#to be clear i do think they had pretty different childhoods in many ways
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!! crucial !! piece of hilson lore confirmed - they're fucking LOSERS
honestly? so affirming to me. this isn't news i know but to get this explicit piece of interaction about being a lonely child and now being weird adults who don't know how to make friends or have "normal" conversations or connections like this is the shit i eat for breakfast, especially accompanied with the complete and utter sense of surrender to this fact that wilson displays. there's absolutely no reason whatsoever for him to defend himself or act as if what house is saying isn't true bc it is and they both know it and knows the other knows it even if they've never actually talked about this once which is very likely but they know cause they're the same and they only have each other and and and
#they're so lame#hilson#hatecrimes md#to be clear i do think they had pretty different childhoods in many ways#but very early on feeling alone and different and/or misunderstood is the common thread running through both of their experiences#they almost definitely handled it very differently but just ended up on the same miserable bastard boat in the end#and no one can save them except each other. but they're actually unsaveable. and the only way for that to be okay is through each other#blahdi blahdi blah they're doomed either way but they need each other to cope blahdiblah fucked up losers solidarity#they're the worst<333 they would've bullied each other if they knew each other as kids. in fact the bully each other now aghjdfkdsfs#also honestly. wilsons response to house reading him to shreds being to play along and make a dry joke?? very cunty. love him to bits#house md#james wilson#gregory house#hmd#mypost
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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!)
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#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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Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.
18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.
longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.
CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE
The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.
Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.
“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. You look like a bum.”
“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.
Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.
“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.
“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.
“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.
An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“
“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”
[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.
She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.
“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.
Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.
[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.
“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.
“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”
Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.
“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”
“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.
“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.
“Get in the shower.”
[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.
“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.
[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.
“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.
“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”
“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.
“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.
“Who else?”
“I see. You know she’s—“
“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.
“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.
“I’m sure you do.”
It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.
“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.
[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.
It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”
“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.
[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”
Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”
“You poison it?”
Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.
Sins almost all forgiven.
—
Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.
No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.
When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.
After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.
Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.
Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’
[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.
“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.
“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.
She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.
Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.
[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.
[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.
“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:
“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”
He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.
As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.
Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.
She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.
“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.
[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.
Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.
[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.
[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.
She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.
[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.
Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.
Capitol magic.
“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.
Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.
“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.
“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”
She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.
“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.
“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.
“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.
A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.
[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.
“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.
Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.
“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.
“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”
“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.
“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.
“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”
The Snows-to-be nodded.
“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”
“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.
“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.
“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.
“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.
Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”
Fuck.
“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”
“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”
“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“
It was worse.
The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.
Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.
None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.
[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.
Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.
[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.
[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.
“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.
“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.
“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”
Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”
“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“
“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”
“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“
Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.
“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.
Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.
Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.
—
The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.
The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.
“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.
“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”
“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“
“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.
“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”
“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”
“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”
“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”
“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“
“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”
“…Yes.”
“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”
“I—“
Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.
He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.
He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.
Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.
The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?
The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.
Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.
MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES
TAGLIST:
@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar
apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the hunger games#hunger games#ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x reader#coryo snow#coryo x reader#truculent series
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thinking about how people who watch the emperor's new groove and somehow come out of it shipping pacha and kuzco, or thinking yzma only became evil when kuzco fired her and that she would've been a better ruler than him, are both so wrong in so many different ways and are also missing one of the things that i absolutely love about the movie. which is that, the way i see it, pacha and yzma are counterparts. as parental figures to kuzco.
like, just to get this out of the way first, yzma was a dismissive asshole to a peasant whose family was starving. and yeah, if kuzco had been in her place he definitely would've also done that, which... is why she would not be a better ruler than him. she'd just be the same because they're both horrible people in the exact same ways. her reaction to being fired is to plot murder, and as soon as his funeral is over she sets everyone to work on replacing paintings of kuzco with paintings of herself and covering the palace with imagery that makes it clear that it's all about her now. i'm not even sure why this is a discussion tbh.
and also, kuzco is literally a teenager. he's barely 18 years old. source: in the movie, yzma says at his funeral that kuzco was "taken from us so tragically on the very eve of his eighteenth birthday." she also claims in the movie to have "practically raised" him, to which kronk replies "yeah, you'd think he would've turned out better". and sure, she could be exaggerating, but what evidence do we have that she is? we learn absolutely nothing of his parents, who are never mentioned even once in the movie, or of anyone else who could've raised him, and she's his advisor who for some reason sees no problem with attending to royal duties in his place. most likely because she's his regent. also, i'm not exactly a fan of the sequel tv series "the emperor's new school" but it does have something that backs up my point: kuzco is revealed to be an orphan and just before his father went and got lost at sea, he asked yzma (who was also his advisor) to take care of kuzco if anything happened to him. so, yeah, the writers who worked on the series clearly thought that yzma genuinely did raise kuzco, and nothing in the movie contradicts this.
and i find the idea of her being his only parental figure for pretty much his whole childhood incredibly interesting because, and this also goes back into why she wouldn't be a better ruler than him--she mirrors him as a reflection of what would've become of him if he'd never met pacha. they're both incredibly arrogant, power-hungry, selfish, and cruel, with a tendency to blame their problems on everyone but themselves. yzma was even originally going to have her own reprise of kuzco's theme song "perfect world", which i really wish had been kept:
[ID: Lyrics that read:
I'Il be the sovereign queen of the nation
And the chicest chick in creation
I'm the cat with all the cream and ooh-la-la
This deadly concentration
Will put an end to my frustration
Now this perfect world begins and ends with moi
What's my name?
Yzma, Yzma, Yzma
Yzma (what's my name?)
Yzma, Yzma (What'd you say?)
Yzma (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) Yzma.
End ID]
(this song can be fully heard in "the sweatbox", the documentary about the making of the movie, and is also on youtube btw)
anyway, i'm sure yzma would not exactly have been the most nurturing or hands-on guardian, especially given that she and kuzco don't exactly treat each other like family. but it makes a lot of sense to think that her behavior influened kuzco's throughout the years. and for the entire movie, she remains determined to kill him. when he tries to reason with her and admits that he should've been nicer, she says the same thing to him that he originally said when he fired her. she never grows or changes and in the end, she hurts the one person who was willing to stand by her (and even then, kronk had never fully been on board with her plan) and he ends up trying to crush her with a chandelier. kuzco on the other hand is able to realize the error of his ways, come to regret who he was in the past, and start taking steps toward being a better person. his theme song gets a reprise where it's changed from a song about one person being the center of the world to a Power Of Friendship song. why? because, as i've already mentioned, he has pacha.
pacha, who similarly to both yzma and kuzco is in a position of authority as the leader of the village but unlike either of them is gentle and humble. who isn't afraid to stand up to kuzco and be honest with him even though he's the emperor, who agrees to take him back to the palace but has no obligation to be so helpful, kind, and caring toward him--and just about every reason not to be--and still chooses to be anyway. pacha who is 45 years old (also stated in the sweatbox documentary) and can see that kuzco is practically still a kid, not a single day over 18, who has time to grow and change. pacha, who already has a wife and two kids with another on the way, but practically treats kuzco like one of his own. who acknowledges that if kuzco dies all his problems will be gone and then still worries about him and goes out of his way to rescue him after he wanders into the jungle. who sees kuzco shivering at night and covers him with his poncho, who carries him when he's genuinely too weak to keep walking, who refuses to give up on him even after repeatedly being betrayed by him because he believes there's good in everyone.
also, while yzma ends up repeating kuzco's harsh words of dismissal as she tells him of her plans to kill him, kuzco had previously repeated pacha's words that "nobody's that heartless" after he saved pacha's life. and as the movie progresses kuzco and pacha's relationship becomes more and more equal and is constantly contrasted by moments of yzma being cruel and unappreciative of kronk's kindness. a good example of this is how kronk is constantly being forced to carry yzma everywhere on his back while yzma literally walks all over him and steps on his hands when she gets down, whereas when pacha briefly carries kuzco after the latter collapses he tells him he'll have to walk the rest of the way later and kuzco doesn't even protest.
idk if i'm even explaining well what i'm trying to say here. but basically, if yzma actually raised kuzco and contributed to his current behavior, then she and pacha both are figures who guided him and helped him grow. only yzma helped him become the tyrant that he was at the start of the movie, who was selfish and callous and saw everyone else as beneath him. whereas pacha helped him see the value in being selfless and considerate of others. and in the end, yzma is stuck as a cat and nobody is concerned about her. kronk has found a new job that makes him genuinely happy, while kuzco has decided to build a hut on the hill next to pacha's and effectively joined his family. in the sweatbox documentary it's even mentioned that chicha and the kids were at risk of being removed from the film, but it was decided that they needed to be there because having just pacha as a single guy who lived alone wasn't interesting enough--kuzco needed to go from having basically an empty world where he had nobody to being able to come together with pacha's whole family. and i just think that's incredibly satisfying and beautiful. it also leads up to one of the few things i really do enjoy about the emperor's new school, which is the fact that during the show kuzco moves in with pacha and chicha and pretty explicitly thinks of them as basically his parents while he's like a son to them.
idk. i feel like my mind went in a million different directions while i was writing all this. but i guess i just think that for all of the praise the emperor's new groove gets for its comedy and for how hilarious yzma and kronk in particular are as a duo, the movie also has a lot of genuine heart that gets overlooked. kuzco's character growth and his unique dynamic with pacha is, for me, really what elevates the movie from just a funny movie that i like to one of my favorite disney movies. and i wish more people appreciated that aspect of it and saw it as a found family story in the same way that treasure planet, brother bear, and lilo and stitch are all found family stories.
#disney#the emperor's new groove#help i wrote a whole essay about this movie#and i didn't even mention how much i love the way kuzco's home life is contrasted with pacha's#ugh. they have one of the most interesting and unique dynamics ever in a disney movie. i love them#love how kuzco gets away from yzma's toxic influence by way of accidentally being adopted#by the guy whose village he almost destroyed for a theme park#they're ENEMIES to FOUND FAMILY.... sobs#kuzco#pacha#yzma#kronk
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𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : jungkook x reader
𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: yandere, best friend to lover, jungkook is a hotty, angst
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: oc is sad and lonely
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : He loves bieng my friend ,but he has girlfriend who he loves ....could this possibly change him from your close friend to a distant person .. And 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵
𝗮/𝗻 :omg, this is my first fic here, I don't know how to feel.jungkook is kindy fucked up here but gonna be good soon.. Sorry english is not my first language so correct me if there is any mistake ,I hope you enjoy. , lob ❤
𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺... 𝘉y lovely @xonga ..
------------------☆♡☆♡☆♡☆---------------
The purest form of love is consideration.When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you
And as for jungkook , it was beyond clear that how much he loved you.. cause the way he considered you even in his own relationships. he loved you as a friend, a friend he cared for a lot. There was nothing more . Was it? No. You were convinced.
But today when you were staring at the ceiling considering about many possibilities. That was now making your best friend distant to you. Today was the seventh day since you last hanged out with him. He didn't cut you of completely , no would never. But the dry replies of him everyday when you wanted to know how his day was or is he doing well , made your heart twist in sadness and loneliness. The distance was uncomfortable as it was new. Never before did jungkook did anything like this. He was always communicative, always loved hanging out and being with you
And you felt empty . Yes you were his habit and he was your. Jungkook never went even two days without being in contact with you. He was touchy. It was his love language. He loved holding you close to him , keeping your legs on his laps when watching movies, keeping his hand on your knee or thighs when hanging out at your friends house ,holding hands when walking and He also had a habit ( more of obsession ) HE LOVED KISSING YOUR NECK WHEN LEAVING YOUR HOUSE, WHEN EVER HE FELT NERVOUS OR UNCOMFORTABLE. he did that literally every day without missing any day
But today was day seventh of him not touching you or kissing your neck. Your friends always used to tease you and jungkook that how you two were more intimate than friends. Some of your batchmates considered you two in relationship four years ago but now you two are not in college. You are two mature people who know their relationship is just friendship.
Jungkook had a quite few relationship back in college but no stayed more than few months because all his girlfriends were not able to take the close proximity of you two.. But with his current girlfriend. His relationship seemed quite serious. It's been a year now to relationship. His gf is pretty , nice, hot. She is all you can never be, she seems to get along with all yours and jungkook's friend. But with you case was different she rarely talked to you. Even didn't liked you being near jungkook. . And you knew one day this could be a reason for jungkook to choose between you two.... Well it looked like he chose! Not you but her.
Your eyes dart towards the mirror, hanging on the pale lilac wall of your bedroom. Photographs of the two of you are splattered around the mirror, many from childhood of just the two of you. He’s the one person who could read you like a book studied a thousand times over, edges folded from the constant turn of each page. Now it’s as if the book has lost its meaning, forgotten somewhere on a shelf in the corner, dust piled upon it as the sheets slowly deteriorate.. He turned cold .
. Back when you where teenagers. There was nothing more you wanted because you had it all good grades, a best friend and his constant comfort. So you never considered making more close friends of your. All friends you have now are all who jungkook usually hangs out with when not with you.
You never even had a boyfriend. Cause first you didn't think you needed a one, and second most of the boys liked staying alway from you as they found jungkook threatening. But now when you felt jungkook abandoning you. You somehow felt the need for a boyfriend , a lover, a partner who would be by your side and comfort you no matter what.
Okay., so now is the time for you to get laid and ignore all the emptiness you feel. Time for you to let go or even lose your virginity.......
( part 2 : -
#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook#bts#jeon jungguk#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook fwb#jungkook x original character#bts ffs#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#jungkook yandere#jungkook angst#jungkook aesthetic#jungkook au#jungkook and reader
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Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?
Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.
Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.
Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.
I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.
From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.
I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.
After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.
Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.
Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.
During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).
I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.
I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.
As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!
I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.
Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!
Big hugs,
Mother Calamity
#advice from a trans mom#Transition#HRT#Transgender#cracking the egg#ask/answer#anon#mother calamity!
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Do you have any thoughts about rui’s character and his relationships? I really enjoy your character analysis i think they’re super good so it’ll so cool to hear something about rui ^_^ otherwise i really enjoy the work you put into this account!
thank you! here's a little something i threw together to commemorate the end of curtain call hell on EN, except it's about the main story because the animation released recently and i have thoughts about it. and i think it's a good starting point for his character.
First though, we need to go backwards a bit to the flashbacks in Revival my dream and KAMIKOU FESTIVAL!. When Rui was a kid, he was considered a prodigy by many and it was constantly shoved in his face that he was different from everyone else. Be it because he was incredibly intelligent beyond his age, or because he had different interests to the other kids in his class. At the end of the day, if he was having fun with his classmates, it wouldn't last. Usually they'd all leave at some point because they thought his ideas of fun were weird or they didn't understand them. By the time he was in middle school around 8 years later, he was completely isolated from his peers. As he said in A Once-In-A-Lifetime Pandemonium, he believed that he would never be able to connect with or understand anyone around him. What Rui had always needed was like-minded individuals who could accept him for who he was, not shun him due to his perceived weirdness. He had Mizuki, but even they said back in middle school that the reason the two of them were friends is simply because they were both lonely; they couldn't actually do anything to help each other change.
It's very clear that Rui didn't think things would ever change. In the main story, even after Tsukasa invites him to join the troupe, the only reason he accepts is so Nene can do what she's always wanted. Sure, it's what he wants as well, but he's never worked well with people before, so why would it be any different now? He'll go along with it so long as he can try and help Nene change, because if he can't change himself, then the least he can do is help his only true friend.
Was joining the crew at Wonder Stage so bad for him? Not really, he actually ended up hitting it off with Emu due to their similar way of thinking, something that had never happened before. Nene even points out that he seems happier than normal after joining.
I think the part where he leaves the troupe is the part a lot of people fail to get their heads around, I've seen so many arguments on twitter over it and I think people just need to get it into their heads that there were multiple factors that contributed to him leaving and refusing to rejoin.
First off: Nene. Nene is Rui's closest and pretty much only friend. She's the only person who stuck with him since childhood. Everyone else left him in the end because they just couldn't understand him, Mizuki bonded with him over their shared loneliness but they were never truly close. Nene means a lot to him because of that, hell, the whole reason he even decided to join Tsukasa and Emu's troupe in the first place is because he saw Nene suffering and wanted to help her be happier. Tsukasa took his anger out on Nene, and Rui felt bad because he was the one who got her into this mess. He wanted her to be happy and to try and overcome her trauma only for her to mess up again and face even worse repercussions. Tsukasa hurt her, and Rui doesn't want to work with someone who's going to act like that, especially not towards his closest friend.
Second: Tsukasa's selfishness. Which admittedly plays into the last point as well. Tsukasa was selfish. He just wanted the fame and glory and to be in the limelight. Nene messed up his debut performance, and he was angry. After all, it was his moment to finally shine, so it had to be perfect, and yet a member of his troupe made an amateur mistake. He wanted to put on the best show with the best troupe, he can't have anything short of that. That's what Rui points out here. Tsukasa says he has a passion for theatre, but really all he wanted was to be in the spotlight. He prioritised himself, let it all get to his head, and couldn't work with other people. That's what Rui means when he says Tsukasa doesn't have what it takes to become a star. Tsukasa doesn't care about anyone but himself, and you can't be a star and put on the greatest show by yourself.
The animation actually adds in a little extra scene here. Leaving the group wasn't easy for Rui, it hurt him and you can really tell it did. As Nene said, it was the happiest he had been in a while. While he denied at the time that anything was different, I think he did know things were different. He thought he'd maybe finally found like-minded people, just like his mother told him he would when he was a kid. And he's a hypocrite even. He tells Tsukasa great shows can't be made alone, despite the fact he's trying to do that himself.
The first time Emu, Nene and Tsukasa try to get him back, he refuses. Tsukasa had apologised to Nene, she accepted his apology and rejoined his troupe. And he's really happy for her, she's making moves to help herself get better, but he still refuses. After all, Tsukasa getting angry at Nene wasn't the only reason he quit. As he says, he and Tsukasa aren't compatible. Tsukasa only wants the fame and glory, whereas Rui wants to make shows that the audience can enjoy. Their goals simply do not align. He thought he'd finally found a place where he could engage in what he's passionate about, but was harshly reminded that place seemingly doesn't exist for him. Whether it was Tsukasa's hubris and selfishness or his classmates isolating him, he can't find anyone to pursue his interests with. Nothing changes.
But it does change. WxS isn't complete without Rui there, Tsukasa needs to prove that he's changed and that his goals do align with Rui's own. And what better way to communicate that than with a show - it's what Rui knows best, after all. I think what's particularly impactful here is that this is a rewritten version of the show Rui was performing the first time he was asked to rejoin the troupe. The show about an alchemist who wanted to put on shows, but everyone who joined him left him because they found his ideas to be ridiculous. Neither the alchemist or the townsfolk understood each other, and the townsfolk wanted nothing to do with the alchemist. It's a bitter ending with the alchemist's happiness being limited and him ultimately being lonely forever, since the story does not continue.
The ending is not a happy one, so they change it.
Tsukasa has changed, and now he's giving Rui the chance to change as well. Rui has never had anyone take his shows seriously, never had anyone take him seriously. No one understands him and he never understood anyone. But that changes. There's finally people who want to do shows with him, who appreciate his ideas and understand his motivations. Even if he's a little different, everyone else in WxS is a little weird too.
I also like how they actually show in the animation that things have changed through a little bit of stage direction. Rui watches that entire play in the dark, alone. When Tsukasa reaches out to him, the light turns on on Rui. We then cut to reveal another person in the scene. He's not lonely anymore.
Ultimately, the most important part of Rui's character arc is change. He never planned on changing - what was the point? He wasn't going to pretend to be someone he wasn't, but he also wasn't going to risk being himself and get rejected again. But once again, as he said in Pandemonium, once he joined WxS, he did change. He's the happiest he's ever been, he has friends that he never wants to let go for the first time, he's able to actually have fun and let himself enjoy things for the first time, he begins to be able to understand people without using shows as a reference point. But even before then, he changed. He changed as soon as he decided to take Tsukasa's offer. As pointed out by Tsukasa in Pandemonium, even if he was the one to give Rui the chance, Rui was the one who took it. He could've refused it again and continued to be lonely forever. He could've chosen to continue to believe that truly he would just never be able to understand and connect with the people around him. But he wanted to change, even if he denied it at the time. And he changed that belief so he could change his life.
(TL)
#i have got a longer piece on the parallels in mizuki and rui's arcs in the works. i mentioned this months ago but it's been taking ages to#finish bc of college and just burnout lol. consider this a preview of sorts#asks#mod talks#once again i didn't proofread this#rui kamishiro
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how I’ve been, revised
(20/09/2023) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 22) (From London)
Aftershow quiet in Helsinki
Hey,
I just finished writing you a long letter, catching you up on how I’ve been. It ended neatly, tied with a little bow. I chose my words well, but I didn’t tell the truth. So I’m starting again, gonna type and not look back, and send what comes out.
I’m in London, have been since May. Things feel clear here. I haven’t seen many friends; mostly, I’m alone with my thoughts. I go swimming, I go to work, I walk home or take the train, I eat in my kitchen, I go to bed thinking about what I’m making. I’m starting to miss my friends and family, like a vitamin I’m deficient in. Soon I’ll be going back to New York, and then home.
I’m living with heartbreak again. It’s different but the same. I ache all the time, I forget why and then remember. I’m not trying to hide from the pain, I understand now that pain isn’t something to hide from, that there’s actually great beauty in moving with it. But sometimes I’m sick of being with myself. I eat chocolate to try and manipulate the endorphins, bring back the sweet happiness of Easter morning. I sit in the time machine and wait for it to move, but it hasn’t been invented yet.
My body is really inflamed, it’s trying to tell me something and I’m trying to support it but nothing seems to help and I get frustrated. My gut isn’t working properly, my skin is worse than ever, I’ve gotten sick half a dozen times. I realised earlier this year that listening to my body is hard for me, it’s something I never really learned how to do. I’ve been trying to teach myself that this year, but it’s been hard actually, pretty confronting, has made me fully aware of all the times I ignored it or didn’t give it what it needed, shamed it for a fight or flight response, took a handful of pills and pushed through.
The little yellow pill I took every morning for thousands of mornings since I was 15, I stopped taking it 5 days ago. Gonna see how it goes.
I go online and look at everyone. Beautiful people sing to me. Everyone’s gotten really good at the same thing. I look at arched backs and wet flower mouths, the right bag, the right sunglasses. I wonder if it feels as good as it looks, it’s been so long since I chose the best picture from a hundred, lined it up like pulling an arrow taut in a bow, and let it go. Everyone looks very thin. Just thinking that makes me feel tired and far away. I’m not sure if it’s having an effect on anyone else. I keep spending money, wondering if what’s in the package will make me feel right, but I guess I buy the wrong things.
I was gonna go to fashion week in Paris, had all these grand plans, but this week I txted my manager and pulled out. At the start of my career I promised myself I’d never be one of the people in the light smiling if it wasn’t real.
Earlier this year, I ate two handfuls of mushrooms, solid doses that tasted like green dirt. I got a lot of information about what my body had been through in our time so far, what it needed, where God was and where God wasn’t; I felt in my bones how destabilising it is to leave home and start a new life the way I did. I also saw that my body is completely magnificent, and that hating it is as futile as hating a tree; that I truly, truly love doing my job, and that my life is like a beautiful tapestry, and every inch of it is precious and has meaning.
It might seem funny or be easy to forget, but I make records because I need to. The songs are spells; a spell to let go of something, a spell to unlock a door. Every time I put something into words just as I see it, set it to the right music, a knot comes loose in me. But it hurts too, confronting the knots. I’ve made enough records to know that this feeling of my skin coming off is part of it. I know I’m gonna look back on this year with fondness and a bit of awe, knowing it was the year that locked everything into place, the year that transitioned me from my childhood working decade to the one that comes next — one that even through all this, I’m so excited for. It’s just hard when you’re in it.
So in this state, I went out on a short European festival tour. We built a cool new version of the show in a couple days. It was good to change gears and get out of my head. I put effort into the show, changing the setlist and arrangements, it was cool how you picked up on that, and it felt good dancing to the new versions with you, looking out at you, all sweaty with your friends, all on the same drugs. I felt the throb of history that’s under this music now, how each year makes these songs feel more like collectively written and sung pieces. I left my body and merged with yours and it was ecstasy. Then I went home to a business hotel and washed the glitter and smoke out of my hair.
Lauren took some beautiful pictures — sharing a few with you here.
Backstage in Portugal.
Cute Polaroid series of the 6pm, 8pm, and 10pm versions of me on a show day.
I’ve read some great books recently, including Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk, Speedboat by Renata Adler, Motherhood by Sheila Heti, Rough Translations by Molly Giles (brought into my life by sweet angel bookworm Chris Chang), Birds of America by Lorrie Moore; am waiting on my copies of ĀRIA by Jessica Hinerangi and Te Ana Ata: Menstruation In The Pre-Colonial Maori World by Ngāhuia Murphy.
Was given Wawata - Moon Dreaming by Dr. Hinemoa Elder which I’m loving looking to as the Maramataka evolves.
It was Te Wiki o Te Reo Māori last week, I loved listening to this from London. This vid from Hemi showing the similarities between te reo Māori and ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi is so sick.
Been meaning to tell you about The Kindness Institute too, a mental health resource for Māori rangatahi that has recently lost government funding. Go check out the beautiful, necessary mahi they’re doing — I know the cost of living is cooked for Kiwis right now and pop stars asking people to donate sux, but if you work at a good sized company maybe you can wrangle a donation from your employers?! I’m gonna email my record company about it.
Other bits that have inspired lately:
Dieter Rams’ principle of “as little design as possible”.
This fantastic interview with Thom Yorke.
Maddie’s unbelievably beautiful Melo inspired tattoo.
Loving the beautiful new Troye songs and vids, Kelela’s Raven hitting right on the e-bike rides home, late to the magic of Frou Frou but glad I’m here, and the rest of my brain is M.T. Hadley, this great Te Whanganui-a-Tara based band Womb, and Talk Talk. And for those it concerns, have been pilled by parasocial big cousins Jason and Chris.
My mum just sent me a Sylvia Plath poem that feels like it sums up the above, I’ll copy it here:
They thought death was worth it, but I
Have a self to recover, a queen.
Is she dead, is she sleeping?
Where has she been,
With her lion-red body, her wings of glass?
Now she is flying
More terrible than she ever was, red
Scar in the sky, red comet
Over the engine that killed her—
The mausoleum, the wax house.
Sylvia Plath, "Stings"
Hope you’re taking care of yourself. Don’t worry about me, I still laugh every day, it’s all moving, even when it goes slow. I’ve accepted the mission — I have a self to recover.
Speak soon,
E
X X X X X
(source: received this email)
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A FAMILY’S LOVE.
♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )
pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!italian!reader.
summary: it’s aemond’s first time meeting your family and he’s surprised at how welcoming and warm they are.
content warnings: fluff, mentions of toxic family.
note: it’s supposed to be an italian!reader but you already know i don’t give physical descriptions to her, so you don’t have to worry about that. also if there are any grammar errors i apologize, english is not my first language! hope you enjoy.
AEMOND IS SITTING NEXT TO YOU on the large table in the patio of your grandmother’s house. everyon’s starting to sit on their respective seats to celebrate something, aemond can’t remember exactly what.
he watches you as you talk with one of your cousins sitting in front of you, she’s handing you a big bowl while you hand her another one with a different kind of food. the table is full of so many different italian dishes and wine, he’s count at least ten bottles of wine just on the table, and your sister is walking out of the house with two more in her arms.
and aemond doesn’t know what to do. everywhere he looks, someone is already looking at him with a smile plastered on their face. he tries to be polite and smile back, to answer if someone asks him something, to be on alert to help if they need him to. he wants to make a good impression.
aemond knew you came from a big traditional italian family, you’re always telling him stories of your big reunions. and when you told him that you wanted to take him to the one happening today, he panicked.
aemond doesn’t do well in social events.
he does not care about looking accesible or friendly. he likes the few friends he has and isn’t planning on having more, so it’s pretty easy for him to not attend big social events —these social events being parties and clubs— but then you, with your doe eyes and pouty lips, begged him to go with you and he couldn’t say no.
and this family gathering is being the most excruciating thing that has ever happened to him because he’s enjoying it. it’s a bit overwhelming and hard, but he feels something weird and warm in his chest every time he sees the way your mom hugs your sister, or your little nephews running around the patio playing, or listens to your grandmother tell stories about her younger days back in italy.
this is new to him. he never had this with his family. there wasn’t family reunions growing up or a big and large table where everyone would sit to have dinner and talk about their day, there wasn’t a loving and caring father. they weren’t a family at all.
“aemond?” your voice brings him back to reality and away from sad memories of his childhood. he turns to his left where you are looking at him with a frown. “are you okay?”
he shakes his head to clear his mind and then smiles, his hand going to rest on top of yours.
“i’m fine, love.” but the frown doesn’t disappear and you start regretting your decision to bring him with you today.
aemond parts his lips to reassure you once again but one of your uncles wraps his arm around your shoulder with a big smile on his face, saying some words in italian that he can’t understand. and then he wraps his free arm on his shoulder and kisses the top of his head, welcoming him to the family, and you tense because aemond doesn’t like to be touched by people he doesn’t know without his consent. but—
“oh, thank you!” aemond smiles, face flushed as he looks at your uncle, who gives him a pat on the back, winking at you before walking away.
you grab his hand, “excuse us.” smiling to your cousins, you stand up, pulling aemond by his hand to follow you.
aemond walks closely behind you and into the empty house, but you don’t stop until you are in the living room, far away from your family’s curious eyes.
“do you want to leave?”
“what? what makes you think that?” he asks, surprised.
“you are acting weird,” you explain but he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “you are smiling.”
aemond snorts, taking a step in your direction. “i didn’t know that me smiling was something considered weird.”
“you know what i mean!” you protest, pouting. aemond pulls you closer to him by your waist, and you rest your arms around his neck. “i know my family can be—”
“too much.” aemond interrupts you, chuckling. “i like your family, a lot.” that makes you smile. you are every proud of your big and loud family, and knowing that aemond likes them makes you incredibly happy. “i never had anything like this with my family. and— and i’m overwhelmed but happy.”
you gently stroke his neck, and aemond rests his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes, listening to the laughs and voices coming from outside. it’s loud but calming at the same time.
“hey, lovebirds.” your mother’s voice makes you pull away. “everyone’s asking where you are, and your little niece is looking for aemond everywhere.” aemond laughs, thinking about the seven year old that has been clinging to him since he entered the house.
“we just need some time alone.” you try to pull aemond towards you again, but your mother slaps your hand away.
“you will have plenty of time to be alone later. now, if you excuse me,” she grabs aemond by the arm and you protest in silence, looking at them with a sad and confused frown. “don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault your boyfriend is both cute and polite and everyone is in love with him already.” as he’s being dragged outside by your mother, his big blue eyes look at you asking for help, cheeks with a light pink. but the smirk he has on his face tells you he’s enjoying it, and you never thought that would happen, at least not his first time meeting everyone.
“good luck!” you watch as your little niece run towards him with a flower in her hand, and aemond immediately picks her up so she can put the flower behind his ear.
you can’t believe how sweet your boyfriend is and how lucky you are to have such an amazing and loving family.
#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#modern!aemond#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#house of the dragon imagine#aemond targaryen scenarios#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd x reader
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Two proud, fierce, spiky-haired warriors face each other across a rocky chasm… but why do they both feel so strangely familiar to the other?! A battle for honour is surely about to begin!
Through Dragonball, Chrono Trigger and Dragon Quest, Akira Toriyama had a massive influence on my childhood. I think it’s also pretty fair to say that Pokemon, and especially Lance, would not be the same without his stylistic influence on Ken Sugimori’s early work. So, for all the thrills and inspiration, both to myself and many others, thank you so much Toriyama-san, and rest in peace.
I had so much fun designing a Toriyama-style DBZ design for Lance, putting in a bit of flavour from both his Gen 1 red biker and Gen 2 pointed armour looks. The dramatic cape flourish also pulls a bit from his HGSS art pose, just for fun (and flair)
I learnt a lot picking apart and studying different Dragonball panels and colour spreads to make this crossover tribute, but perhaps the most striking thing was re-reading chunks of DBZ and realising just how good at weekly pulp adventure story pacing Toriyama was.
I already knew he had perhaps the best grasp of dynamic, crystal clear action panelling in the business, but his ability to pace out a weekly story and always have some new twist or wrinkle while maintaining a solid, driving central narrative really stood out to me this time. And that’s not even mentioning all the ad-libbing!
One of the greatest to ever do it in so very many different ways - I am sure his work will continue to inspire not just artists in our current generation, but many young artists in the future as well.
#Pokemon Lance#Champion Lance#Elite Four Lance#Wataru#Dragonite#DBZ#Dragonball#Akira Toriyama#rip akira toriyama#Vegeta#Goku#saiyan saga#DBZ Manga#colourspread#tribute art#Kanto E4#Indigo League#ABC Work#It took some time to finish but#thank you akira toriyama#Lance and Vegeta were my two favourite characters to draw when I was younger#so it only felt fitting to finally bring them together#a tribute to just how much Toriyama shaped my childhood#Both directly and indirectly#Let them fight!#(Lance is just going to end up in the Yamcha crater again)#But at least Goku has made a fun new friend!
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In defense of Jason Grace
I have seen many people through the years say they hate Jason, that Jason is their least favourite character in the series, etc. and all of their reasoning is because he's 'boring'. I admit, when I first read those books, I was feeling the same way. I wasn't the biggest Jason fan and I didn't think I would be. I even judged my friends for liking him, when there were other 'obvious' choices for favourite characters. Now, years later, I'm no longer 12 reading those books for the first time and I see Jason in a completely different perspective I would like to share.
Jason Grace was a child without childhood. He was taken from his family at two years old and taken to the Wold House, where he couldn't show weakness because then he would be seen as food - you cannot show weakness when you're being trained by Lupa. Which immediately strikes us with a, frankly horrifying, thought - Jason's first memories won't be of his mother, who wasn't the greatest parent anyway, or his sister Thalia, who loved him so much. It would be of what he was taught in a life-or-death situation, that you cannot show weakness. That's important to remember for later.
Jason also has had to carry an incredibly heavy burden since he first joined Camp Jupiter - he's the son of Jupiter, the King of the Gods. We have experienced first-hand what it felt like for Percy to have to go through being a child of the Big Three, but please keep in mind that when that happened, Percy was already 12 and he was a child of Poseidon. I'm not trying to say one of them had it harder than the other, because context is very important, but simply putting things into a perspective - Jason, a child who can't remember his family is put on a pedestal because of who his father is, with expectations being placed upon him immediately, as a, presumably, young child who has just been taught that life is either be strong or die.
And then, despite all of that, he decides that he will join the Fifth Cohort because he wants to write his own destiny, and because he wants to restore their honour. He's not only going against what others would expect from him, including his father, but he's also claiming a goal others perceive as impossible just to prove a point. Not a very boring thing to do, is it?
To continue adding to the list of things that Jason has done to prove that he isn't the prince-like, spoiled boring white guy some people in the fandom see him as, I want to talk more about the things Jason cannonically does at Camp Jupiter. He becomes friends with the 'least popular kids' because everyone else expects they would have to treat him like royalty, he goes on small quests that don't mean much because he doesn't want to be that hero and savior that's expected of him. He follows rules as to not appear spoiled, and even with his rule-following he appears to be 'unconventional' by Roman standards. He's the son of Jupiter, who's doing everything in his power to not conform.
And despite all that, he still manages to use his status to do what he thinks is right. Despite his efforts, he still ends up being the undoubted leader while everyone else is a follower. He listens to all sides, he tries to mediate to the best of his abilities. In his attempts to make everyone else an equal, he puts himself above them and makes them look at him for mediation and decision-making. For the twelve years he spends at Camp, he has eyes constantly on him, judging him, expecting things from him.
Now remember when I said that Jason tried to go to meaningless quests? Yeah, you can guess that didn't really work for him. Canonically, he has gone to many quests, including some that had been appointed to him by gods, such as Bacchus, so he was fairly unsuccessful there as well. And remember when I said that he was raised by a wolf to not show any weakness? I feel like at this point it should be pretty clear he internalized that, a lot.
I get why the debate 'who's stronger, Jason or Percy' happens in the fandom, but it doesn't mean it annoys me any less. Because most of the time, the only arguments are pointing out Percy's strengths and we're forgetting that Jason does some pretty incredible things as well. Jason, like Percy, also fought a Titan single-handedly, and won. What we know from canon about it, it's that he did it with sword-fighting and, interestingly, hand-to-hand combat, which is what the books mainly focus on when talking about his feat. Jason went up against a Titan and smacked him with his bare hands enough times that he won. And in the entire fight, Jason using his powers is not mentioned once. Which is a pretty constant thing, if I might add, but I'll delve into that more later.
Again, a common mischaracterization I see in the fandom is that Jason is this strictly rule-following, rigid, stick-in-his-ass guy, when he really isn't. One of the main things about him is that he's too relaxed for Camp Jupiter. After the war, when he tried to change things about Camp, he was unsuccessful because Camp Jupiter is too traditional and Jason's ideas weren't conforming to that.
And of course, it was Jason who welcomed the two kids of Pluto (Hades for Nico but you get my point) to Camp. I feel like it should be pretty clear to you why at this point, but let me repeat - Jason knows the pressures of being a child of The Big Three, and Jason isn't afraid to be friends with the 'not cool' kids, with the people who are looked at as weird or that are treated as outcasts. He does some of it out of spite, yes, but he was what, fourteen? Thirteen? At the time. That level of emotional maturity for a barely teenager is surprising as is.
Also, can we note that Hazel describes Jason as closed-off, hard to read and 'more of a legend than a man'. This thirteen/fourteen year old? This should be enough to tell you how Jason was treated and raised and why he is the way he is. 'Boring', because this child needs to be an example for an entire camp that has placed him in that position he didn't want in the first place but felt guilty and responsible to take. When Percy was thirteen-fourteen, he was being an ass to Tyson (which he later regrets, yes) and fights with Thalia (which they stop doing, yes) and Camp Half-Blood still sees him as more of an annoyance than a hero at that point. That doesn't change for Percy until The Battle of the Labyrinth. Jason never had that. He was spotlight leader from the second he was at camp.
He also didn't have an Annabeth and Grover, at least that we're explicidly told about, and his closest person was Reyna, who also had a crush on him, so who was Jason's platonic best friend in Camp that he could rely on for anything? We don't know. Maybe because he didn't have one? I'm just putting that idea out there.
Now, I will try to be more brief on Jason in the series, but with the speed with which we're going, that is kind of unlikely. First and foremost, Jason is an amnesiac who never gets his memories fully back. I want to focus so much of your attention on this. Jason wakes up and he doesn't remember, excuse my swearing, jack shit. He doesn't know who he is, what's his favourite colour, what music he likes, nothing. Nada. He is then told, again, he's the son of Zeus, he is sent on a quest with people who don't actually know him but have expectations for him, while he still doesn't remember anything. He is also fifteen. He is a child that people are judging for being 'too boring' of a character. Well excuse him for not having any memories so he can have a proper personality!
Excuse me, I'm getting a bit heated here. I feel I'm making valid points though. Because Jason's story keeps repeating - he goes to Camp, people start looking at him like he might become the new Percy or some variation of that, he has these friends with false memories of him, he is also trying to save the world in the meantime. I'm very sorry he doesn't have time to figure out his personality in the meantime.
This is what I think is the most tragic about Jason's character - he doesn't have the time to figure out who he is truly is because he's too busy helping everyone else, even if what he's helping with is stopping the end of the world. He is a hero of the Great Prophecy, which again links with his destiny and how there's no escaping it and he, again, doesn't have any choice in what happens. He was unconventional for Camp Jupiter because of his disregard for tradition, but he's not fully accepted in Camp Half-Blood either because he's still a Roman demigod.
And then the Burning Maze happens and we don't talk about it because Uncle Rick hates us. I refuse to read that book because if I don't, then Jason is happy and alive.
We should note, though, that Jason and Piper have broken up. And I believe the only reason they ever dated was because Piper had that expectation of Jason, and we've already established how he was raised. He is a people-pleaser because that's what he's had to be for his entire life. He can't disappoint people, because then he would feel guilty, and so I believe he gaslit himself into thinking he liked Piper romantically because otherwise he would have to hurt her. And I do believe Leo and Piper are the first real friends Jason has made, at least those who see him as truly human, and so he didn't want to lose Piper. So, he made her and himself believe he liked her and started dating her. I think he would've done the same with Reyna if he'd remained in Camp Jupiter, for the same reasons - expectations. He also has raging abandonment issues, so. Double fuck there.
In summary, because of his personality and parentage, Jason has never had the choice to put himself first. He hates the framework in which he's put by being the son of Jupiter, but he swallows that for the sake of others.
Well that was quite the rant. I have more to say, but this is already too long. After this post, I have become a Jason Grace stan. If, one day, he has no fans, it's because I have died. Jason Grace is my son and he's very much alive, thank you (not you, Rick Riordan. I don't thank you). Anyway, please like this post? I would super appreciate it. I would also love a discussion!
- mia
#jason grace#in defense of jason grace#we love jason in this household#camp jupiter#reyna avila ramirez arellano#leo valdez#jupiter#piper mclean#percy jackson#the heroes of olympus#percy jackson and the olympians#this post is too long#but i had a lot to say#please love jason#and please like this post too#camp half blood#jason grace is my son#thalia grace#character analysis
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TR is usually pretty grounded with naturally occurring hair colors, with any bizarre ones being dyed typically. I'm curious about Mitsuya, though. Do you think the silver-lilac tone is meant to be his natural color? If that's the case, I find it interesting he and his sisters all have different coloring (maybe they have different fathers? Not sure if that's meant to be an implication, but since we don't know what any of his other relatives look like, it's really just speculation we can't be sure about. Interesting to think on though). I know in some futures, we see Mitsuya with black or black-streaked hair, but it's kind of unclear if that's his true color or just dyed like certain future Mikeys. Even the youngest Mitsuya we see already has silver-lilac hair (though we see Draken of a similar age, already blonde (and I'm pretty convinced his natural hair is black at least), so it's not impossible or anything that he could already be dyeing it by then). I guess this is a long-winded way of asking what you think about various characters' natural hair colors. I know some of them have a lot of debate, like the Haitanis and Sanzu, and others are generally agreed upon (like Mikey being a natural blonde, even though that's genetically strange to me... we can probably assume Makoto Sano was naturally blonde, too (for whatever reason...) and Mikey got it from him, despite Sakurako's dark hair generally being more dominant. The other natural blondes we know are Emma and South, who are either implied or confirmed to have mixed blood, so it makes a bit more sense for them. At the end of the day, you could say it's anime logic and doesn't matter, which, yeah, but that's a lot less fun imo). But others, I haven't seen talked about as much (i.e., Izana or the Kawata twins - Izana's hair's been white since at least like,, age 7, right?? That doesn't seem normal... 🤔 and the twins still sport colorful hair in their earliest childhood flashbacks, so there's really no way of knowing what their natural hair looked like, assuming the orange and blue are not that. It's a bit funny to think perhaps they dyed their hair to match their eyes, respectively, lol). And it's not really so strange for these elementary aged kids in particular to have dyed hair when many of them come from families with guardians who might be absent or negligent and not care if their child is perceived as a social hoodlum (*wanna be clear I don't care if kids dye their hair, just noting its association with delinquency in Japan). This got all rambly and out of control, but I'd like to hear your hair analysis thoughts. Which ones do we pretty confidently know, and which ones do you have some theories/headcanons about?
See I'm sure that at the start Wakui was going to keep the colour's as natural as possible, with the more wild colour's being dyed. Then as the story went on he just kinda decided to go wild with the colour's. So I do think a lot of them are just anime logic now, like Sanzu and Senju both having pink and having very pink eyelashes and those colour's since they were kids. I think the S62 are pretty clear too since we see them in juvie with very short hair. I think Mikey's is definitely blonde, especially after seeing Makoto's blonde hair and seeing Mikey being so young with his light hair.
Honestly Mitsuya is the hardest one to say but I think he does have naturally lavender hair. Mainly because he had that hair since he was young and grew up in different circumstances to Draken. Draken knew he wanted to be a delinquent since young and would've likely had easy access to hair dye considering where he grew up. But it's definitely not set in stone, it's one of those things where both sides of the argument have valid points.
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So, I love hearing about why favorites are favorites! Why are Wind and Time your die-for favs?
THANK you for the ask <3
For Wind, I think I first played Wind Waker exactly when I joined the LU fandom properly, and oh my god, I LOVE Wind Waker. It genuinely had such a big impact on me on the first playthrough (and does to this day), and I was still going through all the emotions when I was reading LU and starting to engage with the fandom.
Wind has such a good story in Wind Waker, and I could write an essay about it tbh but I'll save it for another time. I also absolutely adore how he is written in the comic; I think it's perfect. He has the immaturity you'd expect from a 13 year old boy, such as not always being the most tactful, jumping straight into situations without Fully considering them, and having some quite strong almost black-and-white opinions on complicated topics (see the Kings of Hyrule comic). But you can also leverage all of those criticisms at the other boys who are supposedly older and wiser than Wind LOL. What makes him great is how his younger age and strong personality also give him a completely different point of view. Despite having gone through a certain amount of shit on his journeys, he's still optimistic and hopeful for the future and he's fiercely passionate in protecting those he loves... What can I say. He's just a good lad. I honesty feel this messy collection of words doesn't even do him justice.
As for Time, it's sort of opposite reasons? The story of his games and his outlook on life is a bit darker than Wind's. Time has been through so much, and was a broken man for a while... and yet he is the one who has the happily married, domestic life a lot of the boys deep down want. He made it! And it's just so wonderful to see a character like that, one hardened by his experiences but still able to get a happy ending.
And yet. The potential to angst him is still tremendous. We have the Hero's Shade, which many speculate could mean he dies when the kid(s) he has with Malon are still very young. There's the Fierce Deity Mask. The Ocarina of Time. His negative opinions about the Master Sword and the bitterness he's still holding onto. Not to mention all the stuff he went through in the past and has recovered from but you could still explore... Even though Time has this happy life now, he's still such a great complex character to break into. God writing this just reminded me of the massive Time Analysis Glau (Glaucus_Atlanticus) wrote. I don't know where to find it anymore though :(
One last thing as well is that Time and Wind's interactions are also great. I think Time sees a lot of himself in Wind; Wind was forced to defeat Ganondorf young, just like him. But UNLIKE him, Wind hasn't lost everything. He didn't lose his childhood, he has a family, he doesn't have to say goodbye to his home forever. And Wind is obviously doing a lot better in many ways than Time probably was aged 12/13, which is pretty self-explanatory as to why (TERMINA). And seeing that makes Time very happy, it's clear from the way Time interacts with Wind in the comic. But there is still angst potential with Time being the hero who 'abandoned' Wind's world... it's good shit!
To cut a long story shit they're both great and I need to write more fics of them both.
#jay talks#asks#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe dot txt#lu wind#lu time#i care them both deeply#this could have been SO much longer#but i refrained
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It’s so funny to be lazily ambiguous with gender and sexuality in real life because most people are like oh that’s a butch lesbian. Because I am lazy. And because I only clear things up with vetted friends and literally do not care about pronouns and names and have had different names/pronouns in different circles etc. and they see my men’s attire and the fact that I haven’t binded (bound?) in years and my short hair has long grown out. And then they tell on themselves and their own lazy heuristics when I talk about liking a man that it either a) takes them visibly aback and they have to stumble over themselves to pretend they’re not shocked or b) straight up think I’m joking and continue to believe I’m a butch lesbian. And the craziest thing is other queer people like somehow often worse about this despite this sort of idea that they have of themselves that they don’t assume anyone’s gender/sexuality and that they don’t tie ideas of androgyny to a flat chest and that they do believe that pretty extreme gender fluidity can and does exist and that everyone’s experience with gender is unique. And then there’s all sorts of shit where if I don’t feel like explaining/justifying the fact that I feel my concept of identity and self shift at such a glacial pace that it’s not worth establishing a conventional nonbinary or transgender identity (that conforms to the accepted experience, timeline, and desired considerations) in public, beyond my trusted friends who are chill about deviant experiences within the queer norm, I’m just one of them theyfabs claiming to be queer for clout. Ugh anyways it’s crazy to be one of the few people on the planet who needs to occasionally come out as what may appear at the outset as straight. I’m literally not a lesbian and no one ever ever stops to think I might not be. But I’ve had so many profound experiences with women and within that sort of community that I do feel such a strong affinity there, and in an ideal world would love to be something like a he/him lesbian. But I’m not a lesbian. Because I like men!! Despite only ever having been with women!!! And it also is so funny to me that were I to enter into a relationship with a man I would be considered completely and entirely cishet despite my extensive experiences within the gay community and specifically the lesbian community. Who would accept me with open arms if I’d ended up permanently with one of the women I’ve been with!! But I remain steadfast in my convictions that I do not need to explain myself to anyone. And truly I do not care in the least what people assume about me, I’m a very private person for whom open identity is not important and I’m literally way too chill to care. But it’s just continuously funny to have to come out as not a lesbian. How many dozens of times have I had to be like “actually I am not a homosexual”. Literally the opposite experience of most LGBTeeeees I’ve just got that deeply intensely masculine swag for real that the effect lasts even when my hair gets down to like shoulder length. And it’s like, even though I am perceived as female, albeit a queer one, I have had literally every single one of the stereotypical experiences of the ‘knew I was transgender from early childhood’ archetype and that’s just supposed to be completely invalid because I decided not to medically transition due to the spans of time I have where my identity shifts and I know I’m not qualified to pick one of the three acceptable genders for the rest of my life? And I understand the broader community’s frustration with certain aspects of hegemony re: people whose identities are snidely referred to as “theyfabs” and bisexual women in LTRs with men HOWEVER im just so tiredddddddddddd of the condescension, and lazy heuristics I notice in queer people’s treatment of me and assumptions about me. Anyways thanks 2 the gay people in my phone for letting me be amorphous and being so so chill about it. I mean it probably helps that you can’t see my genuinely gargantuan and unbindable breasts from my posts. But christ man it’s just exhausting lol
#sorry. guess who just had to say the sentence ‘actually I’m not a lesbian! no worries though’ out loud for the 4000009th time#also#which is why if you’ve noticed me use every single term under the sun for myself it’s because ummmm I am like everything and nothing#and if you hate theyfabs and bisexuals then just unfollow me and let’s live in our separate worlds. life is too short to justify yourself#to everyone I’m straight up just chilling#like sorry my hair is long. is that hard for you to understand in your toddler’s conception of boys and girls#ok now back to ur regularly scheduled apathy and ignoring of all discourse infighting and identity gatekeeping lol
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CARLA JAEGER IN TATTOOARTIST!EREN AU.
i imagine that miss mama carla was a firehouse baby. for the first 3 years of her life she grew up w two chaotic + unstable parents that just left her at a fire station one day.
then she grew up in foster care and from 13-18 she stayed in a group home with other girls of all different backgrounds, and they felt like family even if it was chaotic.
something that she took up during her childhood was sewing. like this bitch can make anything if she got a lil fabric. and she knows how to throw deown.
she has italian lineage with a thick jersey / new york accent in my head. curves like a disney mom.
after high school she went to a community college and also took classes at a fashion school. for money, she was the most one of the most charismatic bartenders & bottle girls you could ever meet, coming home with her pockets full of tips with the help of her pretty ass face.
everybody loves carla! if you don’t, you did something wrong. she has connections to so many helpful people because everyone just knows she’s that bitch.
and where do you think eren gets his firecracker ways from? she loves a good time, having all eyes on her at clubs, but if any jerk got out of line her mouth would run off the chaiinnn, and don’t make her have to slap the piss out of somebody, because she will.
at around 21, she met grisha, who was 26 and in med school. how did she meet him? partied too hard and wound up being treated by him.
“you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re just a student. get me an actual doctor.”
“or, you could go home. deal with the massive knot on your head and possible concussion by yourself.”
fuck, she loved his accent.
“at least i won’t have to see you again.”
“likewise.”
yeah, they hooked up that night. knot on forehead and all.
she didn’t think she was gonna fall for the man, especially since he already had a kid, but then a messy 3 years of falling in love later she was pushing eren’s big head out and marrying this german man.
she worked a desk job while eren was young, but after grisha got on top of his medical school fees and started getting that neurosurgeon money, she was in her stay at home mom bag.
eren was such an troublesome bby to deal with. he would always be running around and making him sit still was a challenge. one of the only times he would shut up without even having to be told anything would be when he spotted his mom drawing sketches of her dress designs, crawling up on her lap and watching everything she did.
and something that always infatuated him was her few tattoos that he would see every now and again. like the dragon on her shoulder that had beautiful lilies drawn around it, or the butterflies on her left foot. when he got into his tattoo art talent, grisha was against it but carla embraced it, allowing him to refresh her old tats and them getting matching ones of each other’s names, his on the back of his shoulder while hers is on her arm.
as eren got older his favorite parent was evident. he loves his mom but he LOVES annoying her even more. just goes in her room and lays on her bed like “what we watching?” the amount of times she’s popped his hand for reaching into her food.
she loves her son, but she gets to that “get the fuck away from me, eren. my head’s throbbing like a fuckin’ drum with you around, god.” he know’s he succeeded when she has to physically push him out of the room.
when they’re at home it’s either, “sweetie, have you eaten?” or “get out this kitchen, you moose! i’ll throw this fryin’ pan at your skull, move!”
when ppl be like, “eren, your mom’s so nice.” he agrees, but not forgetting to say “to you guys.”
but seriously, when it came to being a community mom in eren’s grade school days, carla was it! always packing foods and drinks for kids at the games, taking them out to eat afterwards, and clearing hoes at pto meetings. that mama drama is no joke.
now that e’s in college, when other mom’s complain that they miss their baby so much, she just nods. she was glad eren got his ass out by 18. she loves her baby, but handful isn’t even enough to describe him.
she’s able to claim time for herself again, and then, she knows her son, and even with all the problems he can bring onto himself, she knows he’ll be fine.
#books where carla’s alive >#if it adds to plot i understand but emo eren just be so 😒#monica's works#eren jaeger#eren yeager imagines#eren jaeger imagines#eren and carla#eren x black!reader#carla jaeger#carla yeager#aot#attack on titan#modern aot#modern aot au#tattooartist!eren#attack on titan au#aot au#carla x grisha#grisha x carla#eren jaeger headcanons#aot headcanons#attack on titan headcanons#eren yeager headcanons#carla jaeger headcanons#carla yeager headcanons
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nalu as childhood friends headcanons? because you’re full of knowing and being right :)
omg anon you know what. ur so right, i am /j.
i just assumed modern au and then went wacko crazy with that. hope that is okay <3 all due credit to @nalunalu because she is half of my brain and came up with a lot of these.
they are very, very unlikely best friends because they live in very different parts of town and in very different socioeconomic situations
they get seated next to each other in elementary and little unmedicated-for-his-adhd natsu will not stop trying to talk to her
lucy was such a teachers pet and always the smartest in her classes so other students tended to resent/bully her
natsu was the first person to ever be friendly to her that didn't have ulterior motives (getting answers to their homework)
after that lucy just sort of sticks to his side every time they go for recess because otherwise she would be stuck by herself
natsu doesn't really mind it but as soon as lucy offers him a snack from her lunch and he never leaves her alone after that. they are best friends now in his eyes
when he meets her for the first time, igneel is very endeared towards lucy
jude. does not feel the same about natsu
he tolerates natsu being around because he's always been around, and layla liked him a lot when she was alive
they had their first kiss (sort of) in middle school because natsu was running and not looking where he was going until someone shouted out that lucy was in his way and he turned his head just in time for their lips to touch before he barreled her over
lucy is mortified, insists that this does not count and tells natsu he is not allowed to tell anyone ever
natsu honours her request but lucy is awkward about it for like a week and cannot look him in the eye even though he doesn't get what the big deal is
going into high school they both know that they're going to be separated because lucy is going to be sent to a private school while natsu can only afford going to a public school
lucys begs and begs and begs some more to be sent to public school but jude will not budge
natsu does not want to be separated. he pretty much sees going with her as his only option so he works his ass off for a sports scholarship
lucy tutors him for the entrance exam and then proceeds to tutor him throughout high school so he can keep his scholarship
natsu plays every sport under the sun and lucy goes to all of his games
similarly, lucy plays the violin (though not of her own volition) and natsu comes to all of her recitals
jude assumes that they'd grow apart as they got older but they didn't. if anything they're closer in their teenage years
jude starts forbidding natsu from coming over when they're teens because he doesn't like the idea of lucy being alone in her room with a boy, it doesn't matter that they've known each other for years
this sparks the beginning of a rebellious streak where lucy will either sneak natsu in or she'll stay with natsu and lie about staying with levy or erza
natsu walks her home every day even though they live nowhere close to each other
when lucy swears not to tell a soul, natsu doesn't count. he knows everything lucy knows and nothing ever leaves their little bubble
natsu hears a lot of gossip because people just assume he's not listening when he is. anything he thinks lucy would be interested in he immediately tells her
he doesn't care for gossip but lucy does and he thinks it's funny when she gasps and gets over dramatic about finding out things
natsu has so many pictures from their childhood together and he frequently goes through them and sends pictures of any of the ones lucy looks stupid/funny/bad in and sends them to her without context
no guy ever dares to ask lucy out because they either think she's dating natsu or they're afraid of what he'd do to them if they did
he has made it very clear that anyone who hurts lucy will get hurt by him
their real first kiss happens in high school because lucy is all woe-is-me about not having her first kiss and natsu reminds her that they did technically kiss in middle school
after a lot of arguing about if that kiss counted or not, they kiss for real, just to see what the fuss is about
natsu only ever goes to school events at lucy's insistence
if she's not going he isn't either because he basically just sticks by her side at all times
lucy has a hidden spot in the library that she goes to whenever she's feeling down
no one but natsu knows it exists and if he can't find her he knows that's where she is
he always goes to her because he doesn't like her being sad on her own
sometimes they chat, sometimes she doesn't want to talk so they just sit in silence together and they're both okay with that
#mya's mumbles#nalu#headcanons#wow sorry this took so long#it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks im sorry about that </3#but thank you for the request i had fun with it
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