Who fuckin’ knows what could’ve happened if I hadnae found ye so early on?”

He’s rambling, almost like he’s speaking to you and to himself. Like he’s trying to rationalize this, forcing it to make rational sense to you and ease his own guilt.

“I’d never leave ye. I’d never let ye get yerself in danger like they did. I’ll protect ye, keep ye safe and sound right here wi’ me.”

Johnny grew more and more distraught as he rambled, spilling his delusions while you tried to keep your tears at bay.

Finally, it all clicks.

Johnny— your friend Johnny, who was warm and kind and funny, had kidnapped you.

He drugged you, tied you up, and dragged you back to his house. He made you miss your flight back home. And now, apparently he’s holding you hostage.

Amidst his breakdown, Johnny notices the tears welling up in your eyes. “No, baby, no, no tears,” he coos, uncovering your mouth to cup your cheek instead. “It’s okay. Ah ken it’s a lot of feelings right now— love is a lot tae feel.”

For a moment you just stare at him. You just have to stare. Dumbfounded.

He thinks these tears are because I love him? He think I’m, what, overwhelmed with joy?

“…Johnny,” you say, voice shaky yet full of conviction, “you need to let me go.”

You watch Johnny’s face fall, see tears turn his eyes glassy. You almost feel bad.

Then he snarls, his expression turning vicious.

“Fuck no,” he growls, slamming your wrists above your head. He presses down until his nose presses against yours, until the breath he exhales is the breath you take in.

“I already said I’m not fuckin’ losing ye. I’ll no’ let ye go back to another—“

His voice cracks, and you feel hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

“…another man. I’m cannae let ye go back home. I cannae let some other lad sweep ye off yer feet and take ye from me, while I’m an entire fuckin’ country away from ye, helpless tae stop it.”

He takes a ragged breath and buries his face into your neck. “You’re mine. I said willnae lose ye.”

You don’t get a chance to even utter a response before Johnny snaps again, pressing you down harder against his mattress.

“If ye don’t want tae stay, I’ll make ye,” he snarls.

His free hand goes to his belt, and your cry of protest does nothing to deter him.

“I’ll show ye,” he mutters. “I’ll show ye how good I’ll be to ya.”

While you thrash and scream underneath him, Johnny loops his belt around your wrists and secures them to the headboard.

“Johnny stop! Stop it! Fucking let me go!”

Your shouting again does nothing. Johnny’s in some crazed state, not hearing anything— and if he is hearing it, it’s not affecting him.

Fabric tears, the sound drowned out by your screaming. Cool air hits your belly, and Johnny stuffs a ripped half of your shirt into your mouth.

He undresses you wordlessly, tearing the rest of your shirt off and then your bra. Your pants don’t get torn— simply yanked off your legs, your panties dragged along with them.

When you’re fully naked, tears streaming down your cheeks, is when Johnny finally stops. He pauses, sucks in a full breath, and stares.

God, he fucking stares. If you could, you’d curl in on yourself, hide from his burning gaze.

When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle. It almost startles you, the contrast between his earlier snarling and his current loving rumbling making your hair stand on end.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. “My sweet, beautiful wee bride.”

A shocked cry escapes you, the sound muffled by the scrap of shirt he shoved between your lips.

“Shh shh shh,” Johnny shushes you gently. “No cryin’ now. No more cryin’.”

His hands, rough with callouses, roam over your body. He starts at your hips, sliding up over your waist, feeling each individual rib, tracing the sides of your breasts, up your chest, gentle at your neck, until he finally cups your face in both hands.

“I’ll be the best husband ye could ever ask for, bonnie.”

You whimper, shake your head no, and he frowns.

“No?” He asks incredulously. “I ken what the problem is. Ye cannae turn that big brain o’ yers off. Are ye thinking too much again, baby?”

He uses his hold on your face to nod your head yes.

“Aw, I ken, baby. Ye’re always so nervous’, lettin’ that anxiety ruin everything.”

Johnny presses his lips to your forehead before he descends, making his way down your body. When he settles between your thighs, wrapping his arms around them to keep you still, he meets your teary eyes with his own intense, piercing blue stare.

“Let yer husband make it all better.”

He licks a long stripe up your cunt, from slit to clit, eliciting a sharp squeal that stays trapped behind your gag.

He’s gentle about it, laving his tongue against you in slow, gentle strokes. He’s making out with your pussy, kissing at your clit and sucking on your lips while you wail into your gag.

He pushes his tongue inside you, tasting you with an appreciative groan that vibrates around your pussy. You squeal again, and you swear he puffs out an amused breath through his nose.

Johnny alternates between those gentle licks and experimental plunges until your breath turns shallow. Your body succumbs, giving in to the desire you’ve harbored for so long even while your mind screams that this is wrong.

Against all your inner turmoil, your efforts to control your body’s responses fail. Your hips twitch and a tiny moan sounds from your lips, nearly imperceptible with the cloth muffling your voice.

But Johnny caught it.

And the air shifts.

He pauses, and you look down to see him staring up at you with a devious, excited glint in his eyes.

“There we go,” he growls, satisfaction spilling from his tone. “All warmed up.”

Your brow furrows with confusion, but Johnny answers your wordless question so quickly it gives you whiplash.

In what feels like a mere second, Johnny reaches up and rips the cloth from your mouth and returns to his spot between your thighs, latching onto your clit and sucking hard.

Intense, overwhelming pleasure shoots through your belly like electricity, ripping a startled scream from you.

He latched on tight, refusing to let go even as you buck your hips and cry out into the room, begging for a break.

Johnny releases your clit with a pop and looks up at you with a proud grin. “Told ye, baby, I’m gonna make it better— gonna take care of those racin’ thoughts. I’ll make sure ye cannae think about anythin’ at all.”

It should be a threat, but he said it so sweetly; It was like a loving promise.

Johnny dips back down, only this time he starts flicking his tongue over your poor clit, tormenting your swollen nub.

Again you cry out, unable to keep quiet. Johnny’s attacking your most sensitive spot, tormenting you with your own body. While you squirm and cry, your hips buck and roll in time with his tongue, searching for more.

Your efforts are rewarded with a satisfied grunt from Johnny, and he doubled his own. You didn’t think it was possible, but he proves you wrong— his tongue moves faster, harder, and he tightens his grip on your thighs to keep you from wiggling too much.

Your wails turn to moans, each sound that leaves you more desperate than the last. Tantalizing warmth floods your belly, along with a pressure that keeps building and building.

Each sound Johnny forces from you is taken as encouragement. Although your logical mind hates every aspect of this, you know that if he stopped now you wouldn’t be able to keep from begging. You’re too close for him to stop; the want has reached the tipping point to a primal need. Luckily for you, Johnny wants to deliver.

If you were paying more attention (read: if you were capable of paying attention), you’d have noticed that Johnny was losing himself, too. He’s rutting his hips against the mattress like an animal, matching the beastly way he devours your cunt.

Your abdomen tightens and your thighs fight to squeeze shut, cueing the band in your core to snap.

In a panic, still conscious enough to realize that you’re about to come on your friend-turned-kidnapper’s tongue, you glance down between your thighs.

Johnny had looked up at your face as soon as he felt your thighs squeeze. When you met his eyes, glazed over with need, that torturous band snapped.

Head thrown back in a strangled moan, molten pleasure rolling through your body like magma forcing its way to the surface, your body surrendering itself to Johnny.

Johnny refused to let up, lapping at your entrance to get every last taste of your release. You feared he wasn’t going to stop, uttering a breathless “please” with the last of your energy. Your plea was like music, the sweetest melody he’d ever heard, and he finally pulled away.

You let your head flop back against your pillow, muscles finally going lax. Johnny crawled back up your body, caging you in with his arms, elbows propped on either side of your head.

“There ye are,” he hums, looking down at you with nothing short of adoration. “Not thinkin’ so much now, huh?”

You don’t answer— can’t answer, really— but Johnny doesn’t mind. He smiles and cups your cheek again. Then, he’s leaning down and kissing you. Kissing you for the first time.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this before; what it would be like if you took the chance and told Johnny you had feelings for him.

You’d thought about how it would feel to kiss him. Would he be gentle, play it safe for the first time? Or would he be rough and passionate? Would his lips be soft, or would you have to tease him into using chapstick?

Every scenario you’d come up with had been domestic. Nothing like what you’re experiencing now, trapped underneath him with your wrists secured to the headboard. The taste of your own arousal lingering on his lips.

Johnny is gentle as he kisses you. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, the way you go slack and just accept it.

Accept his affections.

Accept him.

He nips at your bottom lip before pulling away and strokes his thumb over your cheek.

“The sweetest bride I could ever ask for,” he whispers.

Bride. The title has you squirming again, tugging against the belt at your wrists and using your legs to try and buck him off.

“Och—“ he huffs, pressing his hips down against yours. “Quit that.”

You stiffen. His hard-on presses down against you through his pants, which shouldn’t be surprising, but actually feeling it is enough to make you go still.

He grins at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Now he looks like the Johnny you know. The Johnny you befriended. His expression is incongruous— he shouldn’t be looking so playful right now, so unserious. But here he is, looking like this is all some practical joke.

The worst part? It makes you feel better.

His playfulness is familiar. It offers you the comfort that you so desperately need right now, acting as a subtle reassurance that— despite all of this— everything’s going to be okay.

“That’s a good girl,” Johnny murmurs, giving you a little peck on the lips.

“You’re thinkin’ again, though. Gotta do something about that before ye work yerself up again.”

He pulls his shirt off, throwing it down to the floor. His pants and boxers follow. He doesn’t take his time undressing, stripping himself down just as quickly as he did you.

Your breath hitches when you catch sight of his hard cock. It looks almost painful, ruddy at and around the tip and leaking.

He wraps his big hand around it and strokes it a few times, pumping up and down his length with a groan.

“Gonna make it official, baby,” he groans, lining himself up with your cunt. “Gonna make ye my wife.”

With that, he pushes in, groaning again as your warmth envelops him. He moves slowly, again savoring the feel of your bodies joining.

Your earlier orgasm prepped you enough to take the edge off, but the stretch of his cock was still enough to burn.

A whine sounds from your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, an instinctive reaction to the sudden burst of pain.

Johnny coos, but he doesn’t stop. “Poor thing. Ah ken it’s big, but Ah also ken ye can take it.”

He keeps pushing in, in, in, until he finally bottoms out and his hips meet yours. Johnny finally pauses, then, giving you a moment to get used to him.

You’re so full, stuffed so tight with him that he’s almost all you can think about.

Johnny practically trembles, his restraint hair-thin. “Ye feel so good, so warm,” he rasps, dipping down to nip at your neck. “My wife. Mine. Gonna treat ye right, better than anyone else ever could.”

He reaches up and, to your surprise, unbuckles the belt and frees your wrists.

“C’mon, baby, touch me. I know ye want to.”

You don’t move, your arms just laying above your head where he’d let them flop. Johnny sighs and grabs ahold of your thighs, hiking them up and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Stop thinkin’,” he huffs, grabbing your wrists next. He brings them up to his shoulders, holding them there until you finally touch, grasping his firm muscles.

“Good girl.”

You get another quick kiss before Johnny starts to move, and you feel your belly muscles flutter. That weird rippling sensation, like butterflies but better, and a moan catches you by surprise.

Just like before, Johnny takes it as encouragement. He moves a bit faster, changes the angle of his hips until you squeal. He growls like an animal, feral for your pleasure.

His big hands cup your tits, squeezing and kneading before he switches to rolling his thumbs over your pebbled nipples.

“Such a good girl,” he growls, getting lost in you for the second time tonight. “So perfect. M’ sweet wee baby, my bonnie wife.”

He zeroes in on that spot, the spot that makes you squeal, and targets it over and over. It’s too much, worse than when he went down on you. The sensitivity from then spills over to now, heightening everything he makes you feel.

The wiry hair at his pelvis tickles to your clit each time he fucks into you.

Too much.

He nails that perfect spot deep inside you over and over.

Too much.

His pinches and teases your sensitive nipples until they’re puffy.

Too fucking much.

Your jaw goes slack and sounds leave you freely, moaning and wailing without restraint.

You dig your fingernails into Johnny’s back, clawing him up like a scratching post, and he fucking loves it.

He fucks you faster, harder, twists your nipples almost meanly and bites down on your neck.

That bit of pain sends you hurtling over the edge, coming so hard it feels like the air is punched from your lungs.

Your pussy clamps tight around Johnny, gripping him tight like you never want him to leave. His hips stutter and he curses, nearing his own end.

“Oh- fuck-!”

He slams into you one last time before spilling his hot load deep inside you, filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, squishing you with his weight just long enough to catch his breath before shifting to let you breathe better.

The two of you lay quiet for a moment, too busy panting to try and speak.

Johnny gets his breath back first, propping himself back up on his elbows. He pulls out slowly, hissing when your cunt squeezes him again.

He looks down at you, spent and sleepy, and smiles again.

“Got yer head nice an’ empty now,” he says, his voice full of mirth.

Johnny slips out of the room, returning with some ice water and a damp washcloth.

He cleans you up, gives you sips of the cold water, and then crawls into bed with you.

“See?” He murmurs, his own voice turning rough with sleepiness.

“Ye belong with me.”

#cod #call of duty #john soap mactavish #bluelizard100 #cod x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #john soap mctavish x reader #dark fic

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sgiandubh · 1 month ago

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Looking for balance

People have been asking for years that she would name McGill in the same sentence as 'husband'. This happened, after almost six years of marital bliss #shitshow, which is (how can I properly put it?) at least peculiar. And yes, I am still perfectly unfazed - because you see, promo also means being as consensual as possible. In this regard, it would seem the lessons of that costly, (in)famous Vanity Fair interview have been learned. But also that her fresh, organic image the veterans of this fandom so much enjoyed is probably gone.

Among all the interviews she so liberally (and rather proportionally with the big budget of The Amateur) offered, the most interesting one was for Io Donna the woman weekly supplement of the big Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera. It was posted across the street and they were unable to read, let alone understand it. They imagine we were as parochial and dumb as they are, so I said 'hold my beer' and translated it for you.

[Source: https://www.iodonna.it/personaggi/star-internazionali/2025/04/08/caitriona-balfe-protagonista-con-rami-malek-in-operazione-vendetta/ - 8 April 2025]

This time, we are talking about a widespread, very prestigious European media outlet. Not a Swiss news portal, bearing also in mind that Switzerland is a market seven times less important, in terms of audience, than Italy.

Anyways, there goes - my own translation, thank you:

Caitriona Balfe, star of 'The Amateur': 'I'm Frustrated by Injustice in the World' A former model and aspiring director, she is best known for her role as Claire Fraser in the television series Outlander. by Michaela K. Bellisario

"They made Rami run around a lot. We shot the escape scene so many times that we ended up joking about it." Caitriona Balfe, 45, actress and supermodel, is one of the two female leads (the other is Rachel Brosnahan) in The Amateur with Rami Malek, an American spy action thriller directed by James Hawes, based on the 1981 novel of the same name by Robert Littell, in theaters starting April 10.

Malek is a CIA code breaker who works in the basement of the Langley headquarters in the United States. His life is turned upside down when his wife is killed in a terrorist attack in London. When his supervisors refuse to act, he embarks on a dangerous journey around the world to track down the real perpetrators of the attack and avenge his wife. Caitriona Balfe is the widow of another agent and helps Malek using her computer skills.

Caitriona Balfe in The Amateur : "I accepted the movie because we were going to shoot in Marseille and Istanbul"

For Caitriona Balfe, originally from Dublin, this is a new role . The actress is best known for her role as Claire Fraser in the TV series Outlander, for which she won a BAFTA Scotland, two People's Choice Awards and two Saturn Awards, and received four consecutive Golden Globe nominations for Best Actress in a Drama Series. In 2021, alongside Jamie Dornan, she starred in the film Belfast, written and directed by Kenneth Branagh.

Caitriona Balfe, what made you take this role? I liked the idea of measuring up to a character so different from the others played to date. And then I was attracted by the possibility of working with Rami Malek and the director James Hawes, who I admire for the series Slow Horses. Last but not least, I confess, the fact that it was shot in Istanbul and Marseille. After all those years in Scotland ...

In fact, you basically worked and lived in Scotland for the TV series Outlander. Yes, that's eleven years in total. Intense and beautiful years. But, of course, every now and then changing location doesn't hurt, especially if I think of my colleagues who, instead, shoot for example, I don't know, in exotic locations (laughs).

Caitriona Balfe: "Rami Malek Gave Me So Much Advice" You have long scenes with Rami Malek, the “avenger”, especially those where you run to escape from the “enemies”, can you tell us a behind-the-scenes anecdote? If you mean the escape scene, we repeated it five times, it must have been three in the morning on a cold January night in Marseille. An adventure… Malek is a very generous professional and gave me a lot of advice. I arrived on the set when the shooting was already underway, it always takes a few moments of orientation to fit in and Rami supported me at every moment.

What is the message of this action thriller: revenge or peace? The film seems to be focused on revenge, Rami tries in every possible way to avenge his wife's assassination by occult terrorist forces. But during his long escape around the world, a bit like in a hero's journey, he understands that after all revenge is only the starting point of what he is doing. He understands the only thing that makes sense is to discover the truth and he wants justice to be served.

Food for thought in such a troubled moment of global politics… Exactly. In our world, these two levels, revenge and aspiration towards justice, are often confused. Yours is an interesting question we should all ask ourselves at this moment in time. I liked my character because she chose truth instead of revenge. And she has a positive influence on the character played by Rami Malek.

Caitriona Balfe: "I'm frustrated by injustice"

What makes you call for revenge? Everything! I am a Libra and I am looking for harmony in everything. I am frustrated by the lack of empathy between people, yet we are all interconnected, equal, we should treat each other with love and compassion. The same goes for animals and the environment. Everything would be easier, right? Instead, it seems to be the most difficult thing in the world. I was talking about it with a friend just today. You reach a certain point in life where you understand that the only important thing is love for all sentient beings.

Let's take a step back in time: you were a supermodel in the 90s and then you made your debut in The Devil Wears Prada… As I always say… I didn’t actually act in the film. I was an extra, one of the many girls who sashay in and out of the editorial office. But at least I had the chance to meet Meryl Streep. Even becoming a model was the result of chance. I was eighteen and studying acting in Dublin when I was noticed. I was able to live in Japan, France, Germany… ten years of discoveries.

"I'm interested in nourishing the soul"

You have tried directing on Outlander's set. Yes, I would love to end up behind the camera again, I am interested in exploring storytelling and narratives. Ultimately, thousands of years ago, when we were all cavemen, we told stories around the fire. For an actor, that is perhaps the most interesting side of it, because we are limited in the roles we play. Directing will make me able to tell stories in a much broader way.

How do you balance your private life with your professional life? Since I had a son, everything has become much more complicated. But it's not a problem, he is my priority. For the first three years of his life I worked a lot, now I've decided to take some time for us to be together, also because he will start school and we will have to find a new balance.

What do you do in your free time? I explore my creative side. I try to practice yoga. Nourishing the soul is definitely the most important task we have.'

***

I took the liberty to put in italics the answers I considered way more interesting, and perhaps even honest, than the rest. Her Stans should definitely take a deep look at what she said about empathy (or rather lack thereof), equality and her ultimately feeling that people are interconnected - all things I have particularly found Mordor wanting, especially considering their uncanny brutality and love of insults.

Corriere della Sera is a far more liberal media outlet than FOX, so the message of her points of talk was tailored to align with its values: yoga, compassion, empathy, environment and animal rights, tolerance and connection, injustice of the actual global context (subtly so, always as far as she is concerned). Again, no surprise and a clearly more serious, better adjusted image for the (perhaps more sophisticated) given audience. All you need is love, insomma: there's nothing more consensual than that, there's nothing less encouraging to probe further the real C behind the mask, Oriana Fallaci style.

I was not surprised, then, to see no mention of McGill, whatsoever. This is, at any rate, rarely done in European media of this level and importance, unless the story is compelling. She seems now entirely focused on Blonde Bambino, who (in her own words) has become 'her priority' (but, but...oooh, LOL) . That was the golden opportunity to mention McGill in a very positive, indisputable context, yet she did not take it - I really wonder why. Oh, and in case you wonder, the 'us' in 'I decided to take some time for us' refers, in my humble opinion, exclusively to her and Blonde Bambino. This being reinforced by her mentioning she worked a lot on Outlander and her will to spend more one on one time with him before he'd start school.

The contrast is clear. Different messages for different markets: she is a human being, not a batch of Skyr. However, it is with deep nostalgia (and also a wide grin) that I noticed the website also linked to a July 2016 interview of hers to the same newspaper, for the people who had time to kill and were willing to know more about her story. Lo and behold, here is what I found:

[Source: https://www.iodonna.it/personaggi/interviste-gallery/2016/07/15/caitriona-balfe-sono-uneroina-romantica-ma-non-ho-tempo-per-lamore/]

My translation: 'Caitriona Balfe: I am a romantic heroine, but I don't have time for love. On the TV screen, I have two husbands, but in my own life I've got none', jokes the actress, star of the cult series Outlander. She is talking to us about 'real sensuality', passion and feeling embarrassed. And she tells us why she'll never go to Paris with any fiancé'.

My translation: 'From the Scottish Highlands to the 1750's Paris: how much does the script weigh on the acting?

The Scottish Highlands are wild lands, the intensity of the landscape and the events of that time are encouraging Claire and Jamie's passion. Then, Paris does create strong tensions. I don't know if you have already went to the French capital while being in love: it's such a pressure to love each other, that it always ends in fighting' (laughs).

Of course, the rest is paying lip service to the narrative, but what about the trolls across the street for whom McGill was already the chosen one, by then (as if, heh... as if...)?

Stop lying. You're not doing her any good.

#fandom #shitshow #The Amateur Promo April 2025

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gotham-ruaidh · 1 month ago

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the playground - new from the Modern Glasgow AU

Modern Glasgow AU: Chronological order || Publication Order [AO3]

(set about 9 years after Jamie and Claire’s wedding)

“But Mama – ”

Claire set the knit cap – a gift from Murtagh and Tante Suzette last Christmas – a bit more snugly around four-year-old William Fraser’s ears. “No buts. It’s cold today. You don’t want to get sick again like a few months back, do you?”

William sighed theatrically. “No. That wasnae fun at all.”

Claire patted her son’s shoulders. “Go have fun with your sisters. I’ll be right here.”

She watched William dart across the playground to the slide, where five-year-old Brianna and six-year-old Faith were already patiently waiting for their turn. Brianna waved, and Claire, smiling, waved back.

It was a bright but uncharacteristically cold day for early April – even in Glasgow, where like most of Scotland the weather could drastically shift in an instant. But it was the first full day of the half term school holiday – and Claire had worked very hard to rearrange her shifts at the hospital so that she, too, had a holiday this week. It felt odd to be at the park at nine o’clock on a Monday morning – but in a good way.

Her mobile phone buzzed – and glancing down, she smiled. A selfie of Jamie with fourteen-year-old Fergus, grinning in front of a long row of printing machines. Fergus could barely sleep the night before, so excited to accompany Jamie on a routine visit to the publishing house’s printing facilities. Not only would they check the progress of printing the second edition of the spy thriller that had become quite a runaway bestseller – thrilling nobody more than the author, their dear friend, Jamie’s client Ned Gowan – but they would meet the man himself at the facility. Having finally been deemed old enough to read one of Ned’s books – which he had inhaled cover to cover in the span of two days – it was no wonder that Fergus could barely contain himself. A good start to his half term, indeed.

Have fun! Love you she tapped in reply. Smile widening as Jamie sent back a string of heart emojis.

She tucked the phone in her purse and picked up her coffee, which had finally cooled enough to sip.

Brianna had already made her way down the slide, and moved on to the swings – not bothering to wait for her brother and sister.

“And good morning to you!”

Claire turned and waved to the other side of the bench. “Hello! So happy you could drop by on your way in.”

Dr. Geillis Duncan stooped for a quick hug and plopped down beside Claire. “At least no scheduled surgeries today – though I’m on call for the A&E. Who knows what kind of disasters people may get into when they’re out of school this week.”

Claire smiled into her coffee. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

Geillis adjusted her sunglasses. “Let’s see – I count one, two, three wee Frasers. Did they have you up at the crack of dawn?”

“They did.”

“Probably not the way you wanted to start your week off.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Geillis looked over at her friend. “But you’re on holiday. Time to relax.”

“I want to spend every moment I can with them, Geillis. Especially when they’re still so small. I try to do the same with Fergus, but he’s a lot more self-sufficient. Which is wonderful, but…well. It’s not the same.”

Now Faith was at the bottom of the slide, waiting for William at the top. Knit cap already loose atop his wild hair.

“There was a period where Jamie and I thought we wouldn’t be able to have a family of our own,” Claire continued, softly. “So now that we have them…”

“And your parents died when you were so wee. I get it.”

Claire sighed. “I need to spend more time with them, Geillie. I love my job. I love the hospital, I love doing surgeries. I love helping my patients.”

“But…”

“But I love my family more. My children, and my husband, and the life we’ve worked so, so hard to build together.”

Geillis fished around in her massive handbag. “So, are you thinking of cutting back a bit?”

“I am. I can’t keep this pace. It’s not fair to Jamie when I’m asking him to step in so much, he’s got his own demanding career. And Murtagh and Suzette are so wonderful to us, and William and Bree will be in full-time school soon, but still.” She pursed her lips.

Geillis produced a packet of tissues, and handed one over to Claire.

“I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, Claire. Everybody at the hospital knows how much you love your family. And it certainly helps that your kids are all cute as buttons. Not to mention that husband of yours…”

Claire blew her nose, from the cold and from emotion. “Don’t you start on that again. I told you before, I won’t answer any of your questions about our private life.”

Geillis shook her head, smiling. “Three bairns in three years…you and the lad were certainly busy. Is it really true that you met on an aeroplane, took one look at each other, and that was that?”

William made it to the bottom of the slide, and hugged Faith, and together they walked to the monkey bars. Claire smiled, thumb touching her wedding ring. Tasting Jamie’s kiss that morning, slow in the predawn quiet of their bed, his hand wrapped around her bare hip.

She blinked. “I got off the plane with him that night, moved in, and we married a month later. The boarding passes are framed on the wall of our bedroom.”

Geillis sighed. “And I consider myself lucky if a man will look twice at me in the pub.”

“What happened to Greg?”

“Haven’t texted Mr. Edgars in a while. Not since he said I was too wild for him.”

“Call him. Have a nice quiet evening. You’d be surprised.”

Brianna shrieked – and Claire’s heart leapt. But all was well, Bree had made it to the top of the monkey bars and was waving madly.

Claire waved back, heart still stuttering. “That one will keep me on my toes.”

“Probably no different than her da at that age.”

That caused a smile. “So Murtagh tells me. And loves reminding Jamie, too.”

Geillis shouldered her bag. “Right. I’m off then. See you in a few days.”

Claire rose for a quick hug. “Thanks for coming by. It’ll work out with you and Greg.”

Geillis smiled. “And it’ll work out wi’ you and the hospital. Whatever you need, I’ll help you.”

“Thanks. Hopefully it’s not too mad today.”

And at that moment, Geillis’ phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen.

“Famous last words. Hug all the bairns for me, will you?”

Claire nodded, and Geillis turned down the street, phone at her shoulder, already taking the accident details from the A&E physician.

Her own phone buzzed – another selfie, this time of Jamie with Fergus and Ned.

Knowing that, with a life and heart so full of love, anything truly was possible.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #modern glasgow au #it's been a minute with this story #anybody still reading?#jamie and claire

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trinityprocessing · 26 days ago

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Helloe my beloved, someone called for Hansry-coded book-recs and since I am the designated librarian of Hansry (because I am in fact a librarian and I like hansry and also I said so) I shall deliver you some.

1. Love Habit by TL Clark

This one is maybe the least Hansry as it is not about knights, but monks. However it is set towards the end of medieval England.

”1485: Paul timidly enters Darenth Priory to avoid marriage. In good faith, he expects to live out his days in chaste devotion to God. But there is temptation lurking within the monastery walls.

For there is also another novice, Luke, who both resembles and sings like an angel. Is he a test? A gift? Paul must decide."

This book definitely belongs in the realm of cozy literature. The author mentioned she wanted to depict a possible happy life for a queer person as it might have happened. And thus we follow a young man in search of a peaceful life, while he finds love on the way.

2. One Night in Hartswood by Emma Denny

If you are traumatised by Hans impending marriage and you love all the fanfic especially, this book might be for you. Full disclosure: I haven't read this one yet though I am planning to.

"Oxfordshire 1360

When Penn and Raff meet in Hartswood Forest the only truth they know of each other is a brief moonlit kiss they had shared previously. But Penn is escaping a life of cruelty, and an arranged marriage to a woman he has never seen. Raff is tracking the elusive missing groom of his sister to restore his family’s honour. Neither are looking for a travelling companion. Yet both men find themselves drawn to each other in ways neither imagined."

3. Scottish Boy by Alex de Campi

I started reading this yesterday night and I am already on page 150. Needless to say it is good, but in my opinion it is also the Hansry book. It just feels like kcd. I am not kidding on page 18 you will find the quote "war is a nasty business". Remind you of something?

"1333. Edward III is at war with Scotland.

Nineteen-year-old Sir Harry de Lyon yearns to prove himself in the war, and jumps at the chance when a powerful English baron, William Montagu, invites him on a secret mission with a dozen elite knights.

They ride north, to a crumbling Scottish keep, capturing the feral, half-starved boy within and putting the other inhabitants to the sword. But nobody knows why the flower of English knighthood snuck over the border to capture a savage, dirty teenage boy. Montagu gives the boy to Harry as his squire, with only two rules: don't let him escape, and convert him to the English cause."

Now while I haven't finished this book yet, I can definitely say that it's not only good, it will definitely scratch the Hansry itch and the kcd itch. The themes are similar and the relationship of a knight and squire, seems very familiar, doesn't it?

All of the books on this list are historical M/M romances in the middle ages and all of them contain spice/explicit content, so be warned about that.

#hansry #kcd 2 #kcd2 #kingdom come deliverance 2 #kingdom come deliverance #books #queer books #booklr

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 year ago

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into you

Summary: After almost giving up the hope to become a big actor you get offered the leading role in a period drama, leaving you to spend three months in Scotland with your male co star Dieter Bravo and maybe falling in love with him.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.247

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, falling in love, implied smut, kissing, really cheesy movie lines I made up, confessions of feelings, reader is in her late thirties, Dieter playing the piano

A/N: Another one for @undercoverpena April showers challenge! What's better than a Pedro character in period clothing in the rain? Making out with him hehe

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You couldn’t sleep.

The moon was shining hrough the window of your hotel room, an old castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland.

You had come here almost three months ago, having gotten the first big job of your career, the lead role in a period drama. The first lead role you ever got. The first big job you ever got.

For years you dreamed of being a big movie star.

Much like every young person who came to LA.

Which had been almost twenty years ago. You had been about to quit trying for that one big role that would finally grant your your big success last year.

By now well in your thirties (the forties getting closer and closer), not having any major success apart from some multi episode secondary character on some netflix shows in the latest years, you gave up hope that you would make it.

Sometimes the residuals you got from playing Chandler Bing’s awkward girlfriend for two episodes almost twenty years ago on friends had been the only way to pay your rent.

You were looking into going back to school when your agent called you, talking you into going to this last audition. It had been as a favour to them that you agreed, the contracts between you and the agency already canceled towards the end of the month.

They had always believed in you and you hated saying no to them because of that reason.

Maybe it was you having nothing to lose that left you going into the audition and blowing them all away. Not that you thought you did until your agent called you not even twenty minutes after you went out of the audition, asking you to come back to read opposite the male lead.

Still you didn’t let yourself getting your hopes up, walking back into the office building, back into the room you had been in before, now with an additional face smiling warmly at you.

You didn’t know that in the next two hours your whole life would change.

Not just because they offered you the job.

No, It was the day you met Dieter Bravo.

Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was.

You had admired him since he starred in the high school drama series you definitely did not tape every episode from when you were in your teens.

And there had been no posters of him in your room growing up, nope.

But like almost every teen crush, it faded over the years.

You grew up, and he did too. You knew he had won an Oscar some years back, you saw the movie in the cinema back then.

He had made headlines after that, naming him the next big thing.

But lately the only headlines you remembered of him had been of his drug escapades and dating life.

So you had been a little reserved when you first met, hoping he would be professional enough throughout the audition.

Hope you shouldn’t have had, because Dieter had turned out to be professional in every single way.

Now, after spending almost two months with him, playing opposite of him, acting that you were in love with him, you found yourself wishing he would be a little less professional.

Groaning you sat yourself up in your bed, clicking the lamp on the bedside table on, reaching for your phone.

2:43 am.

Taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh as you exhaled you let your head fall back.

In twenty four hours you would be on a plane back to the states, already on your way to shoot your next movie, your career seemingly finally starting off now that you were starring in a movie with Dieter Bravo.

You should be beyond happy.

Everything you dreamed off finally seemed to come true. You had three jobs lined up that would pay more than you had made in the last ten years combined.

Yet the thought of waking up every morning and not getting to spend the day with Dieter made it all bittersweet.

You had spent a lot of time together since getting to Scotland to shoot this movie. Not only on set, but apart from it too. He had been here before, shooting another movie and invited you out some times, showing you around. You had dinner together almost every night be it in an restaurant he wanted to show you or in the hotel. You got to know the man behind the persona you learned he put on for the public for and over the last weeks you had found yourself falling for him.

Your fingers cam up to brush over your lips, the lips he had kissed.

More than once.

In front of the camera.

But before you went to bed tonight, he walked you to your room and he had kissed you good night. Without cameras rolling. Without people around. Just you and him. His warm hand on your cheek, your back pushed against your hotel room door as he towered over you, his other hand resting on the door behind you.

You were out of breath when he parted from your lips, wishing you a good night, leaving you watching after him with your lips parted, your brain still trying to process that he had just kissed you, as he went down the hallway until he disappeared into his room.

You were too giddy to sleep, getting an old sweatshirt on before you grabbed your hotel key and walked out of your room, hoping he was as sleepless as you were and downstairs where you had found him often during your stay.

You could hear the faint sound of a piano as you entered the lobby, the night manager giving you a small smile as you walked past, following the sound.

In the far back corner of the lobby was a piano where you found Dieter playing a melody you did not recognise.

You had found him here before, in the beginning when you could not sleep because you were too nervous to fuck this big chance you got up.

He told you that his art supplies hadn’t been shipped yet, and that he usually painted when he couldn’t sleep.

And so instead he played.

And you listened, sitting next to him until you both almost fell asleep, before he walked you to your room, only to be up some hours later to shoot a movie where his character denied to be in love with your character, pushing your character away until a big dramatic scene where you would finally admit your feelings to each other.

Sitting down on the seat next to him as he played now, you let your head fall against his shoulder, hearing him inhale as he continued to play.

His lips brushed against your temple and you closed your eyes, just listening to his song.

When he finished you looked up at him, his eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face.

„Couldn’t sleep?“ he asked.

You hummed in agreement.

„Too many thoughts in my head,“ you whispered and he nodded. One of his arms came to wrap around your back, pulling you closer against his side.

„You wanna talk about those thoughts?“ he asked and you chuckled.

„Don’t wanna fuck the big scene up tomorrow, well today,“ you said and he gave you a small smile.

„If someone is gonna fuck up it’s me. You make me keep forgetting my lines,“ he winked and you felt your cheeks growing warm, remembering the many occasions Dieter had seemingly spaced out during some scenes, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place.

„What do you mean?“ You asked, and he sucked his bottom lip in, before he shrugged and there it was again, that expression in his face, his eyes big as he looked at you.

„I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so talented and beautiful and kind and so damn intelligent. Sexy….,“ he winked „You just blow me away and it’s like my brain stops working when I look at you sometimes. I never really felt like this before…“ he whispered and you blinked at him.

„What I am trying to say is, I like spending time with you. I like talking to you. I like kissing you, touching you,“ he grinned and you huffed.

„Especially when it’s just the two of us. Last week when the director called cut when we were in bed….“ He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

You had rushed off after finishing the scene with him, having to take care of the ache between your legs in the bathroom after spending almost six hours in bed with him, shooting numerous sex scenes.

„I wish we had been alone,“ he whispered his face getting closer to yours, his lips brushing over yours.

„Dieter,“ you whispered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips pressing against yours and you shivered.

„Yeah?“ He asked.

„We are alone now,“ you whispered and he nodded, before he kissed you again, deeply.

„Would you like to have sex with me?“ He whispered and your lips twitched into a grin which he mirrored before he kissed you again.

„Take me to your room, Dieter,“ you said, giggling when you found yourself pulled in the direction of the elevators in the next moment.

„This is madness,“ you shook your head, the rain coming down on you without mercy, drenching your many layers of clothes.

„Why? Why is it madness that I have fallen for you?“ Dieter asked, in character, his white shirt clinging to his chest.

You huffed a laugh, your character in denial about the feelings not only she had, but he had too.

„Because we are both engaged. And not to each other. We have to end this. I have to….“ You shook your head, closing your eyes, before you looked up at him. Dieter having closed the distance between the two of you, but not close enough to touch. The raindrops where running down his nose, his hair clinging to his face.

He looked like a wet dream straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

„All these times we spend in each others arms, they don’t mean anything to you?“ He asked.

„It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened,“ you said, Dieter’s character seeing right through your lie.

„Do you love me?“ He asked and you did not have to play the small smile that sneaked to your lips for only a moment before you fought it down.

„It doesn’t matter,“ you said, turning away from him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you before you could go.

„It matters to me. ,“ he whispered, broken, and the tone of his voice made you want to cry.

The rain continued to fall as you gave the camera time to capture both of your faces.

„Of course I love you,“ you finally said, looking at him over your shoulder.

„Then stay,“ he pleaded. You began to shake your head, when he pulled you against his chest, one of his hands on your cheek, brushing your hair that stuck to your face to the side, his eyes gazing deeply into yours.

„Stay and allow yourself to be happy,“ he said, almost begging.

„Stay here and let me love you,“ he let his forehead fall against yours and your eyes dropped close, pictures of the night he had spend with you filling your mind, the way his forehead had rested against yours as he filled you over and over and…

You opened your eyes and Dieter’s lip twitched for a second, having caught your unintended pause.

„What about our families?“ you asked, „What about my sister? She’s in your house getting ready to marry you today,“ you asked.

„They will understand. They have to. And if they don’t, I’ll take you away where we can live our life without the judgement of others. You’ll never have to worry for money.I love you, please be with me,“ his nose brushed against yours.

You felt his other hand on your lower back and you gasped.

„Then take me away,“ you whispered, feeling his smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, your arms wrapping around his broad back, fingertips brushing over his drenched clothes as he deepened the kiss.

The first thing you realised when Dieter parted from your lips was that the rain had stopped and that it was quiet around you. Too quiet.

Looking at Dieter he gave you a sheepish smile before you looked around, finding the crew around you looking at the both of you, Dieter’s PA holding two robes in his arms, giving you a wide smile.

„You gonna listen when I call cut now?“ The director teased with a wide grin and you let your head fall against Dieter’s chest, mortified, but he just chuckled, before he helped you get into the robe his PA had brought over.

„We’ll meet in an hour for the wedding scene, do not be late,“ the director reminded everyone, giving you and Dieter a longer look, and you nodded. Dieter grabbed your hand, and you looked at him.

„Can’t wait to marry you,“ he winked and kissed you again, before you both were rushed off from the set to get ready.

And you did actually get married.

Seven months later.

On a beach.

In the rain.

Without any interruptions.

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #my fic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fanfic

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padfootagain · 3 months ago

Text

Love in Verses (LII)

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

Hi! This is the last chapter!!

Thank you all so much for reading, for your support, for all your lovely comments, for giving love to this story!! I would lie were I to pretend I’m not crying writing this, posting this last chapter… this story has been with me for over a year now, it’s a friend at this point and I will miss it. But all things end, so, enjoy this last chapter, and let’s leave our happy couple have a beautiful life together.

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5021

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange— The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park. This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all the jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I’m glad I exist.

Wendy Cope, The Orange and Other Poems, 2023

“God, this is awkward…”

Andrew stared straight ahead at the grocery store. He was pushing his trolley between the carrots and the potatoes, when he spotted Samantha and Frank on the other side of the aisle.

You were off somewhere looking for apples, and Andrew was both glad and anxious that you were not with him. Glad because it meant that you didn’t have to see Frank, and he didn’t want you to feel sad because of him again. Anxious because he had to talk to them on his own.

And indeed, he did have to talk to them, because Sam had spotted him and was now walking towards him with a shy smile, Frank in tow.

Damn it…

“Andy? Hi,” she smiled, and he had to put on a polite smile as well. “How are you? It’s funny seeing you here!”

“Hi… huh, yeah… I mean, grocery shopping, obviously. Hmm… I’m fine, doing fine. What about you two?”

“We’re okay,” Frank answered with a smile too. “It’s good to see you, Andrew. You… kind of disappeared last time. So did Y/N, actually.”

Andrew tried not to show that he was tensing, his hold on the trolley tightening.

“Yeah… I mean… we both reckoned that it was best for all of us if we just… let you be. Moved on. Besides… we both agreed that there was no point in coming to the wedding, after all.”

Because we were in love with each other already, but he didn’t add that.

“We missed you both though, at the ceremony,” Sam said, and Andrew shrugged.

“It was best to let you go.”

“Right… but enough about the past!” she added with a vague gesture of the hand, as if chasing a bothering insect. “How are you doing? Are you still at Trinity?”

“Yeah! I am, yeah. I’m… fine, really. I’m doing great. What about you two?”

“Oh, we’re fine! We moved to Scotland for two years, for Frank’s job, but we’ve quickly come back, we were missing home too much. So, we’re settling in the area again, it’s been really nice.”

“Grand.”

“What about Y/N? Are you still working together?”

Andrew spotted you behind Frank, looking above his shoulder, a bag filled with apples in your hand. You frowned as you clearly recognised who he was talking to, stopped in your tracks in surprise.

“Yeah, yeah… we’re both at Trinity.”

You walked closer, and Andrew tried to silently tell you that you didn’t have to, but you did anyway.

“How is she?” Frank asked with a surprising eagerness, and even Sam seemed taken aback by his tone.

“I’m grand, thanks.”

Both Sam and Frank spun around, smiled at you.

“Oh, you’re here too! Hi!”

“How are you two doing?” you asked, walking around the couple to put the bag of apples in Andrew’s trolley.

“Oh, it’s so nice to see that you two are still good friends,” Sam said.

Andrew and you shared a glance, before laughing.

“We… we’re a bit more than that,” Andrew answered, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Frank let out in a breath.

“Oh… for… for how long have two been…?” Sam asked, her voice trailing off.

“Erm… a few years,” Andrew vaguely answered, not wanting to dive into how the two of you had gotten so close.

“Amazing! It’s serious, then!”

“We’re married,” you answered with an amused smile, pointing at your wedding band, and then at Andrew’s.

“Wow… congratulations,” Frank said, although he didn’t seem fully convinced by his own statement.

“Thanks.”

“Well, isn’t that funny! We just had to swap partners!” Sam joked, but there was something humourless on her features now.

“Yeah… funny how things can turn out,” Andrew nodded, placing a hand on your waist.

He noticed the way both of them stared for a moment, before looking up again.

“For how long have you been married?”

“A year,” you answered. “Our anniversary was last week.”

“Oh, amazing.”

But there was no joy in Frank’s tone.

Andrew decided that this conversation had lasted long enough.

“Well, we should get going. It was nice seeing you two.”

“Yes, it was grand! We should do something together! Catch up!” Sam offered.

Andrew felt you tensing, and he rubbed circles into your hip with his thumb to soothe you.

“Erm… Maybe, if the… if the occasion arises. Who knows.”

He turned to you before Frank could say anything else.

“Let’s go, darling,” Andrew breathed, tone soft and as tender as his hold on you.

The next moment, he was pushing the trolley away from the couple, and into another aisle.

It didn’t take you long to finish buying your groceries. Thirty minutes later, you were in your car, heading home. Andrew rested a hand on your thigh while you drove, but he didn’t dare to speak about what had happened. He didn’t want you to feel sad, didn’t want you to be pulled back into your break-up and Frank’s betrayal. And to be fair, he didn’t want to be pulled back into it either. He was happy now, happier than he had ever been, thanks to you, and there was no need to talk about the past, about how Sam had pulled his heart out just to stump on it.

He drew mindless patterns on your jeans while the trees and houses passed by. It wasn’t raining yet, but judging by the heavy clouds, it would soon come again. He hoped you could get home before the thunder fell.

Elwood was at the door, rushing to get petted as you entered, jumping up and down in joy as you came home. Andrew emptied the truck while you gave the dog some attention, and you started to unpack your groceries, both of you still wrapped in silence. Only, not the comfortable one that you were both used to by now, the kind that made Andrew anxious, that announced thunder.

He took a deep breath, gathered his courage.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You didn’t look at him, busy as you were by filling up the fridge, while Andrew was putting away the groceries that belonged in the cupboards. He heaved a sigh.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He looked at you, or rather… he stared, until you would look up at him again. Finally, you closed the door of the fridge.

“You… you’re sure you’re okay? After seeing Frank again?”

You frowned a little at that.

“Of course. It was years ago. I love you. We’re married. I don’t care about Frank.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

You crossed your arms before your chest.

“Do you still care about Sam?”

“What? No! Of course, not!”

“Then why ask if I still have feelings for Frank?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at you.

“That… is not what I asked.”

“Right…”

“Do you? Still have feelings?”

“Of course not!”

“Why are you suggesting that, then?”

“I’m not! You are! You are the one acting weird!”

“I’m not acting weird, I… we’ve just stumbled on the two people who smashed our hearts, I reckon that’s normal for me to inquire if you’re okay or not?!”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“Are you… do you want to see her again? Sam?”

“God no! That five-minutes conversation was dreadful enough!”

You visibly relaxed, pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I… I was worried you would.”

“Absolutely not. Why would I?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Before you could add anything, Andrew had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in a tight hug.

“I love you so much, darling.”

“I love you too. I was just… I’m sorry, it was silly. I know you don’t love her anymore.”

“No, I don’t. I love you. Always will, baby.”

“I love you too. So much, honey.”

“I just… I was just worried that you would hurt because of Frank again.”

“No, I don’t care. I’m happy with you. Happier than I was with him.”

He tightened his hold on you, and felt you do the same. He was surprised when you chuckled.

“Did you see their faces when I said we were married?!”

“And when I said we were together! Damn…”

“They didn’t like that news one bit!”

You both laughed, looking at each other again.

“I think they were kind of jealous,” Andrew said. “Frank definitely was.”

“You think so?”

“Hmm… maybe they didn’t like the idea of their exes living happily without them.”

“Probably. The selfish pricks.”

He laughed at that, but didn’t contradict you.

“I’m so happy our plan didn’t work,” you whispered, stroking tenderly his cheek. “I’m so glad I didn’t marry Frank. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Me too, my love. Me too,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair and closing his eyes so that your perfume would make him forget the rest of the world.

He had to open them again though, when Elwood decided to jump on him, clearly wanting some love too. He made both of you laugh.

“Ha, sorry, buddy. We were forgetting you a little bit, for a moment.”

Andrew knelt down to pet the dog, laughing as Elwood licked his face, wagging his tail frantically under Andrew’s scratches. Soon, your fingers were joining his to pet your beloved dog.

“Don’t worry, you’re a good boy,” you cooed. “No one gets left out on the love in this family.”

Andrew looked at you as you spoke that word, was reminded that this was what you were. A family. His heart grew soft and warm at the thought.

And what a beautiful family it was…

“God, this is awkward.”

You tried to ignore Sam, as she strolled across the aisle, you really did. You tried to hide behind a large pile of bananas, but it was doomed to fail.

Would you be condemned to constantly bump into these two now that they were back in town?

“Y/N!”

And couldn’t she just… ignore you?

You forced a smile.

“Hey, Sam!”

“I’m so happy to see you! How are you?”

“Erm… I’m good. You?”

“Great, yeah!”

You didn’t say anything else, hoping she would take it as her cue to leave. She didn’t, obviously…

“I’m really happy to see you! I wanted to invite you and Andrew to dinner next weekend!”

You blinked at her.

“What?”

“Yeah! We thought that it would be great to catch up! A lot happened in the past few years! Frank and I just… thought it would be nice.”

You wanted to say no. Straight up. But it would have been rude, and you were too taken aback by it all.

“Here! I’ll give you my number! Ask Andrew about it, and let us know!”

You nodded, offered her your phone. She asked you to text her to save your number, but you didn’t.

You went home like a robot. You didn’t remember the drive when you arrived, you didn’t hear Andrew calling after you.

He was babbling about a gig Alex had booked where he would sing, was making a list of things to do, of songs he would play. You barely heard him.

“Babe! That’s gonna be amazing! It’s a festival, we’ll have a full set, we need to start working on the songs… I don’t know which one to sing… Alex wants to do Pagan Love, but I’m wondering if we shouldn’t do Ae Fond Kiss instead, if we’re choosing to include traditional songs. What do you think?”

You closed the door, took off your shoes. Carried the bags in the kitchen. You didn’t notice Elwood rubbing his head against your legs.

You sat down, stared at nothing.

“Babe? Are you listening to…”

Andrew entered the kitchen with his excited voice booming across the room, and then his eyes rested on you. He went instantly silent.

“Honey? You’re okay?”

His voice was soft now. Back to its usual tenderness. Instead of excitement, there was only worry to taint his tone.

You looked up at him, and you must have looked upset, because his face fell.

“Congrats on the gig,” you whispered. “I’m sorry… what was the question you asked?”

He frowned hard, shook his head.

“Thank you, but… Never mind that, it’s not important for now. What’s wrong? Love, tell me what’s wrong… please…”

He walked closer, and you reached out until you could press your face into his stomach, until he was holding you close.

“Darling? You’re alright? What happened?”

You didn’t say anything, he ran his fingers through your hair until you closed your eyes.

“You’re okay, love. I’ve got you. Tell me why you’re upset, okay? So, I can help.”

You felt your throat tightening, but you answered anyway. His touch was helping, his warmth too.

“I saw Sam. When I bought groceries.”

His fingers in your hair stilled.

“Okay.”

“She invited us to have dinner with them. She gave me her number. Asked me to tell you about it.”

He let out a scoff.

“Right, of course… like we’re going to say yes…”

“I think we should go.”

He moved away, just enough to force you to look up at him.

“What?”

“I think we should go.”

“Why? Why would we? After everything they’ve done?!”

You tried to gather your thoughts, make them understandable to him.

“I think… I don’t know. I want to know how they’re doing. Sometimes I wonder if they’re still together, if they have any regrets over what happened, how they handled the entire thing. If they see today that none of it was okay. And… maybe it’s petty, and selfish, but… I’m so happy with you. I love you so much. We’ve built such a good life together. I want to show them. I want to show them that they were right, we weren’t meant to be with them. We found better than them. It’s childish, and petty… but I want to show them that we’ve moved on, and that we have no regrets.”

You heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know… They’re living close-by again. We’re doomed to bump into them on a regular basis. I think we should see them once, and then tell them to leave us alone. For good. What do you think?”

Andrew let out a long exhale through his nose.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know… but I feel like we should do it.”

He pondered on the question for a moment, but then he nodded.

“I trust you. If you think that we should do it, then let’s do it.”

You gave him a grateful smile.

“You have to promise me though that, after that dinner, we’ll never see them again. We’ll tell them to leave us alone. I don’t want them in our lives.”

You nodded.

“I promise.”

“Alright, let’s do it, then.”

Andrew had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. You were locking the car, you shot him a smile when you realised that he was staring at you, a couple of meters away, waiting for you to walk to the door.

It was a beautiful house, large and modern. At the sight, you told him that Frank must have gotten his promotion, after all. Andrew didn’t doubt that Sam must have been working a lot as well, she always had.

“Ready?” he asked as you walked hand in hand towards the door.

“Not really… but I can feel that we’re doing the right thing.”

Andrew wished he could say the same, but his stomach felt heavy, his throat had tightened.

He had struggled a lot at the beginning of your relationship. Old insecurities were coming back, heightened by the way his relationship with Sam had ended, by how their relationship had evolved too. He was finally in a good place, happy and safe, at last believing that you would stay, that you truly loved him. He didn’t need to see Sam again. He needed to forget her…

But the door opened, and Frank greeted them with a grin. White hair had appeared on his temples, but he still looked the same, exuberant and bright and Andrew’s opposite in every possible way…

“Come in! It’s good to see you, come on in!”

You walked inside first, Andrew noticed at once the way Frank’s eyes lingered on you, and he hated it with every fibre of his being…

He handed Frank the bottle of whiskey, was thanked for the attention while he stepped inside.

And the rest of the house was as modern and impersonal as the outside. Full of white and grey and black. Cold. There was only a tiny bookshelf in the leaving room, half empty. Andrew pictured his own home, the blue of your sofa, the green and beige of the walls, the plants you grew together, and the entire wall covered with books, the ones in your offices as well, so many you could open a library at this point…

“Andy! It’s so good to see you!”

Sam leant up to kiss his cheek, and he humoured her, but didn’t like it. How weird. There was a time when he would have done anything to feel such a kiss on his cheekbone and now he felt almost disgusted… how feelings could change with time and the actions that carved it...

“You look so good, you two!” she smiled, but Andrew noticed that she was looking only at him while speaking, and he also noticed the annoyed frown you tried to conceal. Neither Frank nor Sam noticed your gesture though. But then again, Andrew knew you better than anyone.

You both followed them through the living room, Andrew glanced at the pictures set on the shelves. They had been travelling a lot, clearly.

“For how long have you been back in town?” Andrew asked as you all sat down around a large white table.

“Oh… a few months! Before that we’ve spent a few years away. But we were missing home quite a bit.”

“Of course, I can imagine.”

“But tell us about yourselves! For how long have you been together? I have to admit, I would have never guessed the two of you would end up as a couple… and married even!”

“Why not?” you asked in a chuckle, sharing a glance with Andrew.

“I don’t know… I just… didn’t imagine it. But how did you end up together, then?”

Andrew chuckled, embarrassed.

“Erm… like… I guess we just… fell in love, after a while.”

“What about your careers?” Frank asked, pouring some alcohol in glasses.

“It’s all fine… just… teaching, researching, the usual,” you answered.

“Aren’t you tired of each other yet? I mean… spending time at work together and then living together?” he asked in a humorous tone, but it was clear that he wasn’t truly joking.

“We spend a lot of time teaching,” Andrew answered. “And anyway… no, we’re enjoying our time together, really.”

“I wouldn’t be able to be with someone I work with!” Sam shook her head. “We both need some personal time and space.”

“We do too. And we get it when we need it. It’s just… another dynamic, I guess,” you answered.

“Right… of course…”

Andrew reached for your hand without thinking, more of a nervous habit than anything else, an unconscious search for a sense of safety, for an anchor…

But he saw the way Frank’s and Sam’s eyes trailed on his hand, how they seemed to dislike the sight.

He didn’t care at all when Frank took Sam’s hand too. He didn’t care about the fact that it seemed forced either.

He noticed that throughout dinner you kept on looking around the room, studying the furniture, the decoration. You didn’t seem envious though. There was no spark in your eyes as you studied the room, only a vague frown on your brow.

Frank and Sam asked some more questions, but soon enough the conversation was centred on them, and Andrew noticed the all-too-familiar pattern easily. He didn’t try to fight it.

They rambled on about what seemed to be a perfect life. Travels, money, friends, everything seemed perfect. And yet such a display didn’t feel real. It felt too perfect to be true. Too sweet to be savoury. For sure, there was something wrong…

“We… we were very surprised, you know? When you pushed us out of your lives,” Frank said while eating his dessert. “None of us had seen it coming.”

“It was for the best,” you mumbled.

“Really? The best for whom?”

“Both of us.”

Andrew’s voice was colder than he intended, but he was being earnest. Frank and Sam both seemed taken aback.

You rested a soothing hand on his leg, but it wasn’t enough. Andrew was tired of this. This was useless. Neither Sam nor Frank had changed. They were selfish and they didn’t even seem to notice. They were trying to impress you and for what? Andrew didn’t want this life, this house, these pictures on the mantlepiece. He wanted his bees, his own living room filled with love and warmth, his books, your arms and your voice and your love, and Elwood running in the garden…

He wanted the life he had. It was as perfect as life could get. This… this had nothing to do with who he was. If that was what Sam wanted, then he understood that they were doomed to fail. He didn’t want this life at all…

“What could you mean?” Sam asked.

Andrew let out a long exhale through his nose, clearly annoyed, almost angry. He didn’t say anything though, he let you answer.

“Things didn’t end smoothly,” your voice was still calm and soft, and Andrew didn’t know how you could remain so composed. “And it was just… it wasn’t healthy for either Andrew nor I to remain close to you. It was best to just… move on with our own lives.”

“But what about us?” Sam asked. “You simply… left us behind.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Sam… you cheated on me. Frank and you both broke our hearts, and then you just expected us all to be good friends like none of you had done any harm…”

“It was for the best, we were in love…”

“So were we.”

He felt your stare on him, but you didn’t back down either.

“What?” Frank asked in a breath.

“We wanted to start dating, when we told you that we didn’t want to stay in touch,” you explained. “It was a new beginning.”

“And there was no space for either of you in it.”

You had a small chuckle, a humourless one, but it wasn’t sour either.

“None of you has changed much,” you added. “You’re both the same.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That our lives are very different. In a way, we should thank you. We found each other thanks to you, we were able to fall in love and have this wonderful life together because you left. But our lives and yours are not compatible. It’s better if we don’t try to be friends again.”

Andrew stared at you, content. He got up.

“Let’s go, honey,” he murmured in a gentle voice and you nodded, standing as well.

He noticed the way both Frank and Sam tensed at the pet name.

“Of course, we’re doomed to bump into each other, but… we’d really appreciate it if we could… avoid each other,” Andrew requested.

“So what? We should just… ignore you?”

“Yes. Let’s act like we don’t know each other.”

“This is ridiculous…”

“It’s not. We’re simply asking for boundaries.”

“But we miss you. You’re important to us!”

“You used to be important to us too,” you answered, and the softness of your voice seemed to shock them even more. “Don’t worry about us. We’re very happy. We have a good life, we do our best. We wouldn’t trade it for the world. If you still care, then isn’t this what you truly want for us?”

They didn’t find anything to answer, and Andrew seized the opportunity to walk back to the hallway, his hand on the small of your back to guide your steps.

They didn’t try to hold you back, and you were both grateful for it. The drive home was silent, but Andrew’s mind was busy with thoughts the entire ride. Now that he was with you, now that he loved you and was loved by you, he couldn’t imagine how he had thought that Sam was the one. He couldn’t believe that they hadn’t changed, hadn’t learnt any lesson from all of this. And at the end of the day, all this for what? They didn’t seem as happy as they wanted you to believe…

When you took off your shoes in your hallway, placed them by the side of Andrew’s, hung your coat next to his, Andrew was trying to gather his thoughts, find the right words to talk about that strange afternoon. But before he could do so, you were in his arms, holding him close.

You heaved a sigh as he held you tight.

“This was… dreadful,” he spoke into your hair.

“Yeah… as expected.”

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, burying your face into his chest in the process.

“I’m good. You?”

“Yeah, fine… I feel… weird.”

“Yeah, me too. You know I just… I wondered how they were doing. I’m disappointed that they’re not as happy as they thought they would be.”

“Hmm… you didn’t buy in the perfect couple they seemed to be either, huh?”

“No… and they didn’t seem to have learnt anything either.”

“Still exactly the same…”

“Yeah…”

You looked up at him with so much love and relief in your eyes, it made him want to cry.

“I’m so glad I’ve found you. I wouldn’t have been happy in this life, in this house, with him… I’m so glad you’re here.”

He kissed you, sweet and loving, taking his time. After all, you had an entire lifetime together ahead of you.

“I’m so lucky you love me.”

Andrew thought about all this pain he had to conquer, all these doubts, all those obstacles that came his way, so he would be with you. It was worth it. He would go through it every time, so long as he could love you like this.

His gaze wandered across his living room, the comfortable armchairs and the sofa by the fireplace, the papers scattered on the coffee table, the walls covered with bookshelves. His eyes were drawn to a cluster of several editions of the same books, of your two most precious collections gathered together. Some of Heaney. Some of Dante.

You looked up at him, gently pulled on his collar in a silent request for a kiss. And he obliged easily, willingly.

And could never be perfect, but it was so much better as long as you were in it…

There was sunshine upon the Liffey that morning. A scent of new beginnings in the air, a whisk of excitement in the breeze.

You took a deep breath before entering the college grounds. It was October already, the beginning of a new year here, at Trinity. You walked through the arches of stone you knew well by now, their sight familiar and their shadows welcoming as they sheltered you. After working for five years here, it felt a little like being home.

Andrew’s hold on your hand tightened a little, a silent way to ask for your attention, and you turned to him with a questioning look.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked, a worried frown on his brow.

“No, I’m okay,” you smiled up at him.

As if to contradict you, a burst of wind blew and made you shiver.

Andrew chuckled.

“Let’s hurry. I have so many things to do today anyway...”

“Classes to prepare?”

“Hmmm… and it’s orientation week. First meeting with students this afternoon.”

“Already? Damn… and look at them, they seem younger every year.”

“They’re not, we’re just growing old.”

“Thanks for reminding me… although, I’m really not bitter about it.”

“My joints and back definitely are…”

You couldn’t refrain a laugh at that, and you knew it was your laughter that brought a smile to his lips.

“I don’t know. I like growing old here, with you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“Hmm… I really like it too,” he gave you a toothy grin, although you couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes.

Your attention was caught by a pair of students you knew well by now. They waved at you as you passed by, and you stopped to chat with them for a moment.

“Saoirse! Sean! How was your summer?” you asked them, and they both grinned at you.

“Good! We travelled to Germany in July, it was amazing!”

They exchanged a tender glance, and your heart melted at the sight.

“What about you two? Did you travel?”

“We celebrated our second anniversary,” you nodded. “In Italy.”

“Wow! That’s so romantic…” Saoirse sighed dreamily, and Sean chuckled at the sight.

“It was,” you nodded, looking up at Andrew with as much love as you truly felt for him, which made him both grin and blush.

“I can’t believe this is your last year here,” Andrew drew the conversation to another topic.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be weird…”

“Are you mentoring this year, then?”

“Yes, we are! That’s why we’re here so early,” Sean nodded. “And don’t worry, we’ll send you tons of students.”

You and Andrew both laughed at that.

“Will you now?”

“Of course! Have we never told you this before? On our first day, an elder student recommended us your classes, that’s why we chose them. That’s kind of how we met, too.”

“Aww… that’s cute.”

You chatted for a little longer, before walking towards your building, Andrew babbling away about this new song he was learning to play on the guitar, and the riff sounded so good, and you couldn’t wait to hear it. You couldn’t wait to hear it all.

This would be a good year, you could feel it. But then again, all the years were good with Andrew. And you had so many of those to enjoy by his side.

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