#glimmering opulence

[lovekia]

[taeghi]

silver spoons | (m)

🦢 summary : in the shadows of old money elites, you've always felt like an outsider amidst the glimmer of silver spoons and whispered secrets. raised by hardworking parents on society's fringes, opulence seemed a distant dream until a scholarship to Sterling Academy opens the your dream's doors. there, amidst the marble halls and manicured lawns, you encounter jake, the enigmatic heir of one of the oldest and wealthiest families who lets you in in all the high society secrets. just be careful to not indulge in their world too much; since once you are an outsider, you are always an outsider.

🦢 genre : old money, angst, smut ;D

🦢 pairing : scholarship girl x old money!jake

🦢 word count : 29,400

🦢taglist : @criminalyun @hzorpheu @jjklvr9 @yeorns @lhspeachie @hizhu @iikeustar @eloelooo  @kookify @meujaeyun @minniejenseo @ak-aaa-li @cha0thicpisces @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @jaeyunluvr  @syl-vb @hallaween23 @strxwbloody  @nikitaxlee  @lhsthinkr @flowerlvrs-blog @willysblog @enhabooks  @heeverseblog @skzenhalove  @hotsforikeu @sweetlikesugarvenom-fm @tiziamattaga @angelhyj  @sunwoniie @hoonmyluv @m3chigo @yunhoswrldddd @kirinaa08 @yongbokified @woniebae @seonghwaexile @missychief1404  @jaklvbub @jaehoonii @koralira-kira  @aespie @fakeuwus @jjongsha @suzyhhj @m3chigo @kgneptun @shiningnono @itgirlalisaa @notevenheretbh1 @astralis-is-typing 

mdNi

you grew up in the small town nestled right next to Sterling Academy. If you looked out your bedroom window, you could see it amongst the rolling hills in the distance. each fall, as the crimson hues of autumn paint the landscape, the streets come alive with the arrival of students. you’ve seen their parents’ sleek cars glide effortlessly down the winding roads, their polished exteriors reflecting the golden light of the meadows that surrounds the building. limousines and fancy cars, symbols of privilege and prestige, carrying people whose lives seem worlds apart from your own.

your parents were extremely hardworking in your small town. your father was a miner in the mines that were only a few towns over. your mother was a skilled artisan who made all the handmade goods for the people of your town.

you’ve always felt  like an outsider from the world of opulence and excess that was just next door to you. while others reveled in the grandeur of the academy and luxurious lifestyles, you remained on the sidelines, a silent observer of a world that seemed to tantalizing out of reach. 

you knew that even though there was a small flicker of hope, a glimmer of possibility, that you would be able to live a life similar to the students of Sterling Academy, you would never be one of them. though you dreamed of walking the hallowed halls of the academy, of rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful, of finally belonging to a world that had always seemed just beyond your grasp. 

but for now, you remain on the outskirts of Sterling Academy. a silent observer that watches as the seasons and students come and go. as your town remains the same everyday with the same people. you let yourself cling to the hope that one day you’ll be able to be like students who go to the prestigious academy.

during summer, you always found yourself in the garden. surrounded by the rustle of leaves and the sweet flower scent. your hands were always stained with earth and your eyes were determined to finish the garden work you had set up for yourself.

“y/n,” your mother’s voice called out from behind you, soft but still manages to surprise you. 

“oh my god, mom you scared me.” you smiled up at her, your hand on your chest. you could instantly tell that your mom was overly excited about something. your dad stood beside her, matching her twisted grin. “what?” 

“we have some good news,” your dad grinned, his voice buoyant with joy as he pulled something from behind his back. your heart skipped a beat with anticipation.

“you got accepted into Sterling Academy!” your mother blurted out, her words tumbling forth like a rush of wind. 

“what?” you exclaimed, immediately standing up from your position on the ground. you didn’t bother to rub off the dirt on your hands as you grabbed the paper from your dads hands. 

sure enough, written on the paper were the words: 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

It is with great pleasure that we extend our congratulations to you on your acceptance to Sterling Academy this fall through our prestigious scholarship program. We are thrilled to offer you this opportunity to join our esteemed community of scholars. Please see attached for further details inquiring about your tuition coverage, academic requirements and any additional resources available. 

Warm regards, 

Admissions Committee

Sterling Academy

“but, i don’t understand,” you shook your head at your parents, “i didn’t apply to their scholarship program.” 

“we know,” your mother nodded, “we did for you.”

“what? why?” 

“because we know how much you’ve always wanted to go there, y/n!” your dad spoke and you could hardly believe what you were hearing. 

it’s as if time stands still, your small town around you fading into a blur as you grapple with the news. and then, with a surge or emotion that threatens to overwhelm you, you leaped into your parents’ arms. wrapping their bodies close to your own. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you kept repeating to them as they laughed and hugged you back. 

there were so many emotions crashing over you at once, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes, spilling over down your cheeks until your mother asks you why you are crying. but it’s a silent testament to the depth of your gratitude and disbelief.

you were so excited that you hardly sleep the night before you started school at Sterling Academy. despite the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down upon your eyelids, sleep eludes you, slipping through your grasp like the seeds of petunias you had planted earlier this year. restless thoughts swirl through your mind, a tempest of anticipation and nerves that refuse to be quieted. you toss and turn in bed, seeking refuge from the ceaseless torrent of doubts and fears that threaten to engulf you. 

with trembling hands, you check and recheck your bags, ensuring that you haven’t forgotten anything essential for your first day at Sterling Academy. 

but no matter how many times you run through the checklist in your mind, a nagging sense of doubt lingers, a whisper of insecurity that refuses to be silenced. it's as if the weight of tomorrow's expectations hangs heavy in the air, casting a pall over your thoughts and clouding your vision of what lies ahead. 

the memory of how you finally drifted into sleep the night before eludes you, lost amidst the whirlwind of anticipation and nerves that swept through your mind. but now, as you stand outside Sterling Academy, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the imposing facade of the building, you find yourself filled with a sense of anxiousness and determination.

your parents stand by your side, their presence a reassuring anchor amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces that surrounds you. as you approach the entrance to Sterling Academy, a rush of excitement courses through your veins. the grandeur of the building looms before you like a fortress, its towering spires reaching skyward as if to touch the heavens.

the ivy-clad walls, weathered by time, stand tall against the blue sky, casting shade over the lush greenery that surrounds the building. a row of neatly trimmed bushes lines the path leading to the entrance, their emerald leaves rustling in the breeze. in the center of the courtyard, a fountain glistens in the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters cascading down tiers of stone. as you draw nearer to the entrance, the intricate details of the building come into focus. gothic arches adorn the windows, their elegant curves reminiscent of a bygone era of grandeur and opulence. 

you couldn’t believe that you were standing directly in front of the building you had only ever seen from your window. 

as you walk down the grand hallway with your parents, their expressions a mix of pride and apprehension, you can't help but feel a sense of wonder wash over you.

the walls are adorned with paintings, their colors vibrant against the rich tapestries and flickering candles. the scent of polish lingers in the air, mingling with the soft glow of chandeliers that cast intricate patterns on the marble floors below. you had thought before that you’d only ever get to see this place in pictures. 

"this place is incredible," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you take in the grandeur of your surroundings. 

finally, you find your room, the number ‘42’ etched in brass shining brightly against the dark wood. with trembling hands, you insert the key into the lock and turn it, the click of the mechanism echoing through the hallway. as the door swings open, you're greeted by a sight that takes your breath away. the room is bathed in soft light, streaming in through the tall windows that overlook the courtyard below. twin beds sit across from each other against separate walls, their crisp white linens inviting and pristine. a mahogany desk and matching chair occupy each corner, while a cozy reading nook with plush armchairs beckons from another.

as your parents stand before you, their expressions a mix of pride and bittersweetness, you feel a lump form in your throat. the weight of their impending departure hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room that was once filled with excitement and anticipation.

"we'll miss you, sweetheart," your mother says, her voice soft with emotion.

your father nods in agreement, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "but we know you'll do great here," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion that lingers just beneath the surface.

you pull them both into a tight embrace, clinging to them as if afraid to let go. the scent of your mother's perfume and the warmth of your father's embrace envelop you like a cocoon, offering a fleeting sense of comfort in the face of impending separation.

with one final squeeze, you release them from your grasp, watching as they turn and make their way to the door, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors.

as the door clicks shut behind them, you're left alone in your new surroundings. you lay back on the bed, the soft mattress beneath you so different from your bed at home.

as the door to the dorm room swings open, a girl strides in with purpose, her arms laden with bags that she unceremoniously drops to the floor with a thud. she barely spares you a glance as she begins to unpack her belongings, her movements efficient and methodical.

"hi there!" you chirp, mustering up a cheerful tone despite the girl's indifferent demeanor.

"hi," she mumbles in response, her voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm.

you watch her for a moment, noting the tension in her shoulders and the furrow of concentration on her brow. there's a sense of guardedness about her that you pick up on.

with a sigh, you resign yourself to the awkward silence that hangs between you, that you aren’t sure if only you feel. but as you watch her unpack her things from your spot on the bed, you can’t help but wonder about your new roommate. 

she carries herself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to being the center of attention, yet there's a subtle tension in her demeanor. her long hair cascades down her back in waves, framing her face like a curtain of silk. a brown plaid headband sits atop her head, adding a touch of preppy sophistication. she wears a white blouse that fits her frame, its sleeves rolled up to reveal slender wrists adorned with delicate gold bracelets. a brown, plaid skirt matches her headband and tucks in her blouse. tt's as if she carries herself with a sense of quiet authority, a reminder of the privilege and power that comes with her old-money upbringing.

as suddenly as the girl appears, she quickly disappears. throwing her empty bags into a pile on the floor before she’s opening and closing the door, her long hair blowing as she slams it shut after her. 

left alone again in your room, you huff and decide that it’s time to unpack.. you hadn’t thought your first encounter with your roommate would be so dull and brief. but what could you do? maybe you just weren’t as used to the rich lifestyle as you imagined.

with your packing finally complete, a pang of hunger gnaws at your stomach, reminding you that it was almost dinner time. 

you realize that you had no idea where the dining hall was once you step outside your dorm room. but decided to follow the crowds of students that are talking and walking together in the same direction. you easily fall into step behind them, anxiousness building up in your empty stomach. 

but as you round a corner and catch sight of the dining hall up ahead, a wave of relief washes over you. 

you step into the dining hall, the glow of chandeliers casting patterns of light and shadow across the room. large windows line one wall, allowing the soft light of dusk to filter in and bathe the space in a golden hue. the flickering flames of candles add to the cozy ambiance, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

the room has four long rows of tables, each adorned with pristine white tablecloths and gleaming silverware. plates are neatly arranged in front of each chair, awaiting the arrival of hungry students eager to partake in the evening meal.

at the front of the room, a long table sits perpendicular to the rows of tables, its surface adorned with an array of decadent dishes and platters. older adults, probably some staff or professors, are seated around the table, engaged in conversation.

you stand at the entrance, not knowing what to do next.

a man with a scowl etched on his face suddenly appears beside you, his tall figure looming over you. aAre you new?" he grumbles, his voice low and gruff.

"uh, yes sir," you reply, feeling a pang of nervousness at his stern demeanor.

"what year are you in?" he demands, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"second year," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

the man lets out a sigh similar to an annoyed huff. "second years sit at the second table from the left," he instructs, pointing towards a table where some students are already seated.

"thank you, sir," you mumble gratefully, relief flooding through you as you follow his directions.

you settle into a seat at the back of the table, closer to the entrance doors, where the light spills in from the hallway. The shiny silverware catches your eye, gleaming under the soft glow of the chandeliers above. you reach out tentatively, running your fingers along the smooth surface of the plate before you.

your reflection stares back at you, crisp and clear on the plate. It's a strange sensation, seeing yourself mirrored in such opulent surroundings. you've never encountered plates and forks so expensive before, you were nervous to touch the spoons. 

someone suddenly plops down beside you with a perky "hi!" you turn in shock to see a girl flashing you a bright smile. her presence radiating an air of elegance and sophistication that fits perfectly with all the other students you’ve seen. 

she has flawless porcelain skin that seems to glow under the soft lighting of the dining hall. her eyes, framed by long lashes, sparkle with warmth and friendliness as she greets you. long, silky hair cascades down her back in gentle waves, adding to her ethereal aura.

despite her glamorous exterior, there's a genuine warmth to minju that puts you at ease.

“i’m minju.” the girl smiles at you, her eyes turning into upside smiles as she does so. 

“hi, i’m y/n.” 

“ooh, i like that name! but i don’t think we’ve ever met, right?” 

you shake your head no, “no, i’m new.” 

minju gasps loudly, her hands reaching out to grab your forearm, “oh my god! no way! what school did you go to before?” 

“uh, woodcrest springs.” 

minju pouts, her pretty features not affected, “i’ve never heard of that one before. how much is tuition?” 

you want to smile at her question, but you know she’s being serious. “nothing, i went to public school.” 

minju’s jaw drops like you’ve told her the secret to the end of the world. you expect her to get up and walk away from you. but you’re surprised that she stays put, her pretty smile returning to her pretty face. 

“really? i’ve never met someone who’s gone to public school before. what’s it like?” 

you can hardly believe her words. but you know that her seemingly level of elegance didn’t come from someone who hung out with public school kids all her life. before you can answer her, someone sits down from across you both. you instantly notice that it’s your roommate. 

“oh my god, heejin! this is y/n, she went to public school.!” minju nods with a smile as she informs your roommate, heejin, about you. 

heejin props her chin on her hand as she glances from minju to you and then back to minju, simply shrugging at minju’s words. 

minju tsks from beside you and then turns to you again, “y/n, this is heejin– we’re best friends.” 

you make an ‘O’ shape with your mouth as you let out an acknowledgment, “yeah, i met her earlier, we’re roommates.” 

“what?” minju’s voice yelled, causing you to jerk in surprise, everyone in the room looking your way except for heejin who seems to be use to minju’s loudness. “heejin, you didn’t tell me you met your roommate.” minju’s voice comes out in a whine. 

heejin shrugs again, looking at her freshly painted manicure, “didn’t come up.” 

minju pouts at her answer. 

“right, we didn’t exactly, talk, the last time we saw each other.” you spoke awkwardly, remembering how heejin barely looked your way. 

“i don’t exactly talk to anyone.” 

“except for me!” minju sing songs beside you, smiling at heejin who only quirks her eyebrow as she looks at her supposed best friend. minju places her hand against your forearm again, “don’t mind heejin, she’s just mad that we aren’t roommates this year.” 

embarrassment suddenly fills you with her words, finally finding out why heejin was so cold to you. “o-oh, i’m sorry, can we change rooms? because you can happily take min-.” 

minju laughs, “no no, it’s a new policy that we can’t pick our own roommates,” she pouts, “but this will be fun! we’ll get closer and become friends! right heejin?” you and minju turn to look at heejin, who forces a fake smile and nods to please minju. 

a man's voice suddenly booms through the dining hall, drawing your attention away from your meal. you glance up to the front of the room and see a figure clad in a fresh, black suit standing at a podium in front of the tables.

the dining hall has become full, not one table spot is empty across all four tables. the students murmurs fade into silence to listen to the man.

the man steps forward, his voice commanding attention as he introduces himself. "good evening, students. I'm dean kinglsey," 

a collective murmur ripples through the crowd as dean kinglsey begins to outline the rules for the year. "firstly," he declares, "there will be no roommate changes allowed. you've been assigned your roommates for the duration of the term."

"secondly," dean kinglsey continues, "there will be no boys in the girls' dorms, and no girls in the boys' dorms. this rule is non-negotiable."

a wave of groans washes over the students, accompanied by a few muttered complaints.

"thirdly, starting tomorrow, everyone must wear their uniforms,"

"and lastly," dean kinglsey concludes, "we have a three-strike policy. if you break any of these rules three times, you will be expelled. in addition, be sure to be at class on time or you will be served detention if you do not have a late note."

"remember," dean kingsley's voice softens slightly, a hint of warmth infusing his tone, "while rules are important, so is enjoying your time here. have a safe school year, students. keep up with your academics, but don't forget to make memories along the way."

he pauses, letting his words sink in before concluding, "now, I urge you all to have a good dinner and get plenty of rest. tomorrow is a new day, filled with endless possibilities. make the most of it." with a final nod, Dean Kingsley steps away from the podium.

suddenly, a dozen servers emerge from the kitchen, each carrying an array of tantalizing dishes. they begin placing plates atop the already gleaming silverware adorning your table. the food before you is definitely the most luxurious in both appearance and aroma that you have ever seen. there’s vibrant vegetables and delicate garnishes on the plates, something your parents never did. 

from the table behind you, a voice calls out heejin’s name, drawing both of your attention. you turn to see a boy from the third year's table, a smirk playing on his lips as he addresses her.

"how was your summer?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. then, with a sly grin, “did you finally perfect your resting bitch face?” 

heejin’s expression darkens, her features contorting into a scowl as she shoots the boy a glare. 

“heeseung, eat your food.” minju whines out to the boy. 

“yeah heeseung, eat your food before i knock out your teeth.” 

heeseung grins at heejin’s answer before turning around so his back is to you guys again. 

“who was that?” you ask them, shocked by how rude he was. 

heejin groans from across you at your question. 

“lee heeseung,” minju speaks, “heejin’s brother.”

“half brother.” heejin clarifies before stuffing her mouth with her fork. 

“right,” minju nods, “half brother.” 

from the corner of your eye, you catch the dining hall door open, the heads of the sitting students turn subtly in the direction of it. all of them watching a boy who saunters in late. the loud chatter then mixes with whispers as the boy approaches the tables. he moves with nonchalant as he’s dressed in the most casual attire you’ve seen today. 

he approaches the tables and casually greets heeseung behind heejin who could care less about the boy who has everyones head turning. with a nod, heeseung gestures for a guy at your table to move so the boy could sit there instead. there’s a grunt of protest from the other guy, but he begrudgingly moves to sit closer to the front. 

the boy sits down into the seat so he’s diagonally back to back with heeseung. the boy shakes his head at heeseung, his voice is low when he murmurs, “you didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“what?” heeseung reaches to grab the boy on the shoulder, “c’mon jake, i haven’t seen you all summer. you don’t want to sit close to me?” 

the boy– jake, rolls his eyes at heeseung before he picks up the fork in front of him to eat.

from across the table, you feel a shift in the atmosphere, a gentle tug of awareness that draws your gaze to meet jake’s. his soft brown eyes, warm and mysterious, lock with your own, and for a moment, the bustling chatter of the dining hall fades into the background. you find yourself unable to look away from his gaze, by the silent exchange of curiosity passes between you.

his features are illuminated by the soft glow of the room. you notice the gentle curve of his plush, pink lips, sealed tight in a quiet contemplation as he returns your gaze with unwavering intensity.

minju's hand wraps around your arm again, her grip firm yet strangely comforting as she leans in closer. "so, where are you from?" she asks, her words tumbling out in a rapid stream before you have a chance to respond. without waiting for an answer, she launches into a litany of cities she's lived in, her voice a blur of names and memories.

your gaze drifts involuntarily to jake, seated across the table, but his attention is elsewhere. his eyes remain fixed on his plate, his expression unreadable as if you've become invisible to him in that moment.

as minju continues to recount her experiences, you struggle to focus on her words, your mind wandering back to the boy across the table. there's a sense of longing in his silence, a quiet intensity that leaves you yearning to learn more. and as you try to listen to minju's stories, a part of you can't help but wonder more about who this jake boy is.

midway through your breakfast on the first day of classes, as you sit with heejin, minju and minju’s roommate, your attention is drawn to the entrance of the dining hall. a hush falls over the room as jake and a group of boys make their way inside, their presence commanding attention as heads turn in their direction.

you can't help but notice the curious glances and whispered conversations that fill through the room at the sight of jake. there's an undeniable aura of mystery surrounding him, a silent intrigue that seems to follow him wherever he goes.

as you watch from afar, you can't shake the feeling that there's more to jake than meets the eye. and as the buzz of conversation resumes around you, you can’t focus on heejin’s story of her summer vacation in the maldives.

“that’s jake.” minju’s voice speaks from beside you. the mention of his name makes you rip your eyes away from him and onto your new friend instead. her and lia laugh at your shocked expression while heejin only quietly smirks. “you think he’s cute?”

“what? no.” you shake your head, hoping your cheeks don’t go bright red. “it’s just, why does everyone stop and look at him all the time? and whisper?” you notice how all three of the girls seemingly give each other knowing looks that you can’t understand. minju sighs from beside you before she speaks again. 

“jake is a year older than us, but last year, he failed a bunch of classes.” 

lia nods, “yeah, and then he got three strikes,” her tone grave, “so he was expelled.” 

“he should be expelled.” heejin mumbles into her cereal. 

you can’t help but ask the obvious question, “so if he should be expelled, why is he here and sitting at the second-year table?” 

“well that’s the thing, he shouldn’t be here,” lia remarks, her voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. 

minju nods in agreement, chiming in with her own observation. "yeah, you heard dean kingsley, they are very strict with the three-strike policy," she adds, her tone somber.

"but," lia continues, her voice taking on a teasing lilt, "there are rumors about how jake's mom hooked up with the dean so jake wouldn't get expelled." 

“what? that’s not what i heard.” minju pouts at lia. 

“what? what did you hear?” lia tilts her head in confusion. 

“i heard,” heejin says from her corner, “that jake’s mom let dean kingsley stay in their monaco mansion for the summer.” 

“yeah!” minju nodded excitedly, “that’s what i heard, too!” 

at their rumours, you glance over at jake who’s stood beside the third year table, talking to a group of boys. his face is expressionless as he watches his friends converse amongst each other. the rumors of why he didn't get expelled only fuel your curiosity about him. 

“what did he do to get three strikes?” you ask the group of girls. the three of them hold back their laughs, shaking their heads as they continue to eat. “what? c’mon tell me.” 

“what didn’t he do?” lia speaks sarcastically.

minju laughs as she turns to look at you, “well one strike was from when he rearranged all of dean kingsley’s furniture in the middle of the night.” 

“what?” you ask in disbelief. 

“yeah, he put his couch in front of the door so he couldn’t even open it from the hallway.” lia smirked at the memory. 

“the second strike was when him and his friends, like heeseung, snuck food out from the kitchen and had a whole feast in the library at midnight.” minju told you, explaining that all the books on the shelf had ketchup on them. 

“then, third one, which jake insists he didn’t do,” lia put her hands up, “was spray paint the entire courtyard, the fountain was gushing rainbow coloured water.” 

“but what really got him expelled was that he had failed all his classes.” lia stated, “which is weird because he used to be the top of the class during first year.” 

you go back into silence as lia and minju start to complain about the uniforms you have to wear. you couldn’t care to complain about the uniform you had always dreamed of wearing. but you also couldn’t stop thinking about jake. his seemingly calm presence was so different from the troublemaker the girls had explained to you. you didn’t understand how the quiet, almost lonely looking boy could have been practically expelled. 

the bell rings, signaling that classes are about to start, making you forget about jake for the time being and worry about not getting lost in the long hallways. 

but of course you still rush down the hallway, your footsteps echoing against the polished floors, you curse under your breath, knowing you're already late for your first class. pushing open the door, you find the room hushed and all eyes turn to you. your teacher's stern gaze meets yours.

"and what's your name?" she demands sharply.

"Y/N Y/L/N, i'm new," you respond, trying to keep your voice steady.

"well, mrs. Y/L/N, are you going to be late every day? because then you'll be quickly given three strikes," she warns, her tone firm.

"no, mrs.," you murmur, feeling the weight of her disapproval.

with a curt nod, she gestures for you to find a seat, the unspoken threat of consequences lingering in the air as you settle in, determined not to make the same mistake again. “consider this your first and final warning then, mrs y/l/n.” 

head bowed, you try to blend into your seat, the flush of embarrassment still staining your cheeks as the teacher launches into the lesson. But just as you start to relax, the door creaks open once more, and your heart skips a beat when you see jake slip in.

"mr. sim, late on your first day?" the teacher's voice is sharp, cutting through the classroom.

"yes, mrs., sorry," jake mumbles, his tone subdued.

"don't say sorry to me, it's your parents who you will have to say sorry to when you're expelled. next time you are late, i'll give you a strike. go and sit down," the teacher retorts, her tone firm and uncompromising.

you can't help but steal a glance at jake as he retreats to a seat, noticing the flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he lowers his gaze, mirroring your own discomfort. he's in his school uniform, but there's an air of rebellion about him—the tie around his neck slightly too loose for the dean’s liking. his hair is tousled, like he had just gotten out of bed. but it was refreshing to see since everyone else was too pristine and perfect looking. 

you shift once he settles into the seat diagonally behind you. with a quick glance over your shoulder, your eyes meet his unexpectedly. though strangely, neither of you can look away. it's only when the sharp sound of the teacher slamming a textbook down on her table jolts through the classroom that your eyes retreat, returning to the safety of your desk.

you tell yourself to ignore jake's presence and listen to the teacher. your scholarship would not allow you to be distracted this year. you remind yourself of the importance of focusing on your studies, of making the most of this opportunity that your parents had worked so hard to provide. as much as curiosity tugs at your thoughts, you force your attention back to the front of the classroom, where the teacher's voice drones on about the subject matter.

after what felt like an eternity of being lost in the halls of sterling academy during the first week of school, you had thought you had learnt your way around. but once again, you found yourself rushing through the labyrinthine halls of sterling academy, trying desperately to get to class. once you find your english literature class again, you take a moment to catch your breath, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable reprimand from your teacher.

pushing open the door, you stepped into the classroom, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. all eyes turned to you as you made your entrance, the weight of their scrutiny heavy upon you.

the teacher, a stern-looking figure with a stack of papers in hand, fixed you with a disapproving glare. "and what excuse do you have for being late this time, miss y/l/n?" she inquired, her voice tinged with annoyance.

you offered a sheepish smile, feeling the weight of your tardiness pressing down upon you. "i-i'm sorry, ma'am," you stammered, struggling to find the right words. "i got lost again."

the teacher's expression softened slightly, though her disapproval remained evident. "very well, miss y/l/n," she conceded, her tone stern. "but let this be the last time. we don't tolerate tardiness here at sterling academy. now sit down, people have already picked their partners for the project."

you nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment wash over you. taking your seat, you looked around the classroom, noticing that everyone has in fact found a partner. 

just as you were about to accept the fact that you would have to do the project alone, the door swung up again. just like last week, jake walked into english literature late. his tie was even looser this week. 

“mr sim!” your teacher called his name in disappointment. “have you really not learnt your lesson from the previous year! you must be in class on time!” 

jake was out of breath when he spoke, “i’m sorry mrs, i am, i ran here.” 

your teacher sighed over her shoulder, making eye contact with you before she spoke to jake again, “fine, one hour detention tonight, no strike. but you’ll have to partner with the other tardy student, mrs y/l/n.” 

a jolt of surprise courses through you at the mention of your name, your heart quickening in your chest. you feel a sudden rush of nervousness, unsure of what to expect as you await jake's response.

across the room, jake's gaze flickers to yours, his expression unreadable. for a moment, the world seems to stand still as your eyes meet, an unspoken tension hanging in the air between you.

then, with a simple nod to the teacher, jake begins to make his way over to where you're sitting. you watch him approach, his movements fluid and deliberate, a sense of quiet confidence exuding from him.

before you know it, he's standing beside you, his presence looming large in your peripheral vision. his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

without a word, jake takes the empty seat beside you. you find yourself holding your breath, the air thick with anticipation as you wait for him to speak. but instead of saying anything, jake simply offers you a small, almost imperceptible smile before turning his attention to the task at hand. as the teacher begins to outline the details of the project. 

after the class ends, the echo of the bell fading into the background, you gather your belongings as the rest of the students file out of the room.

out of the corner of your eye, you see that jake is still standing beside you. 

when he speaks, he cuts straight to the chase, his voice calm yet direct. "when will you be able to finish your part of the project?" he asks, his gaze steady as it meets yours.

caught slightly off guard by his straightforwardness, you stumble over your words for a moment "uh, pretty quickly."

a faint nod of approval is his response, his expression unreadable as he takes in your answer. "good, i want the project done as soon as possible." he says simply, his words carrying a weight of expectation that hangs in the air between you.

with that, jake turns on his heel and strides out of the classroom, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. you watch him go, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

later in the week as you walk back to your dorm with minju and heejin, the day's events behind you, minju drops a bombshell that sends a jolt of surprise through your system. "oh, by the way, y/n, jake sim asked me what your dorm number is today."

"what? why?" you blurt out, unable to conceal the shock in your voice.

 minju, ever nonchalant, shrugs in response. "i don't know, he was probably just curious."

"curious about what?" you press, your curiosity piqued and your mind racing with possibilities.

"maybe he wants to ask you to the semi-dance!" minju suggests with a mischievous glint in her eyes, shaking your arm in excitement.

"he definitely does not," you retort, dismissing the notion outright. 

however, heejin interjects with her usual monotone delivery, "well, I think you're gonna have to ask him what he wants."

"why's that?" you question, genuinely perplexed by their cryptic comments.

bBecause he's currently leaning against our door," heejin deadpans, her annoyance evident in her tone. when you look up towards your dorm down the hall, the sight confirms her words. there's jake, casually leaning against your door, engrossed in a textbook.

as you draw closer to your dorm room, jake's eyes flick up from his textbook, locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. heejin strides past him without so much as a word, she lets the door swing shut behind her with a resounding slam.

meanwhile, Minju greets jake with her trademark bubbly tone, seemingly unfazed by the abrupt intrusion.

 "hi, jake! what’re you doing here?" she chirps, her enthusiasm in stark contrast to heejin's personality. your gaze shifts between the two of them, caught between curiosity and apprehension.

jake smiles the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him as he looks down at minju. “y/n and i are partners for a project.” 

minju gasps, “what? y/n you didn’t tell me that!” you shrug in response, feeling awkward in between them. “what class?” 

“english literature.” jake replies before he looks at you. “do you want to meet at the library tomorrow?” 

you unexpectedly look between minju and jake. minju’s bright smile is gleaming in between you and jake. “uh, sure.” 

with a subtle nod of approval, jake begins to retreat down the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. you and minju watch in silence as he gradually recedes from view. 

minju's cheerful voice pierces the quiet, "bye, jake!" she calls out, her tone infused with genuine warmth as she waves after him with unabashed enthusiasm. jake offers a brief wave in return, a fleeting gesture, before continuing on his way without looking back.

left alone in the hallway with minju you couldn’t help but question if you were grateful or not for being late to class yesterday. 

as you bid farewell to minju and step into your dorm room, you find heejin lounging on her bed. with a sigh, you begin to remove your jewelry, catching heejin's reflection in the mirror as she watches you. her eyes meet yours, and she offers a pointed remark, "don't get too obsessed with jake sim."

you scoff lightly, surprised by her blunt comment. "what? i'm not obsessed with him," you retort, feeling a touch defensive.

heejin raises an eyebrow skeptically, her expression unreadable. "right, so what's with that dazed expression on your face?" she counters, her tone teasing yet observant.

glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you notice a hint of preoccupation lingering in your features. frowning slightly, you shake your head in denial. "i'm not obsessed with jake sim, heejin," you insist, trying to convince both her and yourself.

heejin lets out a noncommittal murmur, her response dismissive as she rolls over in bed. "whatever," she mutters under her breath, signaling an end to the conversation as she turns away.

you brush off heejin's words, convinced that she doesn't understand your intentions. her comment about jake sim doesn't sit well with you, but you push it aside. after all, you're not here at sterling academy to obsess over a boy who almost got expelled last year. you're here to focus on your studies and make the most of your education. jake may be intriguing, but he's not the reason you're here. you remind yourself of the countless hours of hard work and dedication that brought you to this prestigious academy. 

with that final thought, you decide it's time to call it a night. tomorrow is a new day, and with it, a project to work on with jake sim.

you feel your nerves mix around as you wait for jake to arrive. the library is quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of papers and the soft hum of the air conditioning. you glance around, noting the rows of bookshelves and the sunlight filtering in through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor.

you tap your pen on the book you’ve been assigned to read. the red nail polish on your fingers serves as a reminder of your nervous habit of picking at your nails when you're stressed. you make a mental note to stop, but find yourself doing it unconsciously as you wait. the color matches the red on the book cover of ‘Rebecca’ by daphne du maurier. 

you startle when jake suddenly appears beside you, his simple greeting catching you off guard. pulling your fingers away from each other, you look up to find him standing there, wearing his school uniform with his tie slightly loose. you note that his hair looks more brushed today, a small detail that doesn't go unnoticed.

quietly, you return his greeting with a simple "hi," your voice barely above a whisper. as he sits down across from you, you feel a sense of tension dissipating, 

jake pulls out his copy of "Rebecca" and asks if you've read the book. 

you nod, a simple "yeah" slipping from your lips. you always have a lack of words when jake speaks to you. 

his gaze meets yours, a silent question lingering in his eyes, “when?” 

you give a nonchalant shrug, “last year or something."

there's a flicker of something in jake's expression, almost like he's impressed, but he quickly masks it with a casual shrug. he pulls out his laptop from his backpack and sets it on the table. 

“have you read it?” 

jake nods immediately, “yeah, my dad used to read it to me when i was younger.” 

you don’t say anything at the mention of his dad. but you realize that your friends have only ever told you about jake’s mom. not necessarily respectable things about his mom. you lean back in your chair, watching as jake's eyes scan the empty page before you both. he looks so focused, so sure of himself. meanwhile, you can feel the anxiety bubbling up inside you, making it hard to concentrate.

"so, I was thinking we could start by outlining our approach. what do you think?" jake's voice cuts through the silence, and you snap back to attention, trying to push aside your nerves.

"uh, yeah, sure. sounds good," you mumble, your words coming out quieter than you intended, shifting uncomfortably.

"great," he replies, his tone brisk and efficient. "did you have any ideas for how we should structure it?"

you rack your brain for a response, but all you can come up with is a hesitant, "maybe we could... uh, divide the sections?"

jake nods, seemingly unfazed by your lack of input. "Yeah, that makes sense. We can each take a section and then compare notes. How about you work on the first part, and I'll work on the second?"

you hesitate for a moment before nodding in agreement. "okay, sounds good," you manage to say, your voice betraying your nerves.

"perfect," jake says, already turning his attention back to the task at hand. "snd we can meet up another time to put our section together."

"yeah, sure." you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. you watch as jake starts typing away on his laptop, his fingers moving swiftly across the keys.

you and jake work diligently on your project, the rhythm of your typing filling the air around you. as the afternoon wears on, jake suddenly glances at his watch and groans.

"i've got to go, i promised sunghoon i’d help him with his paper." he says, starting to gather his belongings.

you nod in understanding, pretending to know who sunghoon was. "yeah, no problem," you reply, trying to hide your confusion.

before he leaves, jake turns to you with a serious expression. "we'll have to make sure we get a good grade on this, for both of our sakes," 

confused, you furrow your brow. "what do you mean?" 

jake hesitates for a moment, then meets your gaze head-on. "i mean, you are the scholarship girl, right?"

you're taken aback by his blunt question, but you nod, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "yeah, i am," you admit, unable to meet his eyes.

jake nods in acknowledgment and continues to pack his bag.

"and you are the boy who should've gotten expelled last year, right?" the words slip out before you can stop them, and you instantly regret saying them.

to your surprise, jake stops and turns his gaze to look at you, a knowing smirk starting to creep onto his face. "yeah, i am," 

you nod and lean back in your chair. he stands up once his bag is re-packed. 

“see you later, scholarship girl.” you watch him leave with a mixture of confusion and amusement, smiling to yourself as you gather your own things.

it’s days later when, minju, lia, heejin and you are sitting in the dining hall, textbooks spread out on the table before you as you study while waiting for dinner. the room is relatively quiet, with only a few students scattered around, either engrossed in their own work or engaged in quiet conversation.

minju breaks the silence with a question, her voice soft but curious. "how is your project with jake going?" she asks, glancing up from her notes.

you give a nonchalant shrug, "it's good," you reply simply, glancing over at heejin. 

satisfied with your answer, minju nods and returns her focus to her studies. sensing an opportunity, you hesitantly ask, "can i ask you guys something?" drawing their attention back to you. they all nod in unison. you take a deep breath, "do you think it's true that jake's mom did something in order for him not to get expelled?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

lia is the first to respond, her expression thoughtful. "i mean, it would make sense that he of all people wouldn't get expelled," she reasons, echoing the suspicions that have been circulating among the students.

you furrow your brow, puzzled by her statement. "what do you mean?"

heejin jumps in before lia can respond, her tone matter-of-fact. "she means because jake's family is the wealthiest family in the state," she explains, “his dad invented some medical imaging technology that advanced the whole MRI machinery.” 

"yeah, but then he died," minju states somberly.

“what?” your jaw dropped, looking around the table at your friends’ faces. “how?” 

“it was a car accident.” 

“yeah, that he did on purpose.” lia states with a firm nod. 

heejin only rolls her eyes at the two of them, obviously not caring about the conversation. 

“what happened?” you ask them. 

lia sighs, “his dads car was found smashed in a river.” 

before you can ask more questions, the bell for dinner rings and a large group of students starts to walk in the dining hall. the four of you start to pack away your textbooks, making room for the meal that was about to commence. 

as the dining hall starts to fill up, you catch jake’s eye from down the long table, a small smile forming on his lips as he rests his head on his fist. for a brief moment, it feels like just the two of you in the bustling dining hall. but as quickly as it came, the moment fades as the staff brings plates and obstructs your view. when you look up again, jake is engrossed in conversation with the boys around him, as if you're nothing more than a passing thought.

as the noise of the dining hall grows louder, you push aside any lingering thoughts of jake and focus on enjoying your meal.

you're sitting at your desk, the soft glow of your desk lamp casting a warm light on the papers scattered in front of you. you're finishing your homework, the quiet of the evening wrapping around you like a blanket. suddenly, there's a knock at your door, breaking the silence. you glance up, figuring it was minju coming to ask for homework help. 

as you open the door, you’re surprised to see jake standing in the hallway, looking slightly disheveled and out of breath. his expression is urgent, and you can tell something's wrong.

"hey," he says, his voice rushed. "i need your help with something."

you furrow your brow, taken aback by his sudden appearance. “sure, what's going on?" you ask, stepping aside to let him in. he entered quickly, his movements hurried. both of you forgetting about the rule of no gender mixing in dorm rooms. 

"i accidentally deleted part of the paper we were working on," he explains, his tone frantic. "it's due tomorrow, and I don't have time to redo it. can you help me?"

you sigh, but nod, “sure, sit down.” 

jake sighs in relief, sinking onto your bed as he relaxes slightly. "thank you," he says, gratitude evident in his voice.

you glance at the clock, realizing that heejin won’t be back to the dorm for a few hours since she’s at her debate club. you know how mad she would get if she saw jake in her dorm, sitting on your bed. 

both of you hunch over your own laptops, fingers flying across the keys as you rush to finish your project. The task at hand is clear, but your mind keeps wandering, drawn to the presence of jake beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you steal glances at him as he sits on your bed, his posture relaxed yet focused. His eyes roam around your dorm room, taking in the details of your surroundings. You wonder what thoughts are swirling in his mind as he gazes at the walls adorned with posters and the shelves filled with books.

A sudden self-consciousness washes over you, and you find it hard to concentrate on the project at hand. jake's presence seems to fill the room, his energy palpable even in the quiet stillness of the evening. You can't help but wonder what he thinks of your space, if he finds it welcoming or if it feels foreign to him.

Despite your efforts to concentrate, your thoughts keep drifting back to jake, his presence a subtle distraction that pulls at your attention.

jake's voice breaks the silence, his words carrying a gentle curiosity as he picks up a framed photograph from the nightstand. "Who are they?" he asks, his eyes lingering on the image of your parents captured in a frozen moment of time.

With a soft smile, you reply, "My parents," the simplicity of your answer belying the complexity of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Setting the photograph back down, jake's gaze shifts to you, his eyes holding a quiet intensity as he asks, "What city are you from anyways?" Your response is straightforward, "The town that's down the street," the familiarity of home echoing in your words.

Surprise flickers across jake's features as he realizes the proximity of your upbringing to Sterling Academy. "Right over there?" he questions, gesturing vaguely in the direction of your hometown. When you nod in affirmation, his expression reflects a mixture of disbelief and intrigue.

"So you've always seen this school then," he remarks, a note of realization coloring his tone. Your affirmative nod only deepens the gravity of the moment, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Did you always want to go here?" jake's question pulls you back to the present, his voice breaking through the quietude of the room. 

With a hesitant nod, you acknowledge, "Yes, it was my dream to.” 

“why would your dream be to come here?” 

“what’s wrong with dreaming to come here?” 

jake sighs and lays down on your bed so his feet are still on the floor. you feel your heart pick up pace as he stares at the ceiling. 

“i don’t know, i hate this place.” 

“so,” you’re hesitant to ask the question, “does that mean that you tried to get expelled last year?” 

you watch jake smile at your question, his eyes stay examining your ceiling, trying to find a crack in it to show that this building isn’t as perfect as it seems, but finds none. 

“no, i didn’t try to get expelled. i just wanted to have fun. it’s so boring here.” 

you glance over your shoulder at him, “i think it’s fun here.” 

jake meets your eyes for the first time, “it’s because you’re new, give it another week and you’ll see what i mean.” 

“no,” you instantly shake your head, “i’ve always wanted to live like this.” jake sits up on his elbows at your words. a perplexed expression covers his face as he takes in your argument. you can tell he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. “just say it.” you tell him. 

“so, without the scholarship, you really wouldn’t be able to come here?” 

“no,” you retort with a snort, “i’m broke, jake. this place is perfect.” 

“well this lifestyle isn’t as perfect as you think.” 

you turn in your chair to look at him, your bodies facing each other now. he looks so comfortable and casually sprawled across your bed, his bangs falling in his eyes as he looks at you. 

“what do you mean? you get to live in houses that are basically castles, and wear nice clothes and eat all this fancy food that i’ve never even heard of before.” 

just as jake’s mouth opens to respond, you hear the door open behind you. jake abruptly stands at heejin’s unexpected return. as you turn to look at her, you instantly catch the flicker of annoyance in her eyes as she surveys the scene before her, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. 

you feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption as you meet eyes with jake. 

heejin’s disapproving gaze lingers for a moment longer before she continues to walk to her bed, her back facing both of you as she starts to unpack her school page. 

you feel a flush of embarrassment rise in your cheeks for some reason. an unspoken acknowledgement of the unspoken boundaries that have been breached. jake, ever composed, offers polite greeting to her, which she ignores. he starts to move to leave, packing his own bag and swinging it over his shoulder. 

“see you, y/n.” jake’s hand reaches out and brushes against your shoulder in a farewell. leaving behind a burning sensation on your skin where his fingers touched so gently. you mumble a goodbye as he leaves your dorm room, shutting the door ever so quietly. 

you sit down on your bed, glancing over at heejin’s hunched over shoulders, waiting for her to snap at you. but only, her snap doesn’t appear. she just reaches over and turns off her bedside lamp before crawling into her own bed for the night. 

you sigh but copy her movements, figuring that she was too tired from debate club that she would just confront you tomorrow. which you were sort of grateful for since you were also tired from having to rewrite jake’s part of the project. 

the last thought that crosses your mind before you fall asleep is jake’s pretty lips frowning in confusion at your love of sterling academy.

after your presentation with jake is finished, you didn’t see much of him. 

in english literature class, he was quick to come in and leave, never saying much but a quick ‘hello’. still, both of you found yourselves glancing at the other frequently. you wondered if you and jake would ever speak again. there was just something about jake sim that you couldn’t ignore. 

one afternoon, you stayed a little longer in class to read over your english literature novel. the rest of the students had left a half hour before. your teacher had told you to make sure the window was closed before you left as she soon followed the students out. when you had had enough of ‘the bell jar’, you closed the book followed by the window and threw your bag over your shoulder. 

just as you turn the corner to step into the hall, you stop, a gasp leaving your mouth as a body stands in front of you. you have to turn your head upwards to see who it is. 

jake has a quirked eyebrow as he looks down at you, a smirk on his face as he’s amused by how shocked you are. you take a step back since your face was practically touching his chest. you never realized how much taller than you he was. 

“oh, hi.” you speak quietly, embarrassed for almost running into him. 

“hey,” jake nods, “what were you still doing in there?” 

“just finishing this week’s chapter.” you turn the book in your hand over so he can see the title, “are you caught up?” 

jake shrugs, “i read it last year, i’m not reading it again.” 

“right.” you smile as you look down at the book in your grasp. “what’re you doing back here?”

“i forgot my sweater in the back of the class.” 

“oh, okay.” you nod, “i guess, i’ll see you later or something.” 

“right, see you later.” 

you move around him to start walking to your dorm room until jake calls your name again. you still and turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. “yeah?” 

“actually, what’re you doing right now?” 

you shrug, “just going back to my dorm.” 

jake changes weight on his feet as he thinks for a moment, “do you, want to study for the history test together?”

“sure.” 

you followed jake away from the corridors of sterling academy. the noise of students faded into the distance as he took you outside. the soft rustle of leaves crunching with every step you took. the afternoon sun dipped low on the horizon when both of you stopped walking. 

you stood in a small clearing at the edge of the school’s property, where a weathered wooden bench stood sentinel beneath the shade of a groove of trees. its age was evident in the worn slats and chipped paint, a stark contrast to the polished elegance of sterling academy. 

“what’s this?” 

“a bench.” jake replied, settling down onto the far right of it, already zipping open his backpack. 

you followed his lead and sat on the far left of the bench as you looked around. from this vantage point, you could still see the sprawling expanse of the school grounds laid before you; manicured lawns stretching into the distant stables where the equestrian club practiced their routines.

despite the unfamiliar area, you found yourself strangely relaxing. you glance at jake beside you, his body also relaxed right into the bench as he flips through the pages of the heavy history textbook.

“you’ve come here before?” you ask him since he looks so comfortable. 

“yeah, all the time.” 

you jake read some of the textbook as you took in the outdoors. you haven’t been outside for longer than a run for gym class since you left home. when you were home, the only thing you would do was spend your time outside. the feeling of the gentle breeze brushing against your bare skin made you feel a sort of homesick. 

“do you like it out here?” 

“of course, i love being outside.” 

jake nodded in agreement, “yeah, it’s nice being away from the noise and chaos of the school.” 

“you really don’t like this school?” 

“yeah, i hate it.” jake murmured, his gaze fixated on the building in the distance. “but out here, surrounded by the trees and the sky, and the horse shit, it’s like everything else just fades away, you know?” 

you nodded, “yeah, it’s like nature heals you in a way. reminds you that there’s something bigger out there, something beyond our own worries and fears.” 

“exactly, a reminder that we’re not alone in this world even if we feel like it sometimes.” 

you pick at the edges of your textbook on your lap, not looking at the boy beside you. “i use to be outside all the time when i was at home.” 

“really?” 

“yeah, i use to garden all the time.” 

jake turns his body to face you, intrigued, his textbook forgotten and closed on his lap. “you gardened? i’ve never gardened, we’ve always just had gardeners.” 

you tilt your head at the information, “yeah, my mom always let me play in the mud when i was younger- i made a lot of mud pies.” 

jake’s eyebrows raised, “really? my mom would’ve killed me. god forbid i got a little dirt on my church’s.” 

you smirked at the mention of the brand of shoes, choosing to not mention the fact that you would have never been able to afford a pair. your different childhood memories seemed to be only a brief glimpse into how different you both were. you wondered how you could ever feel so connected to someone who comes from such a different world than you. 

“dinner’s gonna start soon, wanna go back?” jake asks from his far side of the bench, his puppy features looking over at you, the sunset behind his head. 

“sure,” 

you walk into the busy dining hall together and separate to go to your separate groups of friends to eat. both of you ignore the confused expressions of the other students. heejin barely notices your presence as you sit down, but you can tell that minju will definitely want to know why you and jake were late to dinner together. you can only sigh at the thought of her asking for details of every second you were with jake. you only hope that her questions can begin after you have finished dinner. 

every day you and jake begun to spend your time on that weathered bench at the edge of Sterling Academy’s property. it became a ritual, a sanctuary away from the bustling halls and echoing corridors of the school. and more recently, the staring and glares from other students. 

some days, your laps were full with the weight of your textbooks as you studied silently side by side. only occasional murmurs were shared as you listened to the wind, the birds and the equestrian club/ 

other times, your voices danced freely in the open air, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant whinnying of the horses. in those moments, the bench became more than just a weathered wood and peeling paint, it was a space where you really got to know jake sim. 

you looked forward to either occasion, as long as jake was there on the bench with you and despite heejin’s icy stares. you swore you could physically feel the daggers aimed at you whenever you and jake entered the dining hall late. 

today, it was a quiet day as you sat beside each other, far much closer together than you had the first day jake had shown you the bench. your thighs were touching his as you both looked down at your work. you were on the last chapter of “Rebecca” as jake scribbled equations in his physics notebook. 

you are at the part where the narrator and maxim stand together and look at the ruins of their grand estate, when jake speaks. 

“are you excited for thanksgiving?” 

you put the book down onto your lap, your thumb keeping the book open and shrug, “not really, i’m just going to be writing my book report. i’m almost done with the book now.” 

jake glances at the remaining few pages of the book, “aren’t you going to be glad to see your parents?”

you pretend to keep your eyes on the words of the book as you reply, “i’m not seeing my parents.” 

“what? why not?” jake sits up abruptly, his back off of the back of the bench now. you realize today was no longer going to be one of the quiet days spent together. 

you close the book in your lap and look at the boy, “my mom has to go out of town to work, my dad’s going with her to make sure she’ll be safe.” 

“so what? you’re just going to be alone in your house for the long weekend?” 

“no, i’m going to be in my dorm doing my book report and eating dinner with salvador.” your lips curl up in a grin at the thought of sharing a meal with the janitor every student at sterling literally detests. it couldn’t be that bad with him, or so you’ve told yourself to avoid missing your parents. 

“y/n no, that’s not happening,” jake shakes his head at you. with your confused expression he continues, “you’re coming home with me for the long weekend.”

your eyes widen at the book in your grasp suddenly feels even lighter. “what? no? jake i couldn’t.” 

“why not?” 

“because,” you grit out to him like it’s obvious. 

“because why?” 

you sigh, “because jake, it’s a family holiday, and i’ve never even met any of your family. and i mean, your house and family are, so… different from mine.” 

jake shrugged, “so? my family won’t mind you coming, if anything they’ll be happy to see me hanging out with anyone besides heeseung. plus i need you to be there or else i’ll go crazy.” jake could see the lingering doubts that gnawed at you, “please y/n,” his pink lips pout at you. 

at his puppy face and another moment of contemplation, you finally hesitant smile, “okay jake, i’ll come.” 

you watch as jake stands up and cheers at your answer, smiling his grand smile at you as he tells you how much fun you’ll have together and that now he won’t have to be stuck babysitting his younger cousins alone. as you watch him, you take in the dark sky behind him and immediately stand up in shock. 

“oh my god,” 

“okay fine, you won’t have to entertain my cousins while i sleep, but you’re definitely going to have to– what?” 

“what time is it?” 

jake looks down at his patek phillippe, “shit.”

both of you scramble to get your bags and books and start to run across the dark, empty field towards the academy that has all their lights out. 

inside, the corridors were shrouded in shadows and a veil of moonlight and silence. you and jake moved with gentle purpose through the halls in order to escape salvador. he always patrolled the halls like a sergeant that had just been discharged from the military. both of you knew that if you were caught you would get punished, jake’s punishment would be far worse than your own. 

somehow you were hand in hand with jake as you darted from shadow to shadow. salvador’s blueish flashlight swept across the walls like a lighthouse beacon, casting fleeting glimpses of light that threatened to expose you and bounced off of jake’s cheeks. 

you were too nervous to be caught to completely focus on the warmth of jake’s hand clasped firmly in yours, like either of you were scared to let go then the other would disappear. you stole glances at each other and shared silent smiles that spoke your feelings of adrenaline for you. 

then, salvador’s flashlight swept perilously close to your hiding place around an open corner. your hearts pounded in unison as you and jake pressed yourselves against the wall. your bodies were inches apart yet tethered together.

despite the anxiety ridden situation, you let yourself ponder on the brief moment of intimacy as you felt the heat of jake’s presence envelop you like a cocoon. his warmth was a beacon of sun in the darkness. your nose was a mere inch away from his strong chest. you could smell his cologne more strongly now than when it would slightly blow in the wind on the bench. you just wanted him to wrap his arms around you. 

as salvador’s footsteps faded into the far distance, you and jake emerged from the shadows and ran hand in hand down the empty hall, towards your dorm room. jake let out an airy “shh” as you covered your mouth with a giggle as jake dragged you along, hiding his own laughter from not getting caught. 

when you’re both at your dorm room, the weight of the door pressing softly against your back as you looked up jake. his features were bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight steaming through the window, casting gentle shadows across his face that danced with the rhythm of your shared heartbeat. 

reluctantly, you let go of his hand, the warmth of his touch was sucking you into him too much. unbeknownst to you, a subtle frown tugged at the corners of jake’s lips as he watched you release his hand.

“that was close,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the stillness of the night. jake smirked in response, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he leaned closer, his presence enveloping you like a cloak of comfort you knew you had to resist. 

“yeah i know. what am i gonna do with you?” he teased, his soft laughter mingling with soft tree branches tapping the window behind him. 

As you stood there, dazed and breathless from the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, jake reached out, his hand gently cupping your jaw with a tenderness that took your breath away. His touch sends shivers down your spine, his thumb grazing your bottom lip in a gesture that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

"You know," he began, his voice a velvet caress that sent ripples of warmth cascading through your soul, "I've never felt so close to someone before." There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that laid bare the depths of his emotions in a way you had never seen before.

But before you could respond, a flash of light sliced through the darkness, Salvador's flashlight casting a shadow down the hallway. Your eyes widened in unison, the moment shattered by the intrusion of reality. With a quick and silent exchange, jake withdrew his hand from your jaw, his lips pressing against the back of your hand in a tender farewell before he was off, disappearing into the night like a phantom fleeting into the unknown.

once inside your own dorm room, you were left standing alone in the wake of his departure, you lingered for a moment longer, the memory of his touch lingering like an echo in the chambers of your heart. with a sigh, you push off of the door and walk lazily towards your bed. your thoughts were consumed by the enigma of jake sim and his feelings towards you. 

“were you with jake?” heejin’s voice suddenly speaks from across the room, your body stilling for a second as you forgot you weren’t alone in this dorm room. with your lack of response she sighs and rolls over to look at you through the dark room. your eyes had adjusted to the room so you could see your roommate clearly. “he’s not good for you, y/n.” 

you sigh and roll flat onto your back, your arms coming up to lay on both sides of your head as you look straight up at the tall ceiling of your ancient room. her words hung in the air and you knew she was right. you and jake came from different worlds, no where should your paths have crossed in this lifetime. but somehow, your souls seemed connected in a way you couldn’t explain. though, you were certain jake didn’t feel the same. “i know that, heejin.” your voice sounded fragile. 

“whatever you think is happening between you two– it’s not. wake up y/n, and focus on your studies. we wouldn’t want your scholarship contract to break, would we?” 

you gulped at her harsh words and remained silent, your eyes still open. heejin sighs from her bed and rolls over so her back is turned to you. 

Left alone with your thoughts, you lay there in the suffocating silence, the weight of Heejin's warning pressing down upon you like a leaden shroud. And as sleep claimed you, you drifted into the realm of dreams, haunted by the specter of unrequited longing and the bitter sting of reality.

you sat in the dining hall with heejin, minju and lia the next morning. your warm oatmeal was steaming out of the bowl in front of you as you ate breakfast together. though your friends were talking, you could only focus on the 3rd year table across the room. 

a girl with cascading brown locks, a sleek jaw and pretty eyes sat amidst a group of her peers, her gaze focused upon you with a searing intensity that sent shivers down your spine. 

"Who's that?" you asked, nodding subtly in the direction of the girl who had captured your attention. Minju's cheerful demeanor faltered for a moment before she responded, her tone tinged with caution.

"That's Kim Nakyoung," she replied, her voice soft but tinged with an underlying tension. You furrowed your brow in confusion, the weight of Nakyoung's piercing stare still lingering in the air like an invisible shadow.

"well why is kim nakyoung staring at me?" you pressed, your curiosity piqued as you searched for answers. the three girls seemingly all look at each other with an expression you couldn’t quite pick up on. “what?” 

heejin shakes her head, but lia answers anyways, “well because you were out late with jake sim last night,” she explained, her words hanging heavy in the air. your heart skipped a beat at the mention of jake’s name, the memory of his touch still fresh in your mind. “...and nakyoung is basically inlove with him.” 

“how do you know she’s in love with him?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. heejin scoffed dismissively, but minju’s response was gentle. 

"Because they're family friends," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Their parents went to college together, and they spend every holiday together. And every Valentine's Day, Nakyoung gets a Valentine's Day card from jake."

As Minju's words washed over you like a cold wave, you couldn't help but feel a pang of unease gnawing at the edges of your heart. The warmth of jake's hand on your cheek last night suddenly felt like a distant memory. heejin’s stern words from the night before rang in your mind. and suddenly you understood what she meant. 

you were sure multiple girls thought jake sim was in love with them. that they had a special connection with him that they would not be able to find anywhere else. you needed to wake up, just like heejin had said.

you didn’t go to the usual bench in the afternoon. instead you found yourself enveloped in the far corner of the library. you were far too enthralled by your biology textbook to notice the time or the rest of the students fading into the background of the old library. 

but suddenly, a hand latched onto the back of your chair and jake’s face swung into view over your shoulder. his puppy expression is so different from the dark expression you saw on the first day of school. his presence caught you off guard and sent a jolt of surprise coursing through your veins. 

jake settled into the seat beside you with an easy grin, his infectious laughter echoing through the hallowed bookshelves. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled, his voice warm and familiar. “i’ve been looking for you. don’t wanna go outside today?” 

you shrugged nonchalantly, your gaze flickering back to your textbooks as you struggled to maintain your composure in the wake of jake’s sudden appearance. you knew he was going to press you further according to the concern etched into the lines of his brow. 

“what’s wrong?” jake’s voice was soft, tinged with genuine concern as he searched your eyes for answers. frustration welled up within you like a tide. there was a large tangled web of emotions and doubts within your core. you wanted to reach out to him and tell him everything’s fine and that you can’t wait to go to his house for the long weekend. but then the other part of you forced you to remember heejin’s warning and nakyoung’s glare. part of you wondered how many other signs you had missed about jake and how the rest of the school viewed him. 

"i'm just trying to focus on my schoolwork," you muttered, your words tinged with bitterness as you struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. "Not all of us have rich families that can pay off our pasts to go to school here." 

the words hung heavy in the air between you, the silence that followed echoing with the weight of unspoken truths. And as jake's incredulous gaze bore into you with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, you knew in that moment that you had crossed a line that should have never been crossed. 

with a scoff of disbelief, jake rose abruptly from his seat, his footsteps echoing like thunder against the polished floors of the library as he stormed out into the hallway, leaving you alone amidst the oppressive silence of your own making. And as the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, the finality of his departure reverberated through the cavernous space. you tried to ignore the aching feeling in your chest and the stares of the other students as you focused on your biology work, hoping that genetic engineering would distract you for the rest of the night.

it had been days since you had last spoken to jake in the library. he never showed up for your english literature class, the desk beside you always being left empty. the lace in heejin’s aura had seemingly drifted away, but you could still feel kim nakyoung’s glare on you during every meal. 

tonight, you were attempting to study in your dorm room. heejin had left for her debate club a few minutes ago, leaving you alone in the grand room. it was dark outside thanks to fall having the sun set so early. the orange lamp on your bedside table was the only light in your room. 

there was a soft knock on the door, pulling you away from your thoughts. assuming it was minju, you started to call out, "heejin's not here, min--" but the words froze in your throat as you swung open the door to find jake standing there instead. His school uniform was partially a mess like usual , a few strands of his hair falling delicately over his eyes. There was a faint smile on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

you stood there in your pink pajamas, feeling suddenly self-conscious under jake's gaze. "Hi," he said softly, and you echoed the greeting, your voice barely above a whisper. The atmosphere was tense, awkward, and you could sense that jake was not his usual self. he was more like the jake you had known in the beginning of the year. He seemed distant, almost standoffish, as if he didn't want to be there talking to you or anybody.

jake sighed, lifting his head to meet your gaze fully. "I want to talk about what happened in the library the other day," he admitted, his tone hesitant. 

you crossed your arms defensively over your chest, your resolve hardening, "There's nothing to talk about," you replied curtly.

but jake persisted, his voice growing slightly firmer. "Yes, there is," he insisted. "I want to know what made you so…” 

“so what?”

“distant. You wouldn't even look at me." His words struck a nerve, and you felt a pang of guilt gnawing at your insides. You knew you should keep your distance from the boy that was standing only a meter in front of you. 

jake's voice was filled with a raw vulnerability that caught you off guard. "Y/n, please, talk to me," he pleaded, his gaze searching yours for some semblance of understanding. "The past few days have been harder than I would've ever thought."

you glanced up at him, surprised by his confession. His words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor. "I'm not... I'm not really used to apologizing or, whatever," he continued, his voice wavering slightly. "I don't care for it. But with you, I'm here trying, okay? I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry... And I'm sorry I left like that in the library."

you bit down on your lip, the weight of his words sinking in. A part of you wanted to push him away, to maintain the distance that you knew was necessary. But another part of you longed to open up, to let him in like your soul so strongly craved. "Just tell me what's wrong, and I can fix it," jake pleaded, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation.

"but that's the thing, there's nothing that you can fix," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. jake tilted his head in confusion, his gaze searching yours for answers. You could tell that he genuinely wanted to understand, that he was wanting to listen. "We're just... different, jake," you continued, your words careful and measured. "We live different lives, and we can't pretend that we don't. While we're alone, we're still in reality. And... and I don't know what you're doing or thinking." The weight of your insecurities hung heavy in the air, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire.

"what do you mean?" jake asked, his voice soft and gentle. You felt the tension building within you and with a shaky breath, you forced yourself to voice all your thoughts.

"I mean, why would you want to hang around with me when the whole school is in love with you?" you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. 

jake's tense posture softened as he stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate yet filled with an underlying urgency. You fought the instinct to step back, the proximity between you sending a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. His eyes, once distant and guarded, now bore into yours with a raw intensity that left you breathless.

"y/n, i don't care that we come from different worlds or wealths or whatever," he confessed, his voice a gentle caress that washed over you like a soothing balm. "none of that matters when I'm with you. I feel like when I'm with you, that's reality, and everything else is just a fantasy forced upon me when you're not around." you felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to him, the weight of his confession settling upon your shoulders like a heavy cloak. 

"i've never felt like this with anyone," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "every time I talk to anyone else, it's like all they see is my family and my wealth. but you... you see me for who I am, even though I don't even know who I am."

the vulnerability in his words mirrored the vulnerability in yourself, the walls you had built around yourself slowly crumbling because of his sincerity. you were acutely aware of the golden lights cascading down upon you both, casting a halo of warmth around you. 

"I don't care about what the rest of the school thinks of me," jake declared, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "I only care about what you think of me."

“i, i don’t know what to say,” you tell him honestly. 

jake shrugs, “you don’t have to say anything, just please don’t go so distant on me again, i hate it.” 

“i won’t,” you whispered, the words barely a breath in the stillness of the night. With a surge of courage, you reached out and gently clasped his hand in your own, the warmth of his touch sending ripples of warmth cascading through your soul. "Just promise me something." 

“anything.”

"promise me that you'll always be honest with me," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “promise that you’ll never hide anything from me and that you’ll always show me the real you, no matter what.” 

jake's gaze softened as he squeezed your hand gently, a silent vow passing between you in the hallowed silence of the night. "i promise," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

as the golden hues of the hallway bathed us in their soft glow, you glanced down at jake's hand, noticing something shiny nestled within his grasp. "what's that?" you asked, curiosity tingling in the air between us. jake's eyes widened in realization, as if he had forgotten he was even holding anything at all. with a sudden movement, he extended his hand towards you, revealing the gleaming cover of a book.

in his palm lay a copy of "The Great Gatsby," its cover adorned with intricate gold detailing that simmered in the dim light. "this is for you," jake said, his voice soft yet sincere. "i remember you saying you ruined your copy, so you can have mine."

you were stunned, your fingers trembled slightly as you reached out to accept the gift he offered. you traced the embossed letters on the cover, marveling at the beauty of its design. “thank you so much jake,” you whispered with gratitude, “ thank you, thank you.” 

unable to contain your excitement, you threw your arms around his neck, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a cocoon of comfort. his arms instinctively encircle your waist, drawing you closer until there's barely any space left between you. in that moment, everything just feels right. 

pulling away from him, “do you wanna come in?” 

jake agrees, knowing that heejin won’t be there to give him any glares. he follows you into your room and sits on your bed like he had before, looking around. he takes notice that you’re not in your uniform, but your matching pj set and smiles to himself as how cute you look. you take no notice, too enthralled by your new book. you sit it on your desk and sit beside jake on your bed. 

“really, thank you so much for my book, it means so much to me,” you tell him, your hair slightly messy over your shoulders. jake reaches out and twists a fallen strand around his finger gently before dropping it. 

“it’s no problem, i wanted to give you something,” he tells you honestly. 

“but why?” 

jake shrugs, “because i like you.” 

“you like me?” you question him, not believing your ears. jake nods, biting his lip playfully as he takes in your reaction. he notices the pretty red start to form on your cheeks, your eyes darting from his face to your hands in your lap. 

before jake could stop himself he’s breaking the small distance between you two and gently cupping your chin with his fingers for you to look at him. you open your mouth to speak but instead they are met with jake’s lips. the kiss is gentle, confident but shy at the same time. you’ve never kissed anyone before, let alone a boy who was as beautiful as jake sim. 

you both pull away, your lips slightly wet from the kiss. 

“sorry, i-” jake starts but you cut him off with another kiss. this time your eyes properly close as your lips meet. your hands shyly wrap around his shoulders to pull him into a deep kiss. 

jake pushes you down onto your bed so your head is on your pillow. his body is overtop yours and you’re trying to not panic and only focus on his lips that are moving against yours. his hips roll down into yours and it’s then that you realize he’s turned on. you squeak at the thought and jake instantly pulls away. 

“what? are you okay?” jake’s eyes are filled with concern as he looks down at you, “did i hurt you, i’m so-”

your hand covers his before he goes on a ramble, “no it’s okay. you didn’t hurt me it’s just…” you trail off, your hand falling from his face. his hands are quick to catch yours.” 

“it’s just what, love?” 

the name  makes the tips of your ears red, “it’s just that, i’m a virgin, i’ve never done anything before.” 

you feel jake’s body relax over yours and he sits up on your bed, you subconsciously follow him up so you’re both sitting again. “that’s okay, y/n, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you or anything. we can do something else, we could read the great gatsby!”

you smile at his politeness, but now that you’ve learnt what it feels like for jake sim to be on top of you, you find it hard to want to do anything else. 

“i mean,” you start, a playful, shy smile growing on your face as you look at him, “i could still make you feel good.” 

your wide, innocent eyes made jake’s pants tighten. he says nothing as he reaches out and traces your plush lips with his thumb. without thinking, you press your lips over his thumb, letting it enter your mouth. you kept eye contact with him, instantly watching his eyes darken. 

“you wanna suck me off, love?” 

you whine around his thumb, your way of saying yes. 

jake pulls his thumb from your mouth, “get on your knees.” 

you almost clumsily scramble to the floor of your dorm. jake’s legs are spread out for you to sit perfectly in between them. you look up at him, feeling so small as you wait for him to let you touch him. 

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to, y/n.”

“i want to, jake.” 

“you’ll tell me if you want to stop, right? if you get uncomfortable we can stop.” 

“yes, jake.” 

jake only sweetly nods to you before he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips. his hands unbutton his uniform pants, pulling the fabric down so only his boxers cover his cock. you lay your cheek against his bare thigh, watching as his hand traces over his bulge. you looked so mesmerized by his actions it made a shiver go down his spine. 

“you sure you wanna?” jake asked, his voice a bit shaky. you nod your head and jake pulls out his cock so it’s visible to you both. it’s hard, a the tip is slightly leaking with precum. you can see how the tip was starting to turn pink. “hold it like how i am, you can squeeze it a bit if you want.” 

you nod again, your hand reaching up and replacing his at the base of his cock. it’s warm in your hand and you try to bite back the nerves you feel as you try not to embarrass yourself in front of him. 

at jake’s instruction, you start to move your hand up and down his cock. your movements are slow as you try to navigate what you were doing. 

“you can spit on your hand, make it glide better.” jake nods at you. you do as he suggests, your lips pucking before letting saliva drop down onto your palm. when your hand meets his cock again, you can instantly tell that it’s a lot easier to move with it. 

you hear jake let out a heavy breath as he watches you stroke his cock a bit faster now that there’s some lubricant. he watches your face so focused on making him feel good. so determined to make him cum. 

you suddenly squeezed him tighter as you move up to his tip, your fingers meeting his slit slightly. he reminds himself to keep his hips still as your hand fucks his cock. “fuck,” he lets out a curse as he watches your innocent fingers circle his cock. 

“you can,” jake swallows harshly, “you can put your mouth on it, when you’re ready. just, as much as you want.” 

you nodded up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. your hand stops moving as you put his tip in your mouth, your tongue meeting the underside of his cock. jake’s hands dug into your comforter on both sides of his body as he watched your little mouth take in his cock. 

“a-and you can uh, hollow out your cheeks, like-” you cut jake off as you do as he says. you begin to suck with the little amount of cock you had in your mouth. your hand staying at the base of his cock. “fuck, just like that, love.” 

you continue to fit more and more in your mouth the more comfortable you got at the feeling. hollowing your cheeks out and being careful of your teeth. the salty pre cum fills your tastebuds as you look up at jake, whose bottom lip is between his teeth. his eyebrows are knitted together as he looks down at you. he’s trying so hard to keep his composure so he doesn’t push you too far during your first time. 

your hand continued to jerk the base of his cock as your tongue started to explore the veins on his shaft. you took your time, but jake still felt like he was in heaven. the sight of your glassy eyes and swollen lips around his cock made him more aroused than ever before. 

“god, you look so beautiful y/n, like an angel.” he compliments you, his chest slowly heaving as he watches you work his dick with your mouth. 

jake grabs the base of his cock, your hand and mouth sliding away, a small pout on your face as you look up at him. 

“open,” jake says and you do, sticking your tongue out slightly. jake then slaps the tip of his cock against your plush, wet lips, smearing the tip in your saliva. he groans to himself at the thought of your face covered in his cum. “want more?” 

“yes please,” 

jake only smirks before he starts to ease his cock back into your mouth, letting you close your lips around it before he pulls his hips back again, fucking your mouth. he forces himself to go slow as he continues to thrust into your mouth. he feels his tip just hit the back of your throat before he pulls back. you let out a moan around his cock, the vibrations making his groan out. you were being so good for him. 

“it feels so good, love. you’re gonna make me cum.” he tells you honestly. you can only moan more around his cock. your mouth is so warm and wet and you’re letting him fuck more and more into your mouth. there’s spit pooling at the corners of your mouth. 

jake could feel the coil in his stomach about to burst as he looks into your innocent eyes, your only goal is to make him cum. 

he pulls out of your mouth, his hand starts quickly jerking his cock covered in your saliva, “s-so close.” 

“no!” you tell him, “want you to cum in my mouth.”

“o-okay, open your mouth again for me, baby.” 

jake struggled to keep his eyes open as he slid his pulsating cock right back into your mouth. his hands rested gently on the back of your head as his hips slid his cock in and out of your mouth.  it didn’t take long for him to cum, your tongue enticing him to cum way quicker than he would’ve liked. 

“oh fuck!” jake moans out, “fuck, y/n, i’m cumming, i’m cumming.” 

jake released into your mouth. the liquid shooting right into your throat as you swallowed around him. his grip in your hair was tense as he came. you swallowed the best you could, the taste was new. 

when he was done, jake was breathing heavy. he let go of you, falling back onto his elbows, his legs still spread for you to sit between. 

“was i good?” you ask him genuinely. 

jake only smiled at you, telling you to come lay beside him in your bed. you rushed to lay by his side. your throat raw and lips swollen as jake pulled you in for a kiss, tasting his own cum. 

“you were perfect, love.”

as the days passed, you and jake found yourselves drawn to each other like magnets. despite your lingering doubts of his intentions with you, you couldn’t deny the comfort and warmth you felt in his presence. you also craved the feeling of his lips on yours again since the night he gave you great gatsby. 

you spent your fall afternoon lazing on the bench together (sitting much closer than before) and studied together. the weight of his presence beside you reassured you that you weren’t the only one to feel this connection. the walls between you and jake seemed to crumble. 

you took turns reading the pages of the great gatsby. sometimes he would rest his heavy head on your lap as you read, but you didn’t mind the weight. other times he would read to you with your head on his shoulder, watching the words on the pages as he spoke them. 

this time, you chose to be more careful about who saw you with jake. you didn’t need any more snarky comments from heejin before bed. and you enjoyed being more accepted into the friend group with her, minju and lia. 

kim nakyoung would still glare at you if you walked past her in the halls, and at every meal you were sure that her eyes were on you the entire time. you weren’t sure if it was because she just hated you, or if she knew that you and jake were still close. 

this weekend was thanksgiving, and you were so looking forward to getting away from all the prying eyes of sterling. though you were anxious to see what jake’s apparent magnificent house looks like, you were scared. his family was in a much higher class than you would ever be in your life. you were nervous to find out what his family would think of you. you were continuously asking minju tips on how to properly use each utensil and napkin during dining hours. 

you made sure to stay in your dorm until you were sure your friends had left for the whole weekend. you had told them that you were staying in sterling for the weekend because your parents were out of town for the holiday (which was partly true). you just didn’t want to hear any more warning about how a girl like you shouldn’t be hanging out with a boy like jake. 

when jake knocked on your dorm room door, you felt your hands start to shake and your heart pick up pace. when you swung open the door, jake was stood there in loose beige pants, a white button up shirt with a brown belt. his hair was styled into a proper slick back for once. you gulped as you looked down at your outfit. you tried to pick out an outfit that seemed well put together, but you could only wear your white, loose pants and a square neck blue tee that you had borrowed from lia. 

“you ready to go?” jake tilts his head at you, his usual smile on his face when he asks, 

“uh, yeah, sure.” you reply and swing your bag over your shoulder, following him down the halls. 

the whole ride to jake’s family estate you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. jake had tried to reassure you that everything would be fine and that you would totally fit in with his family. but the hour-long drive to an apparent mansion while sitting in the backseat of a sleek black, retro cadillac with a chauffeur who referred to jake as “mr sim” didn’t really enforce the reassurance. 

As the Cadillac glided up the long gravel driveway, the imposing black gate swung open with a quiet hum, granting passage into a world of opulence and grandeur. A sense of anticipation tingled in the air as you caught your first glimpse of jake's family estate, an expansive mansion that seemed to rise majestically from the earth.

The mansion, a symphony of beige and brown hues, sprawled before you, its grandeur evident in every detail. Numerous large windows adorned its façade, offering glimpses into the luxurious interior beyond. At the center of the circular driveway stood a magnificent fountain, its waters glistening in the sunlight like liquid diamonds.

Two towering oak trees flanked the entrance to the estate, their branches reaching skyward as if to touch the heavens. Delicate white detailing adorned the edges of the house, adding a sense of refinement to its stately exterior. 

the meticulously manicured grounds surrounding the mansion were a sight to behold. the grass was a vibrant shade of green that stretched out in all directions like a lush carpet. it was the greenest grass you had eer seen. the hedges that encircled the property were perfectly rectangular. 

As you gazed out the car window at the breathtaking sight before you, a sense of awe washed over you. The estate was more magnificent than anything you had ever imagined, a testament to the wealth and power of the Sim family. 

you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into for the next five days. 

you follow jake out of the car, briefly thanking the chauffeur before heading up the steps to the mansion. as jake swings open the large door, the grand foyer of his family estate fills your eyes. the house is so beautiful, so clean, so white and so fancy. 

an elegant figure enters the room and stands before you. you recognize her from the pictures you had seen of the sim family. it was jake’s mother’s sonya, who seems to simply exude grace and sophistication by just standing there. she is dressed in a stunning ensemble, with a tailored silk blouse and sleek pencil skirt. you can’t take your eyes off of all the exquisite jewelry that’s hung off her neck, earlobes and wrists. 

with a warm smile, sonya extends her hand in greeting, her eyes sparkling with genuine warmth as she welcomes you. “it’s so great to meet you. i’m glad jake had made a friend besides heeseung,” 

“mom!” jake’s slightly flustered appearance from his mother’s welcome makes you chuckle. 

“it’s so nice to meet you too,” you smile back at sonya, “thank you for letting me stay this weekend.” 

sonya scoffs, “oh it’s no problem! any friend of jake’s is welcome here!” 

two women, who could only be maids for this household, enter the room dressed in crisp uniforms. their demeanor is respectful and attentive and they can hardly look at sonya in the eye. they inquire about her luggage, and sonya instructs them with poise, “the second bedroom in the west wing please.” her authority is evident as she addresses the staff. 

you offer sonya and the maids a grateful nod, expressing your appreciation for their hospitality and aid as you follow jake and the maids up the grand staircase. the mansion smells like fresh flowers and polished wood. your eyes marvel at the exquisite chandelier that’s hung from the ceiling as you step closer to it on the stairs. 

the maid with your luggage stops in front of a door with a golden handle and pushes it open. th eroom inside takes your breath away. the walls are painted in a soft, creamy hue, contracted by dark wooden paneling and trim. a smaller crystal chandelier hands from the center of the ceiling. the bed is massive, with a canopy of sheer, flowing fabric and the pillows look like you’ll sink right in. 

across from the bed there’s a fireplace framed by an intricately carved mantle, adorning an arrangement of fresh flowers. above the mantle, an ornate mirror reflects the room’s grandeur. to the left of the fireplace, on the far wall from the door, there’s two tall windows, draped in heavy silk curtains that allow you to view the estate’s immaculate gardens. a writing desk and a chair sit nearby, but you can’t take your eyes off of the backyard through the window. 

the maid places your bag neatly by the wardrobe before leaving you with a polite smile. you stand in awe as you try to take in where you are. 

jake’s voice pulls you from your reveries, “what do you think?” 

you turn to find him standing in the doorway, a small amused smile playing on his lips. 

“this room is so beautiful, jake,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief, “i think i should sleep outside.” 

jake chuckles, the sound familiar and comforting in this unknown palace, “you’re not sleeping outside. come on, follow me.” 

curious, you follow him out of the room and down another hallway. he stops in front of a pair of double doors and pushes them open to reveal another stunning room. this one is larger than your own and even more impressive. it’s adorned with dark wood and deep blue accents. a large, comfortable looking bed dominates the space, flanked by elegant bedside tables. instead of having windows on the far wall, he has a set of glass doors that are open to a balcony. 

“this is my room,” jake says to you with his arms spread open, he walks backwards to his bed and flops down on his back. you stand in the doorway, not being able to take in that this is a bedroom. jake laughs at your shocked expression, “you can look around if you want, it’s nothing special.” 

usually you would mock him for calling a room like this ‘nothing special’, but you’re too in shock. slowly you start to walk around his room. there’s bookshelves from floor to ceiling adorned with books– some new and some old. the desk looks like it’s never been used and the pens and books on it are just there for decoration. on one of the bedside tables is a picture of heeseung and jake, both of whom are definitely younger and smiling. you place the framed picture back on the table and head to the balcony, the silk curtains of the doors are gently flowing from the fall breeze outside. It seems so much warmer at jake’s estate than it does at sterling academy. 

“this place is like something out of a dream, jake.” you tell him, not looking behind you on the bed as you stare out into the backyard. 

“well i’m glad that you like it. i want you to feel comfortable here this weekend. it means a lot to me that you’re here.” 

you turn at his sincerity, walking to his bed and sitting down on the edge beside his laying figure. “i’m happy to be here, thank you for inviting me.” 

jake’s eyes take in your sitting figure as he looks up at you, the daylight from the opened balcony windows cascades like an aura around you. his head tilts when a thought pops into his head, “i’ve never had a girl in my room before.” 

you scoff and get up from his bed, choosing to walk around his room and examine more of the decorations, “yeah right, i’ve literally seen girls exit your room before.” 

jake sits up behind you, “that’s different, i’ve never had a girl here before.” 

your finger slowly brushes over the back of one of the older books, taking in the provided information. you choose to ignore the small butterfly in your stomach fighting it’s way up into your heart as you glance over your shoulder and lightly smile at him. 

after jake had toured you around the majority of the mansion (you were shocked when he told you there’s still wings on the east side that he could show you), a bell rang for dinner. you quickly washed up, trying to not get lost in the halls as you found jake again and he led you down to the dining room. 

The dining room is a masterpiece of elegance and grandeur, dominated by a long, dark wood dining table that gleams under the soft glow of the chandeliers above. The table stretches nearly the length of the room, surrounded by a multitude of high-backed chairs, each upholstered in rich, burgundy fabric that complements the deep wood tones.

Sonya sits at the far end of the table, jake leads you to the seats on her right, pulling out a chair for you before taking the one beside you. Across from you sit two women who are introduced as jake’s aunts, their refined manners and sophisticated appearance adding to the room’s stately atmosphere.

As you settle into your seat, the maids glide into the room, their movements precise and graceful. They begin to serve dinner on fancy white plates edged with a delicate silver lining. The aroma of the dishes is enticing, a blend of familiar and exotic scents that hint at the culinary delights to come. Servers move around the table, filling glasses with ice-cold water that glistens in the crystal goblets. One offers you wine, but you politely decline, opting instead to stick with water for the evening.

Your eyes are drawn to the array of utensils flanking your plate. There are so many forks, knives, and spoons, all silver and polished to a mirror-like shine. You hesitate, unsure of which one to use, but a quick glance at jake gives you a clue. He casually picks up the second largest fork, and you follow his lead, hoping to navigate the formal setting without a misstep.

Dinner proceeds smoothly, with Sonya leading the conversation, her voice carrying a warm, welcoming tone. The aunts join in, their voices blending in harmonious conversation that flows effortlessly from one topic to another. You listen attentively, occasionally contributing when you feel comfortable, and you’re relieved to find that jake’s family is interested in getting to know you.

jake’s presence beside you is a constant source of comfort. He offers you encouraging smiles and quiet reassurances, subtly guiding you through the more intricate aspects of the formal dinner. You realize that while the setting may be unfamiliar, the genuine hospitality and kindness from jake makes it easier to feel at ease.

As the first course is served, you take a moment to appreciate the effort and care that has gone into every detail of the evening. The food is exquisite, each bite a testament to the skill of the chefs. Despite the grandeur of your surroundings, you begin to feel more at ease.

“so y/n,” jake’s aunt rose asks, “what do your parents do for work?”

you notice jake tense beside you, glancing at you as if telling you that you don’t have to answer. but you ignore him and continue, “my dad’s a head miner and my mom’s an artisan.” you notice jake’s aunts pause their eating at your answer, glancing at each other before smiling at you with what you couldn’t notice was fake. 

“what type of artisan is your mother?” sonya asks, her voice normal as she glances at you over her silver spoon as he puts more tomato soup in her mouth. 

“pottery.” you state with a smile, thinking of all the beautiful dishes and vases your mother has made back home. 

you’ve never had such good food before, and you thought the food at sterling was to die for. the chef seemed pleased that you enjoyed his food so much when he came out to check that everything was alright. 

“it’s like the girl is starving,” aunt evelyn joked under her breath to her sister. 

you could tell jake also heard his aunt since he placed his hand on your knee under the table. you glanced at him with a smile and you made a mental note to eat more slowly. 

when the servers came to clear all the empty dishes, you couldn’t help but notice that every other plate still had some food on it while yours was basically licked clean. the server even seemed shocked when you gave her your plate, but hid it with a quick smile. 

when the evening winds down and teh estate begins to settle into the night tranquility, a maid helps prepare your room for bedtime. she offers to run a bath for you. politely, you decline, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the attentiveness and luxury that surrounds you. 

jake lingers in the doorway of your room once the maid leaves. his presence a comforting anchor in the unfamiliar environment. his fingers brush lightly over your hair when you walk up to him in your doorway, sending a shiver down your spine. “you can ask them for anything you need.” he says softly, referring to the maids. 

“i’m not used to that,” you admit, shaking your head with a faint smile. 

jake chuckles, the sound rich and genuine, “i wish i could live as you for one day.” 

“how can you say that after living here, like this? i’ve only been here a few hours and i don’t ever want to go back.” 

his expression shifts, his brow furrowing, “don’t say that. your parents do everything for you and love you.” 

you sigh, feeling the weight of his words, “yeah i know. it just feels so different being here. good different.” 

jake’s smile returns, “i’m glad to here that. tomorrow we’ll have more fun.” 

he leans down and kisses your forehead, the gesture tender and filled with affection. he glances both ways down the hall before pressing his lips to yours ina soft lingering kiss that makes your heart race, “i wish you could sleep in my bed with me,” he whispers the words a quiet confession that sends a thrill through you. 

you push him away gently, your cheeks warm, “night jake. see you tomorrow.” 

the last thing you see before you swing the door closed was a pout on jake’s lips that matched his puppy dog expression. 

as you lay down in the bed, which feels like it belongs in a luxury hotel, you can’t help but feel a sense of wonder and displacement. the room is exquisitely decorated, with plush pillows and silky sheets that cocoon you in comfort. yet, there’s an undercurrent of unfamiliarity that keeps you from fully relaxing. 

the first night at jake’s your dreams transported you to a fantastical realm where you are a princess in a tower. the tower is grand, but there’s a sense of foreboding as darkness approaches. crows circle the tower, their cries eerily mimicking the voices of your parents, disapproving of your decisions for the kingdom. the dissonance leaves you feeling uneasy as you toss and turn throughout the night.

You wake to the soft, insistent knocking on your door. A server's gentle voice breaks the morning silence, "It's time to wake up for breakfast, miss. Guests will be arriving soon." You blink away the remnants of your dream, the vivid images of towers and crows fading as you return to the reality of the opulent room.

"Thank you," you murmur, stretching and rubbing your eyes. The server nods and leaves you to get ready. You take a moment to admire the luxurious surroundings before stepping into the adjoining bathroom, where everything gleams with polished marble and gold fixtures. The shower is refreshingly warm, and as you wash away the night, you can’t help but think about the day ahead and the unfamiliar social dynamics you’ll have to navigate.

Dressed and ready, you make your way downstairs, the rich aroma of breakfast guiding you towards the dining room. The house is alive with the quiet bustle of staff preparing for the day. You reach the dining room to find jake, his mother Sonya, and his two aunts already seated at the grand dark wood table. The table is set with an array of dishes, from fresh fruit and pastries to more elaborate breakfast options.

jake looks up as you enter, his face lighting up with a welcoming smile. "Good morning," he says warmly, gesturing to the seat beside him. You sit down next to him, feeling a bit more at ease with his familiar presence beside you.

"Good morning, everyone," you greet them politely. Sonya and the aunts nod in acknowledgment, offering you polite smiles before returning to their conversation. Their voices are low and refined, discussing matters that feel both mundane and impossibly sophisticated.

jake leans in slightly, his hand brushing yours under the table in a small gesture of reassurance. "Did you sleep well?" he asks quietly, his eyes full of genuine concern.

"Yes, thank you," you reply, giving him a small smile.

As the servers deftly clear away the remains of breakfast, you notice Sonya and jake's aunts leaning in slightly towards one another, their conversation growing more animated. The topic shifts to the wine-tasting event planned for the evening.

"The Kims will be here soon," Sonya remarks, her tone carrying a note of anticipation.

At the mention of the Kims, you see jake tense beside you. His easygoing demeanor vanishes as he leans back in his chair, a frown forming on his face. "They are coming tonight?" he asks, his voice barely masking his displeasure.

Sonya's gaze sharpens as she looks at her son. "jake, be polite," she admonishes. "The Kims are our guests, and we will treat them with respect."

jake groans softly, but his mother's stern look silences any further protest. Sonya turns her attention back to her conversation, her voice a mix of reproach and resignation. "No groaning, jake. Now go get changed. We need to pick apples and pumpkins from the backyard for the event tonight."

You rise from the table alongside jake, curiosity piqued. As you both head up the grand staircase to change into warmer clothes, you can't help but ask, "Who are the Kims?"

jake sighs, running a hand through his hair as you walk down the hall together. "kim Nakyoung and her family. They come over for every holiday event. Her mother always manages to spill everyone's secrets at every year's wine-tasting event."

 you separate into your separate bedrooms, changing into warmer clothes. the maids had carefully laid out a set of fleece leggings and a vest on your bed. you glance at yourself in the mirror, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. the outfit was perfectly tailored and undeniably expensive and feels both foreign and comfortable. you knock on jake’s door and find that he’s waiting for you and is similarly dressed in attire that screams opulence. He had noticed the tension in your expression when he had told you that nakyoung and her family would be joining tonight. 

“i need a smoke before we go,” jake speaks and you follow him out onto his balcony where he lights a cigarette, a familiar scent mingling with the crisp fall air. the view is breathtaking, but your mind is preoccupied. as he takes a drag, his voice is soft, “i won’t leave you alone with her,” referring to nakyoung, “just ignore her.” 

You nod, but the anxiety lingers. when his eyes look away from you you finally voice the question that's been gnawing at you since the first day of school. 

“What is it between you and Nakyoung?" you ask, your voice tentative.

jake exhales slowly, the smoke curling around him like a ghost. "She's always had a crush on me," he begins, glancing at you. "And it's partly our parents' fault. They used to joke when we were kids that we'd marry someday. It was never serious, but they wouldn't be against it either."

"Why don't you date her then?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He scoffs, pretending to gag. "I'm being serious, jake."

He sighs, flicking ash off the balcony. "Nakyoung doesn't know how privileged she is. She's so closed-minded to any world besides this one, and it always gets to her head. She has this fantasy of hers, where she's in a huge house, wealthy, with a husband and kids. More often than not, I'm the husband in her fantasy world."

You stay quiet for a moment, processing his words. "That doesn't sound too bad."

jake scoffs again, his frustration evident. "I don't want to be in some fantasy land where everything is the same every day and I have no choice. I've never had a choice my entire life."

The weight of his confession hangs between you. Your fingers reach out and overlap with his quietly, offering a silent gesture of understanding. jake looks down at your entwined hands, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the somber conversation.

“i don’t think i’d be able to handle this weekend without you. being here with you makes this hell… bearable.” his voice is low in the late morning. 

“don’t worry, i’m here for you, jake.” 

jake nods, his expression softening. "Thank you. For understanding, for being here. It means more than you know."For a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble. jake leans closer, his voice a tender whisper, “race you to the pumpkin patch.” 

not a second later, he’s running away from you, through the mansion that you barely know, but you’re running right after him, not wanting him to win the race. 

the autumn air was crisp and filled with the scent of fallen leaves and ripe apples as you and jake wandered through the sprawling orchard in his backyard. the sim’s pumpkin patch was a sea of vibrant orange, each pumpkin a potential canvas for carving. beneath the multiple appeal trees, you plucked the reddest apples that you thought would taste the best. as the afternoon sun settled in, you shared a quiet moment as you counted the apples you both had placed into the wicker basket. jake’s warm hands brushed yours as he helped count. 

a maid welcomes you back into the house and servers come to help you carry the pumpkins and wicker basket inside to clean them. the guests will be arriving shortly for the wine tasting event, so the maid let’s you and jake go shower off the dirt from the pumpkins. 

the bathroom that jake pointed you towards was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. the marble tiles gleamed under the soft glow of ornate sconces. the shower had gold fixtures and a rain shower head that cascaded the water like  a gentle waterfall. shelves lines the inside of the shower with fancy soaps and shampoos that smelt like lavender and vanilla, similar to the way jake’s hair smelt. 

afterward, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy, white towel that felt like a cloud against your skin and headed towards your bedroom. you briefly forgot that anyone else lived here until you saw a dress laid out for you on the bottom of your bed. it’s fabric was simmering softly in the chandeliers light. your fingers trace the delicate embroidery, feeling the intricate patterns. it’s so beautiful you’re unsure if you should even dare to wear it. 

as you stand there, lost in thought with yoru eyes glued to the dress, the door creaks open and the maid from earlier enters, “you should wear it.” she says gently, a warm smile spreading across their face. 

“i don’t know if i can.” you shake your head looking between her and the dress. 

“of course you can, mrs sim picked it out just for you. thanksgiving is special.” her words and the sincerity in her voice persuades you, and with a deep breath you decide to wear it, embrace the sim lifestyle for thanksgiving. 

you step down the grand staircase, the dress flowing around you like a cascade of moonlight. each step seems to echo with the distant hum of conversation and laughter from the gathered guests below. the maid had worked her magic on your hair and makeup, making you feel somewhat pretty. 

at the bottom of the stairs, jake stands waiting, his suit impeccable and his presence relaxed as he talks with guests. when he turns and sees you, his reaction is immediate and heartfelt. his jaw slackens, eyes widening in awe as he takes in the sight of you. the room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of quiet reverence.

"you look so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine admiration as you reach him. the words send a warm flush to your cheeks, and you feel a surge of emotion in your chest.

his hand reaches out, steady and inviting, and you grasp it gratefully, feeling the strength and warmth of his touch. with his support, you navigate the last few steps, your heart beating a little faster with each one. as you reach the bottom, jake doesn't let go of your hand, instead, he gently squeezes it, grounding you in the midst of the swirling evening.

“oh my, y/n,” sonya speaks from beside you, “don’t you look gorgeous?” 

you blush harder realizing that all the unfamiliar guests were now looking at you, “thank you, thank you for letting me borrow this dress.” 

“it’s no problem at all, i think you look better in it than i ever would!” a few guests laugh at sonya’s joke and return to their own conversations, some of them following sonya into the living room. 

as everyone leaves the foyer, you spot kim nakyoung standing in the middle of the room. her sharp eyes narrowing as they land on you. she approaches you and jake with a predatory grace, her perfectly coiffed hair and designer gown a stark contrast to your own borrowed elegance. "what’re you doing here?" she asks, her tone dripping with disdain.

before you can respond, jake steps in smoothly. "i invited her," he says, his voice firm and unapologetic. his protective presence beside you is both comforting and reassuring.

nakyoung’s eyes flicker with something unkind, a smirk curling her lips. "why? she's just a scholarship girl. doesn’t really fit in with the rest of us, does she?" her words are like daggers, aimed to wound.

jake’s expression hardens, his gaze locking onto nakyoung's with a steely resolve. "she belongs here just as much as anyone else," he says, his voice steady. "maybe even more so, considering what she’s accomplished to be here."

her smirk falters, and she shoots you a venomous look before turning away. jake’s grip on your hand tightens slightly, a silent promise of support. he guides you towards where the rest of the guests are mingling, but before you can follow, nakyoung steps closer, her voice a low hiss in your ear.

"just because you're in that dress doesn't mean you should be," she whispers, her tone laced with malice. "you don’t belong here."

her words sting, but you take a deep breath, refusing to let them see you falter. jake, unaware of the exchange, leads you into the unfamiliar crowd. you straighten your shoulders, determined to prove nakyoung wrong. you do belong here, and tonight, you will not let anyone make you feel otherwise.

the wine tasting event is a whirlwind of activity, the room filled with laughter and animated conversations. the guests, draped in expensive attire, swirl their glasses and speak in a language of wealth and privilege that feels foreign to you. you smile and nod, pretending to understand the nuanced discussions. you understood why the sinwine tasting event would be a big hit around thanksgiving. 

you manage to avoid nakyoung and her family for the entirety of the night, but you could feel her daggered eyes on you when one of the guests would laugh at one of your jokes, or when you would attempt to help the servers. 

as the evening progresses and the guests begin to take their leave, , jake appears at your side, his eyes sparkling with mischief. before you can ask what he’s up to, he grabs your hand, and with a quick, conspiratorial glance around, he snatches a bottle of wine from a nearby table.

"come on," he whispers, his excitement contagious. he tugs you along, and you follow him, stifling your giggles as you both tiptoe through the hallways. his playful shushing to your noises makes you want to laugh louder. 

you reach his bedroom, and he pulls you through, continuing to his balcony. the night air is cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded ballroom. you step out onto the balcony, the fairy lights around the grand backyard were like a blanket of stars underneath you. 

“god, i couldn’t be in there any longer,” jake says, a playful grin on his face. he uncorks the bottle with a flourish, pouring the wine into two glasses he’d stashed nearby. the rich, fruity aroma fills the air, mingling with the scent of night-blooming flowers from the garden below. 

you clink glasses and sip the wine together. you feel a sense of belonging start to settle within you in this moment. jake’s presence, his easy laughter and the warmth in his eyes makes you feel like you do belong here, alongside the opulence and luxury. 

"thanks for this," you say softly, glancing at him. his gaze meets yours, and there’s a tenderness there that makes your heart flutter.

"anytime," he replies, his voice equally soft. “

"forget what nakyoung said," jake murmurs, his eyes earnest and comforting. "she’s just jealous."

you frown, looking away. "i don't know why kim nakyoung would be jealous of me."

jake tilts his head, studying you with a gentle smile. "what do you mean? you're smart, kind, and you have so much empathy she could never understand. you’re genuine, and that’s something money can’t buy."

his words warm your heart, and you want to believe him. yet, as you glance down at the simmering dress you wear, you can't shake the feeling of being an imposter, inadequate amidst the glittering world around you.

jake’s soft chuckle takes you from your insecure  thoughts. he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “you know,” he begins, his voice low and hushed as if someone could hear you from up here, “that dress looks even more stunning in the moonlight. it’s like this dress was made just for you.” 

his words send warmth flooding through you, and you can't help but meet his gaze, your heart fluttering in anticipation. There's a pause, a charged silence between you, as if the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. 

then, jake leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours for a second, to see if you would be opposed to kissing him this time. he closes the distance between you when he watches your eyelids close. his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. you melt into his embrace, you can’t help but feel like you belong attached to him like this. 

jake doesn’t hesitate to slide his hands down your sides, pulling you even closer so your chests are touching. he deepens the kiss with his plush lips. you’ve wanted to feel his lips on yours so passionately like this since the first day you saw him in the cafeteria. there’s so much want and need in the kiss that neither of you stop to breathe. so much want and need that’s built up since the first day of school when you heard all the rumours about jake. you never thought that you would be making out with him so aggressively and carefree on his grand estate’s balcony. 

“i wanna make you feel good, love.” jake pulls away, breathless. you instantly feel warmth spread on your cheeks, hopefully the night sky dims the colour a bit. jake chuckles at your shyness, “only if you’ll let me, only if you want.” 

you bite your lip as you look up at him, “i want you to.” 

jake’s fingers brush over the bottom of your jaw, “want me to what?” 

“i want you to make me feel good.” 

jake doesn’t hesitate to get on his knees, gently pushing you back so your back is leaning against the balcony’s railing. his warm hands slide up the sides of your legs, bunching your dress up at your waist. 

“wait, right here?” you ask him, look down at him. 

“just like this, i can’t wait any longer, i wanted you since you came down those stairs,” jake practically groans as he pulls down your panties to your ankles, his brown eyes darkening. “fuck, you’re already so wet.” 

you want to close your legs at the comment, becoming self conscious as jake is face to face with your pussy. you couldn’t even lie and say you weren’t since you were so turned on since you saw him. “what? you look good in your suit…” 

jake smiles at you at your compliment, “do i?” 

you can’t answer him since he starts to press feather light kisses onto your core. your fingers grip the balcony railing behind you, the cold metal a reminder that anyone could see you if they looked out a window or went outside. the thought briefly worries you until jake’s slips his tongue to easily in your folds. it pushed any worry out of your mind. 

“fuck, jake,” you mumble out as he continues to experimentally movie his tongue up and down your folds. 

your body was getting insanely hot in the autumn wind. you could feel jake’s warmth pressed against your entire core as your legs buckled around his neck and shoulders. jake kept his hands on your upper thighs to sturdy himself and you. 

“you taste better than i ever thought,” jake pulled away for a second to speak. you moan out in response, your eyebrows pulled together as you look at the boy between your legs. “thought about tasting your pretty pussy since the day i saw you.” 

suddenly you weren’t able to focus on anything except for the pleasure jake was giving you and the fact that he also wanted you the second he saw you in the cafeteria. the information only increased the pleasure you were feeling. 

your one hand slipped from the balcony and pushed itself into jake’s brown hair that you always wanted to brush out of his face. his smooth forehead now visible to the moonlight above your head. jake’s tongue starts to circle your clit, making you have to bite down on your lip to be quiet. you never thought a tongue could feel this good. 

your pussy feels so warm and wet and jake’s groans into your core only push you closer to the edge, never feeling anything like this before. you start to become a whimpering mess, trying to not let your moans become too loud. 

jake’s able to read your body language, the way your thighs start to tense and the grip you have on his hair tightening. he slips his index finger into your pussy, making you cry out way too loudly for your liking (jake only smiled). his finger starts at a steady pace, different from how fast his tongue and lips were moving on your clit. jake feels his chin and cheeks start to get soaked from your juices and his saliva, but it only makes his cock on his pants harden some more. 

jake starts to work in his middle finger alongside his index, pumping them faster to match the speed of his mouth. you start to clench around his digits, feeling your stomach start to tighten and your eyes struggle to remain on his from your feet. jake bends his fingers in all directions, focused on finding your g spot, focused on making you cum. 

“oh god!” you cry out, your hand in his hair coming to cover your mouth once his fingers find it. “fuck, jake.” 

“c’mon love, cum all over my mouth, wanna taste all of you so bad.” 

and it doesn’t take long for you cum so messily over his mouth. you’re shaking and moaning his name and curse words into your mouth. jake slides his fingers out of your pussy, sucking on them before he licks your core clean, wanting every drop. 

“good girl, y/n, did so good.” jake mumbles as he presses kisses into your legs, pulling up your panties and pulling down your dress as you try to regulate the pulsing between your legs and your breathing. 

jake stands up, his hands coming onto your waist as he puts his forehead against yours, grounding you as you are forced to look into his warm, playful eyes. “you okay?” 

“better than okay,” you tell him, a smile cracking onto your lips as you think about what just happened. 

“good,” jake smiles as he pecks your lips, making you taste yourself, “because you have to let me do that again.” you push him away gently, rolling your eyes at him. 

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom quickly,” you tell him.

jake grabs your hand as you try to move away from him and pulls you into him again, “okay but hurry back,” he presses his lips to yours. 

“i’ll try.” you kiss him again before walking into the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom. 

jake leans his back against the balcony railing, his elbows leaning on the railing behind him as he lights a cigarette in his mouth, he slaps the lighter closed and breathes in the nicotine as he glances into his room. it’s then, that he sees nakyoung standing in the small space of his bedroom door. a scowl on her usual pretty face. 

jake smirks as he takes the cig out of his mouth and exhales the smoke, almost chuckling to himself as he realizes nakyoung probably watched at least some of the show. 

he can almost hear nakyoung’s pout from across the room before she closes his bedroom door, leaving him alone to smoke in peace before you’re back.

on your third day at the sim estate, jake, his aunts, sonya, nakyoung and her family, and you gather near the stables at the back of the estate, excitement twinkling in your eyes. The sound of horses fills the air as you prepare to go horseback riding on the trails around their property. 

you think that finally, there’s something familiar here besides jake as you mount the dark brown horse. it’s a skill you’ve honed since you were a child, a passion passed down to you from your father. 

“you handle yourself in the saddle like a seasoned rider, y/n. it’s clear you have a talent with horses.” nakyoung’s father compliments, his voice deep and eyes impressed as he watches you on the horse. Nakyoung's glare is sharp enough to cut through steel, but you meet it with a serene smile, refusing to let her animosity dampen your spirits.

Curiosity sparks in Aunt Rose's eyes as she watches you effortlessly guide your horse, her voice warm with interest. "How did you come to be such a skilled rider?" she asks, genuine intrigue coloring her tone.

You share a soft laugh, the memories of your father's patient teachings flooding back. "My dad used to ride professionally when he was younger," you explain, a fond smile gracing your lips. "He taught me everything I know."

The revelation draws murmurs of admiration from the group, their eyes shining with newfound respect. jake's smile is like sunshine breaking through clouds, his pride in you evident as he watches you lead the horse down the trail. 

But amidst the praise and admiration, Nakyoung seethes with resentment, her jealousy palpable in the air.

later in the afternoon, sonya announced that it’s tea time for the ladies. The maids bustle about, their movements precise and purposeful as they prepare tea, delicate cups and saucers clinking softly against each other. The scent of freshly baked scones wafts through the air.

As the ladies gather in the day room, you take your seat among them, feeling a mixture of nerves and anticipation fluttering in your chest. It's like stepping onto a stage, completely improvising your role yet, the audience has no idea that you don’t know what you’re doing. you mimic their actions, delicately arranging a napkin on your lap and ensuring your elbows don’t rest on the table. 

the older women turn their attention to you, their questions gentle and probing as they seek to unravel the layers of your personality. sonya seems to genuinely curious about you and the warmth from jake’s aunts and nakyoung’s mother follow sonya. 

Even Nakyoung's mother, typically reserved and aloof, surprises you with her interest, her questions probing deeper, seeking to understand the challenges you've faced as a scholarship student. It's a stark contrast to Nakyoung's cold indifference. 

nakyoung’s presence fades into the background during tea time. no one bothers to pay her glaring self any attention since all eyes were on you. with all the polite conversation and shared laughter, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. that you belonged to a part of this world that once seemed so distant and unattainable. 

after dinner, jake and you slip away from the crowded dining room, seeking solace in the quiet beauty of the evening. Hand in hand, you stroll through the sprawling gardens, the cool night air whispering secrets as you walk. you notice an extra pep in your step as you walk, a smile never leaving your face as you look around the beautiful estate. 

You glance at jake, "I haven't had this much fun in so long," you confess, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

jake's grin widens, his hand squeezing yours gently. "Good, because I feel the same way," he admits, his voice soft but sure. "I didn't think I could have fun while being home, but you make it fun. You make anywhere fun."

You playfully roll your eyes at his cheesy declaration, but your laughter rings out into the night, a melody of shared joy. jake tugs on your connected hands, pulling you closer until you're pressed against his chest. His lips meet yours in a sweet, tender kiss, you don’t worry about anyone catching you since you’re far out into the backyard. 

When you finally pull away, breathless and giddy, you rest your foreheads against each other, the moment stretching out like an eternity. jake's gaze is soft, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that steals your breath away.

"I want you to sleep in my bed tonight," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitate, a flicker of worry crossing your mind at the thought of jake's mother discovering you together. "You know we can't do that," you remind him, your voice tinged with regret. "Your mom would be so mad if she found out."

But jake's grin turns mischievous, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Who says she'll find out?"

jake's grip is firm yet gentle as he pulls you up the grand staircase, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of determination and vulnerability. the hallway blurs as he leads you to his bedroom. the door closes behind you with a soft click, sealing you both in secrecy. he lays you down on his bed, the plush covers enveloping you as his gaze softens. 

jake leaned over top of you, his whole body pressed against yours. his hands gently reach out and cup your jaw and press soft kisses into your lips. your legs wrap around his waist, keeping his clothed crotch against your own. your fingers confidently combed through his hair, gently tugging at the nape of his neck. jake groans into your mouth, grinding his currently stiffening cock against your core. 

“let’s get this dress off you,” jake suggests, pulling the expensive fabric from your legs up and over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him. you’re left in your panties and bra and jake doesn’t hesitate to start presses kisses into the exposed part of your chest. 

you were beginning to feel exposed and insecure, never being so close to completely bare in front of anyone before. jake could sense your anxiety and gently held your wrists to your side, moving down your body with soft kisses, wanting to calm you, wanting every part of your body to be touched. 

jake hooks his finger into your panties once he reaches further down your body, “it’s okay if i take these off?” you nod in response, humming when he presses a kiss under your belly button. he pulls off the garments in a second, throwing them on the floor. 

before jake could press his fingers against your core, your grab his face in both of your hands, looking down at him between your thighs, “i want you, jake.” jake’s eyes softened in subtle confusion, “i want all of you, want you inside me.” 

jake swore he almost came right there in his pants. your usual shy self speaking such dirty words to him, only for him, “are you sure? we don’t have to if you aren’t ready.” 

you smile at his politeness, your fingers caressing the side of his soft face, “i’m sure, jake. i only want you.” 

jake leaps up to press his lips onto yours. this time, the kiss is much more feverish and lustful. his hands slide behind your back, unclasping your bra. you let it fall down your elbows, jake pulling it off your arms for it the meet the rest of your clothes. now you were completely bare for him, as he was still completely dressed. you let his eyes wander over your bare body, watching them fill with adoration and need. 

“fuck, you’re so, so beautiful.” jake groans, leaning down to suck on your neck. his teeth subtly biting the skin there, sucking on the spot, making you writhe your bare core against his. 

“i wanna see you, too, jake.” 

jake pulls away from you, unbuttoning his white shirt, button by button, until his bare core and shoulders are able to be seen. his skin is tan and strong, his muscles are visible and you can’t stop yourself from your hands reaching out and touching the skin. it’s so soft and the muscles are so hard. there’s no imperfections, just as you thought. 

jake slides two fingers inside of you, pushing them in and out, preparing you for his cock that is pulsating in his pants. you moan out his name when his thumb starts to press circles into your clit. your hips start to move in rhythm of his fingers, wanting them deep inside of you. 

jakes other hand was massaging your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger. jake knew exactly where your g spot was, his fingers making sure to hit there everytime he thrusted them inside of you. you were starting to squirm underneath him, the pleasure becoming too much too quick. the excitement of what was going to come was turning you on so much. 

“close already, love?” jake asks, taking your shaking breaths as a sign. 

“a-almost there,” you whined out to him, your hand grabbing his shoulder for support. 

“that’s a good girl, cum on my fingers, then, wanna see you cum,” 

jake continued to hit your g spot at the quick pace he had set. his thumb moving on your clit quicker and quicker. your moans getting louder, forgetting that any one else was nearby. forgetting that it wasn’t just you and jake. 

with a call of his name, you come undone all over his fingers just like he wanted. he watches as your jaw drops, a quiet cry escaping as the pleasure rushes throughout your body. 

“fuck, you’re so hot,” jake says, pulling his fingers out of you and immediately pressing his lips onto yours. he makes out with you as you come down from your high, your body coming back to its senses. your hands pull on his locks, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

you pull away from him, “want you inside of me, jake, please, need it so bad.” 

“fuck, okay, okay, baby.” jake nods and starts to pull down his trousers, his boxers going with so his erect cock is springing upwards. 

before jake could lay down again, you push him onto his back, his head in his pillow. you swing your leg over his crotch so your bare cores are just over top of each other. 

“are you sure, y/n?” jake asked you, his hands on your waist to still you from moving any more. 

you nodded, your hands resting on his lower abdomen, “i want you, jake. i’m sure.” 

you slide you hand in between your bodies, holding his cock in one hand to line it up with your pussy. slowly, you start to sink down onto his cock. your core is so wet from your previous orgasm that the stretch isn’t as bad as you thought it would be for the first time. you both moan at the feeling of jake’s cock stretching you out. jake’s lip is caught inbetween his lips as he watches himself bottom out in you. 

you took a deep breath once he was snug inside of you. both of you waiting for the uncomfortable feeling to subside. jake started running his hands up and down your bare thighs, distracting you from it. 

“okay,” you mostly told yourself once the feeling was gone. the pain had turned into pleasure. 

jake on the other hand swore he was in heaven. the girl he was enamored with was above him, starting to bounce on his cock. his hand slid down to start rubbing circles on your clit again. you let out a loud moan, the oversensitivity from your previous orgasm was making this feel so much better. your senses were heightened as you continued to move up and down his cock. your walls tight around his cock. 

you could feel every vein of his cock inside of you, your juices mixing with his precum. jake could feel your walls start to pulse around him. your elbows on his stomach started to buckle as your orgasm was approaching quickly. 

“i’m gonna cum, jake.” you cry out, your eyebrows pulled together as you look down at him. 

“please cum, love, wanna see you cum. i’m so close,” 

you let out curses mixed with his name as you cum for a second time that night. your hips moving around his cock quickly as all the nerves in your body tense with pleasure. 

“fuck baby, that’s it, that’s it!” jake calls out, groaning as his grip on your hips tightens. his own orgasm only a few thrusts behind yours. his cum shoots inside of you, coating your walls with his white release. both of you moan at the feeling of you being so full. 

you let yourself drop on top of jake. your head in his neck and shoulder as he cock softens inside of you. both of your chests are heaving against each other as you try to catch your breaths. 

jake brushes your hair out of your face so he can see you, a laugh leaving his lips as he sees you. you can’t help but smile back at him, tiredness washing over you. 

“i think that was the hardest i ever came,” jake speaks his mind to you. 

“really?” 

“definitely.” 

you smash your lips against his, wondering when you’ll ever feel this good, again.

as the day of thanksgiving unfolds, sonya surprises you with a thoughtful gesture, insisting on taking you to get your nails done and insisting on paying. 

As you gaze down at your newly manicured nails, a sense of awe washes over you. They've never looked more beautiful. For the first time, your nails resemble those of the other girls at Sterling Academy.

Later that evening, as you prepare for Thanksgiving dinner, you find yet another beautiful dress laid out at the bottom of your bed. The fabric simmers in the soft light, the intricate design whispering of elegance and sophistication. Without hesitation, you slip into the dress, the smooth fabric draping over your curves like a second skin.

There's no trace of self-consciousness as you admire yourself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at you, a vision of confidence and grace. In this moment, you feel a sense of empowerment, as if this dress was made for you. As you take one final glance in the mirror, you can't help but smile.

As you settle down beside jake at the Thanksgiving dining table, the atmosphere is alive with the sounds of laughter and conversation. The table is laden with a feast fit for royalty, an array of dishes that tantalize the senses with their rich aromas and vibrant colors. Family and friends mingle around the table, their voices blending into a symphony of warmth and camaraderie.

Nakyoung sits across from you and jake. but you refuse to focus on her and your mind paints her into the background. 

Throughout the evening, the maids and servers flit about, their movements graceful and efficient as they refill drinks and bring out more food. But amidst the flurry of activity, you find yourself lost in the spell of jake's touch. His hand rests reassuringly on your thigh, a silent anchor in the sea of chatter and laughter.

With each whispered word, jake's affectionate murmurs send a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He tells you how beautiful you look, his words a gentle caress against your ear. And as he expresses his desire for you, his voice laced with longing, you feel a surge of warmth spread through you, igniting a fire that burns bright in the depths of your soul.

Despite the distractions and the prying eyes around you, you lean into jake's touch, craving the intimacy of his presence.

As dessert is served, you reach for the fork beside your plate, only to hear Aunt Rose's voice ring out across the table, tinged with surprise and disapproval. "Wow, I can't believe Y/N is using her salad fork for dessert," she exclaims, her words carrying a bit too loudly in the suddenly quiet room. Instantly, you feel the weight of everyone's attention shift towards you, the conversation dying down as all eyes seem to bore into your being.

With a gulp, you swallow the piece of dessert in your mouth, feeling the sting of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. Hastily, you set down the incorrect fork and pick up the proper one, mumbling a hasty apology under your breath. It's a small mistake, but in this moment, it feels monumental, a glaring reminder of your perceived inadequacies.

For the first time since arriving at the estate, you feel like everyone is truly seeing you, but not for the person they believe you to be, but rather for the outsider that you are. The room is heavy with silent judgment, the unspoken question lingering in the air: why are you here?

Before you can gather your thoughts or summon a response, Nakyoung's interruption pierces the steady silence like a sharp dagger. "I told you that you don't belong here, Y/N," she declares, her voice laced with venom. her mother's reprimand is swift, but Nakyoung pays it no mind, her focus locked on you with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine.

"Oh please," Nakyoung continues, her gaze boring into yours with unbridled disdain. "Don't act like that wasn't what everyone was just thinking." And then, her words turn even more cutting as she directs her attention to Sonya, her accusation hanging in the air like a dark cloud. "She's just using you for a little fun getaway, Sonya."

Nakyoung's words cut through the air like a knife, piercing the fragile bubble of illusion you've been living in. In an instant, you're jolted back to reality, the stark truth of your situation crashing down upon you like a tidal wave. You don't belong in jake's world, not really. No amount of fancy clothes or lavish surroundings can change that.

With a heavy heart, you mumble another apology, the words feeling hollow and inadequate as they leave your lips. The sound of your chair scraping against the floor echoes loudly in the sudden silence, drawing unwanted attention to your retreat. You can feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you, their silent judgment suffocating in its intensity.

jake's voice, soft and pleading, calls out your name, his hand reaching out in a futile attempt to stop you. But you can't bear to face him, to see the disappointment and confusion in his eyes. With a sharp intake of breath, you pull away, your heart hammering in your chest as you turn and flee from the dining room. you head up the multiple stairs to not your “bedroom”, but the room they let you stay in. 

The dress feels like a suffocating shroud, constricting around you like chains as you struggle to breathe. In a sudden burst of desperation, you tear at the fabric, ripping it away from your body. With trembling hands, you reach for the clothes you had packed, the familiar weight of them grounding you in the chaos of the moment. Hastily, you pull them on, the fabric familiar and comforting against your skin. As you move around the room, gathering your belongings into your bag, a sense of urgency propels you forward, driving you towards escape.

But before you can make your exit, a familiar voice calls out from beyond the door, the sound of it both comforting and agonizing in its plea. "Y/N? Are you okay?" jake's voice is laced with concern, his words a desperate plea for you to return to the dinner table. "Please come back to dinner. Nakyoung's just being an asshole. Don't listen to her, please!"

You pause, the sound of his voice tugging at your heartstrings, but our mind is set on one thing and one thing only: leaving this fantasy behind as quickly as you arrived.

jake knows that you won’t answer and suddenly the door is swinging open behind you. jake's heart sinks as he sees your bag packed, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "What're you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with concern and confusion.

"I'm leaving, jake," you reply, your voice steady but tinged with sorrow. His heart clenches at your words, a sense of panic rising within him. "What, why?" he asks, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I shouldn't be here," you explain, your words echoing in the silence of the room. "So I'm leaving." Despite his protests, you continue to pack, your movements swift and decisive. jake tries to stop you, his hands reaching out in a futile attempt to halt your departure. But it's no use—your mind is made up.

"Y/N, please, just stay," he pleads, his voice desperate and pleading. But when you refuse to meet his gaze, he takes matters into his own hands, gently grasping your upper arms and guiding you to face him. As your eyes meet, he can see the tears welling in your eyes, a silent testament to the pain you're feeling.

In that moment, as you stand before him, both of you are flooded with memories of all the moments you shared together—the laughter, the smiles, the stolen glances filled with unspoken longing. He remembers the way your eyes lit up when you were together, the warmth of your touch sending shivers down his spine.

the tears fall down your cheeks and jake pulls you into his chest. you take in his lavender smell and you know deep down that this will be the last time you’re this close to jake sim. he shushes you silently into your hair. his arms cascading down your back, keeping you close to him. 

in that moment, jake realizes that he can’t bear the thought of losing you. 

Tension crackles in the air like lightning as you and jake pull apart. 

"I have to go, jake," you say, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "I don't belong here, and you know it."

jake's eyes darken with emotion, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Is there anything I can do to make you stay, please!" he pleads, desperation lacing his words. "I can't see you go like this!"

But you shake your head, the resolve in your heart unwavering. "It's not about you, jake," you explain, frustration creeping into your tone. "It's about me and where I belong. And it's not here."

His jaw clenches as he struggles to find the right words, the air thick with unspoken tension. "You're making a mistake," he insists, his voice rough with emotion. "We can figure this out together, I promise."

But you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I can't," you whisper, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I have to go."

And with that, you turn and reach for the handle of the room, preparing to call a taxi and never set food on sinestate again. But before you can take another step, jake's voice cuts through the silence like a knife, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

"I love you," he declares, his words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. Slowly, you turn to face him, your heart heavy with sorrow.

"No, you don't, jake," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widen in disbelief, hurt flashing across his features like a storm cloud. "What? Yes, I do!" he protests, desperation lacing his words. "You're the only one who's ever understood me! I love you."

"No, you don't, jake," you repeat, your voice trembling with emotion. You can see the pain in his eyes. He reaches for you, his hand outstretched in a silent plea, but you raise your own in a gesture of finality. 

"Please, jake," you implore, your voice breaking with emotion. "Just let me go, please." His shoulders slump in defeat, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he watches you turn and leave the room. And as you disappear from his sight, leaving him alone in the house he's always hated, he can't help but wonder if he’ll ever get to hold you again.

the last thing you see of the sim estate, is kim nakyoung’s manicured fingers waving at you from the front door through the taxi’s window. 

back at Sterling Academy after the thanksgiving long weekend is no longer a dream, but hell. 

As you step through the familiar halls, a sense of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends and the comforting familiarity of your surroundings. Heejin, your grumpy but lovable roommate, greets you with a half-hearted smile, her eyes betraying the exhaustion of the past few days.

But amidst the warm welcome from your friends, there's an undercurrent of unease lingering in the air. The rumors of your mysterious disappearance over the weekend have spread like wildfire, leaving a trail of whispers and speculation in their wake.

It's not long before Minju, lia, and Heejin corner you in the dormitory common room, their eyes wide with curiosity and concern. "Is it true?" Minju asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Did you really spend the weekend at jake sim's house?"

You nod, unable to meet their gaze as a flood of emotions threatens to overwhelm you. "Yes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I did."

“oh my god!” lia squeals, and even heejin fails to hide her amusement at the information. “you have to tell us what happened!” 

“yes! yes!” minju shakes you playfully, “every detail!” 

before you can even start the story of how you wound up at jake sim’s house,  the floodgates open, and tears begin to stream down your cheeks. The weight of the past few days crashes down upon you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for breath in its wake.

Without hesitation, Minju, lia, and Heejin rush to your side, enveloping you in a tight embrace. They hold you close, offering silent support and understanding as you struggle to find the words to explain the whirlwind of emotions that have consumed you. you fail to recognize in the moment, but now you know that that was where you belonged in, surrounded by people who truly love you. 

"Heejin, I'm sorry," you whisper, the words heavy with remorse as you finally confront your roommate after weeks of avoiding the inevitable. Heejin's eyes soften at your apology, her expression mirroring a sense of understanding that you never knew existed between you.

"It's okay, Y/N," she replies, her voice gentle and reassuring. "I just didn't want to see you hurt like this. I wanted to protect you."

Tears well in your eyes at her words, the weight of her sincerity washing over you like a soothing balm. For the first time ever, you see Heejin in a different light, not as the grumpy roommate you've grown accustomed to, but as a friend who has always had your best interests at heart.

The first week back at Sterling Academy feels like walking through a maze of curious gazes and whispered rumors. You can practically feel the weight of judgment bearing down on you, as if every pair of eyes in the room is scrutinizing your every move. It's as though no one understands how a scholarship girl like you ended up spending Thanksgiving weekend at the lavish estate of jake sim, one of the wealthiest students at the academy.

jake's persistent attempts to reach out to you only serve to exacerbate the tension between you. He shows up at your dorm room each night, but you can't bring yourself to face him. As the days pass with no communication, you and jake drift further and further apart. And so you avoid each other, pretending as though your shared past is nothing but a distant memory. 

But deep down, beneath the layers of hurt and resentment, there's a part of you that longs to bridge the divide between you and jake, to recapture the connection you once shared. to forget that neither of you could belong in one world. the thought of jake being at your small home with your parents made you laugh. the boy with so much luxury wouldn’t be able to last a day in your hometown where luxury was the rarest thing of all. 

As the days pass and the distance between you and jake sim grows, you do realize that you do love him. His caring nature, his playful demeanor, and his vulnerability beneath the facade of wealth and privilege all tug at your heartstrings. But as much as you adore him, you can't ignore the stark reality of the world he belongs to—a world that looks down upon those who aren't born into wealth and luxury. It's a divide that neither of you could ever truly bridge, a fundamental difference that would continue to drive you apart in the future. And so, as much as it pains you to admit it, your love may be doomed from the start, destined to wither beneath the weight of societal expectations and cultural differences that neither of you can overcome.

You decided to shift your focus away from jake sim and onto your schoolwork and friendships. It became clear to you that perhaps you and jake were never meant to be together, and dwelling on it only brought unnecessary pain. Slowly but surely, as you poured your energy into your studies and spending time with your friends, you began to feel a weight lifting off your shoulders. With the looming threat of your scholarship hanging over your head, you knew you had to prioritize your academics to maintain your financial stability. So, you threw yourself into your studies, determined to excel and secure your future. In between study sessions, you found solace in the laughter and companionship of your friends, their support serving as a constant source of comfort and joy. As the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a newfound sense of happiness and contentment, realizing that there was so much more to life than pining over someone who may never truly understand or appreciate you.

As you trudge back to your dorm room after a long night of studying, exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders, you absentmindedly glance out the window into the moonlit backyard of Sterling Academy. What you see there stops you dead in your tracks, freezing the breath in your lungs and sending a shockwave of disbelief coursing through your veins. There, on the bench where you and jake used to sit, sits jake sim himself, his lips locked in a passionate embrace with none other than Kim Nakyoung.

The textbooks slip from your fingers, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud that seems to echo through the empty hallways. The sound jolts jake and Nakyoung apart, their guilty eyes meeting yours in a moment of stunned silence. Panic seizes you, and you scramble to retrieve your books, your heart pounding painfully in your chest as you feel the sting of tears pricking at your eyes.

Ignoring jake's desperate calls of your name, you turn on your heel and flee down the dimly lit corridor, the world around you a blur of pain and confusion. The betrayal cuts deep, slicing through the fragile facade of hope you had built for yourself, leaving behind nothing but a raw, gaping wound in its wake.

the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, you hear hurried footsteps behind you, growing closer with each passing moment. You steal a glance over your shoulder and see jake sim, his figure swaying slightly as he catches up to you. His eyes are glassy, clouded with the haze of alcohol, and his words tumble out in a slurred rush as he tries to explain himself. "Y/N, wait!” you don’t wait, “It didn't mean anything, I swear. You mean everything to me.” 

You stop abruptly, turning to face him, your heart heavy with a mixture of anger and sorrow. you can immediately smell the alcohol off of jake as he stands in front of you. his bangs longer than ever before as they rest in his eyes as he looks down at you. “i don’t care who you fuck, jake. do what you want.”

jake reaches out and grabs your arm, spinning you around to look at you, “y/n i know, i’m so sorry. but i don’t want to fuck anyone! i just want you!” 

you sigh, “jake, it's over, whatever this,” you point between your bodies, “was. We're too different. We don't belong in each other's worlds."

But jake's expression is one of desperation as he reaches out to grasp your hand, his touch tingling against your skin. "No, Y/N, please," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "I want to be in your world. I want to be with you."

Tears blur your vision as you pull your hand away, shaking your head in resignation. "But you aren’t and you can't be, jake," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. “stop pretending you aren’t privileged and wake up. you say you don’t want to be in a fantasy but you pretend that you aren't wealthy jake and that we could ever be in the same world. so that’s it, it’s done.” 

“no.” jake says, his head shaking and eyes full of sorrow as he looks at you in almost disbelief, “no y/n you can’t do this, you can’t say this to me.” 

“it’s time to stop pretending for both of us jake.” you start to walk away backwards, your face looking at him as youg et slowly farther down the hall. 

“no, y/n. i’m not pretending,” jake’s voice is exasperated when he speaks, “i’m not pretending that i love you! i love you, y/n!” you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from responding. only closing your eyes and walking away from him in the empty hallway. when he can’t see your face you let the tears fall. you listen to him calling your name, telling you to come back and that he’ll do anything for you. you so badly want to turn around and run into the familiarity of his arms. but you know that it would be no use, you and jake could never be together. so you tell yourself that these are the last tears you’ll ever spill for jake sim. the son of the wealthiest family at sterling academy.

after that last night in the hallway with jake sim, the days at Sterling Academy passed by in a blur, devoid of any interaction with him. it was as if he had vanished from the halls of the prestigious school, leaving behind nothing but rumours of his troubled behavior. despite the lingering curiosity about him, you found solace in the companionship of your friends minju and lia, and your roommate heejin, who had become the best part of your time at Sterling Academy.

as the school year drew to a close, you knew that you would have to either renew your scholarship or choose not to. and though the memory of jake sim lingered in the recesses of your mind, you found comfort in the bonds you had forged with your friends and the knowledge that you were on the path to a brighter future. your parents and your professors were so impressed by your determined nature with your school work. 

for too long, you had lived in a dream, navigating the halls of Sterling Academy with a facade of belonging, all the while feeling like an outsider looking in. the scholarship that had once been a beacon of opportunity now felt like a shackle, binding you to a life that didn't align with you. you longed for true authenticity, for a sense of belonging that transcended the confines of wealth and privilege.

though it was once your dream, you chose not to renew your scholarship at Sterling Academy for the following year. tt was a decision made for you to be able to embrace the world where you truly belonged, surrounded by people who accepted you for who you were, without the need for pretense or facade. 

as the final days at Sterling Academy drew near, the bittersweet reality of parting ways with jake sim lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the once vibrant halls of the prestigious academy. You and jake, from starkly different worlds yet inexplicably drawn together by the threads of fate, stood at the precipice of separation, each poised to embark on divergent paths that would lead you far from one another's embrace.

as you said goodbye to Sterling Academy forever, you carried with you the imprint of jake's presence upon your heart. though your paths diverged, you knew that the bond forged between you would endure your lifetime. even as you live your lives differently, you remain forever intertwined, tethered by shared memories and experiences.

in the end, you had both learned a lesson about the nature of life, social classes and love. as the echoes of your time at Sterling Academy faded into the distance, you embraced the promise of new beginnings, knowing that no matter where life took you, your connection with jake sim would endure, an eternal reminder of love and hope in a world filled with uncertainty.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[omgeto]

☆ GIMME, GIMME MORE — GETO SUGURU

summary: you were just a stripper who had no desire to fuck with any customers, but there was just one you couldn’t shake. once he laid his eyes on you, he wanted you. and with every little piece of you he got — he wanted more.

wc: 6.5k (my longest fic ever, lord help me) its a lot of plot with a nice chunk of smut

cw: afab!stripper!reader, angst to fluff, smutty smut, you fuck in his car, you fuck in a private room (i remembered condoms this time) so mdni sassy geto, if you squint.

an: listen to this song to feel the vibe, I love me some geto and I’ve yet to do a fic for him so I hope you enjoy this one.

the entrance to the high-end club exudes an air of opulence, with its glimmering lights and sophisticated clientele. geto suguru strolls in alongside his best friend, gojo satoru, the low hum of the music washing over them. the glances around, a mixture of boredom and detachment etched on his face. this isn't really his scene, but gojo had insisted on a night out.

as they find their way to a table, surrounded by plush seating and an atmosphere of indulgence, geto's attention wanders. the dancers on stage move with practised sensuality, but his gaze remains distant. until, that is, a change in the music's tempo signals a shift in the performance.

the spotlight illuminates the stage, revealing a figure that seems to command the room's attention effortlessly. you move with a fluid grace, your body swaying in time with the sultry rhythm. the way your hips move, the confidence in your eyes, it's as if you own the room. gojo's earlier detachment gives way to fascination he can't deny.

he couldn’t take his eyes off the way you were sliding down the pole, leaning forward in his seat to see more of you. the star shaped nipple covers and the gem encrusted thong you were wearing left nothing to the imagination. but still he couldn’t help but picture it all off of you, leaning forward in his seat to try and get a closer look. 

gojo nudges him playfully. "not bad, right?"

geto’s response is a low, appreciative whistle as his eyes remain locked on the captivating dancer. his heart races as he watches you command the stage, a magnetic presence that draws him in despite his earlier disinterest. he couldn’t help but feel that you were dancing for him, call him cocky but the way your eyes were locked on him as you threw your ass back against the pole — he knew that was just for him. he looked around the room and saw that everyone else was just as captivated by you as he was.

“she’s the best performer here, she doesn’t do private dances, she doesn’t even do a long set,” gojo brags to geto but he’s barely listening, his eyes too focused on you, “this is as much of her as we can get.” 

as the performance reaches its climax, geto’s lips curve into a slow smile. gojo’s grin is knowing. "looks like someone's found their muse." geto’s tears his gaze away just as you exit the stage, his interest piqued.

“you’ve got a request,” your boss announces insistent and smug, cornering you immediately after you exit the stage.

“you know i don't do requests, i come here, i do a 30 minute set and i leave remember?” you retort, stepping to walk straight past him, but he stops you, standing in front of you to block your path.

“this is a request you can’t refuse,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips. your eyes narrow at his words, already feeling a sense of unease.

“oh i think i can,” your intention is clear as you step forward, intending to brush past him and continue on your way. but he remains unmoved, determined to stand in your path, his stance a physical barrier you can't easily circumvent.

“there’s a special guest tonight, someone who’s willing to pay handsomely for a private performance,” he explains, his tone implying much more than his words reveal.

you pause, folding your arms, sceptical. “how much are we talking about?”

he names a figure that makes your eyebrows shoot up. It’s a significant sum, the kind that could cover your bills for months, or even help you save for a future beyond the club. but still, you hesitate.

“like i said, i don't take request,” you conclude, brushing past your boss.

“i don’t think this particular patron will like that,” he tries to argue, following directly behind you.

“ask me if i care,” with those words, you step forward once more, your purpose clear as you attempt to carry on. but his presence remains a persistent shadow at your side, his attempts to sway you far from over. 

his argument falters momentarily, but he regains his composure quickly, his tone becoming insistent. "this particular patron isn't accustomed to denial. I don't think he'll take kindly to it."

a defiant smirk tugs at your lips, your patience waning as you find yourself driven further by your own principles. "well, here's a thought—perhaps he should learn."

with that final retort, you pivot on your heel, striding purposefully toward the locker room. the temptation of the significant sum and the vague promise of this special patron tug at the edges of your thoughts, but your determination remains resolute.

“if you don’t do it your fired.” he calls out after you, a desperate final attempt to get you to agree.

you knew you were going against your better judgement, but you turn back to face your boss and with a deep sigh you agree, “fine, i’ll do it. but you owe me.”

with simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface, you push open the door to the private room, your entrance punctuated by the subtle swish of the heavy fabric. the air within was charged, a blend of anticipation and tension, as you found geto suguru lounging on the plush sofa, his presence an unwelcome sight that intensified your irritation.

your words come out abruptly, a firm reminder to both him and yourself, “i don’t fuck clients,” you state, a touch of defensiveness in your tone. you wanted to establish your boundaries, to make it clear you wouldn’t be swayed easily.

he chuckles, catching you off guard, his amusement evident. “thats nice…” he adds, with a hint of playfulness, “i just wanted to talk anyways.”

“to talk?” you question, surprised at his request, as you knew what went on in the private rooms and talking was far from that.

“yeah, just wanna get to know you,” he explains casually, his eyes studying you.

“i don’t do time wasters,” you complain, ready to leave the room, “and i don’t have time to waste.”

“even if im paying for your time?” he bargains, raising his eyebrows, “im sure your boss told you the pretty expensive bill im footing just for your time.”

crossing your arms, you met his gaze with a steady one of your own. “look, mr…?”

“just call me suguru,” he interjected with a smile that held a hint of charm.

“alright, suguru,” you continued, your tone resolute, “i'm not here to entertain idle chit-chat. i’ll dance for you for an hour and thats it. just abide by the club rules, otherwise im out.”

“why don’t you take private requests?” he inquiries, disregarding your comments.

“because i don’t have to,” you respond nonchalantly, “why are you so persistent that you pay for my time. there’s tons of other great strippers in this club.”

“because i want you.” he shrugs.

“well too bad,” you mock, “just because you have money doesn’t mean you can buy everything.”

“everyone’s got a price,” he argues, chuckling softly, a condescending tone underling his words, “ah, but isn't that the way the world works? everything has a price, even principles.”

the audacity of his statement ignited a fire within you, your voice heated with defiance and scorn. “you think im for sale? you think i’d compromise my integrity just for a fat stack of bills? you’re delusional.”

“oh but isn’t your integrity already compromised,” he teases, raising his eyebrows, “is miss, ‘i dont do private dances,’ not in a private dance with me right now?”

“you know wha–” 

“i changed my mind. i don’t want to talk anymore,” there was a shift in his tone, amusement danced in his eyes, “strip for me.”

you were pissed. but you couldn’t actually argue – he was right. he was paying for your time and he could spend it anyway he wanted to. you’d rather have him silently watching you anyways than talking to you. 

the music blared through the speakers in the room, and you immediately straddled geto, you could feel his dick harden underneath you. the only thing separating you two was the thin layer of fabric of your thong. 

you could see him smirk at you, but you ignored him, grinding your hips down on him to the beat of the music. his starts to trail down your sides, but you give him a pointed look reminding him of the rules – no touching. he surrenders his hands placing them besides his head, content in watching you dance on his lap.

you moved off of him, using the pole that was in the room, his eyes stayed fixed on you. you wanted to put on a show for him, so you move your body expressing a mix of sensuality and power, your eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge you further, to push your boundaries even more.

the hour was eventually up, and geto didn’t say anything as he left, he just leaves a fat stack of bills on the table, and for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue, “is that it? you’re just going to leave?”

“well the hours up, no?” he responds, checking his watch, “and, i’ve paid you for your time.” you couldn’t argue with that, so you remain silent watching as he turns his back on you to leave the room.

“suguru,” you call out, getting him to pause, “wait.”

“i thought you didn’t fuck clients,” he smirks, coming up from in between your thighs, “but i am not complaining”

“s-shut up,” you exhale, you’d like to believe that you didn’t expect this to happen, but you knew that was a lie. you didn’t get far out of the club, in fact you didn’t make it out of the parking lot. the back of geto’s car seemed to be perfect with the way he was eating you out. 

the feeling of geto sucking on your clit, had your head empty. his head being pressed between your thighs makes your back arch as you push up against his face. he laps against your folds, drowning in your wetness. 

“‘i don’t do private dances,’” he mocks your previous words, amused with himself, “oh if only you could see yourself now.” he enjoyed you like this, pinned under him, your pussy dripping all over his face, you were a writhing mess; no longer complaining to him about his actions, you were reduced down to moans and incoherent sentences, the only thing he could hear clearly was his name.

“suguru ah s-shit,” you curse, as he presses down on your clit, “do you always talk this much?” you tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his face closer in your pussy, his nose deep in your arousal. he was practically inhaling you, swirling his tongue deep inside, trying to taste every inch of you.

“‘m close suguru,” you whine, thrust up against his face aiming to reach your peak on your own.

“calm down princess,” he teases, pulling his lips away from your pussy, “didn’t know you were this eager.” he presses his lips down on yours, making you taste yourself as his hand goes behind your neck to hold you in place. “see how sweet you can be?” 

he takes his dick out of his pants, quickly putting on a condom, not even giving you much time to think before he’s slamming into your cunt. your eyes widen as your pussy stretches, and geto can only bite his lip as he feels you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

he was merciless, gripping his hands on your tits, as he pistons out of you. he could only focus on how your cunt tightens around him with every push. you were pushing yourself down on him, fucking him right back. you didn’t care for his praise, you just wanted to cum.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name. 

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, clawing at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“suguru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, swiftly pulling out of and leaving his cum all over your stomach. you release onto his car seats, your cum spilling out of your pussy, pooling into his car seats.

after coming down off your high, you come to your senses. “this doesn’t change anything.” you remove yourself out of his hold, pushing him off you.

“you really gonna say that after i gave you the best time of your life?” 

"'best time of my life?'" you echo, a smirk tugging at your lips as you gather your belongings, "someone's cocky."

“i'm starting to feel you like me that way,” he teases, his words a playful challenge.

you roll your eyes, not willing to engage in his banter any longer. "goodbye, suguru," you reply, opening his car door. "don't return to the club."

“oi princess,” he calls after you, “you left your thong.”

“keep it.” you wink as you step outside of the car, “think of it as a souvenir.”

“why would i need that, when im going to see you again?” you don't respond, shutting the car door with a smile on your face as part of you hoped that he did return.

geto did see you again, practically every day after that. it became a consistent routine, he’d book a private room for a couple hours, you’d fuck, you’d talk and see each other whenever he wanted. he came when he needed you – and he always needed you.

as a stripper, you’ve always had one rule ‘don’t fuck with clients,’ but the moment that geto suguru laid his eyes on you – you were his. there was something about him that made him different from all the other patrons, although they were all snobby rich guys, the way that geto carried himself made you feel like he was worth breaking your rule. or at least that's what you told yourself. 

you didn’t just fuck each other – sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to get to know you. and you could tell he was starting to catch feelings that you weren’t prepared to deal with. however, despite him being rich, there was something endearing in knowing that he went out of his way, every day, to pay just to see you. even when you were mean and standoffish.

you always spoke for longer than you expected – longer than he even paid for. geto surprised you, he was actually interested in talking with you. as the minutes turned into an hour, the conversations flowed in unexpected directions. you found yourselves sharing stories, discussing interests, and laughing at each other’s jokes. geto’s charming demeanour and genuine interest gradually chipped away at your initial reservations.

“did you always want to be a stripper?” he asks, you had just finished fucking and he still had an hour left of paid time with you, and he was going to use it.

“do you always pillowtalk?” you retort smartly, evading his question.

“who would’ve thought you’d still be this bitchy after being fucked so good,” he jokes, pulling you into his hold that you quickly ease into, “girl just answer the question.”

“i don’t know,” you sigh, “i needed the money, i loved to dance, so being a stripper was a no brainer to me.”

“do you like working here?” 

you shift slightly in his embrace, your fingers idly trace patterns on his chest. "liking it? well, it pays the bills, if that's what you're asking."

his fingers brush against your hair in a soothing gesture. "but is that all? just a means to an end?"

you sigh, a mixture of vulnerability and honesty in your tone. "i mean, it's not like i dreamt of becoming a stripper when I was a kid. but it's a job that's allowed me some financial stability, even if it's temporary."

geto's voice was gentle, his curiosity evident. "temporary for how long?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. "i don’t know, i haven’t thought that far. i just wanna make money.”

"well, if you ever get tired of dancing, i can always buy the club for you." his response was unexpected, a mixture of humour and absurdity. “i think you’d make a good boss.”

“ha, if you did that i’d know that you’re truly obsessed with me,” you chuckle, his words catching you off guard. “i know you enjoy this place, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"maybe, but you're worth it." he grins, his playful demeanour unwavering. "you're more than what you do here, you know."

a soft, ironic chuckle escapes your lips. "funny, coming from someone who's always here."

his grip on you tightens slightly, his voice holding a trace of seriousness. "perhaps I come here because I want to be around you. not just the dancer."

it was as if his presence had chipped away at the walls you had erected, leaving you exposed to a whirlwind of feelings you hadn't anticipated.his gaze, unwavering and intense, held yours as if searching for a sign—a spark of recognition that you too were experiencing this undeniable pull.

"suguru," you begin, your voice a whisper that barely bridged the distance between you, "this... whatever it is between us, it can't be as simple as you wanting to be around me."

he smiles softly, a gentle curve of his lips that holds both understanding and patience. "you're right, it's not simple. but isn't that what makes it worth exploring?" his words were a delicate melody, an invitation to step beyond the boundaries you had created.

you met his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. the weight of his presence was undeniable, a force that had drawn you in and left you yearning for more. but your insecurities whispered caution, reminding you of the differences that set you apart.

"suguru," you admit, your voice softer now, "i've never let anyone get this close. it's complicated, and I don't even know where this could lead."

“it doesn’t matter where it will leads,” he says, “what matters is that you like me? right?”

his words hung in the air, a direct question that pierced through the layers of uncertainty and vulnerability that surrounded you. the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of his question settling like a delicate veil over the intimate space you shared.

your breath caught, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause. the truth, the raw honesty that had eluded you, stood before you—bold and unyielding. you looked into his eyes, his gaze unwavering and patient, as if he was giving you the space to find your own truth within the question.

your voice, soft and tinged with a mixture of trepidation and longing, finally found its way to the surface. "i..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. but in the depth of his gaze, you found a strange sense of comfort, an assurance that you could be honest without judgement.

"maybe," you admit, your voice a whisper that carries the weight of your emotions. "maybe i do like you, suguru." the admission felt like a release, letting go of the barriers you had constructed to protect yourself.

a slow smile curved his lips, a genuine expression that lit up his features. it was as if your honesty had unlocked a door, allowing both of you to step closer to a truth that had been waiting to surface. he replies with deep content, "maybe is a good start," 

the room felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite define, a tension that simmered beneath the surface. your eyes held his, a silent conversation that spoke volumes—an acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had grown between you.

as you lay there, cocooned in the aftermath of both physical intimacy and heartfelt conversation, an internal struggle brewed within you. your heart was stirred by the sincerity of geto's words, by the connection that seemed to grow stronger with every interaction. yet, amidst the warmth and comfort, a sense of bittersweet uncertainty gnawed at you.

the boundary you had set, the rule you had vowed to uphold, wavered under the weight of emotions you hadn't anticipated. you were drawn to geto, but a tangle of reservations held you back.

in the embrace of the night, you found yourself torn between the allure of a connection you had come to cherish and the lingering fear of what being with him might entail. 

“you’re here early,” you comment, seeing geto in his usual seat. at this point, you were practically excited to see him, happy to go to work knowing that he’d show up.

“i guess i thought i’d change things up a bit,” he mutters his tone of voice off, “we’ve got to make this quick, though” he starts to undo his belt, “i’ve only got an hour till my next meeting.”

“wow no talking today?” you ask amused. geto usually is the one that likes to take his time, he always says he prefers to stimulate your mind before anything else, but today was different.

he gives you a pointed look, not bothering to respond so you continue to say, “an hour?” smirking as you straddle his lap, freeing his dick, “i think that’s more than enough time.” 

“new outfit?” he muses, pulling at the straps of the lingerie you were wearing. you nod, focusing on stroking his dick, “red’s your colour, i like it. but i’d rather see it off you.” suddenly, he rips off your bra and forces you up to take off your panties. you bend down to take off your heels, but he pauses you, “keep those on.”                 

“get my fingers wet for me,” he commands, dragging you back onto his lap. you happily comply, taking in two fingers into your warm, pouty mouth. he caresses your jaw as you greedily nibble on his fingers. 

he pulls them out thoroughly coated with your saliva and shoves them into your pussy. you gasp at the contact, and crumble into his side but he forces your head up with his hand pressing a rough kiss to your lips. 

“w-whats with you today?” you query, as you see the look on geto’s face – something was off with him. although you couldn’t deny the pleasure you were getting from his current roughness, you were used to a gentler geto.

“nothing,” he dismisses you, slipping in another finger into your soaking pussy. his thumb rubs against your clit as his fingers easily glide in and out of you. you felt like you cum off of his fingers alone, you grind down hard against his fingers aiding yourself in reaching your climax. but just as you were nearing, he swiftly removes his fingers landing a fat smack against your clit, “i know i said i had to make it quick, but i didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

geto swiftly puts on a condom, raises you up slightly before slamming you down on his dick. he smiles as your legs wrap around his back, pleased by the sound of your heels clacking together. you shudder as he immediately fills you, your pussy stretching, taking all of him. 

he thrusts into you hard, and you try to meet his pace and fuck him back as hard as he was doing to you – but you were no match for him. you were practically a ragdoll as he hammered into you, your arms flinging around his neck to hold yourself up.

“f-fuck,” you moan, clawing at his back, “im gonna cum.”

“hold it,” he demands, continuing to give you strong, relentless strokes. your head falls into his shoulder in submission, you were already gushing all over him, but he keeps going, hard and fast. he lifts up your head, and presses a soft peck against your lips before saying, “cum.”

geto movements turn sloppy as he finishes into the condom. you release all over his dick, shuddering as you feel your peak surge through you. he presses one more kiss to your neck, before you move off of him. 

“are you good?” you finally ask him, as you put back on your outfit, “you seemed a little out of it tonight.”

he shifts on his feet, his restlessness palpable as he watches you. "yeah," he mumbles, looking around the room at everything but you, his fingers fumbling with his belt as if seeking something to anchor himself. "i'm alright."

"you sure?" you persist, a touch of concern pushing you to press further. usually, you wouldn't challenge him this way – because whatever he says goes in the time that he pays for. but the stark contrast to his usual demeanour gnaws at your thoughts. "i just want to make sure that you're okay–"

"didn't I say I was alright," he sneers, a defensive edge entering his tone, "it's like you don't listen or something."

“see, there is definitely something wrong with you,” you snap, screwing your face up at his tone, “since the usual geto that walks up in here knows that he’ll have my heel shoved up his asshole before he can talk to me like that.”

your words hang in the air, the charged tension growing thicker as you each hold your ground. he shifts his weight, his gaze flickering toward you briefly before skittering away. the air seems heavy with unspoken words, a tangible unease settling between you.

"i've actually been wondering how long we're going to be doing this for," he finally says, his voice low, almost as if he's reluctant to voice the thought.

“this?” you question, a confused look appears upon your face as you fold your arms. you knew what he was getting at – you just wanted to hear him say it, “you mean my job.”

his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "oh, I didn't know it was your job to fuck the customers here. I thought you were just a stripper… not a prostitute." 

his words hit like a jolt, a rush of emotion flooding your senses as you absorb their implications. your jaw tightens, a surge of frustration warring with a pang of hurt. "don't be condescending."

he chuckles, the sound a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. "why not? you seem to be a pro at it."

“fuck you.”

“y’know, i’ve figured a lot about you in these times we’ve spent together – despite the fact that you don’t talk much,” he starts to say, his grin getting wider with every word, “i’ve worked out that you liked to be chased, you like the fact that I was intrigued enough to make you break your dumb ass rule, you like the fact that even after I managed to break down your pussy walls, I still wanna take your rude ass to dinner.”

his words cut deep, the truth laced with a mocking tone. you glare at him, the mixture of attraction and anger churning within you. he was right in a way – you did like the chase, the thrill of his attention. 

"you really have it all figured out, don't you?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. his observations stung because they hit too close to the mark. but there was a small part of you that reminded yourself that he was just like the rest of the rich assholes that strolled through the club – and he was proving you right in this very moment.

“well suguru, i’ve worked some things about you.” you sneer, “you’re not the first wealthy lame that has walked into this club demanding more from me than a lap dance and some ego stroking–”

“but i’m the first to get it though aren’t i,” he interrupts, his tone teasing, “what does that say about me?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms defensively. "it says that you're just like the rest of them, thinking you're different, thinking you're special."

his gaze narrows, the spark of something more intense gleaming in his eyes. "oh, I never said I was different. but I am special, darling, and you know it.” you huff defiantly, sitting back down on the couch – this was an argument you couldn’t. because although he was cocky, he was right.

geto joins you, his hand coming gripping your thigh to get your attention, “look i don't want to be doing this with you, all i want is to spend time out with you outside these four walls,” he says as you gnaw on your lip, considering it, “it would be nice to see you with some clothes on for a change.”

he holds your gaze, his fingers tightening slightly on your thigh as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the storm of emotions you've stirred. his vulnerability is a stark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes, and it catches you off guard. for a moment, you're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings – his words tugging at something deep within you that you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

but then, you remember the rules you've set for yourself, the boundaries you've fought so hard to maintain. no matter how much he may want to blur those lines, you can't afford to give in.

without giving him a direct answer, you shift slightly, his hand sliding off your thigh as you put some distance between you. your gaze flickers away from him, focusing on some distant point in the room as you compose yourself.

"well, hour's over," you finally say, your tone a touch colder than before. "leave the money where you usually do."

his face falls, the vulnerability replaced by a mixture of disappointment and frustration. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to protest or say something more, but the words seem to die on his lips. the atmosphere between you turns tense once again, the unspoken words and desires hanging heavily in the air. 

you don't meet his gaze as you move to gather your things, your actions brisk and efficient. you've mastered the art of detachment, of creating a barrier between yourself and the clients who come and go, no matter how they may affect you.

as you head toward the exit, your heart beats a little faster, a mix of regret and longing that you refuse to entertain. this is how it has to be – business, no matter how much your heart might argue otherwise.

behind you, you hear him sigh, a sound heavy with frustration and resignation. the door clicks shut behind you, the echo of the room's tension lingering in the silence.

he never returned after that. days turned into weeks, and still, geto's presence remained absent from the club. while you hadn't expected him to return, a small part of you had held onto a glimmer of hope that he might. but the weeks turned into months, and the emptiness left by his absence lingered.

life settled back into its routine – the dimly lit stage, the rhythmic music, you danced, you entertained, you put on a show. yet, there was an ache within you, a void that refused to be filled.

as time went on, you found yourself replaying memories of his presence in your mind – the teasing glint in his eyes, the genuine concern in his voice, the way his smile could light up a room. the connection you had shared, brief as it was, had left an indelible mark on your heart.

you missed the daily banter, the way he would surprise you with his insights, the simple pleasure of knowing he was there. the club felt different now, as if it had lost a part of its vibrancy. the nights were quieter, the laughter more subdued, and the glamour that once surrounded your performances felt somewhat dimmed.

despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the longing that had settled within you. you had a taste of something more with him, a glimpse of a world beyond the club's confines. and now, as you danced under the neon lights, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find that connection again.

the longing in your heart grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been. yet, even as you missed him, you were grateful for the moments you had shared – moments that had shown you a different side of life, a side you had almost forgotten was possible.

as you stepped into the club again to start your shift, an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach. the club, which was typically alive with the pulsating beat of music and the murmurs of patrons, was eerily quiet. it was as if the very essence of the place had been stripped away, leaving behind an empty void.

confusion crept into your mind as you glanced around, searching for any sign of movement or life. your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the sound feeling unusually loud against the backdrop of silence. what was going on? had something happened that you weren't aware of?

just as you were about to turn and leave, the sense of unease growing stronger, your eyes land on a figure sitting on the main stage. your heart skipps a beat, a mix of surprise and a rush of emotions flooding over you. it was him – geto. he was here, his presence filling the void that had gripped the club.

he sat there, as if he belonged on that stage, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense as he watches you. the familiar, cocky smirk was ever present on his lips, and despite the confusion that clouds your mind, a warmth spreads through your chest at the sight of him.

as you draw closer, his smirk softens into a genuine smile, a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes. the air was thick with tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty hanging between you. your heart races in your chest, the space between you charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"suguru," you finally breathe his name, your voice a mere whisper in the stillness.

he stands, his movements fluid and confident, as he closes the distance between you. "hey," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that echoed through the empty club.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“let’s just say there’s new management here” 

“you bought the club.” you interrogate, “why?”

“i don’t know, im a guy with a lot of money, so i bought a business.” he shrugs blatantly lying, “that’s what guys like me do…”

"you missed me," you conclude, with a grin.

he nods, "I guess I missed you...or whatever," his facade drops immediately. "it's just after you rejected me, i was pissed. all i wanted to do was to show you that i actually cared about you, for you to give me a chance.”

“and buying the club was the most logical way for you to show me that you care?” you argue. “you didn’t have to do that,” emotions swirled within you – a mixture of surprise, hope, and a spark of something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time. before you could respond, he took a step closer, his fingers gently brushing against yours. it was a simple touch, but it held a promise, a connection that went beyond words.

"why do you always have to be so difficult?” he questions fiercely, “why can’t you just let me show you that i do care about you?”

the weight of his words hung in the air, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw the vulnerability, the sincerity that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface. “why do you care?” you retort, almost childishly. you knew that he cared, you knew why he cared – you just had an affinity for making things difficult. 

he rolls his eyes at your hard front “if it was anybody else, he would’ve given up a long time ago. but for some reason you were worth it. “because i see you for more than just the standoffish dancer who doesn’t let anyone get to her, im sure you know this by now.” he pulls you closer to him, into a strong hold. “now will you stop fronting and let me have you – all of you?”

you nod with mock reluctance, practically melting in his arms, “but what about my job? I’m not gonna stop being a stripper just because of you.”

“and i wouldn’t even ask you too,” he says quick with reassurance, “besides i find it hot that everyone gets to see you this way but they just can’t have you like i do.” he starts to work your top off your body, unhooking your bra, exposing your tits, “like just imagine, a crowd full of people watching me fuck the shit out of you — wanting you so badly, but not getting to touch.”

“we can’t do this here,” you gasp out as his fingers start to toy with your hard nipples, pinching and twisting them.

“why not?” he smirks, “you’re the boss aren’t you?”

“me, but i thought you bought the club.”

“you’re the one who said if i bought it you’d know that im truly obsessed with you,” he reasons, his lips pressing a kiss under your ear as he whispers, “do you get the picture now?”

“like I said you really d-didn’t have to do that,” you say, “i was the one that fucked things up here. you didn’t have to buy a whole business for get me to tell you that i like you.”

“oh so you do like me,” he comments sarcastically, “who would’ve thought.”

“shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest as he laughs, “i am sorry though. i don’t know why i pulled you into my little game, i knew i liked you a long time ago — but I just couldn't bring myself to admitting it. and I'm sorry for that .”

“it’s fine,” he reassures, “i knew dealing with you would be a challenge — granted i didn’t think it would be this hard — but i knew in the end it would be worth it.” his hands lower down your body, shimmying your pants off of you, “so now you gonna show me how sorry you truly are?”

AN: um so this was A LOT my longest fic ever, please lemme know what you thought since I am SOOOO UNSURE ABOU THIS ONE. thank you to my baessss @kazushawty @satoruhour for beta reading (I owe you two my life) also ur boss was pissed asf to find out that the club he owned was bought and given to you when he was the one that basically got you and geto together in the first place. ill make a part two where gojo comes back to the club to see the pretty little stripper who's got all of his besties attention looool jk

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

love🥺🫶🏻I click at my notification so fast when I saw your posting again adfkgk you have no idea how much I like your writing! also I'm new to your blog but if anyone trying to hurt you I'm......going to give them a really bad time... 😤💪//hj

Anyway 🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻can I request a reaction of wrio and neuvillette with a darling who has a habit of looking at the price on menus...like why worry your silly little head? when you're with them those silly little numbers mean nothing. it's one of your habit that's hard to let go but he find them really cute so it's okay!

Awwww thank you so much, dear!!!! You'll be happy to know that I've got nothing but love on here which I'm so so grateful for ♡ but I appreciate you so much for your protection ♡

And what a lovely idea!! This is so something I struggle with so it was interesting to write about and imagine what our favorite boys would say!! I hope you like it ♡

✧˖° you're worth all the mora in the world⋆.˚✧

Wriothesley & Neuvillette x gn!reader (separate) II fluff!

"You're not allowed to order water."

"Wriothesley..."

He slides the drink menu over to you with a stern, "Pick one."

"...but I don't need—"

"It's not about needing. I took you out to spoil and indulge you, don't deny me that pleasure."

You've been dating Wriothesley long enough for him to find your cautiousness when it comes to his funds an issue.

On the first few dates you two shared, though he'd rather have pampered you with lavish meals and treats, he decided to look the other way when it came to how you'd always miraculously choose the most inexpensive dishes on the menu.

"I guess that's only polite...", he reasoned with himself, weighing whether or not he should mention to you that money was not a problem for him; but eventually, he thought it better to just give you time.

"Once we get more comfortable, it'll change."

And once you two did get comfortable, and he found that your behavior, in fact, did not change, his patience wore thin.

Why were you still so uncomfortable with him? It was almost an insult that you thought so little of him to assume he'd find paying for you a burden.

So, he takes to ordering for you. He knows what you like, and he knows if he lets you choose for yourself, the price will play a factor into what you order—even subconsciously.

Until you start choosing the most expensive meals on the menu, you're not allowed to make objections or requests without grounds like allergies or dislikes; which you won't have, because he knows you too well by now.

If you try to lie and tell him you don't like something he's picked for you, you will fail. Miserably, so.

"I don't like crab.", you argue—peeking over your menu at him in an attempt to hide your tells that he's become much too familiar with. He could read you like a book, and you have no idea how he's gained so much expertise in the field of you.

"Uh huh, sure, doll.", he doesn't even look at you, his attention on the waiter as he orders. "That one—", he says, flicking his finger to point at you, "is going to have golden crab.".

"And the crab will be market-priced. Will that be all right with you, sir?", the waiter feels the need to confirm, as market-priced foods are often quite expensive.

You jump in, "How mu—"

"That's fine.", Wriothesley interjects, giving you a stern look as he plucks the menu from your hands, revealing your red cheeks (a symptom of your fibbing), and passes it to the waiter before handing him his own. He doesn't need to hear the price, it's just a number, and you're worth more than all the mora in his bank account. No matter how ardently you can try to protest, he's committed to giving you what he knows you want—even if you hesitate to ask for it.

And watching from across the table how your eyes glimmer and beautiful cheeks turn rosy pink as the opulent flavors hit your tongue is more than enough compensation for him to recieve in return.

Neuvillette finds your financial prudence to be a quality of yours he actually quite admires. Too often, he sees thoughtless individuals land themselves in his court with grave, unsettled debts due to gambling or overspending, so your conscientiousness is to be commended!

However, when he is the one footing the bill, he sees no logical need for you to apply this virtue. He knows what he can afford, so you need not worry about it; and to see that telltale crease between your eyebrows as you worry yourself over what to choose on a menu with nothing priced less than ˙✧12500 mora, simply crushes him.

He can never sit right with himself when you have that anxious look on your face, it makes him feel like he’s failing as your partner. And over something so small as a handful of mora! He finds it necessary to talk you through the logic of the situation rather than your—for lack of better word—illogical fixation on a metaphysical number.

“Sweetheart,”, he calls in that soothing, deep vibration of his voice that feels like resting in the coolest, calmest waters of Fontaine, “I am the Chief Justice of Fontaine; as such, I’ve been entrusted to oversee both criminal and civil trials due to my ability to apply sound judgement to otherwise complex situations, unrivaled by anyone else in the nation.”

“…”, you sit quietly with your hands in your lap and blink at him, tongue-tied as his explanation begins to make perfect sense.

“…don’t you think I would have the discernment to manage my own finances?”, he concludes, hammering his claim into you with one last strike.

You have no rebuttal. He’s pinned you so effortlessly, it’s embarrassing. Sometimes, it’s a challenge to date a man with such vast practice in rhetorical argument.

Your worries being soothed with such tact actually makes you quite flustered, your cheeks and nose turning a soft shade of red as you pout in defeat.

The way your expression graduated from nervous to sheepish with just a few sentences of reasoning makes him chuckle, reaching out to lift your chin with the knuckle of his index finger with a cheery, but reserved smile on his face.

“Darling, I’ve brought you out tonight to spoil you. Do me the honor of having some fun while we’re here? There’s nothing more I want right now than to see your beautiful smile.”

You find it’s impossible to hold back the simper that blooms on your face from that remark, to which he smirks with pride.

This was the most fulfilling trial he’s held in a century.

[bitchlessdino]

nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre:  smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting. 

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart. 

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers. 

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine. 

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?” 

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.” 

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground. 

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.” 

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious. 

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside. 

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought. 

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously. 

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace. 

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?” 

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side. 

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You're Not Financially Stable [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

Chan was starting to get increasingly worried about you. You had been evading him for weeks, your once warm embraces replaced by cold distance. Suspicion clawed at his mind, whispering tales of betrayal and deceit. Unable to ignore the gnawing doubt any longer, Chan set out to confront you at your apartment. As he approached your door, his heart hammered against his chest, each step a testament to the turmoil within him.

Knocking gently, Chan waited with bated breath, the tension thick in the air. When no answer came, he pushed open the door, his eyes scanning the barren room.

"Yn?" he called out, his voice echoing against the empty walls.

Silence greeted him, the absence of her presence a heavy weight upon his shoulders. But then, amidst the desolation, a glimmer of hope flickered—a letter lying on the table, its edges crumpled with despair.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, his eyes devouring the words scrawled upon it—a tale of eviction, of loss, and of a new beginning. You had been forced from your home, cast aside like a forgotten memory.

Determined to find you, Chan retraced your steps, each corner of the city a labyrinth of possibilities. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a quaint café, its windows aglow with warmth and laughter. Above it lay a modest apartment, a sanctuary hidden from the chaos below.

Heart pounding, Chan ascended the stairs, anticipation mingling with trepidation. When he reached the door, he paused, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. But then, with a resolve born of love, he knocked.

The door swung open, revealing your tear-streaked face, your eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of him.

"Channie?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the city. You never thought you'd see him again after everything.

"Yn," he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sight of you, knowing you were well...at least alive, you looked as though you'd barely slept and had been crying a lot. Tears welled in your eyes as you beheld the man who had once held your heart, his presence a lifeline in the storm.

"I thought I'd lost you," You confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. After being kicked out, your phone was off service and you'd lost your charger so you couldn't even get his number. Everyone you turned to for help ignored you or pushed you away. Chan stepped forward, enveloping you in his embrace, his touch a promise of safety amidst the chaos.

"You'll never lose me," he vowed his words a beacon of hope in the darkness. 

"I'm here, Yn. And I'm not going anywhere." He promised, kissing your cheeks and keeping you pressed close to him. He wasn't certain what the future held for you both but he was sure he wasn't going to lose you again.

MINHO:

Lee Minho, a prominent figure in the underground world of organized crime, strode into the opulent ballroom of the Grand Palazzo, his arm intertwined with that of his stunning girlfriend, you. The two of you were a striking pair; Minho, with his sharp suit and commanding presence, and you, elegant in your signature red dress, exuding grace and beauty.

The occasion was a black-tie charity event, a masquerade of the city's elite, where appearances were everything. Minho relished the opportunity to flaunt his status, but tonight, his focus was solely on you.

As you mingled through the crowd, a snide remark caught Minho's attention. A well-dressed socialite whispered to her companion, casting a disdainful glance at you, 

"Isn't that the same dress she always wears? How embarrassing. Clearly, she can't afford anything better." It was a comment you'd grown used to hearing by now, it wasn't as though you could afford extravagant gowns every time Minho wanted you to join him at a party. Minho's jaw clenched in anger, his protective instincts kicking in. He resisted the urge to confront the woman, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention. Instead, he steered you away, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Later in the evening, amidst the swirl of music and laughter, Miinho overheard snippets of a conversation nearby.

"Did you hear about Yn? Word has it she's struggling to make ends meet. Works multiple jobs just to pay the bills."

"I heard Izzie say she saw her working in a diner just outside of the city," Another voice said before laughter ensued. Minho's heart sank. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You had never mentioned anything about financial difficulties, and he had never thought to pry into your personal affairs. But now, faced with these rumours, he couldn't ignore them.

He guided you to a quiet corner of the room, his expression troubled. "Yn, is it true? Are you having trouble with money?" Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. 

"Minho, I... I didn't want you to worry. It's nothing, really." It wasn't as though you were in tons of trouble, you just struggled to make ends meet sometimes and some weeks you'd have to survive on just noddles. Minho gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for the truth. 

"Don't shut me out, baby. I need to know. If you're struggling, we'll face it together." Tears welled in your eyes as you finally confessed, 

"I've been working extra shifts at the diner, tutoring on the weekends, just to keep up with the bills. I didn't want you to think any less of me." his heart ached at your words. He had always admired your independence and strength, but now he saw the toll it was taking on you. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you close.

"You don't have to do this alone, baby. I'm here for you, always. We're a team," he whispered softly, promising to support you in any way he could.

CHANGBIN:

Changbin strode purposefully up the steps to your apartment, anticipation building as he looked forward to spending time with you, the two of you had hardly spent any time together as of late since he got busy with work. However, his eagerness turned to concern as he noticed the unmistakable shape of an eviction notice pinned to your front door.

His heart sank as he read the terse words printed on the paper, realizing the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, he knocked on the door, his mind racing with worry for you. 

When you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of embarrassment flashed across your face at the sight of him standing there with the notice in hand. You'd meant to take it down when you got home from work but you'd completely forgotten when you were cleaning the apartment.

Before you could say anything, he spoke gently but firmly, "What's going on, baby?" Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you met his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've been struggling," you confessed, your words heavy with shame and yet admitting it felt as though a weight had been taken off your shoulders. "I couldn't keep up with the rent, and now they're evicting me." Changbin's heart ached at the sight of your distress, his protective instincts kicking into high gear. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, enveloping you in a reassuring embrace.

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll figure this out together."

Determined to help you through this difficult time, he wasted no time in springing into action. Whether it was arranging for temporary housing, offering financial assistance, or simply providing emotional support, he was determined to be there for you every step of the way. He'd been tempted to buy the apartment building out from your landlord but you'd refused to let him, promising that what he was doing was already enough

HYUNJIN:

The atmosphere in the grand hall was electric as the auctioneer's voice echoed off the walls, commanding attention. Hyunjin was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, and surveyed the room with a practised eye, his gaze flickering over the exquisite artworks on display. It felt as though he did this a few times a week if he was lucky enough and he could never get enough of the art functions.

But amidst the flurry of bids and whispers, something caught his attention—a series of paintings that seemed strangely familiar. As he drew closer, his heart skipped a beat. They were your paintings, each stroke a testament to your talent and passion. Confusion and concern swirled in his mind as he approached the saleswoman, his tone carefully controlled.

"Excuse me," he began, "but could you tell me about the artist who donated these paintings?" He knew you'd never want to sell them and he worried someone might have stolen them from you. You'd sold a few paintings before but these were your masterpieces, the ones you couldn't even dream of selling.

The saleswoman offered him a sympathetic smile, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness. 

"The woman who donated them was struggling," she explained softly. "She didn't want to sell, but she had no choice." A surge of protectiveness washed over Hyunjin as he listened to her words. He knew how much those paintings meant to you, how each brushstroke told a story of your dreams and aspirations. Without another word, he made up his mind. As the bidding continued around him, he silently placed his bids, determined to acquire every single one of your paintings.

Once the auction concluded and the paintings were in his possession, he wasted no time in arranging for them to be hidden away, safe from prying eyes and opportunistic buyers.

Weeks passed, and Hyunjin watched as you struggled with your art, unaware of the fate of your precious creations. He knew you longed to reclaim them, to see them hanging proudly in your studio once more. Hyunjin knew you'd never let him help you if he tried to give you money for rent or even if he tried to get you to let him help with anything but he was proud of you. You'd dug your way out of the financial pit you were in until you were ready again.

"I thought we were going to dinner," You giggled as Hyunjin took you into a warehouse, the two of you were going to celebrate your new job but he wanted to take you to your paintings first.

"It's a secret." He chuckled, as you entered the dimly lit room, Hyunjin could sense the tension radiating from you. You glanced around, your eyes widening in disbelief as they landed on row after row of canvases shrouded in darkness.

"What is this place?" You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Hyunjin stepped forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours. 

"This is where I've been keeping something for you," he explained softly, guiding you further into the room.

As you approached the first stack of paintings, he paused, allowing you to take in the sight before you. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what lay hidden beneath the cloths. You'd been desperately trying to find the buyer for almost a week now, willing to trade him some of your other paintings for your old ones.

"These... these are my paintings," You whispered, your voice shakey as you turned to look at Hyunjin who was nodding, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every single one of them." Tears welled up in your eyes as you moved closer, reaching out to touch the familiar textures of your artwork. It felt like a dream, surreal and yet undeniably real.

"Why?" You asked, your voice choked with emotion. "Why did you do this?"  He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. 

"Because I know how much these paintings mean to you," he replied softly. "And because I wanted to make sure they were safe until you were ready to reclaim them." Your heart swelled with gratitude as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. In that moment, you knew that you were loved more deeply than you had ever dared to imagine.

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest, overcome with emotion.

JISUNG:

Jisung sat patiently in the living room, his mind drifting as he waited for you to finish getting ready for your date, the two of you were going out to celebrate your anniversary tonight. Glancing around the room absentmindedly, his eyes fell upon a stack of unopened envelopes on the coffee table—bills and late notices, their contents a stark reminder of the financial struggles they faced. 

His brow furrowed in concern as he picked up one of the envelopes, his heart sinking as he read the ominous words printed on the front. He had suspected that you had been under financial strain, but he had never imagined it was this severe.

Before he could dwell on his thoughts any longer, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you descending the stairs. But instead of the usual smile on your face, he was met with tear-filled eyes and a quivering lip when you saw what he was holding.

Instantly, his heart clenched with worry as he rose from his seat, crossing the room to envelop you in a comforting embrace. You snuggled into him and sniffled a little.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice filled with concern. You buried your face in his chest, your tears staining his shirt as you struggled to find the words to explain. 

"I... I'm sorry," You choked out between sobs. "I didn't want you to see this... I've been trying to handle it on my own..." Your family taught you never to rely on others for your money and it was something you'd tried to stick by but it was getting harder and harder to hide your troubles. Jisung held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He had never wanted you to feel like you had to carry the burden alone, but he understood why you had kept it from him.

Gently guiding you to the couch, he sat beside you, wiping away your tears with a gentle touch. 

"You never have to hide anything from me, my love," he assured you, his voice tender and reassuring. "We're in this together, no matter what." He whispered before kissing the top of your head, your heart was heavy as you stared at the stacks of unpaid bills just waiting for you to get another paycheck.

"It doesn't matter how much overtime I do, it's never enough." You admit to him with a sad smile, you wanted to be able to do this alone but it seemed damn near impossible. 

"What can I do?" He whispered, rubbing your back softly as you stared down at the bills.

"Give me a job?"

"How about I do that and you come to live with me? We can split everything," You stared up at him, nodding with a small smile on your face, you couldn't think of anything better. 

FELIX:

Felix sat in the dimly lit restaurant with his lawyers, enjoying the ambience of the evening. As plates clinked and conversations murmured around them, the mood suddenly shifted when his lawyers leaned in to offer some advice.

"Boss," one of them began cautiously, Felix thought his name was Noel but he couldn't have been sure since the two of them were twins and he could hardly tell the difference.

"We've been noticing something concerning about the women you've been seeing lately." Felix lowered his drink to the table and raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also wary of where this conversation might lead. He hadn't given them any permission to dig into you or your life, in fact, he'd given specific orders for almost all of his men to leave you alone.

"She doesn't seem... financially stable," The other lawyer added, choosing his words carefully, swallowing a lump in his throat and Felix noted he appeared to be sweating.

Felix felt a surge of disbelief and anger. These were his trusted advisors, but their intrusion into his personal affairs caught him off guard. He clenched his fists beneath the table, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Not financially stable?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. 

"What exactly do you mean by that?" His lawyers exchanged uncomfortable glances, sensing his displeasure.

"Well, boss,"  Noel ventured, 

"we mean that perhaps the woman isn't the best match for someone in your position. They could be a liability, you know?" Felix's jaw tightened. He felt a mix of indignation and hurt. You were being judged solely on your financial status and he wanted nothing more than to kick the lawyers to the curb but they'd told him something you hadn't yet. 

He leaned back in his chair, a steely resolve settling over him. 

"I appreciate your concern," he said icily, "but I'll thank you not to meddle in my personal life. I'll handle my relationships as I see fit." His lawyers exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they may have overstepped their bounds. But the Felix wasn't finished.

"And from now on," he continued his voice like ice, "I don't want to hear another word of advice on this matter. Is that clear?" His lawyers nodded hastily, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Later that night Felix found himself sitting across from you in your small apartment, your bills stretched out on the coffee table as you showed him everything that was late or on its final notice. It wasn't exactly something you were proud of but when he'd asked you if he could see it you didn't want to hide it from him.

"So Noel and Joel told you?" You laughed dryly and rubbed the back of your neck,

"I would have loved for you to tell me." He admitted, looking at the pieces of paper before he started to organise them into piles from most urgent to not-so-urgent.

"I was-"

"I know," He whispered, rubbing your hand softly as you laid your head down on the coffee table. You'd been trying everything to get yourself out of the hole you were in but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd been intending

"I think the best option is for you to move in with me," The suggestion came out so casually you thought it might have been a joke if it wasn't for him looking at you with a serious look on his face.

"Your biggest problem is your rent, once that's out of the way you'll have more than enough money for your bills." He told you with a smile, he'd been meaning to ask you for a while but this was just giving him that final push. 

"I still need to pay rent at yours," You told him and he nodded at you,

"Sure, but only once you're back on your feet, I won't take no for an answer," He smirks at you before your cheeks begin to heat up, moving in with him was the next step in your relationship, it only made sense. 

"O...Okay, great. I'll call my landlord-"

"I'll call, you focus on packing," He smirks, kissing you softly as you rush to go and get some bags and suitcases ready. 

SEUNGMIN:

Seungmin's heart pounded with fury as he burst into your apartment, only to be met with a scene of chaos. Two burly loan sharks loomed over you, their menacing presence casting a shadow over the room as they smashed objects in a display of intimidation.

Without hesitation, Seungmin stepped forward, his imposing figure radiating authority. The loan sharks froze in their tracks, their expressions shifting from arrogance to fear as they recognized him.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. You turned to see him, relief flooding your features at the sight of him but you were still scared that he was here. 

"It's... it's nothing," you stammered, your voice trembling with emotion. "They say I owe them money, but I don't know what to do."

Seungmin's jaw clenched as he surveyed the damage, his mind racing with a mix of anger and concern. He knew you had been struggling, but he had never imagined the extent of your troubles.

Turning to the loan sharks, he fixed them with a steely gaze. "Leave. Now," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The loan sharks hesitated for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances before hastily retreating from the apartment, their bravado crumbling in the face of the Seungmin's formidable presence.

Once they were gone, he turned his attention back to you, his expression softening with concern. 

"What happened?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with regret for not realizing the extent of your struggles sooner. Tears welled up in your eyes as you recounted the story of your ex-boyfriend, how he had left you drowning in debt with no way to escape. God, you'd been too ashamed to ask for help, too afraid of burdening him with your problems.

But as you poured your heart out to him, you felt a weight lifting from your shoulders, knowing that you no longer had to face your troubles alone.

"We're going to find your ex, make him pay those assholes back and then you're moving in with me," He tells you plainly, looking around at everything those two had smashed up,

"Make a list of everything they've broken, I'll have your ex or them replace it," He said sternly, looking at you as you wrapped yourself around him and cuddled into him, just happy you weren't going to go through this alone anymore.

JEONGIN:

The atmosphere at the black-tie event was opulent, with chandeliers casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Jeongin, resplendent in his tailored suit, mingled effortlessly among the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and nods with fellow attendees.

"Isn't that your girlfriend?" Someone asked him, his gaze wandered to where his friend had been pointed and he frowned when he spotted you. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was you, clad in a crisp uniform as you moved gracefully among the guests.

Confusion and concern mingled in his mind as he watched you discreetly from across the room. You had told him you were too sick to join him tonight, but here you were, working tirelessly to cater to the needs of others.

"Who knew you'd be dating a waitress," Someone sniggered before Jeongin "accidentally" spilt a glass of champagne down his suit, glaring at him before going back to watching you. Anger simmered beneath the surface as he approached you, his steps purposeful yet controlled. When he reached your side, he fixed you with a steely gaze, his voice low and measured.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze, your whole body heating up. You hadn't known that this was the specific party he was going to be at tonight,

"I... I had to work," You stammered, Your voice barely above a whisper. Jeongin's jaw tightened, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. He had trusted you and believed you when you said you were too sick to accompany him tonight. But now, faced with the truth, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice cold and distant. "You couldn't even be honest with me?" You lowered your gaze, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides, it wasn't like you wanted to hide it from him but you were working four jobs and it was hard to let people know that. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the crowd. "I didn't want to disappoint you." Jeongin's anger softened slightly as he looked at you, his heart aching with a mixture of frustration and compassion. He knew you had your reasons, your own struggles and obligations that you felt compelled to fulfil.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the tension between them. 

"You should have told me," he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with an undercurrent of understanding.

"How? I work four jobs and you barely work one, I-I felt like you might hate me if you found out." You admit before he takes you in his arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

"I couldn't care if you worked none or ten, you're my girlfriend and I'm here for you, no matter what," He whispered before kissing you softly.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Eleven — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader receives a much-needed pep talk in Velaris and gets thinking. Azriel receives a lecture in Windhaven by a frustrated Rhysand. Reader is surprised by an unexpected visitor to the City of Starlight.

Word count:

Warnings: A little bit of smut, 18+, minors dni.

Velaris feels like an entire world away from Windhaven.

You’ve been here only once before, when, as mischievous fourteen-year-olds, Rhysand had brought you. The High Lord had been in another court on business, which had seemed like the perfect time for Rhys to show you his other home. Only, his father had returned early, and had thundered — hard enough to shake the mountains — about strangers entering the shielded city without formal invitation. Not you, nor Cassian, nor Azriel, had been back since.

And that lingering encounter was why, when Roza brought you here three days earlier, you’d been nervous about coming face-to-face with the High Lord yet again.

But the handsome, roguish male had merely given you a long, slow perusal, and then smiled a charming smile — about the only thing Rhys seems to have inherited from him — and welcomed you to his home for as long as you do so please.

It’s tranquil, there’s no doubt about that. Light and airy and so beautiful that you can forget, for a time, that there’s a world outside the City of Starlight. You’ve spent the last three days at Roza’s side, exploring the city and helping her run light errands, and attending to her at the end of the day when the pregnancy tires her out.

The High Lord — Finadar, or Fin, as you’ve learned most people call him — does no such thing. He does not visit his pregnant mate after long, tiring days. Does not summon her.

Despite the growing new arrival in her belly, there’s a distinct lack of love between the two of them that surprises you, perhaps more than anything else.

But tonight, with Roza joining him for a public appearance, you’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time in three days. And you’re desperate to do anything to fight them off.

You wander the long, spacious halls of the High Lord’s opulent home, warm, despite the brutal mountain range that stands guard around it. This is a level of luxury you were never built for, and don’t quite know what to do with. You read from Roza’s broad selection of literature, and gorge on sweets in the kitchen, and slide along the polished floors on your socks, because why the fuck not.

It’s better than thinking. Anything is better than thinking.

But as the night wears on and the silence gets too loud, it’s hard to keep deeper thoughts at bay. Your heart aches relentlessly over the broken shards of your loving friendship group that you don’t know how to glue back together. Your mind swoons longingly over old memories, old smiles. You’re a hollow vessel of complications, and regrets, and excruciating love—

“I heard you were here.” A trilling voice echoes from the far end of the hall you’re traversing.

You turn, and you think you might choke out a strangled noise of relief at the sight of shimmering, golden curls and warm, brown eyes, huge like a doe’s.

Mor looks far better than the last time you saw her, that’s for sure. She’s always radiant, no matter what she has going on, but the sun-kissed glimmer has returned to her skin, and the gaunt fragility from her hardships has been snuffed out by delicious, enviable curves.

You’re in front of her in what feels like a few great strides, and she’s cupping your face in her hands and kissing both of your cheeks.

“I’ve missed you.” You breathe, realising, in that moment, just how much you have. She doesn’t spend as much time in Windhaven as she used to, and gods, the absence of a sincere female friend is a weighty one.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Concern fills her eyes as she studies you.

“Rhys, Az and Cass aren’t here. It’s just me—”

“I know.” She links her arm through yours. “And let’s be glad of it. I’ve had enough of males to last me a damn eternity.” She’s barely taken a few steps forward before she’s stopping and studying you again. “Roza tells me you’re having a hard time.”

Just like that, you feel yourself begin to crumble. There’s something about the concern of others that utterly obliterates the walls you try to craft around yourself.

And at the first glimpse of tears filling your eyes, Mor is tugging you along again.

“Come.” She says. “I know where the High Lord keeps his stash of booze.”

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“You don’t ever come to Windhaven anymore. Why is that?”

There’s the slightest tensing in the set of Mor’s shoulders as she returns the stopper to a decanter containing dark amber liquid. She turns, handing you a glass.

“I figured you knew.” She says. “My father is being strict about me not spending time there.”

On some level, you think you did know. It’s not hard to figure it out.

For a time, Mor was a pretty frequent member of your friendship group, visiting as often as she could — until a few years ago, when a fight broke out between Cassian and Rhys, and then Mor just stopped coming around. The matter was swept under the rug and not mentioned again. But with her father being so strict—

“Ah.” You murmur, the pieces clicking into place. “Cass, huh?”

Mor snorts softly. “Yes. Cass.” She shakes her head fondly. “Before you ask, no, I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that. It was just…a choice I made for myself. And I’ve never regretted it, even if my father is determined to make my life hell because of it. But I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Her eyes rake over you. “Tell me everything.”

So, you do. The words come spilling out of you in a flurry of shame and heartache. You tell her every damn detail and spare none. And when you’re finally done, you take a breath and wonder — not for the first time — how the fuck you’ve managed to create this situation for yourself.

Mor frowns at you. “I—” She seems genuinely speechless. “Cauldron, I thought my situation was complicated.”

You shake your head. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Mor.”

“Why haven’t you told Azriel how you feel?”

“I wanted to. Gods, I planned to. But I supposed walking in on him and Kaeda made me realise that there’s no point.”

“First of all, that’s bullshit.” She takes a seat opposite you. “Love is one of very few things that there is always a point to. Your self-loathing my try to convince you otherwise, but it’s always better to be honest and face whatever outcome than suffer in silence and wonder what would have been.”

You open your mouth, but she’s holding up a hand.

“Secondly, I don’t like the sound of this Kaeda one bit. I know almost nothing about Fenlaros, but what I do know is that she must have some sort of backing — not just that of her Camp Lord father — that gives her the ability to flounce in and out of a rival camp at her leisure without a single consequence. And that tells me she’s up to something. And that makes me nervous that it’s Azriel, of all people, that she’s attached herself to. Not that Az isn’t a total catch — of course, he is. But he’s also a very, very rare gift who always has sights set on him. I’d wager that that plays into Kaeda’s interest somewhere.”

You fall still in your seat, staring back at her.

You feel damn stupid for not seeing what she’s laid out before you with such clarity.

“You…don’t believe Kaeda’s interest in Az is genuine?” You ask. “I wondered why she was hanging around Windhaven, but I didn’t think…”

“I think she has ulterior motives.” Mor shrugs. “And if Az is in a blinding haze of lust — or even love — it’s not something he’s going to see for himself. He’ll need proof.”

“How could I possibly give him proof of something I’m not even certain about myself?”

“Perhaps you should play Kaeda at her own game. Do some sniffing around her and see what you find out. You’d only be looking out for Az, after all.”

Would you, though? You can’t deny that your feelings, your jealousy, would play a part. You should want, for Azriel’s sake, Kaeda to be genuine, whether your heart would get broken or not. But what you truly want is to show Az that—

That you’re better for him than she ever would be.

You want nothing more from or for him, than to make him happy.

You drag your lower lip between your teeth in thought. “What if it blew up in my face, though? I could just…end up making Az even more mad at me than he already is.”

“Which brings me to my third point. Why are you allowing Az to act like you’ve done anything wrong?”

“I slept with Cassian…”

“Welcome to the club. Tell me, Y/N. are you tied down to anyone?”

“Well, no—”

“Did you and Az agree to only have sexual relations with each other?”

“No—”

“Have you ever sworn off exploring such things with your other friends?”

“No, Mor.”

“Then Azriel has no right to be freezing you out the way he is. Is it messy? Yes. Have you created some tricky drama for yourself? Also yes. But he’s a damn hypocrite if he’s chastising you in one breath and jumping into bed with Kaeda in another.”

“That’s the thing, though.” Your gaze lowers to the table. “He says he hasn’t done anything with Kaeda, and I don’t think he would lie about that. I think…had I slept with anyone outside of our circle, perhaps he wouldn’t have cared. But it being Cassian is just…a bit too close to home for him. Especially given that Az and I were doing things, too.”

The gorgeous blonde rolls her eyes. “So, it’s an ego thing. Give me a break. If he didn’t want you to sleep with anybody else, he should have communicated that. You both should have communicated better.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Listen…Az will sulk for a little while, because that’s just what males do. He clearly has things he needs to work through, and when he has, you should talk. But in the meantime, perhaps you should try to find some more out about Kaeda and her intentions — for no other reason than that Azriel is your closest friend and you’re looking out for him. Perhaps being in Velaris is a blessing in disguise — I’m sure the High Lord could tell you a thing or two about the Fenlaros lot, if you ask nicely.”

So wise, so brilliant, is Mor. A female with such a good head on her shoulders, despite an environment that tries to wreck her.

She just…rationalises things, in a way that you’re not able to. And you hadn’t even considered talking to the High Lord.

You take a slow, pensive draw from your glass as you think on it. And then you’re deciding, “Perhaps I will speak with the High Lord. There’s nothing wrong with showing an interest in a rival camp, after all.”

“No.” Mor flashes a feral grin. “There is not.”

Perhaps it’s selfish, something felt at Azriel’s expense — but setting yourself a little task like this is precisely what you need.

You’ve wondered for a while what the hell Kaeda is doing in Windhaven. You’re determined to find out, one way or another.

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Rhysand is balls deep and utterly lost in the male beneath him.

The noises that fill the room are sinful.

Midnight-kissed moans and panting as breathy and ethereal as a winter-chilled breeze.

This has been a long time coming, and Rhys is just so glad, in that moment, that he finally gets to be inside Zakai, that he thrusts deep and captures him in a full kiss. Zakai growls and grabs his ass, encouraging those thrusts.

Honestly? Rhys fucking needs this pleasure. Never did he think he’d actually be glad to get away to his room at the dormitories, but he needs a godsdamned break. Cassian’s sulking at the cottage has become unbearable since Roza swept Y/N off to Velaris.

If Cass and Az don’t sort their shit out soon, Rhys might just launch them off the peak of the nearest mountain.

Of course, they’d probably fight each other suspended in thin air, instead.

But he banishes those thoughts and gives himself entirely to Zakai, reaching down to fist at the pretty male’s cock. Neither of them will last long. This sex has been too highly anticipated, and it feels too good, and—

And the door is practically kicked in behind them. Azriel strides in as if it’s his fucking room.

“Get out, Az.” Rhys snarls, not faltering.

Az does not, in fact, get out. “Is it true Roza has taken Y/N to Ve—”

“For fuck’s sake.” He pulls out of Zakai with complete reluctance, grabbing clothes to cover them both. Zakai exhales a long sigh and tips his head back.

“Well?” Az demands. “Is it true?”

Rhys yanks some undershorts on. “Three days ago. You’d have found out sooner if you’d just quit your sulking and talk to us.”

“Why has she gone there?”

Zakai clears his throat, awkwardly shucking his clothes on. “Perhaps I should go…”

“No.” Rhys says.

But Az counters it with a dismissive, “Yes.”

The poor male stares between the two of them, and while he may have just been lying beneath the future High Lord, he doesn’t feel like getting in the way of a temperamental shadowsinger.

Rhys releases a yielding breath and grits his teeth. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Zak.”

That’s all it takes for his pretty lover to leave, sex now a distant memory. Azriel shuts the door behind him.

“So?” He rounds on Rhys. “Why is Y/N in Velaris?”

Rhys rolls his eyes at his tone. It’s not exactly any use for Az to be frantic now. Bit too late for that, he thinks.

“Because she needed a break from this place. From you and Cass and Kaeda.”

“I told Y/N that Kaeda and I have not done anything.”

“And maybe you haven’t, Azriel. That’s your business entirely.” He throws himself onto the bed. “But have you stopped for five fucking seconds, amidst your brooding and self-pitying, to consider how it might have made Y/N feel to be the practice run?”

Azriel goes preternaturally still. Doesn’t know what to say.

And that’s fine, Rhys reckons, because he’s nowhere near fucking finished.

“You explored that intimacy with her under the pretence that you were merely refining those skills for another female’s benefit.” He continues. “Whether it was initially Y/N’s idea or not, you should have recognised right away that she deserves better than that. And then you had the absolute fucking audacity to get mad at her for sleeping with Cassian, at the same time she would naturally assume you were sleeping with Kaeda, when you actually have no right to be angry. So what if she slept with Cass? So what, Azriel, that she fell into the arms of somebody who actually made her feel chosen, and not like she was just a stepping stone to a greater pleasure?”

Silence.

Stunned, heavy silence.

This room is far too small for such strong, impassioned words. They hang threateningly in the air, and Azriel feels like he’s watching them fly towards him in slow motion like poison arrows closing in on their target.

And then the shadowsinger croaks, finally, “It’s not—like that. I never wanted it to be like that.”

Rhys shrugs. “I’m not sure you even know what you intended, Az. The whole thing is one big mess. I mean…why haven’t you had sex with Kaeda, if that’s what you were practicing for? Do you even like her?”

Az says nothing.

The lack of an answer is precisely what Rhys is expecting. Even makes his lips kick up into a smile.

He thinks he’s pretty damn wise, does Rhysand.

“I’ll wager,” he goes on, eyeing Az knowingly, “that the practice wasn’t about Kaeda at all. Perhaps it was, the very first time Y/N offered.” He rests his hands behind his head. “But then something happened between the two of you — perhaps a kiss, maybe even some touching, and you were struck down by a realisation that the rest of us saw coming years ago. That what exists between you and Y/N goes beyond friendship. What you have is something special. And getting a little taster of that under the ruse of practice sent you on a downward spiral. So many emotions. So much angst. Suddenly, you were acting irrationally, getting into fights. Not over Kaeda, no, but over Y/N. Seeing her with other males makes you feel sick to your stomach. And that is why you’re so angry with Cassian. Because he had sex with Y/N, and you want her, not Kaeda. You love her.”

Well.

Azriel may as well be standing there stark naked, for all Rhys has stripped him bare.

He feels like his skin has been peeled from his bones and a patchwork of ugly truths lies in its place. He wouldn’t be overly surprised to glance down and see writing covering every inch of his body in bold, alarming ink that reads: I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N. I AM JEALOUS AND ARROGANT AND SELFISH. I AM SCARED.

He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t budge. “I never meant to make her feel like that.” He damn near wheezes, the words punching their way out of his lungs.

Rhys softens a little. “We know that, Az. But as long as you try to run from your feelings, you’ll be kicking dirt up at the people behind you.”

“I don’t…don’t know what to do — about anything.”

“You just need to stop trying to fool yourself. You need to make use of your space from Y/N and figure out what, exactly, it is you want, and what, exactly, you’re going to do about it. You need to accept that mistakes have been made all round, but not one of them is unable to be fixed. And you should start by mending things with Cassian.”

On instinct, Az scowls. He may know Rhys is right — and damn him for it, too — but he still can’t help being angry at Cass. The thought of his hands on Y/N—

“Wipe that look off your face, Azriel.” Rhys says drily. “You both know you miss each other, and you’re just as miserable as one another because of it. I’m not saying you should fix it today or even tomorrow — take your time to brood, if you like — but something has to give eventually. And if you won’t fix things for your sakes, do it for mine. Perhaps then I’ll be able to fuck Zakai and actually finish.”

This — these glimmers of wisdom and authority and reason — are like a little window into what Rhysand will one day be like as High Lord of the Night Court.

Azriel is glad of his friendship, his counsel. Even if he’s not quite ready to act on the advice yet.

“It’ll all be alright, Az.” Rhys says, studying him. The shadowsinger looks…lost. “But you should take the time to work things out before Y/N returns to Windhaven. She doesn’t need any more drama, and neither do you.”

Right again, of course.

Az can only manage to clear his throat and nod, before rasping out a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”

Rhys dips his chin. “I do love you, you know. I wouldn’t put sex aside for a conversation with just anyone.”

His answering smile is unconvincing. “I love you, too.”

“And you love Cass. So don’t wait too long to talk to him.”

Azriel inclines his chin. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

The shadowsinger shoots him one last look that says far more than he can articulate in that moment. And then he’s slipping out of the room.

And as he walks away, he can’t stop his thoughts from venturing to Fenlaros.

To how lost he would be without Rhys — and Cass, too — if he really did leave them behind.

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Roza is so godsdamned beautiful.

You can’t help feeling a little awestruck as you stand behind her, gently combing a brush through her night-black hair.

She stares into the mirror of her dressing table, her face a sheet of serene beauty. Through her nightgown, the swell of her bump shows proudly.

She seems pensive tonight, quieter than usual. Every few seconds, your gaze creeps to her reflection. Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can I ask you something?” You part the strands of her hair, beginning to tie them into a braid.

Roza’s eyes lift to yours. “Of course, my love.”

It takes you a long moment to work out how, exactly, to diplomatically word what you’re thinking. You imagine it might be a touchy subject.

“…You and the High Lord….” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You’re not…not quite what I expected — together, I mean.”

You’ve never seen a mating bond up close, but you’ve read about them enough to know that they should be intense, passionate, a love that is so altering that it’s almost gut-wrenching. You expected to catch a glimpse of that with Roza and Finadar, to see a bond that you may never have the honour of experiencing yourself, for how rare it supposedly is.

What you didn’t expect was the huge distance that exists between them. Not a single person could miss it.

There’s no desperation to see each other, be in one another’s company. They sleep in their own quarters of the house and only seem to come together for public appearances. The whole thing is…bizarre.

Roza smiles wryly at you in the mirror. “You mean, you didn’t expect the High Lord and I to be as separated as we are?”

“I just figured…with a mating bond…”

“A lot of weight is placed on a mating bond, little dove.” She swivels on the stool to face you properly. “I had the same thought as you, when I was younger. Fin and I tried to love one another, but…the fact of the matter is that mating bonds aren’t always right. He and I are so different, and sometimes that can be a beautiful thing. But in our case, it certainly is not.”

Your eyes fall down to her bump. “But the babe…”

“This babe was conceived on a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive whim that shouldn’t have happened. Not that I regret it.” Her hand strokes over her bump. “But sex and love are two very different things. Fin and I do not love each other. I’m only in Velaris because he only trusts his healer to see me through this pregnancy. We are mates in the loosest definition, but we are not committed to each other. And he has no problem reminding me of that, with all the females he invites to his bed as though I’m not in the same damn house as him. He’s an arrogant, salacious lech — but he’s also the father of my children, and my High Lord, too. So I choose not to confront it, because I don’t care enough to. The babe and I will be back in Windhaven soon enough.”

It makes your heart ache, makes you feel sick, to think that Roza is on the receiving end of such treatment. She deserves better. Deserves the world. Someone who will worship her like the goddess she damn well is.

It terrifies you to think that…that you could just as easily find yourself trapped in such a dire situation.

“What worries you?” Her violet eyes are soft, warm, as she reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek.

You place the hairbrush down, leaning against the dressing table. Your hand finds hers with a sad desperation. “Is love doomed, Roza? Is it real? If a mating bond can’t hold up, what hope do I have—”

“You have all the hope, dove. And as you should. You will love, and you will be loved. You just need to have the courage to face it and all that it comes with. Fin and I are a bad match. But there’s no reason to believe you’ll see the same fate. So just…don’t give up. Be brave and love.”

Tears blur your eyes as you stare down at her. You can’t stop yourself from moving your joined hands, both yours and hers, to rest on her bump. “This babe is the luckiest child in the entire world to have you for their mother.” You whisper. “And I will be honoured, Roza, to help you in any way I can when they’re born.”

She lifts your hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. “And I will be honoured to have you by my side.” She cracks a smile. “Perhaps you can start with making me some ginger tea before bed.”

A soft, breathy laugh leaves you. “Of course.”

Her beautiful smile follows you out of the room and into the dark, empty hallways. You feel strangely at peace tonight, more so than you have for a long while. Most likely thanks to Mor’s pep talk.

But after you’re done in the kitchen, a steaming cup of ginger tea clutched in your hands, a pair of booming male voices reach you from the antechamber. It piques your interest at once.

One voice is certainly that of the High Lord, but the other sounds somewhat familiar, too — like it’s one you’ve heard before, but not enough to place who it belongs to. It’s a dangerous, gruff baritone of a voice that seems almost impossibly deep.

You should mind your business, walk away…but it seems strange for the High Lord to receive a guest so late at night. Seems…clandestine, in nature.

And so you stay light on your feet, inching towards the door and peering through to the giant, opulent antechamber.

And that’s when you see the High Lord leading Tathaln Baralas, Kaeda’s father, in the direction of his study.

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

[pucksandpower]

Gilded Cage

Charles Leclerc x heiress!Reader

Summary: when a girl who craves for freedom meets a boy who knows what it feels like to race at the speed of light

Warnings: overprotective (but loving) father

The first time you tried to escape, you were seven.

“Y/N, let go of the bird!” The nanny’s frantic voice echoed as your small fingers clutched the delicate cage, trying to unlatch it.

“I just want to see it fly!” You cried, tears streaming down your face, looking at the trapped canary. Its golden feathers seemed dulled, its tiny beak opened in a silent plea for freedom.

The cage slipped from your grasp, crashing onto the pristine marble floors. The sound was deafening in the otherwise quiet mansion. Your nanny rushed forward but not before the canary took off, its wings catching the sun, radiating a blinding brightness.

You watched, mesmerized, as the bird soared above, circling once before disappearing into the vast blue sky.

“It’s gone …” your nanny muttered, distraught at the loss of such a valuable creature.

But you, young and innocent, whispered with a smile of pure joy, “It’s free.”

From that day on, you knew one thing for certain: no amount of gold or jewels could substitute for the glitter of freedom.

***

“Again!”

The shout echoes through the cavernous halls of your palatial home. Somewhere outside, the splashing of the water from the elaborate marble fountain merges with the faint humming of gardeners trimming the intricate mazes. The walls, lined with gold-trimmed tapestries and priceless paintings, feel more like prison bars than luxuries.

"Again!"

Your fingers, stiff and aching, try to mimic the piano instructor’s exact movements. Every wrong note feels like a physical blow, another reminder that you are trapped in a world of perfection and expectations.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” you whisper but it came out stronger, more defiant than you intended.

Madame Lucille, your instructor, raises an eyebrow, unaccustomed to your resistance. “Your father wishes you to be well-versed in the classics,” she reminds you with a patronizing tone.

A voice, deep and commanding, interrupts the tension, “Let her be, Lucille.”

Your father stands at the doorway, his expensive suit impeccably tailored, matching the stern look on his face.

“But Sir, she—”

“I said, let her be.”

Madame Lucille gives you one last disapproving glare before hurriedly packing her things. Your father watches her go then turnes to you with softer eyes. “I just want the best for you,” he murmurs, walking over to sit beside you on the grand piano bench.

You take a deep breath, “I know, Papa. But I want to breathe, to live. Not just exist inside these walls.”

He sighs, looking tired. “The world out there isn’t a nice one. There are those who would want to harm you, to use you.”

“I would risk it,” you admit quietly, “For a taste of real life. For a moment outside this golden cage.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

The weight of his love and the prison of his protection bears down on you. “One day, whether you like it or not, I’ll have to face the world. And when that day comes, I want to be ready.”

He leans back, looking up at the ornate chandelier. “What if that day was sooner than you thought?”

Confusion marrs your features. “What do you mean?”

He smiles cryptically, “There’s a Formula 1 race across the country next week. I sponsor Ferrari. Thought you might like to come with me, see something different for a change.”

You blink, taking a moment to process. “A ... race?”

He nods, “Yes. It’s not freedom but it’s a start.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of understanding. “Okay,” you whisper, “Let’s start there.”

***

“The roar of the engines, the energy of the crowd ... there’s quite nothing like it,” your father begins, his usually stern voice tinted with boyish enthusiasm. You find yourself watching him, intrigued by this rare display of passion.

Sitting across the opulent dining table, which was rarely used to host anyone but the two of you, you play with your food, pushing it around the plate. “Cars going in circles? I don’t see the appeal.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his vintage wine. “Oh, it’s much more than that. The strategy, the risk, the sheer speed ... it’s ballet at 300 kilometers per hour.”

You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued despite yourself. “Ballet? Really?”

He nods with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious now?”

You hesitate. “I mean, maybe a little? But why the sudden interest in taking me? I’ve never even seen you watch a race.”

He leans forward, his gaze intense, searching yours. “I sponsor Ferrari and have an open invite to every race. Now that one will be hosted nearby, I thought maybe it’s time you see a bit more of the world. Not just through the glass windows.”

You blink in surprise. This was unexpected. “A public event? With crowds and other people?”

He nods slowly. “With crowds and other people.”

You weigh the options in your mind, the yearning for freedom battling with the anxiety of exposure. “And you think I’m ready for this?”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours. “I think we’re ready for this. It will be an unforgettable experience, I promise.”

You look into his eyes and realize that this is as much a leap for him as it is for you. Taking a deep breath, you reply, “Alright, Papa. Let’s go watch some ballet.”

***

“The red ... it’s everywhere.” You can’t help but blurt out, momentarily overwhelmed.

Your father chuckles beside you. “Well, it is Ferrari. Red is their signature.”

You gaze down, the red soles of your Louboutins now seem almost camouflaged against the vibrant Ferrari decor. “Feels like I’m stepping into another world.”

“Just stay close,” your father advises, his protective instincts rearing up again.

Promising him with a nod, you’re soon lost in the kaleidoscope of sounds and colors. The hustle of engineers, the chatter of excited fans, the roar of engines being worked on.

Suddenly, a man clad in a racing suit accidentally bumps into you, causing your drink to splatter.

“Mon dieu! I am so sorry!” He exclaims, eyes wide.

You find yourself staring not at the stained dress but into the most expressive eyes you’ve ever seen. “It’s ... it’s okay,” you stutter, taken aback by the unexpected jolt of electricity at the brief contact.

He looks genuinely apologetic. “Let me make it up to you? Another drink, perhaps?”

You laugh, “Only if you promise not to spill it.”

He grins, the smile reaching his eyes. “Deal. I’m Charles, by the way.”

Hesitating for a split second, you reply, “Y/N.”

He raises an eyebrow, “No last name?”

You smirk, “Not today.”

Charles chuckles, intrigued. “Alright, Y/N-with-no-last-name, let’s get you that drink.”

You follow him, weaving through the crowd. Every now and then, someone stops Charles to shake his hand or pat him on the back, throwing in a “Good luck, Charles!” or “Can’t wait to see you on the track!” He greets everyone with a genuine smile and a word of thanks. It’s clear just how loved he is here.

However, you remain a mystery to him. He sneaks curious glances your way, the playful teasing evident in his eyes. “So are you a big Ferrari fan or just here because you look particularly fetching in red?”

You laugh, the sound more carefree than you’ve felt in ages. “Let’s just say I’m here to explore something ... different.”

Charles nods, handing you a fresh glass from the bar. The bubbling champagne mirrors the effervescence you feel inside. “Different can be good,” he muses, taking a sip from his own plastic water bottle. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected moments that change everything.”

The weight of his gaze, the intensity of the moment, makes your heart race. “Tell me, Charles,” you begin, leaning in slightly, “What was the unexpected moment that changed everything for you?”

He looks taken aback, clearly not expecting such a question. He takes a thoughtful pause, “Every time I get behind the wheel. Each race is a new story, an unexpected twist waiting to happen.”

You nod, appreciating his sincerity. “It’s brave, you know. Facing the unexpected at such high speeds.”

He smiles warmly. “It’s not bravery, it’s passion. When you love something deeply, risks become challenges instead of threats.”

Your fingers toy with the stem of your glass, his words resonating with your own yearning for freedom. “I envy that,” you admit softly.

Charles tilts his head, studying you. “Why?”

You search for the right words. “I’ve lived in a world of certainty for so long. Every step planned, every move calculated. It’s ... suffocating.”

Charles reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Then maybe it’s time to take a risk, Y/N-with-no-last-name. Even just a small one.”

You smile, the promise of the unknown beckoning. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time.”

***

“Do you trust me?” Charles’ eyes search yours, intense under the paddock lights.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden question. “We just met.”

He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s not an answer.”

Drawing in a deep breath, you reply, “I might. What are you proposing?”

His gaze drifts momentarily to the track. “After qualifying … how about a drive? Not here,” he adds, seeing your hesitation, “Away from all this. The city at night, the open road. Just two people and the world.”

You tilt your head, contemplating the offer. A spark of excitement ignites within you. “A midnight drive with a stranger? Sounds reckless.”

He chuckles, leaning in closer. The scent of leather and adrenaline wraps around you. “Life’s best moments usually are.”

As his name is called by his press officer, Charles straightens up. “I have to go. But think about it, Y/N-with-no-last-name. The invitation stands.”

Before you can respond, he jots down something on a piece of paper and hands it to you. An address. “Meet me here if you’re in. Midnight.”

You watch him stride confidently towards his garage, the weight of the decision pressing on you. Risk, freedom, the open road — its all you’ve always yearned for.

Hours later, as Charles places his car on pole, you find yourself gripping that piece of paper. The thought of the city lights and the wind through your hair is too alluring to resist.

You whisper to yourself, “Midnight it is.”

***

The ornate curtains rustle as you inch your way onto the balcony of your suite. The sheer drop below sends a thrilling chill down your spine. You’ve never snuck out before but the thought of the night ahead and Charles’ invitation propels you forward. You hitch up your dress, carefully lowering yourself onto the ledge below. The soft grass cushions your landing and you take a moment to steady your racing heart.

“You’re even crazier than I am,” a familiar voice observes from the shadows.

You whirl around, finding Charles leaning against his car, an impressed grin on his face. “I had to make a discreet exit,” you explain, cheeks warming.

He chuckles, pushing away from the car and walking over to you. “Glad you made it. Ready for our adventure?”

You nod, the proximity of him, the thrill of the night, everything heightening your senses. “More than ever.”

The car roars to life as you both settle in. The city lights blur past, the nocturnal beauty of the world unfolding around you. The road beckons, the possibilities endless.

Charles casts a sidelong glance at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “Ever driven with no speed limit?”

You laugh, “Not in my daily commute.”

He grins, “There’s a first time for everything.”

The car accelerates, the wind whipping through your hair, the night alive with potential. The city skyline fades, replaced by an open stretch of road, illuminated only by the car’s headlights and the soft glow of the moon.

Charles’ voice breaks the comfortable silence. “There’s something freeing about the night. The world sleeps, and for a few hours, you can pretend you’re the only ones alive.”

You glance over, sensing the depth of emotion behind his words. “Is this why you race? For that freedom?”

He nods, his profile bathed in moonlight. “And more. Every time I’m behind the wheel, it’s a battle against my doubts, the world, and myself.”

You understand, the weight of your own gilded cage pressing on you. “I’ve been trapped for so long. But tonight, with you, I feel … alive.”

He reaches over, entwining his fingers with yours. “Then let’s live. For tonight, let’s forget the world.”

***

“Why are those men watching us?” Charles’ voice is low, almost a whisper, as he subtly gestures towards two figures in dark suits, positioned at opposite sides of the bar you found yourselves at.

You follow his gaze discreetly, feeling a familiar dread settling in. Security. Your father’s men. “They’re ... they’re just protective, that’s all.”

Charles narrows his eyes, piecing things together. “Protective? Y/N, who are you really?”

A pang of guilt washes over you. You had hoped for more time before this moment, more stolen moments under the veil of anonymity. “It’s complicated,” you admit, hesitating.

He leans forward, his intense eyes searching yours. “Try me.”

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “My life ... it’s not what it seems. I live in a gilded cage. A cage built by my father’s wealth and influence. A beautiful cage, yes, but a cage nonetheless.”

He processes this, watching as one of the security approaches your table, handing you a phone. “Your father wishes to speak with you,” the man says tersely.

Charles’ gaze sharpens, suspicion evident. “Your father?”

You nod, taking the phone with a sigh. “Hello, Papa.”

“Y/N,” your father’s voice is a mix of relief and sternness, “I’ve been so worried. You just disappeared.”

“I needed some time,” you explain, glancing apologetically at Charles who is watching the exchange closely.

“You should come back now.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” you argue gently, “I need to live my life.”

A heavy silence follows. “Just ... be safe,” he finally murmurs.

Hanging up, you face Charles, the weight of the world pressing on you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”

Charles leans back, his expression unreadable. “So, the mysterious Y/N-with-no-last-name turns out to be the daughter of …?”

You sigh, “A very wealthy and overprotective man.”

He processes this, the playful teasing from before replaced by deep contemplation. “You know, secrets have a way of catching up with us. But,” he adds with a hint of a smile, “I’m interested in who you are, not your family name.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Then let’s leave the secrets for another day.”

***

The morning sun paints the Ferrari garage in a wash of golden hues, every glinting reflection a dance of radiant red. Charles stands out despite wearing the same color as he eagerly waves you over to show off the helmet in his hands.

“It’s beautiful.” Your fingers trace the lines of the design, the light catching on its glossy finish.

Charles spins the helmet so you can see every detail. “Not just the design. It’s the weight, the feel. When I put this on, I’m stepping into another world. Everything else fades away. Just the track, the car, and me.”

You smile, fascinated by his passion. But as your gaze slides over the helmet, you freeze. There, emblazoned on the side, is the unmistakable logo of Y/L/N Industries. You try to hide your surprise but Charles catches your reaction. “You recognize the logo?”

Swallowing hard, you nod. “It’s … everywhere, isn’t it?”

Charles, not picking up on your unease, grins. “Oh yes. They’re our main sponsors this season. Y/L/N Industries is massive.”

Your heart thuds. Every mention, every hint, makes the looming truth harder to avoid. “They seem ... impressive.”

You avoid his gaze, watching the mechanics prepare the cars for the race. Each Ferrari, shining in the morning sun, proudly displays the same Y/L/N Industries logo. There’s no escaping it.

Noticing your distraction, Charles follows your gaze. “I’ve always found it fascinating. How brands link up with teams. How they can become synonymous with each other over the years. Like what we had with Marlboro and now Y/L/N Industries. It’s ... an alliance.”

You chuckle, trying to deflect. “An expensive alliance.”

He laughs, “Very true. But Y/L/N Industries is more than just a name on our cars. I met the owner once, at a sponsorship event. Very ... protective of his interests.”

You gulp, feeling cornered. “Is that so?”

Charles nods, oblivious to your discomfort. “Yes. Has a daughter too, I’ve heard. But she’s kept away from the limelight. Must be hard, living under such a powerful shadow.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, “You have no idea.”

He looks at you, sensing the weight behind your words. “Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally admit, “My last name ... it’s Y/L/N.”

He stares, processing the revelation. The playful driver you spent the past days with is replaced by someone more cautious, more guarded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You look down, fighting back tears. “I wanted to be just Y/N, not a Y/L/N. I wanted freedom, even if just for a few days.”

Charles reaches out, lifting your chin gently. “You're still Y/N to me. But secrets ... they complicate things.”

You nod, regret clear in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles, though it’s not quite as bright as usual. “Let’s focus on today. The race. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

***

You’re startled from your thoughts when the doors to your room burst open, the journal in which you’ve been scribbling memories of your secret meetings with Charles slipping from your fingers.

Your father stands there, a mixture of anger and desperation etching his features. In his hand, he holds a photograph — one of you and Charles lost in conversation in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“Explain this,” he demands, voice shaking.

You swallow hard, the weight of your secret outings pressing down on you. “Papa, I—”

He cuts you off, waving the photograph. “Weeks, Y/N! Weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting him. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your voice trembles, “I just want something for myself, something real.”

He looks torn, battling between his desire to protect you and understanding your need for freedom. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you hesitate, taking a deep breath, “I want to be just Y/N for once, not Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I protect you! The world will never see just Y/N. They will always see a Y/L/N and they will always want something from you.”

“You can’t keep doing this!” The words burst out of you before you can stop them, the pent-up frustration, fear, and yearning for freedom all culminating in this very moment.

Your father stands at the opposite end of the lavish living room, the city skyline a muted backdrop behind him. His eyes, usually so authoritative, are wide with surprise and concern. “I am only looking out for you.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “Looking out for me or controlling me?”

He flinches as if you physically struck him. “I want to keep you safe.”

Safe. The word hangs heavily between you, a reminder of the invisible chains binding you. “At what cost, Papa? My happiness? My freedom?”

He sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s not that simple.”

You pace the room, your emotions spilling over. “Do you even realize? Every choice, every decision has been made for me. Who I meet, where I go, even what I feel. I am suffocating!”

He looks pained. “I never meant to—”

“But you did!” You interject, tears streaming down your face. “Every time you made a choice for me, you took away a piece of my life.”

A heavy silence settles between you two, the unspoken words and regrets creating an impenetrable barrier.

Finally, your father speaks, his voice soft and filled with sorrow. “I lost your mother. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

Your heart aches, understanding and resentment warring within. “I’m not Mama. I need to live, make mistakes, find love. I need to be free.”

He closes his eyes tightly, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I just ... I love you so much.”

You walk over, taking his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of age and experience. “And I love you. But love isn’t about possession. It’s about understanding, trust, and letting go.”

Tears brim his eyes, the facade of the powerful businessman crumbling. “You will always be my little girl. I would give up every dollar — everything — if it meant keeping you safe. I’m scared that one day I won’t be able to protect you.”

You squeeze his hands. “We have to face our fears. Together.”

***

“He knows. Papa knows about us.” Your voice wavers as you meet in your secret hideaway, a small bakery tucked away from prying eyes.

Charles’ face pales, his fingers gripping the table edge. “How did he react?”

You draw in a shuddering breath, recalling the confrontation. “Not well. He feels... betrayed. I think I got through to him eventually but you never know with him. One second he’s smiling at a business rival and the next he’s snatching away their company in a hostile takeover.”

Charles’ eyes darken with concern. “I don’t want you caught in the crossfire between me and Y/L/N Industries.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his hand. “This isn’t about sponsorships or racing. This is about us. He’s just overprotective.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “This complicates things. Your father’s influence runs deep, even in the racing world.”

Tears sting your eyes. “So what? Are you saying we should …?”

“No,” Charles interjects firmly, squeezing your hand. “I’m saying we need to be careful. I won’t let anything harm you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “My father would never hurt me … at least not physically. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I do have a penchant for driving really fast cars. Comes with a touch of danger.”

You’re not amused. “This is serious. Papa can be ... vindictive.”

Charles looks deep into your eyes. “Then we face this together. Secrets have kept us apart but now, truth will keep us together.”

You lean in, your foreheads touching. “Promise?”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Promise.”

***

A reporter leans forward, her voice crackling with excitement. “Charles, you just secured a stunning victory for Ferrari in a race that almost everyone thought was Red Bull’s to lose. How does it feel to come out on top?”

Charles grins, his eyes alive with a fire that burns brighter than ever. “Honestly, it’s hard to describe. We’ve been pushing ourselves, refining the car, and today, everything just clicked. The team’s effort, the car’s performance, it all paid off.”

The crowd cheers, their elation echoing through the broadcast. The reporter presses on, “You dedicated this win to someone special. Care to tell us who?”

Charles’ gaze softens, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “There’s someone who has shown me a world beyond the track. Someone who made me realize that the freedom I feel whenever I get behind the wheel is even more precious than I always thought. This win is for her.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the identity of this mysterious someone a topic of speculation. The reporter smiles, clearly eager for more details. “And can you give us a hint? Is she here today?”

Charles chuckles, his dimples popping through. “Let’s just say she’s closer than you might think.”

Later, as the celebrations continue, you find yourself in a secluded corner of the motorhome, away from the clamor of the team and fans. Charles walks over, that same victorious smile on his lips. “Did you hear?”

You nod, heart still racing. “You dedicated the win to me.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek. “Of course. You’ve given me one more reason to keep pushing, keep racing. It’s not just about the cars. It’s about the freedom, the moments we steal away from the world.”

Tears well up in your eyes and you kiss him passionately, pouring all your emotions into that single moment. The crowd may not know the truth behind his dedication yet but you do. And that’s all that matters.

***

“Charles seems ... different than the others,” your father begins, his gaze distant as he looks out from the penthouse balcony.

You step closer, the night air cool against your skin. “Different how?”

He sighs, turning to face you, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He looks at you how I used to look at your mother.”

You smile, “I never expected you to notice.”

He chuckles softly. “Just because I’m protective doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve watched people all my life. It’s how I built everything,” he gestures towards the sprawling city below, the twinkling lights of his corporate empire.

The weight of the moment settles between you, the years of misunderstandings and unspoken words pressing down. “Papa, I know you’re scared. Scared of the world out there, of what it might do. But I can’t be trapped forever.”

His expression softens, pain evident. “I have seen so much, faced so many betrayals. The world is rarely kind.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I understand. But holding on too tight will only push me away.”

He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just ... hard. Watching you grow, wanting to spread your wings. I wish I could shield you from everything.”

You smile gently. “But then I wouldn’t truly be living. Charles, he’s shown me a world beyond these walls. A world that’s unpredictable, thrilling, and real.”

Your father nods slowly. “I saw that. The way he stood by you, the way he spoke of you. He … he loves you.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the night’s chill deepening. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Someone who sees me, not my last name, not a walking dollar sign.”

He steps closer, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I’m trying. It’s not easy, letting go. But I trust you. I just need time.”

You nod, resting your head against his chest. “I know. Just promise me one thing.”

He tilts your chin up, looking into your eyes. “Anything.”

You smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “Trust him too. Give Charles a chance.”

He sighs, the walls he built over the years slowly crumbling. “For you, I’ll try.”

***

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” your father says, breaking the tense silence that envelops the extravagant dining room.

Charles, sitting straight-backed and visibly anxious, clears his throat. “Sir, I assure you, my intentions with Y/N are—”

Genuine laughter interrupts him. You glance in shock at your father, who chuckles, “Relax, Charles. I’ve watched you on the track. You face challenges head-on. That’s a quality I admire.”

Charles exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. Y/N means the world to me.”

Your father studies Charles, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And I have seen the change in Y/N since she met you.”

You bite your lip, waiting for what he might say next. “Papa, I—”

He raises a hand, silencing you. “I’ve spent my life building walls around you, trying to protect you from the world. But maybe ... maybe it’s time to let you fly.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. “Papa …”

He smiles at you, warmth shining in his eyes. “You’re my daughter. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. If Charles is the one who brings that joy, then I give you both my blessing.”

Tears glisten in your eyes as you stand, moving to embrace your father. “Thank you.”

Charles stands too, extending a hand towards your father. “Thank you, sir. I promise to take cherish and take care of her.”

Your father grasps Charles’ hand for a moment longer than expected, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Charles,” he begins, a twinkle of mischief evident, “just remember … if you ever hurt my daughter, they will never find your body.”

Charles gulps, eyes widening, then realizes the playful tone your father has adopted. He chuckles, nodding, “Duly noted, sir.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Papa, you are impossible.”

Your father grins, the atmosphere significantly lighter. “Just making sure he understands.”

Charles playfully raises his hands in surrender. “Message received loud and clear.”

***

The pitter-patter of little feet echoes through the grand halls, accompanied by peals of laughter. The once silent mansion is now alive with the exuberance of youth. Every corner and every room tells tales of play and joy, of childhood memories being crafted.

“Slow down, my darlings!” You call out in amusement as you chase the energetic duo.

Charles laughs as one of your kids hides behind him, tiny hands clutching his leg. “You can’t hide here forever!” He teases.

From the doorway, your father watches, his eyes glassy. The stoic businessman, the guardian of a vast empire, is rendered soft and vulnerable by the presence of his grandchildren.

“Grandpa!” The children cheer, running to him, their arms outstretched.

He bends down, scooping them into a gentle embrace. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, producing a small cage with a golden canary inside from behind his back. Its wings barely beat, eyes darting around to mirror its trapped spirit.

The children’s eyes widen in wonder. “Why is it in a cage, Grandpa?”

Your father looks up, meeting your gaze, the weight of the past reflected in his eyes. “It looked sad at the market, just like someone I once knew. But we’re going to set it free.”

Together, the family moves to the balcony. Your father opens the cage door, and the canary, after a hesitant moment, takes flight, its song a melody of freedom and hope.

As you watch the bird disappear into the horizon, your father breaks the silence. “Sometimes, we cage the things we love, thinking it’s for the best. But true love is about letting go, letting them spread their wings.”

You lean into Charles, his arm wrapping around you, the children nestled between you both. “Thank you, Papa,” you whisper. “For letting us learn the true meaning of freedom.”

Your father smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It took me a while but I finally understand. Love, life, freedom — they’re all interconnected. We just have to find our sky.”

[andy-15-07]

If you’re inspired could you do a fic about Paul Atreides and Y/N’s first night as enemies to lovers? Like they hate each other but they’re in an arranged marriage? Maybe Y/N is scared of the pain she’ll experience during sex? Would love fluff at the end…

Thanks!

From Enemies to Lovers

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the grand halls of the Atreides palace on Arrakis, a tense atmosphere hung in the air as Paul Atreides, the young heir to House Atreides, stood before his bride-to-be, Y/N. The marriage between their families had been arranged as a political alliance, a union meant to strengthen their houses in the turbulent times ahead. But for Paul and Y/N, the prospect of marriage was fraught with tension and resentment.

As they stood face to face, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, Paul could sense the fear and apprehension emanating from Y/N. He knew that she harbored doubts and insecurities about their impending union, just as he did. But duty and honor compelled them to carry on with the charade, to fulfill the obligations thrust upon them by their families.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "I understand that this marriage is not of our choosing. But we must make the best of it, for the sake of our houses."

Y/N's eyes flashed with defiance, her resolve unyielding. "I will do my duty, Paul, but do not expect me to pretend that I am happy about this arrangement."

And so, on their wedding night, as they found themselves alone in the opulent chambers of the Atreides palace, the tension between Paul and Y/N was palpable. Neither knew what to expect, their hearts heavy with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.

As they stood on opposite sides of the room, their silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, Y/N's fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had heard stories of the pain and discomfort that awaited her on her wedding night, and the thought sent shivers down her spine.

Sensing her apprehension, Paul approached her slowly, his movements cautious yet determined. "Y/N," he said softly, "I understand if you are afraid. But I promise to be gentle with you. We are in this together, whether we like it or not."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit or malice. But all she found was sincerity and understanding, a rare glimmer of compassion in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded, her walls beginning to crumble under Paul's reassuring presence. "Thank you, Paul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I will try to trust you."

And so, as they lay together on the bed, their bodies trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, Paul and Y/N embarked on a journey that would forever alter the course of their lives. With each tentative touch and whispered caress, the barriers between them began to fade, replaced by a newfound connection forged in the fires of adversity.

As their bodies moved together in a dance of longing and desire, Paul and Y/N found solace in each other's arms, their fears and doubts melting away in the heat of passion. In that moment, they were no longer enemies bound by duty, but two souls united by love—a love that had blossomed from the ashes of conflict and resentment.

And as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, Paul and Y/N lay entwined in each other's embrace, their hearts overflowing with a newfound sense of peace and belonging. For in each other, they had found not only love, but also the courage to defy the expectations of their world and forge their own destiny together.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Plain & Simple

Nico Hischier X F!Reader (first love au)

a.n: I enjoyed writing this a little too much. the beginning may seem like its dragging on but let's be real, who wouldn't be stuck talking to Nico forever. also, Nico will be getting his own masterlist SOON.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting, not proofread, screaming, fuckboy Nico, eventual angst, eventual smut.

Word Count - 3,434

masterlist link

The air was filled with expectation, guests found their seats around the grand ballroom, their jewels glimmering under the dim, pale blue lighting that cast a serene ambiance over the opulent affair.

On the stage, a distinguished older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a crisp tuxedo stood tall, commanding the attention of the well-heeled audience as he cleared his throat into the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth and rich. “Welcome to the Gilded Gala, a celebration of our shared commitment to making the world a better place," he began, his voice rich and resonant.

"Tonight, The Jersey Devils and crew gather here to support a cause that is near and dear to all of our hearts – the well-being of our community's children of newark."

The guests nodded in agreement, the diamonds and sapphires adorning their necks and fingers catching the soft light as they shifted in their seats.

"Through your generosity, we have the power to transform lives, to provide the resources and opportunities that will allow our young ones to thrive and reach their full potential," the speaker continued, his gaze sweeping across the captivated crowd. "Together, we can be the pillars of hope that these children so desperately need."

As he spoke, the attendees leaned forward, their eyes shining with a newfound sense of purpose. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a shared desire to make a tangible difference in the world.

Y/N sat towards the back of the grand ballroom, at a smaller, vacant table near the bar. As the distinguished representative continued his impassioned speech on stage, Y/N yawned, lifting a delicate hand to politely cover her mouth.

Reaching back down to the crisp, white tablecloth in front of her, Y/N whisked her glass of water back into her hand, swishing the ice cubes around the cup absentmindedly. Her brow furrowed slightly as she took a sip, seemingly unimpressed by the grandiose nature of the Gilded Gala thus far.

Nico sat across the room, his eyes drifting around the grand ballroom, bored out of his mind by the proceedings on stage. As his gaze landed on the disinterested figure of Y/N towards the back of the hall, he couldn't help but steal a glance in her direction.

Casting a quick look at his teammates, Nico wondered if they had caught him eyeing up the oblivious girl. For a moment, he contemplated simply looking away, but Nico was not one to be so passive.

Clearing his throat, he turned to the group and mumbled some lame excuse to his friends, "Hey guys, I'm gonna go get a refill. You know how it is - gotta stay hydrated at these stuffy events." He quietly pushed his chair out and stood up.

With a casual wave, Nico sauntered away from his friends, his gaze fixed squarely on the disinterested young woman seated alone.

Adjusting his tie and smoothing a hand over his meticulously styled hair, Nico took a deep breath and began to walk over to Y/N's table, muttering some words of encouragement to himself as he went.

"Hi, I'm Nico," he purred, his voice thick with a heavy accent that Y/N couldn't quite place. Extending his hand, he offered her a confident smile. "And you are?"

"Y/N," she replied, looking Nico up and down appreciatively as she placed her smaller palm in his, returning his firm handshake. "Why do I recognize you?" he asked, still holding her hand.

The lights from the stage illuminated Nico's strong, chiseled features, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafted into her personal space.

"We work together," Y/N said confidently, meeting his intense gaze. "I work around the social media side of the Devils. Interviews and stuff. I don't think I've been told to interview you yet, but it's nice to finally meet you."

Nico's lips curled into a playful smirk as he held her hand, his thumb gently caressing the back of it. "Well, Y/N, I'm surprised we haven't crossed paths before," he purred, his voice low and sultry.

"I make it a point to get to know all the lovely ladies in my orbit." He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"How long have you worked for the team?" Nico questioned, leaning in closer with what Y/N thought was feigned interest.

"It's only been a few months, maybe two," she replied, gesturing for him to sit down. "What brings you over here? Do you come here often?" she asked jokingly. Leaning back in her chair, Y/N studied Nico's features, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes.

Nico chuckled and sat down next to her. "This is my first time actually at a Gala event. One of my teammates dragged me along to this," he admitted, pointing over to a few of his teammates standing by the bar, drinks in hand. "I'm pretty bored, honestly."

Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Nico's gaze lingered on her as she took a sip from her glass. There was something about him that intrigued her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet.

Leaning in slightly, Y/N crossed her legs and turned more towards Nico, her body language open and inviting. "So you said you do social media and interviews for the Devils?" he asked, his deep voice sending a subtle shiver down her spine.

"Yeah, stupid skits and whatnot," she replied, emphasizing the word 'actually'. "I like the idea of interviewing and making videos that you guys would actually enjoy. Some of you can be really funny underneath all that sweat and ice."

Nico chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you think my on-ice interviews are bad?" he asked jokingly, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N nudged his shoulder playfully. "Not bad, they just lack," she admitted. "Like, Jack's interviews - couldn't pay me a million bucks to sit there and watch him be miserable. The fans should get to know the real you."

Nico chuckled at Y/N's playful nudge, caught off guard for a moment by the easy rapport that was developing between them. "So, you want me to be completely honest in one of your interviews? Is that what I'm hearing?" he asked, raising a playful eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.

"Preferably, yes," Y/N admitted sheepishly, glancing back and forth between Nico and the speaker on stage. As she spoke, Nico's gaze dropped momentarily to her lips, and Y/N noticed the faint hint of a shy smile playing on his features.

Absently, he reached up to rub at the spot on his jaw where his facial hair used to be, the gesture somehow endearing. Around them, the speaker bid his farewell and stepped down, signaling the end of his monotone drawl.

Nico also turned his attention to the stage, waiting patiently as the audience erupted into applause. Once the speaker had stepped off the stage, he turned his focus back to Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Finally, now it's time for free drinks for the rest of the night," he joked, shifting his chair to face her more directly.

"I will happily indulge in that. Mind if I join you?"

Nico chuckled and looked away for a moment, pretending to ponder his response. "I suppose so," he said playfully. "But you'll owe me in return..."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Deal," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Nico pushed out his chair and stood, offering Y/N his hand with a warm smile.

She accepted it without hesitation, and he held on to her fingers as he began to lead her over to the bar, stealing occasional glances at her as they walked.

Once they reached the bar, Y/N turned to the bartender. "Vodka sour, please," she requested politely. Glancing up at Nico, she added, "And he'll have...?"

"Uhh, a shot of whiskey, please," Nico chimed in, looking down at Y/N with an amused smile. He maintained his gentle grip on her hand as they waited for their drinks, savoring the close proximity and the charged energy that lingered between them.

"Whiskey, plain and simple," she mumbled under her breath with a smile, "I like that."

Y/N felt drawn to the confident way he carried himself, almost leaning against his broad shoulders as she looked up at him. "What can I say? I know what I like and I stick with it," Nico said with a playful shrug.

"Plain and simple is what you like?" Y/N asked, her tone subtly flirtatious.

Nico grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I like most things plain and simple," he explained. "I'm not a fan of all those fancy, fruity cocktails. Whiskey is my go-to, and I doubt I'll change my mind anytime soon."

"Mhmm," Y/N hummed, watching Nico curiously for a moment before glancing away. His sly smile widened as he noticed the way she was studying him, clearly intrigued.

"You look like you want to ask me something," Nico said, his voice low and inviting as he tried to read her expression.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at being so transparently captivated by this charming stranger. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she met his gaze boldly. "Maybe I do," she replied, her lips curving into a coy smile. "But I'm not sure you're ready for the questions I have in mind."

Nico's eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "Try me," he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. The air between them crackled with palpable tension as they waited for their drinks, both eager to see where this flirtatious exchange might lead.

Y/N smiled coyly, pulling her hair away from her face as she spoke. "It'll have to be a question for another time," she admitted.

Nico raised an eyebrow, feigning frustration. "You're really gonna leave me guessing until later, are you?" he said, though the mischievous glint in his eye betrayed his true feelings.

"Guess you'll just have to ask me on a date if you wanna see me again so bad," Y/N retorted boldly, catching Nico momentarily off-guard. For a split second, his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, trying to hide just how flustered this entire interaction had made him.

"Is that what you want, then? A date?" Nico asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N met his gaze, unintimidated. "Yeah, that's what I want," she replied, a playful laugh escaping her as she saw his calm demeanor.

Nico took a step closer, his imposing presence sending a subtle thrill through Y/N. "And if I say I want the same thing? A date with you?" he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest as he loomed over her. "Then I'd stop with all this teasing and say yes," she replied, her voice soft but confident.

…

Later that evening…

Y/N practically burst through the front door of her apartment, keys and purse flying everywhere as she stumbled inside. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she fought to contain the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Her body fell back against the door, and she had to stifle a giddy giggle.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her cheeks flushing with heat as a dull warmth blossomed in her chest. Heather, who was calmly standing in the hallway, jumped at the sudden commotion, watching her roommate with a perplexed expression.

Heather began to slowly back away, attempting to spare Y/N the embarrassment, but it was too late. Y/N's eyes flew open, and she spotted her friend.

"Heather!" Y/N cried, kicking off her heels and barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip. Heather's pale skin reddened at the intensity of Y/N's grip.

A massive grin threatened to split her face as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I can't even... I don't even know what to say!" Her eyes went wide with alarm as Y/N came barreling towards her, grabbing her arms with a vice-like grip.

"I met a guy, well, I know of him, but he came up to me!" Y/N practically yelled, her eyes wild and sparkling. "That guy, the one I've been telling you about forever - he actually came and talked to me! I told you I could pull him, and you didn't believe me, Heath!”

Heather's eyes widened in surprise, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Wait, wait, slow down!" she exclaimed, trying to pry Y/N's hands off of her. "What happened? Give me all the details!"

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath, her grin refusing to fade. "Okay, okay, so I was sitting there, right? Just minding my own business, and suddenly he just appears in front of me!" she recounted, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

"And he introduces himself, and he's even more gorgeous up close, Heath! And we talked, and he was so charming and funny and-"

She paused, letting out a high-pitched squeal that made Heather wince. "And he asked me on a date!" Y/N squealed, her grip on Heather's arms tightening once more. "Can you believe it? I told you I could do it, and I did!"

Heather's eyes widened even further, a mixture of shock and excitement washing over her features. "No way! You're serious?" she gasped, a wide smile finally breaking across her own face. "That's incredible, Y/N! I can't believe it!"

Y/N nodded emphatically, her grin practically ear-to-ear. "I know! I'm still shaking from it all," she admitted, finally releasing Heather's arms and bringing her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. "It was just... oh my god, Heather. It was perfect."

 …

The incessant, piercing blare of the alarm clock shattered the tranquility of Y/N's slumber, ruthlessly ripping her from the fictional scenarios she had been indulging in.

Memories of her enchanting encounter with Nico the previous night had been dancing through her subconscious, a fictional narrative that she had been reluctant to let go of, even as the harsh realities of the waking world came crashing back.

Despite the mere 12 hours that had passed, she found herself giddily anticipating the potential of a future date with the charming athlete.

Jolting upright in bed, Y/N's eyes flew open, darting around the familiar confines of her bedroom. The soft, plush comforter pooled at her hips, momentarily disorienting her as she struggled to regain her bearings.

With a surge of energy, she flung the covers off, her feet hitting the cool hardwood floor as she rose from the comfort of her mattress.

Crossing the room, Y/N approached the imposing expanse of her closet, a contemplative hum escaping her lips as she began to mentally sift through her wardrobe options.

Tapping a finger against her chin, she examined the array of colors and textures, determined to craft the perfect ensemble for the day ahead.

Suddenly, the melodic chime of an incoming text message drew her attention to the nightstand, where her phone lay. Y/N felt her stomach flutter with excitement as she caught sight of Nico unsaved number displayed on the screen, her heart quickening its pace in response.

"Morning, what's your favorite coffee? I can grab you coffee after my morning run and meet you in the media room," the messages read, the words eliciting a surge of giddiness within her. Hastily, Y/N began to compose a reply, her fingers dancing across the touchscreen with a sense of urgency.

Yet, just as quickly as the initial excitement had bubbled up, she hesitated, a wave of uncertainty washing over her. Glancing at the time, she realized only a minute had passed since Nico's message had arrived.

Unwilling to risk appearing too eager or desperate, Y/N decided to wait a measured five minutes before responding, taking a deep, steadying breath as she forced herself to redirect her focus back to the task of selecting the perfect outfit.

A coy smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she immersed herself in the process, the prospect of spending more time with Nico fueling her determination to look her absolute best.

The dull, ebony hue of her heart had been ignited, a vibrant spark of anticipation and possibility now burning brightly within her chest.

…

The sleek, metal gate guarding the VIP parking lot slowly raised, the motorized mechanism whirring to life as Y/N's car approached. Gripping the steering wheel, she glided her vehicle through the open entrance, the tires crunching lightly against the asphalt.

She navigated the winding ramps, Y/N expertly maneuvered her car into an available spot towards the far end of the second floor.

Turning off the engine, she sat for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath before reaching for the door handle. As she stepped out, the brush of her polished boots against the concrete echoed through the largely empty parking structure.

Y/N's brisk pace carried her with purpose towards the main entrance, a vibrant glow practically radiating from her being. The corners of her lips were turned up in a bright, beaming smile, as if she were practically bursting with joy and anticipation. "Morning," she greeted the security guard stationed at the x-ray checkpoint, her voice warm and cheery.

Passing through the security screening, Y/N entered the bustling facility, her eyes scanning the activity around her. A handful of players had already arrived, taking advantage of the early hour.

Some lingered by the expensive, gleaming coffee machine, chatting quietly amongst themselves, while others worked out in the nearby gym, the rhythmic thud of weights and the squeak of sneakers filling the air.

Weaving through the activity, Y/N made a beeline for the media room, the familiar place she called her workplace. Nico was nowhere to be seen, so she plopped down at her desk, her fingers flying across the sleek computer's keyboard as she hastily logged into the system.

Glancing down at her watch, Y/N noted that nearly five minutes had passed since her arrival. Huffing out a soft breath of frustration, she pulled back the delicate fabric of her long sleeve, her eyes fixed intently on the timepiece, silently willing a text from Nico to appear.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms appeared in her peripheral vision, placing a pristine white coffee cup directly in front of her. Y/N's head snapped up, her heart racing with anticipation as she turned to face the source of this unexpected gesture.

"Come here often?" Nico joked, stepping back from the polished wood desk and allowing Y/N a better view of him. His typically styled hair seemed a touch messier today, the longer strands at the top falling in a rather endearing way across his forehead.

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. "Only when the captain's around," she flirted back, pushing her chair away from the table and turning to face him more fully. She was utterly transfixed by the way his tight-fitting compression shirt did little to conceal the toned musculature of his arms.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, Y/N looked away, biting coyly at her lower lip.

Nico chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a playful smirk. "Der Kapitän kann es kaum erwarten, dich auszuführen," he said in rapid German, his deep voice rumbling with amusement.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the foreign words. "What did you say?" she asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Nico's smile widened as he repeated the phrase in English. "I said, 'The captain can't wait to take you out,'" he translated, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her cheeks at his bold statement. She ducked her head shyly, her lips curling into a coy smile. "Is that so?" she murmured, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.

Nico chuckled, taking a step closer to her desk. "Well, I certainly hope so," he replied, his voice low and inviting. "After all, I've been looking forward to getting to know you better."

Y/N's heart quickened its pace as he leaned in, the fresh scent of his cologne enveloping her. She clutched the coffee cup in her hands, taking a steadying sip as she met his intense gaze.

"I have to say, the feeling is mutual," she admitted, her tone equally flirtatious. The air between them crackled with palpable tension, and Y/N found herself utterly captivated by this charming stranger.

Oh yeah, she could get used to this.

…

Tag List <3

EMPTY

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 1

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Dark!Rafe. Virgin!Reader, Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Fingering, squirting.  Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 9k words (Yo it took me months to write but I finally did it) 

Author Note: Hello lovelies! So this is an original idea I’ve had for a while now... and this is the longest fanfic I’ve ever written for a character. Who did I write this tale about Rafe motherfucking Cameron of course. HA!  I may do a part 2 but we’ll see based on the response it gets.  Love you all and thanks for reading and listening - there’s music in there too so if you can listen to the tracks as you read it’ll heighten the experience. 🫶 Enjoy!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.  

Rose, elegant and poised as ever, fiddled with Ward's bowtie. It was a futile attempt to straighten it, and you wondered if the Kooks knew how ridiculous they looked, their privileged lives spent fussing over trivial things.

"Do you play?" Ward's voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest. He had seen you eyeing the piano in their opulent living room before, and it was clear he suspected you had a musical inclination.

"A little," you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. You didn't want to give too much away. The Kooks had a tendency to pry, and you had learned the hard way that it was better to keep your guard up.

The Camerons were pleasant enough, but like the other Kooks on Figure Eight, they didn't really care about the Pogues. You had grown up being told that Pogues were different from Kooks, but as you got older, you realized it was more complicated than that. The Kooks were narrow-minded, lacking empathy and understanding. They saw the Pogues as nothing more than servants, there to cater to their every whim. It was a toxic dynamic and one that you had learned to navigate with caution.

The key to survival on the Outer Banks was invisibility. You had learned that early on. The less you revealed about yourself, the safer you were. So you didn't tell Ward that your father had started teaching you piano before you could even walk. You didn't tell him that music was your escape, your solace, your everything.

"Well, a bit of something is better than nothing," Ward chuckled, his eyes flickering back to you. "I bought it thinking it would be nice to have music in the house that wasn't rap or pop, but you know how kids are." He chuckled again. "No one seems interested in learning how to play it. If you want to try it out, our door is always open."

The Kooks were the quintessential chameleons, expertly donning the cloak of benevolence and charity. But behind the facade lay their self-centered motives, concealed in plain sight. In their company, you had to be just as duplicitous as them, your true self lost in a sea of artifice. So you donned your own mask of deceit, feigning a grin while burying your true feelings behind a veneer of politeness.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway struck six, Rose and Mr. Cameron stepped into the warm North Carolina evening, dressed to the nines for their elegant black-tie affair. You were left behind in the kitchen with Wheezie, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing. A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Want to watch a movie, Wheezie?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Maybe next time? I'm having a Stranger Things watch party with my friends. We're on season three, actually," she replied as she pulled out her phone and began texting.

"Oh, that's cool. Sure, let me know when you're hungry and we'll order in."

A few minutes later, you were left alone in the kitchen, grappling with the void of the next five hours stretching before you. Your gaze was inexorably drawn to the open double doors of the living room, and a force beyond your control tugged at your heartstrings.

There, in the corner of the Camerons' living room, stood a magnificent black Steinway & Sons piano. A work of art that you had only seen in fleeting glimpses on the internet, played by virtuosos with mastery beyond compare.

The Camerons' piano was an exquisite piece. Valued upwards of forty thousand dollars, it was a show-stopper that begged to be played in a prestigious concert hall. And yet there it sat in their living room, untouched and unloved.

With a fluttering heart, you approached the baby grand piano, drawn by an unconscious force beyond your control. As you lifted the fallboard, a heady scent of wax and mahogany wafted into your nostrils, creating a longing you could barely contain. Your fingertips brushed against the smooth, pristine ivory keys, unable to resist the urge to touch. As you pressed down on one, a crystalline note filled the air, flawless and true. Before you could even think, you were seated on the bench.

Back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor, you thought about all the classical pieces you had practiced over the years and loved to play. How each piece would sound hollow on your cheap, antiquated piano in your small family home. Music was your first love, and you longed for the day to play on stage accompanied by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

Closing your eyes, you allowed your mind to wander, imagining a sea of faces, a packed audience hanging on your every note. In your mind's eye, you saw your dad sitting in the front row, his gaze filled with pride and love. The thought of his reaction, a validation of all his sacrifices over the years, filled you with purpose.

Driven by your distant dream, you let your fingers glide across the keys, effortlessly weaving a tapestry of sound that flooded the Camerons' living room with music.

With meticulous attention, you listened closely to the dynamics of the piece. You noticed the way the Steinway amplified the subtlest variations in volume, imbuing the composition with a melancholic mood. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, executing intricate runs and arpeggios with fluid grace.

Enraptured by the music, you let the notes wash over you. Every facial expression was a reflection of the emotional journey unfolding before you. As the piece reached its crescendo, your fingers moved faster, striking the keys with greater force, a physical manifestation of your emotions. Your hands flowed in flawless harmony with the rhythm, pouring your soul into the music. And with the final notes, you laughed breathlessly, basking in the afterglow of your musical outpouring.

But your blissful moment was cruelly interrupted as you suddenly sensed you weren’t alone. Your eyes snapped open, and a cold wave of fear washed over you.

“Shit! I am so sorry,” you stammered, your voice trailing off in a rush of apologies as you gingerly lowered the piano fallboard.

“You know,” Rafe’s words were laced with honey, each syllable slow and sweet, yet there was no mistaking the menacing undertone to them. “We don’t take kindly to people touching our things,” he drawled, his intense gaze locked onto yours, a warning glimmer lurking within his dark eyes.

“I… I had permission from your dad,” you insisted, your words barely audible above a whisper as you tried to defend your actions.

His response was a dismissive chuckle. The atmosphere was taut with tension as he nonchalantly propped his golf bag against the wall. Leisurely slow, he sauntered over to you, his hands casually tucked away in his pockets.

“What were you playing anyway?” he inquired, his tone deceptively relaxed.

“You mean the name of the piece?” you swallowed hard, fear palpable. “It’s called Nocturne in C-sharp Minor.”

The tall blonde squinted at you, and you could not decipher his expression. Wanting to avoid further irritation, you slowly rose from the piano bench and dusted it off.

“What kinda name is that?”

“I… I…” you stammered, blood surging in your ears from fear as Rafe suddenly leaned in and lifted the fallboard. He scanned the keys, perhaps checking for any scratches. You took a deep breath. The scent of his expensive cologne and freshly mown grass overwhelmed your senses.

“I don’t know. It worked for Chopin, I guess.” You said quietly.

“Chopin…” he said with his lip jutted.

“He’s the composer. He wrote it and-”

“I know Chopin,” Rafe interrupted, his eyes suddenly locked on you. Up close, you could not deny that they were a striking shade of blue, if not for the death glare he gave you. “Chopin, Beethoven, Einaudi, Bach…” He backed away and sat in a nearby chair. “Brahms… I’ve been to enough of those long-ass concerts to at least know their names.”

You felt a confusing mix of awe and jealousy as you listened to Rafe’s words. The pit in your stomach proved this. You had never been to a proper symphony concert, and the school concerts you had attended were barely amateur. The thought of your dad’s broken promise to take you to one was a constant source of frustration. However, Rafe’s casual disdain for the very concerts he was lucky enough to attend seemed to be a new addition.

“Well… I’m not getting paid to mess around on your piano,” you said with a wry smile, as you tried to mask your emotions.

“You’re right. You’re not,” Rafe retorted while he twisted the gold signet ring around his index finger with his thumb. Head tilted to the side, his eyes raked over every inch of you, from your hair, your oversized sweatshirt and jeans to your worn knockoff Converses. You felt self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. He made you want to crawl into a hole and hide.

“I… I should check on Wheezie,” you whispered, eager to escape the tension in the room.

“Why?” Rafe asked, halting his twirling of the signet ring. His face appeared bemused until a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Weeze is a big girl, right? Might as well… play Chopin while she’s doing her own thing…”

As you babysat for the Camerons, you occasionally spotted Rafe in the vicinity. Sometimes, he was accompanied by a striking beauty, while other times he hung out with his friends. Even when he was alone, his body language was a clear warning: "Keep your distance." His piercing gaze made you feel diminutive and unimportant, as if any attempts at interaction would be met with cold indifference. In his presence, you felt like you were navigating hostile terrain, just a misstep away from a precarious situation.

"Well?" he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lower lip with a finger. The gesture seemed to carry a message, but what message you weren't sure. What was certain was that his expression of amusement made it evident that the outcome was secondary—he was simply enjoying watching you squirm.

Your tongue darted out to moisten your parched lips, while anxiety twisted in your gut as you stared nervously at the grand Steinway piano and Rafe. The weight of his words lingered in the air, causing you to hesitate and consider the potential consequences of your answer.

Every which way you looked at it, you were fucked.

Rafe was bound to tell his parents, and you were sure enough about to lose your job once they found out. Despite Mr. Cameron's outward kindness and willingness to accommodate, you knew very well that playing their piano without supervision was not within the bounds of your permission. And he certainly would not appreciate you lying about it either.

Still, you were determined to make the most out of a shitty situation. You weren't trying to prove anything to Rafe, but if this was going to be your last time playing a Steinway, you would go out in style.

You had chosen a haunting, evocative melody,  a tale of lost love and longing. The notes rang out, clear and true, as your fingers danced over the keys. 

Closing your eyes and shutting out the world and Rafe, you allowed the music to flow from your fingertips, guided by instinct and emotion. Your touch was delicate yet confident, breathing life into the haunting melody.

After the last notes of the piece hung in the air like a delicate mist. You held your breath, waiting for some kind of response from Rafe, but all you got was a deafening silence. The room felt like it was closing in on you, and you couldn't help but cast a quick glance in his direction.

Rafe's eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your heart stop. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. When you finally lowered the fallboard, the tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

"I should check on Wheezie," you whispered, breaking the silence.

Rafe made no reply, and you took that as permission to leave. When you returned downstairs a half hour later, Rafe was nowhere to be seen and you sighed in relief.

In the best-case scenario, Rafe would keep your little transgression to himself. In the worst-case scenario, you could explain to Mr. Cameron that curiosity got the better of you and seek his forgiveness. Either way, you vowed never to touch their piano again.

"What's on your setlist today, piano girl?" Rafe's voice caused your heart to skip a beat, and you nearly spewed out the orange juice pooling in your mouth. A mere week had passed since your previous babysitting job at the illustrious Cameron residence. Yet here you were once again, feeling a pang of anxiety at the mere sight of him. You had desperately hoped to avoid any interaction with Rafe for the remainder of your shift, but fate had other plans in store.

There he was, sauntering into the kitchen, sporting an obnoxiously bright salmon polo shirt that clashed horribly with his teal shorts, and finished with a backwards baseball cap. Despite his frat boy appearance, you couldn't help but admit that he looked undeniably handsome. The realization hit you like a brick and left you feeling inexplicably uneasy.

"Excuse me?" you sputtered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Rafe's gaze shifted towards the living room, where the Steinway was waiting behind closed doors.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea," you said, your voice trailing off as you watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"Whatever," he drawled with a dismissive flick of his wrist, exuding an air of nonchalant superiority as he strode out of the kitchen.

You parroted his words under your breath, feeling frustration boil inside you. Despite his insufferable demeanor, you chose to let it slide. After all, you needed this job, and with a week of smooth sailing under your belt, you suspected that Rafe had kept your little piano incident under wraps. You weren't about to jeopardize your livelihood over a petty disagreement with Rafe Cameron of all people.

Just as you were considering taking refuge in the kitchen to avoid Rafe, the sound of a key being struck on the Steinway echoed through the kitchen, beckoning you towards it.

You stepped into the living room, a bundle of nerves and anticipation, only to find Rafe sprawled in the same chair as before. The piano's fallboard was already raised. Its ebony and ivory keys gleamed in the warm light of the setting sun. Rafe's piercing gaze locked onto yours, then flicked towards the piano.

"Do you want me to play something?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe shrugged, looking uninterested. "Do you want to?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

"I don't mind, I guess," you replied, chewing your bottom lip.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you were desperate for another chance to play the Steinway. There was a piece that you couldn't get out of your head, and you knew it would sound magnificent on it. You did not need to be asked twice. But at the same time, you were no fool.

You had heard whispers about the "Kook King." Infamous for settling disputes with his fists, not for acts of kindness. You had no idea what was taking place here or why Rafe was suddenly allowing you to play the Camerons' prized possession. But despite your internal warning bells that this could be a trap, you put your glass of orange juice on the floor next to the bench. Consequences be damned.

Taking a confident breath, you aimed to kill.

As you hit the final notes of the composition, the silence was shattered by Rafe's ragged breaths. Your eyes locked onto his, and you saw a flicker of something in his gaze that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I've been working on that one for a while," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite his stare. "I know it's not perfect, but I-"

"No, it's good," Rafe interjected with a croak. "You're good."

His words validated your talent, and a rush of excitement surged through you, causing a grin to spread across your face as you basked in his praise. But the moment was short-lived as Rafe pulled out his phone and started scrolling, his demeanor shifting from impressed to cold indifference. Without warning, he abruptly rose from his seat, an air of superiority emanating from his towering frame.

"Tell Rose I'm having dinner at Top's," he drawled, his voice dripping with aloofness as he looked down his nose at you.

"Sure, okay," you stammered, still reeling from his sudden change in behavior.

Without another glance in your direction, he strode out of the room, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened.

It became routine. A ritual. Embedded in your weekly visits to the Cameron residence.

Each time you babysat Wheezie, the air would fill with the soothing sound of classical music, as you took your place at the Steinway and brought the keys to life. Rafe, either in the background or seated nearby, listened intently. His brooding demeanor was a stark contrast to the beauty of the music.

As the weeks went by, playing the Steinway became a treasured routine, and it wasn't just the music that captivated you. With every note played, the invisible barrier between you and Rafe seemed to thin. Despite his reserved exterior, there was a subtle shift in the room when he was around, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him until one evening, a simple question from him sparked a conversation that would change everything.

"Where did you even learn to play like that?" Rafe asked as the sun cast its final rays of light into the opulent living room, painting the space with a breathtaking array of orange, pink, and purple hues.

You had just finished playing a piece by Bach. The air was still thick with the lingering notes of the Prelude as you closed the Steinway lid.

"There's barely electricity on the cut. Far less for piano classes, and even if there was, you can't—you can't teach this, know what I mean? Well, not the way you play it anyway." His tone shifted, taking on a new quality of—dare you think it?—admiration. You couldn't help but wonder if the beer he was drinking had anything to do with his slip of the tongue and the emotions that seemed to seep through in his words.

You cast your eyes to find Rafe leaning forward in his chair, said beer bottle in hand, his hair falling into his face and his eyes laser-focused on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you were being seen, truly seen, by him. But as much as you were flattered by his attention, something lurking in the depths of his gaze made you feel uneasy, and you weren't entirely sure why. You brushed the stray thought aside.

"My dad taught me." You said with pride in your voice. "Did you know they used to have jazz nights at the Wreck?" You turned your body towards Rafe, eager to share this piece of history. "Back then, it wasn't called the Wreck. Anyway, my dad used to play there every night from seven until midnight until the Carreras took over. Now he works on the big oil rig in Burnsville."

"Does he still play?" Rafe asked.

You hesitated for a moment, realizing you were oversharing with Rafe Cameron of all people. But something about his presence made you feel comfortable enough to continue. "No, after my mom left," you trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "He just gave up on music altogether."

Rafe looked down, his expression unreadable.

"I guess I'm trying to keep the tradition alive, in my own way. It's not jazz, but he approves." You smiled softly. "Anyway, what about you?"

Arresting blue eyes flicked up at yours, and your stomach flipped.

"What about me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with curiosity and challenge. He leaned back in his chair, the rattan creaking beneath him. He lazily ran a hand through his blonde hair, revealing his chiselled features. You weren't sure why, but the gesture felt calculated. As though it was meant to entice you. And yet you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you drank in the sight of him.

"No offense, but you don't look like the type to be into..." you waved your hand towards the piano, trying to deflect his gaze and lighten the mood.

"Yeah? What do I look like I'm into?" Rafe purred seductively, his tongue swiping his top lip. His eyes fixed on you. You didn't miss his tone. The double entendre just beneath the surface, if you were bold enough to respond to it. You were sure the alcohol running through his veins had something to do with his sudden flirty behavior. Tomorrow, he'd probably forget the whole thing. But it still didn't stop the butterflies from dancing in your stomach.

"I...I..."

"Go on, don't be shy," Rafe coaxed, his eyes dark and intense, almost daring you to take the bait.

"I don't know," you breathed out a laugh, suddenly feeling flustered and self-conscious.

"Yeah, you do." Rafe said, his tone low and teasing. "Saying I don't look like the type means you have a type in your head. So, let's hear it. What kind of man do you think I am, Y/N?"

You were certain this was not about music anymore, and you felt way out of your element. What were you supposed to say about that? You decided to keep the conversation neutral and err on the side of caution.

"Okay," you nodded as you shifted on the bench. "You look like the type to be interested in other types of music, you know like rap or hip-hop, rock— even country and western, anything but this."

Rafe looked away with a chuckle, a deep rumble that made your skin tingle. He nodded slowly, pondering your words.

"Does that sound bad? I know it sounds awful. I'm sorry." You cringed.

"Nah, it's pretty tame actually... innocent even..." Rafe murmured more to himself than to you. You shivered as his piercing blue gaze met yours, then slowly traveled down to your lips, neck, and every inch of your oversized t-shirt and cardigan to your jeans-covered body.

He cleared his throat, his voice low as he spoke. "And you're not wrong. Classical music was my mom's thing. She loved it." He said taking a swig of his beer.

"Oh," you breathed out, taken aback by the unexpected answer. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Rafe was always so engrossed in the music each time you played. The wistful expression that crossed his face whenever he heard familiar pieces of music. It was like a window into his soul, a glimpse into a hidden part of him that he kept from the world. And just as you pieced together your thoughts, Rafe spoke, confirming your suspicions.

"We used to go to the mainland to see 'The Four Seasons' or 'Carmen' or some other shit like that. I don't know, it reminds me of her, I guess. Takes me back to happier times." Rafe shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

"I'm sorry..." you whispered.

"Nah, don't be. She was sick for a long time, and now she's... Anyway, It's all good now." Rafe replied with a forced nonchalance, a fragile façade attempting to conceal his true emotions.

"So, you listen to classical music for nostalgia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with a touch of melancholy.

“I guess you could say that,” Rafe said thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as he considered your words. He scrunched up his face, eyebrows drawn together as if he had tasted something bitter. “But I'm not a classical music aficionado or anything. It’s not like I’m requesting it in the club. Can you imagine that shit? Right after 21 Savage fuckin’ Mozart on blast. I’d get jumped.”

"I don’t know, you might start a trend," you smiled.

“Sounds like you want me to get jumped”

You outright laughed at that one. “Well, it depends, do you deserve it?”

“Oof” Rafe countered, clutching his chest faux wounded. “That was good.”

You shrugged with a smile, feeling an unexpected kinship with Rafe of all people. Here was this tough, brooding guy who, beneath the surface, was incredibly sentimental and even had a sense of humor. It was a sweet and surprising discovery.

"What about you? Why do you play?" He asked, his blue eyes roaming across your facial features slowly, curiously, when your laughter had died and all that was left was contented silence.

"Good question. Why do I play? Well, I guess for me... it's about the emotion," you replied, your fingers tracing the Steinway keys without pressing them. "Each note, each chord, each composition tells a story. It's like I'm a part of that story, and I get to bring it to life. You don’t need words you just… feel it.”

Rafe nodded, understanding. "I get it. You're the storyteller. The piano is your instrument channelin’ that shit.”

"Exactly!" you said, touching your nose and pointing to him with an earnest laugh.

"Exactly," Rafe repeated with a soft chuckle, his gaze fixated on you.

“Hey, how come I never see you at bonfires?” Rafe asked, a mischievous glint in his eye one sunny afternoon when Rose and Mr. Cameron went out for drinks with friends, leaving Wheezie in your care.

“Bonfires just aren’t my thing,” you replied with a shrug.

“What, no friends to hang out with?” he teased.

“I have plenty of friends!” you retorted, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

“Friends that I’ve never seen you with,” he pressed.

 “What do you mean ‘friends I’ve never seen you with’ are you stalking me around town?” 

“Maybe I am...” he shrugged a small devious smile curled his lips. “Whatever. Well, my friends and I clearly hang out when you’re not around,” you shot back, a playful smile lighting up your face.

“Sure you do,” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Rafe leaned forward against the piano, the sun casting a warm glow on his handsome features. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and how the muscles in his arms flexed under his t-shirt while he absentmindedly tapped his index finger on the piano lid.

“You know, there’s more to life than playing music,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth, as he turned the words over with his tongue. His finger tapping the lid, became slower, more measured.

“Oh, I know that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I have plenty of other things going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like studying,” you said, trying to keep a straight face as Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m actually quite serious about my grades.”

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a good girl," Rafe chuckled. Once again, his comment caught you off guard. Although you knew he wasn't mocking you, it still felt strange that he felt the need to mention what he perceived was good girl behavior. “Seriously though, you should have some real fun too. Do some shit you probably shouldn’t do. Life’s too short to be cooped up not living it.”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say. Rafe had a point, but you weren’t sure if bonfires were the kind of fun you were looking for. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but swallow nervously. As if reading your thoughts, Rafe leaned closer.

“You know, I could show you a good time if you want.” Rafe’s voice was low and husky as he leaned in close, his minty breath fanning your cheek. While he had flirted before, this time there was a sober earnestness to his words that made your heart race. But before you could even formulate a response, the front door's slam cut through the thick tension.

Rafe straightened himself, briefly glancing towards the hallway before fixing his gaze back on you, his jaw tightly clenched in irritation. With determined strides, he purposefully walked away, the sound of his long steps resonating down the corridor, while you unintentionally caught snippets of his familiar argument with Sarah.

It seemed Sarah had developed an interest in John B, a guy you had seen around town, but Rafe vehemently disapproved due to his “pogue” status. You couldn’t fathom why he held such strong opposition, especially considering that you, too, were a Pogue. Had he conveniently forgotten? Or did he consider you an exception?

As you closed the lid of the Steinway, an inescapable curiosity filled your mind about what set your relationship with Rafe apart. Maybe he only saw you as a friend rather than a romantic interest the way Sarah felt about John B.

Reluctant to admit it to yourself, the thought pierced through, leaving you with a confusing mixture of disappointment, anger, and self-annoyance for even entertaining the idea that Rafe could ever feel that way about you.

As Rafe persisted in berating his sister, you dismissed any contemplation of what might have happened between the two of you if she had arrived just a few minutes later.

“Hello?”

“I'm in here.” Rose’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge, resonated through the foyer of the Camerons’ residence. As you entered the kitchen, you discovered her gingerly picking up the remnants of a shattered vase from the tiled floor. You offered to help her, but she brushed you off with a dismissive gesture.

“No need, honey. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She said, smiling unconvincingly.

Mr. Cameron burst into the room a few seconds later. His dominating presence charged the atmosphere, his eyes glinting like ice. It was only when his eyes landed on you that his demeanour changed.

“Oh, Y/N. Thanks for coming on such short notice. We’ll only need you for two hours. Sarah should be back by then.” He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

“Uh, sure. Of course.” You replied. You scurried out of his path as he snatched a file and car keys from the kitchen table.

“I’ll be in the car.” He informed Rose tersely, eliciting a stiff nod from her.

Feeling Rose’s disquiet, you intervened to clear the shattered vase. “I can pick these up for you, Rose.” You said warmly.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assured her with a nod.

“Thank you.” She murmured, her smile returning. “Wheeze is upstairs doing her homework. I’m sorry about all of this. Things are a bit crazy today.” She said, her grip on her bag and sunglasses tightening as if she were holding onto her sanity by a thread. And with that, she vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the shattered pieces of the vase.

Having cleared the wreckage, you climbed the stairs to find Wheezie immersed in her studies in her room, her headphones firmly in place. You inquired if she needed anything or was okay, but she appeared blissfully unaware of the chaos that had unfolded. You marvelled at her ability to concentrate amidst the turmoil, yet you couldn’t dispel the nagging suspicion that the Camerons hid a dark secret beneath their façade of rich superiority. With a sigh, you left Wheezie to her schoolwork and descended the stairs as the sound of the living room door being opened roused your suspicions.

As you passed the living room, your heart sank at the sight of Rafe. He was sitting on his usual chair, swaying back and forth, lost in a jumble of incoherent words. His eyes were bloodshot and streaked with tears. You hurried towards him, your mind racing with worry and fear. You sat down on the floor in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He responded with a roar that shook you to your core. The words that spilled out of Rafe’s mouth were like knives, cutting deep into your soul. He berated himself with a ferocity that was frightening, how he was a failure in his father’s eyes, how he was nothing but a disappointment. You placed a comforting hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some solace amidst his torment.

His eyes flicked to your hand, then to your face, as if seeing you for the first time. Rafe’s jaw tightened, his eyes raw with emotions you couldn’t decipher. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too – something deeper, more primal.

“Play something.” He suddenly demanded.

“I can- I can get someone for you. Do you want me to call your-”

“No. I don’t want that. I want you to play.” He almost sneered at you.

“Okay.” You whispered tentatively.

You made your way to the piano, your fingers trembling with anticipation. As you began to play, the haunting melody flowed from your fingertips.

As the tender notes from the piano enveloped you, the outside world ceased to exist. Within the protective cocoon of the Cameron's living room, you hoped your music might be a balm for Rafe’s pain. But this sanctuary of sound was violently shattered when an aggressive tug at your hair ripped you from your reverie.

Suddenly, Rafe was there, his fingers cruelly ensnared in your hair, exerting a force so savage it wrenched your head backward, choking off your breath and stilling the music in one brutal tug. The once harmonious room was now charged with an electrifying tension, your eyes captured and held hostage by the ferocity in his.

This was not the Rafe you knew.

The Rafe towering above you appeared utterly transformed. Unrecognizable in every way. Gone was the Rafe who had shared countless evenings filled with laughter and sharing stories. Gone was the anchor that made you feel connected and safe.

Instead, frustration etched itself onto his face like a battle scar, while his dilated pupils revealed an intensity you had never witnessed before, oscillating between your fear-stricken eyes.

His gaze dipped to your parted lips as you let out the breath you were holding, and before you could react, before you could appease him, Rafe captured your lips with his.

You froze. Paralyzed against Rafe's lips. Shock stole your breath away.

Time stopped in an instant as you grappled with the thought that this was a dream, a surreal nightmare. But that fragile notion shattered like glass as Rafe's movements became evident. His lips melded against yours like clay taking form. Hard and desperate, his kiss abruptly catapulted you back into the chilling reality that this was, without a doubt, happening.

Your instinct for survival surged as your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You attempted to push him away, but Rafe tightened his grip on your hair and yanked harder, forcing your submission, his tongue plunging into your mouth when you whined in protest.

The taste of alcohol on Rafe’s tongue was bitter and overwhelming. You tried to convince yourself that this was the reason behind Rafe's behaviour. Any moment now, he would realize his mistake, any moment he would let you go. But instead, Rafe's fingers sank into the hollow of your jaw, holding it open while his tongue explored the warm interior of your mouth.

You whimpered softly as his tongue twirled against yours with ferocity. Rafe adjusted his hand in your hair and gripped tighter, making you cry out as pain surged through your scalp and neck. The sound didn't deter him, as he forced your head back drinking from your mouth greedily.

Discordant notes rang out as you lashed out wildly, reaching for anything you could hold onto for balance. Your hands found Rafe's bicep and you dug your nails into his skin, trying to pull his hand away as he kissed you like a man possessed.

Your entire body was inflamed with sensations you had never experienced before as pleasure and pain bled into one. Your scalp ached yet your body felt hot. Your nipples were suddenly sensitive to your sweater's scraggly wool while you ached between your legs for something you had not experienced before. The whirlwind of sensations new and overwhelming within you made your eyes flutter shut on their own, your hands sliding up Rafe's wrist as you held on for balance.

Rafe's mouth worked over yours with an intensity so raw that your protests turned into breathless moans and frantic gasps as you succumbed to his kiss.  Your tongue tentatively meets his stroke for stroke.  Rafe growled in approval and you could feel him smile into the kiss, his tongue stoking the fire deep within you and just as quickly as it started, Rafe abruptly pulled away leaving you shaking and struggling for air.

Your heart raced within your chest as you abruptly pushed yourself off the piano bench, nearly causing it to tip over in your haste. Hand clutching your chest, you struggled to catch your breath, hastily wiping away tears that had unknowingly streamed down your cheeks. 

A fleeting glance at Rafe revealed his heavy breathing, his mouth agape in quick, shallow pants, and his pupils dilated, tinged with a faint hint of blue. Yet, it was the expression etched upon his face that sent a wave of terror crashing over you. 

Rafe's eyes showed no remorse.

Instead, you saw an overwhelming hunger within them that made your blood run cold. Rafe’s gaze moved down from your stunned face over your trembling body.  The danger that emanated from him made your knees buckle.

You took a step back, your mind whirling with fear and apprehension. But Rafe stepped forward, his eyes locked onto yours with determination.

"I-- I need to check on Wheezie. See what she'd like for dinner," you whispered, your voice shaking as you inched backwards toward the door. You turned to run but it was too late.

Rafe reached out and snatched the hem of your sweater, yanking you towards him. You struggled to break free, twisting and thrashing like a scared kitten in his grip but Rafe was relentless. His other hand reached for your waist as he pulled you close.  His nose and lips trailed the back of your neck and into your hairline and he groaned as he breathed you in. With a jab of your elbow into his rib you wriggled free.  It wasn't enough to wound him but it gave you the head start needed to run.

You dashed from the room, Rafe's pursuit relentless. His outstretched fingers grazed your sweater, narrowly missing its mark. It wasn't until you sprinted up the stairs that he abandoned the chase. You didn't need to glance back to feel his gaze on you.  The tendrils of his breathless laugh reverberated down the corridor.

You burst into Wheezie's room, a hot mess of tears and fear. You made up some excuse about feeling unwell and had to go home immediately. After calling Rose and arranging for a replacement babysitter for Wheezie, you sat in her room and waited for the sitter to arrive.

You didn't see Rafe when you left, and you thanked God for that. You knew that if you saw him, you would break down crying, and you couldn't bear to show him any more weakness. But the tears came anyways, hot and heavy, as soon as you got home. How could you have been so stupid? You knew all the rumors about him, knew that he wasn't a good guy, and yet somehow, you thought in your warped mind that he was different. A decent human being who was simply misunderstood.

It wasn't like you didn't see the signs. They were always there, staring you right in the face. The blatant flirting, the staring, the way he undressed you with his gaze. You dismissed every red flag, thinking he couldn't like you in that kind of way because you were not the type of girl Rafe Cameron would go for and you certainly weren't the type of girl Rafe Cameron would kiss.

And it wasn't just the kiss that scared you. It was the fact that Rafe had no intention of stopping. It was the way he held onto you, the way he made you feel like you were drowning in a sea of desire. He was a predator, relentless in his pursuit of you, and as you thought about how he grabbed onto your clothes his lips tracing your neck even as you protested you couldn't help but cry even harder.

No. There was no way you were setting foot in that house again. Not after the way Rafe kissed you, not after what he was determined to get out of you.

Over the next few weeks, Rose's texts kept coming, each one more insistent than the last. But you knew better than to give in to her demands. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what had happened with Rafe. It was too dangerous, too risky, and you couldn't afford to let your guard down again.

You thought about telling her what had happened with Rafe, but the thought of it made your stomach turn. How could you explain what had happened without sounding like a fool? That you had been hanging out with her stepson for months, that you had let things get out of hand?

You had every intention of never setting foot in that house again. But then Rose sent you a text, asking if you were available on Saturday. They were desperate, she said, and willing to offer triple what they usually paid. Rafe and Sarah were going to a game and the lady who was supposed to look after Wheezie had a family emergency.

You were going to turn them down, again, but the truth was that since you had dropped them as a client, it had been difficult to find other work. So, against your better judgement, you agreed, but only after Rose confirmed that she and Mr Cameron would be home long before Sarah and Rafe returned.

As the day of the babysitting gig approached, a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you shouldn't go, that it was too risky, too dangerous. But the promise of easy money was too tempting to ignore. And so, against your better judgement, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron's house once again, your heart racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you approached the front door, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Rose had texted you on your way over, telling you that she would be getting ready and to let yourself in. But when you rang the doorbell and received no answer, you began to worry. Still, you didn't think anything of it when you turned the door handle and found that it was unlocked. You stepped inside and called out for Wheezie and Rose, but the house was silent.

Making your way to the kitchen, you put down your bag and pulled out your phone. You texted Rose and Wheezie to let them know that you had arrived and were in the kitchen, just in case Wheezie was plugged in. But as you waited for a response, your heart sank.

Something wasn't right. You could feel it.

You had been to the Camerons' house many times and had let yourself in on a few occasions when they were too busy to answer the door. None of this was new but it felt different. An ominous feeling washed over you. But just as you began to worry, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted your thoughts, and you sighed in relief.

As you called out for Rose, a sudden hush fell over the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up, hoping to see Rose's familiar figure, but instead, your eyes met the last person you expected to see: Rafe.

His presence was jarring, like a thunderclap on a clear day. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of his unexpected appearance. But before you could utter a word, Rafe's murmur cut through the silence like a knife.

"Nah, not Rose," he said with a smile.

Fear took hold of you as you realized that he must have had something to do with Rose's texts in the first place. You stepped back, fear making your knees buckle.

"Where's Rose?" you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, as if shielding yourself from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t come near me,” you said firmly as Rafe rounded the kitchen island towards you. Immediately, you moved in the opposite direction away from him.

“I… I just… I needed to talk to you, like, a little bit. Is that okay?” he said, opening his hands to placate you.

“Did Rose actually text me?”

“She did,” Rafe soothed. “But then I, uh… I heard you’d be here tonight instead of Pat, and well… seeing you was more important to me than some game.” His eyes trailed over your face, studying your every reaction.

“Where’s Wheezie?”

“With Sarah.”

You shook your head, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Rafe have orchestrated this situation for you to be alone with him without any of the Camerons noticing? But as if he heard your thoughts, a sly smile curled his lips and he chuckled softly.

“I told Rose I’d watch over Wheeze so she could catch an early ferry,” Rafe explained, his hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures, connecting invisible dots as he spoke. “After Rose left I gave my ticket to Wheeze.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Look, I know the last time I was a little… a little intense…”

“Intense!” You choked. You would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Yes, and I’m -- I'm really sorry about that, okay? I really am.”

"You tried to ra-”

"No! No, no, I would never..." Rafe rushed towards you and you immediately backed away. He froze mid-step as you cowered, his hands still raised in surrender.  "I’m sorry things were confusing and it looked that way but I wasn't trying to hurt you. God, I- l’m-" Rafe sighed, deflated his hands landed on his hips, he looked away as he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"You're sorry it looked that way?" you whispered your voice trembling. Rafe's words echoed in your mind while memories of that day in all its menacing glory flooded back. You looked at him flabbergasted.

"Rafe...you... you were kissing me-”

“I know but I-”

“And touching me--"

He breathed out a laugh "Come on, you know I was only-,"

“Without my consent, Rafe.”

He was silent with that and you hoped your words had finally sunk in, had finally made him understand how terrifying he was in that moment.

“Then you chased me.  You chased me like some...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence.  You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  You were so hurt and confused.  That your friend could do something like that to you. “I don’t even know who you are. I- I don’t think I ever did,” you whispered.

Rafe's eyes landed on yours with that. His gaze was dark and intense, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten through to him because he nodded slowly. But then he let out a humourless chuckle, reminding you of the one he gave post-chase, and any hope of reaching him dissipated.

"You know, it’s funny ‘cause you say that...” Rafe said coldly, a hand gesturing to you as if trying to grasp his own thoughts “But you’re not entirely innocent in all of this, are you?” 

“I don't-- I don't understand."

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, huh, Y/N?

"Raf—"

"What kind of mental shit you put me through? Nah, you don't. You don't think about that, do you?" he asked, his hands gesturing toward you as his eyes narrowed and he stared you down. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized the gravity of Rafe's words. It was as if he was confessing to a darker truth, a mental anguish that he had been helplessly consumed by, something unintentionally sparked within him by your actions.

"I have my dad on my back talking about legacies, our family business and preparing me for that shit meanwhile Sarah’s running around town doing god knows what with some loser fucking up our family name. I have real shit to deal with...” he gave out a bitter laugh his hand clutched to his chest as he confessed.

“But even with all of that all I can think about every minute of every fucking day, is you.” Rafe's voice was raw and anguished. His hand moved up to his ear as he slowly walked towards you.

"It's like you've crawled into my brain, you know? Like I’m under some fucking spell with your music and your voice and your-" His eyes trailed down your body just as his hand followed the motion, and you shuddered. He was consuming you with his gaze every sinful thought etched across his features.

"Nah, you made me do this…” he said bitterly, his jaw clenched tight.

“Rafe--”

“You did and now I'm the bad guy because I had a moment of weakness. But you know what? Fuck, it.” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fuck it, i’ll take responsibility for my part in this--”

“Rafe--”

“That’s what real men do, right? Take responsibility for their shit and I’m all about being accountable, so yeah, I kissed you.” He said nodding slowly. “But I’m not sorry.”

His words made you recoil, disbelief etched across your face as you stared at him.

“Yeah, you want me to pretend like I am. Act apologetic but I won’t. I'm not sorry and you should quit actin’ like you didn't enjoy it."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the weight of his accusation settling in your stomach. Stunned, you opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. A dry, humorless laugh left you instead. Rafe simply nodded slyly as he resumed his steps towards you, and as you stepped backwards, your back collided with the kitchen counter.

“That’s- that’s not true.”

“No?” he asked faux confused.

“It’s not- that’s not fair”

“Isn’t it?” he tutted.

"Rafe, listen to me," you whispered shakily, but he was already leaning in, his eyes dark and clouded.

"No. No, no, you listen.”  he rasped, circling in and looking down on you, his lips pouted as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “You were moaning Y/N- No, don’t do that.  Don’t shake your head, and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don't stand there and pretend this whole fucking thing is one-sided. You were moaning into my mouth… and you...you held on to me, yeah? I didn’t force you to do those things."

"Rafe--”

“That was all you princess. So you gotta ask yourself. What kinda girl are you to be into that, hm?” Rafe whispered as he leaned into you.  “What kinda girl would moan like a whore when a guy manhandles her…”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t. I wanted you to stop Rafe and you-”

Rafe chuckled before you could even finish your sentence.

“Is that what was happening while you were kissing me back? Nah, see I know what your problem is. I know, I know, I know…” he repeated softly, as he gently rested his hands on your hips. “I know why you ran when deep down you wanted it.”

You opened your mouth to protest only for Rafe to push his body up against yours.  The hard wall of his body renders you speechless. “We eye fucked each other for months,”  he whispered, as he looked down at you.  His eyes darted to your lips as he licked his own.  “You wanted it.” He said coldly.

"But I get it. It was overwhelming... too much... too soon... hm?" he murmured as his nose grazed yours. "I should have approached you more patiently. I realize that now," he acknowledged with a slow nod. "I should have been gentle with you, and I had every intention to. But I -- I wanted you so bad that day that I couldn't think straight. I'm thinking straight now, though."

“Rafe...” you breathed out, your hands on his chest to push him away but not quite having the strength to do so.  Rafe must have picked up on this because he leaned in, his lips close to yours.

“You keep saying my name but you’re not telling me to stop...” Rafe whispered as his fingers caressed your cheek.  With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, and you willingly yielded. His caress made you sway, your mind growing hazy and confused. To regain your balance, you closed your eyes.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, hm?” he whispered.

You could feel the electricity between you as Rafe leaned in, lips hovering over yours and you tilted your head up slightly, closing the distance, only to be met with nothing. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe’s hooded ones a victorious smile creeping across his lips.  

“Come on” Rafe whispered, and before you could protest Rafe laced his fingers in yours and gently tugged you towards the living room.

Seated at the piano, Rafe smoothly lifted the fallboard with ease.

"Play something for me," he husked, gesturing for you to take a seat beside him on the bench. You felt a flutter of nervousness as you perched yourself next to him, unsure of where to start. You couldn't comprehend how you had gone from rejecting his advances to this moment of willing compliance and acceptance.

Rafe watched you intently. You had been up-close to Rafe before, but never this close. Not this intimately. Your mind became blank, overwhelmed with the prospect of playing for him.

"I...I don't know what to..." you stuttered.

"Anything, anything at all," Rafe whispered, his eyes studying your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your trembling fingers on the keys and began to release the notes,  slowly at first, but gaining confidence with every passing moment.

“I noticed you, you know,” Rafe rasped. His knuckles suddenly grazed your cheek, and you flinched. “The first time you came to babysit Wheeze, I noticed you.” Rafe followed his knuckles as he moved them across your jaw.

“I remember thinking you were beautiful… shy… innocent…” Opening his hand, his fingers trailed down your neck, and your breath hitched.

“You were wearing this exact sweater…” His fingers splayed over your collarbone as they moved slowly down to your chest.

“What are you hiding under here, hm?” he asked softly. “What are you hiding under these baggy clothes?”

You shied away from his touch, your hands withdrawing from the keys of the piano.

"No. None of that. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he said his voice stern yet soft.  Your eyes glanced at his as Rafe inched closer.  “I’ll tell you when to stop.” he iterated slowly. “Start again.”

Swallowing you placed your hands on the keys while the music resumed from your fingertips.

Rafe shifted closer his leg flushed against your own.  He wrapped his arm over the back of you and hooked it to the other side of the bench. Leaning in, his nose ghosted your neck.

“Raf-”

“Shhhh…”His nose nudged into your hairline.  His other hand on your chest continued its exploration.  It moved lower cupping your tit over your sweater.  The gasp you make made Rafe breathe even heavier, a deep pur coming from the back of his throat.

“Please-” you whispered shakily.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you, you know that?  Every time you played I’d think about what you’d feel like... what you’d look like, moaning for me.  I wanna hear you moan for me.”  

Determined Rafe’s hand moved lower until it dipped under your sweater. Deftly he fumbled under your t-shirt and you gasped when his warm fingers brushed the skin of your stomach. His other hand let go of the piano stool and was now under your sweater squeezing your tit through your bra.

“Rafe--”

“Keep playing” he whispered against your neck and you did. His hand at your stomach moved lower, finding the button on your jeans he unbutton it with one deft move and your hands falter.

“Keep playing” he murmured, face nudging into your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your throat.  “I wanna hear you play while I touch you”  

The sensation of Rafe's hands on your body was almost lost in the overwhelming numbness that had taken over you. His strong hand leisurely tugged at the waistband of your panties seeking to touch what lay beneath, while his other hand snaked under your bra. He caressed and teased your nipple until a soft sob erupted from you as pleasure surged through your veins.

Rafe moved his hand lower, slipping it between your wet folds and pushing his middle finger inside of you. You cried out, the intensity of sensation causing you to clutch onto Rafe's arm for support, music abandoned.

“It’s okay “ Rafe breathed deeply into your neck, as he roughly peppered your neck with kisses.  “You're okay. Just breathe...” and as he said those comforting words he gently wormed another slender finger passed your slippery folds and into you.

You hissed, trying to move away from the burning stretch of his long fingers. Your nails dug into the flesh of his wrist with enough force to draw blood but Rafe determined as ever slowly moved his fingers in and out of you, each time inserting them a little deeper until it reached his signet ring.  

"You've had more than one finger before?" he asked hotly against your neck. You shook your head no, gritting your teeth in an effort to endure him stretching you further still. Rafe groaned and nipped softly at your jawline, "Fuck, I can tell. I can barely move them. But you're a good girl, aren't you? You're taking them well and afterwards, I'm gonna train you to take all of me."

Rafe's lips trailed tender kisses down the length of your neck, then his mouth closed hungrily around the sensitive skin. His two fingers moved inside you and each slow thrust drew a soft moan from your lips.

With surety, he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, barely grazing your clit with his thumb. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, causing you to gasp and cum embarrassingly fast. Your pussy contracting around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth.

“Oh Fuuckk…” Rafe hissed. “You liked that, I can feel it.“ He sighed utterly mesmerised. “Well, if you like that...” Rafe groaned resting his forehead against the side of your face and planting soft kisses on your cheek. “You’re gonna love this.”

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Rafe's probing fingers started their relentless hunt for something deep within you. Suddenly, those searching digits found what they were looking for - a spot that caused you to arch over and clutch his hand as you cried out despite your best efforts.

“Oh- there it is” he chuckled softly, shunting his hand and hitting that spot over and over again with a speed and force that knocked the breath out of you, while his thumb expertly rubbed your clit and the fingers of his other hand mercilessly pulled and twisted your nipple.

“OhmyGOD!” you cried.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my hand. Just like that.”

Rafe kept at it, even as your nails scraped along his wrist and arm for purchase.  Even as you screamed and tried to scissor your legs closed to shut him out. None of it mattered as your eyes crossed and you felt your orgasm raw and violent crash over you. 

Bucking violently into Rafe’s hand, you could feel your release seep through your jeans and onto the piano bench. Pooling and overflowing you could hear it trickle onto the hardwood floor like raindrops and still, Rafe kept going, kept finger fucking you.

Lost in a sea of agonising pleasure you could do nothing but slump against him and take it, your hips stuttering, your mouth sagging as you whimpered and gasped.

Rafe moaned against you, planting soft kisses on the column of your throat. He stilled his hand, his fingers buried deep inside while you desperately tried to catch your breath.

"Seems my fingers are just as talented as yours, hm?" he said with a breathless chuckle. His nose trailed along your neck, while his tongue darted out to capture the perspiration nestled there. 

Gently, Rafe removed his digits while you gazed in shock, unable to voice a single word as he brought the wet fingers to his lips and ravenously lapped up your fluids with a contented hum.

“This is too much.” you said hoarsely  “I can’t-- I can't do this. No more, Rafe. No more,” you said weakly, trying to remove his hand from your breast and move away from his hold only for Rafe to seize your wrist painfully in his grasp.

"No more?" Rafe chuckled darkly, his gaze fixed on you with dilated pupils. "No more?" he repeated, inching closer as he shook his head. "Nah, baby. No. We're just getting started..."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading.  Thanks for liking and reblogging. PART 2 / MASTERLIST

[alavestineneas]

Poisonous bites

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it. warnings: mentions of minor violence, mentions of cheating, not really canon-compliant, blood and shitty people in shitty relationships word count: 3,7k

Part 1 is here

author's note: part 2 of Losing Dogs is here! thank you for the love and support that you showed for the first chapter - hope you enjoy this one too! we all love some twisted people in fiction :)

She knows.

It's in his mind when they get into the black car, away from the president's party and obnoxiously loud music, with a few new cuts on his hands and faint blue marks on her neck.

She knows.

It's the only thought in his head when it hits the pillow at almost midnight, as her warm body lays beside him, breathing even so faintly. His brain almost explodes under the pressure of guessing her thoughts, hidden behind the soft smile and gentle touch. She, the ghost wrapped in opulent sheets, is a new figure on the chessboard. The crippling fear of being watched cuts his forehead in sharp, taunting pain.

YN, the blind lamb with sharp teeth, knows.

-

He did everything right. A whisper here, a bribe there, and no one noticed how a small, silly rumour grew into a threat almost overnight, pointing its sleek, twisted fingers at the President. Corrupt, illegal activities—that's what the press called them, but the truth was much less poetic. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, and some people shouldn't be trusted.

It was supposed to be a simple payback—let the bastard simmer in his own venom, betrayed by people he considered allies. But then it became something bigger: the sacred place is never empty, and the herd of sheep is always in need of guidance. That's when Coriolanus knew what he had to do for the better future of Panem. For the pride of his family. For the satisfaction of his hunger.

He is deep in his thoughts when YN appears in the doorframe; she is careful not to make too much noise as she waits for him to look up. Beautiful, like death herself— Coriolanus saw her enough times up close to recognize the dark glimmer in her eyes.

''Come here,'' he motions, clearing the space on the table for her to sit.

She does. YN's steps are light, even in the heels she always wears. There were a lot of things money couldn't buy, and class was one of them. Nobody came close to her upbringing; therefore, nobody could come close to him.

''Here,'' he hands her his speech, a careful combination of neat letters. Coriolanus watches with starved eyes as she reads, studying every expression and passing of emotion on her dolled-up face. ''What do you think?''

''It's good, really good.'' YN nods, a small smile covering her lips. ''You were always great at this type of thing, since the academy.''

Coriolanus feels a cold sting in his abdomen; she knows him. Before he became a man, before he got a chance to truly be the person he was destined to be, YN remembers a peckish, awkward boy who was pathetic enough to let an animal fool him. 

''Thank you,'' he says, placing a hand on her thigh and slowly sliding it up. He likes the way her body reacts in response, leaning closer.

It doesn't matter who he was before. He won, and he is almost at the top—a few steps, and there won't be just her body underneath him—the whole country will be in his hands.

-

Her husband is messed up. The way he fucked her in the dining hall hours before the guest arrived, in the same dining hall where they stand, brings a smile to YN's face. Nobody suspects a thing, not even her closest confidants, who now sipped from the stylish tall glasses beside YN, conversing on everything and anything but the swollenness of her lips.

Coriolanus wants to play in politics now that he has had enough of game-making. Like a small, pouty child tired of his old toys. The thought of her husband in a one-piece strikes her as funny; her mind is drawing the picture vividly. He was, for sure, a mama's boy. He still is.

It's cute, the way he kisses her aged picture when he thinks YN can't see him, or the way he buys the rose female perfume nobody ever uses—its smell still lingers in the air every time the maids change the sheets. The only woman who can truly love is a mother, he told her one day. The only woman he thought was deserving of loving back.

YN watches as he approaches the group of men with confident steps. The people are right, the way is wrong—if it were that easy to fit in their circle, it wouldn't be as important. Just like she predicted, he is quickly cast aside to the benches of dialogue; the tall figure of her husband lingers silently, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It's entertaining to see him slowly boil, which goes unnoticed by everybody else in the hall. YN observed him for years to crack his facade as swiftly as she does now. A few moments, and he will decide to walk away, unable to swallow his pride back anymore, and there will be no chance of meeting the people he desperately needs.

''Excuse me for a moment,'' YN smiles at the women beside her, placing her glass on the gilded trail. They are good people—sure, some a little less bright and some a little less assertive as she is, but still, most of the information she finds useful comes from them—silent furniture, as they often joke. They are noticed no more than vases in the corners of their grand mansions; just like their houses, their husbands come in different shapes, and just like houses, the inside is always the same. Empty.

''Good evening, gentleman!'' she chirps, putting on one of her many expressions. She never felt bad about changing her face to fit the situation better; after all, they were all just different versions of her. ''I believe you already met my husband.'' YN delicately diverts her gaze from the black mass of suits to her husband's face, sending a loving smile his way.

The men are smitten, as usual. Who could've thought the young lad was the owner of this house? YN doesn't pay them much attention; they are never the driving force behind connections. Instead, she turns to the only woman in the bleak company.

''Missis Nej, what a lovely broch! You have to tell me where you got it; the details are incredible!''

It was true—YN sees no point in lying about liking something when the compliment is right there—a beautiful dove broch with sparkly gems instead of eyes, placed on a delicate lace.

The woman's face lights up at her words. ''I made the design myself, and then my seamstress pulled it together. I am glad you like it—isn't the stitching so fine?''

''It is! I wish I was as creative as you are; my imagination is only enough for the table centerpieces.''

''You know what? I have many other drafts at home; why don't you and your husband stop by for tea for a few hours? To see if my seamstress could come up with something for you?''

''Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! What do you think, Coriolanus?''

What can he think? Her husband is happy things are going his way, of course, but there is something else in his gaze that makes YN's heart skip a beat. Suspicion. The only thing she should be scared of was her husband's mind—the deadliest of the weapons, his paranoia. It, like a vicious exotic, has to be put away from his reach; it sinks its teeth in everything Coriolanus feeds to it, and if he does not, turns onto him.

He smiles and nods, wrapping his hand around her bare shoulders. YN thinks she ought to be more careful; it was her job to keep him on a leash, like a beat she signed to care for. Whose fault would it be if the wild thing did what wild things do—bite?

-

He almost doesn't have any opponents left. Those who dared not to support the young candidate from the party were quickly silenced, and those who tried to get their hands on Snow's place were eliminated. What was better was that nothing could be traced back to the blonde male in a red suit. YN didn't worry about that.

She had to work overtime to make sure their paths didn't cross. Coriolanus never told her his plans so she could build hers. Oh, no. She had to scurry, like a rat, searching for his ideas to make sure they didn't clash with hers because, just like her mother told her, you can't put on everything best at once.

That's why YN sits in the dim, foul-smelling room on the outcast of the city during what was supposed to be a lunch hour. She almost laughs at the thought of her Coriolanus finding out where his wife spent this afternoon— in a brothel, in clothes that weren't even hers, without her usual jewellery and signature scent.

The door to the room opens quickly, but YN doesn't even bother looking in its direction. She knew what she was going to see there, so why bother?

''YN,'' the man in his forties breathes out, ''you came.''

Jerome. A tailored suit of dark brown, matching his hair. Wealthy, pretty enough, and damn stubborn. One of the few who refused to step down in elections, one of the few who still had a huge chance at winning them.

''Of course, I did—how could I not?'' She sheds a tear, breathing in his scent and hiding her face in his lean chest. ''I missed you, J; I missed you so much.''

They used to fuck before she married Coriolanus, ever since she turned eighteen. He even wanted to marry her for some time before she married Snow. YN was quite popular with the suitors; her husband was a fool for thinking other men didn't notice her. They did.

Jerome crushes her lips with his, leaving no time for talking. He was a serious man—a tough man, even—the type to endure the hardships of life without complaining. He is the type to get what he wants, no matter the obstacles. YN thinks he could've been on top instead of her dear husband if she only chose to marry him, but Jerome is too human for her. He is a man, a man who takes pleasure in her, and YN can't stand it. She likes her lovers without weaknesses, and Jerome isn't like that.

When an hour passes, YN thinks it is time to return home; she kisses Jerome goodbye one last time and waits for him to exit the room as quickly as he enters. That's the agreement: he pays for the room under his name; he deals with hosts and room service. YN just has to be, and he is happy with that.

She waits exactly fifteen minutes before she picks up her coat from the floor and puts it on—fifteen minutes is what was needed for a junkie she hired to stab Jerome in the ally seven times—for every year of their age gap when he first kissed her at her birthday party. Symbolic: She pays attention to the details, not only on her high-end dresses. YN imagines the headlines in the papers tomorrow morning: a respected politician found dead near the whorehouse. A death fit for a pig.

She leaves the building in a good mood—one more step to being the first lady of Panem—and she still has an hour before Coriolanus returns home. YN has everything in check, down to the smallest gist, except for the blonde man in the telephone booth across the street.

-

Coriolanus is mad. Another man, behind his back, even if for the sole purpose of eliminating him. He doesn't like that YN makes arrangements when it is he who is the man of the house, the driving force behind the successes. She forgot her place, and if he has to remind her, he will. Coriolanus always liked YN better with her mouth shut.

''How are things at work?'' YN asks, twirling in front of the mirror in their bedroom. It's like she doesn't notice his annoyed stare or his jealous eyes following her every move.

Coriolanus doesn't answer. He pulls her closer and takes off her robe in one swift motion. It falls on the floor, light blue fabric pooling around his feet. He searches for something—anything—to indicate another man's presence near her body or in it. Nothing—her skin glows under the faint light of lamps, free of any marks or scratches.

Coriolanus sighed with relief, his hands letting go of YN's hips. She looks at him, confused.

''Is there anything wrong? Why did you stop?''

He wants to slap her. To make her apologize, to make her beg for his forgiveness. But something in her deep eyes and painted lips makes his head cloud, stirring around a familiar mix of emotions. Anger. Lust. Fear. Maybe she was the death herself—he wouldn't know. The way YN laughed as he kissed her exposed skin, pressing a little too hard for it to be enjoyable, made blood rush to his body. ''Tell me,'' Coriolanus whispers in her ear. "Have you ever killed?"

YN grins, holding his reddened face in her hands. ''No, never.''

Coriolanus chuckles softly, diverting his gaze to her chest. A lie.

He turns her around, pushing her body on the bed before getting on his knees. That was the night he knew she had to die.

-

It wasn't hard to make her fall in love with him. Flowers on the doorstep of the mansion just in time for her to leave the house, along with a handwritten note declaring his undying affection. Make her less alert; make her more vulnerable. YN gave him the key to her demise easily—it was always him.

Coriolanus was good at ensuring everyone benefited him, and his wife did nothing better than play right into his hands. YN willingly planned her own funeral with her every move—she knew too much about his secrets and had become a liability. If only she knew better than to play with fire, she might have stood a chance.

It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it.

''New wine?'' YN motions to the tall bottle on the table as they eat dinner. ''Is this the one from the Darians?''

Coriolanus shakes his head. Darians. It was like fate was testing his patience, as if one headache wasn't enough. The only one of his possible opponents in the upcoming elections held a good amount of votes, mainly because of his recognizable name. The Darians were wine magnates, with at least forty vineyards under their name. Of course, they gifted wine bottles for holidays, and of course, it was nothing but a slap in the face—Coriolanus could very much afford to buy his own bottles.

''I bought this one yesterday. Would you like a glass?'' he pours before YN has time to agree; the dark red liquor fills their glasses, turning the transparent walls slightly pink. Coriolanus watches as his wife takes a big sip, surprise evident on her face.

''It's sweet,'' she announces but quickly corrects herself. ''But it is good. Unusual, but quite nice.''

''Really?'' He acts surprised and takes a small sip, not to raise any suspicion. ''It indeed is.''

They continue their dinner as usual, with occasional remarks here and there. Everything goes according to plan, with YN drinking from her glass more than twice more. Until it doesn't.

Fifty-five minutes.

This is how long he has before the poison kills him. Given that YN weighs less and consumes more, she should start to portray the first symptoms. She doesn't.

Twenty minutes pass, and Coriolanus feels a slight nausea. Twenty-five—his head starts lightly spinning. He watches his wife put down a fork and stare at the sky through the open window. If she faints now, he would still have time to drink the antidote, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles at his wandering gaze and asks for dessert.

When thirty minutes pass, Coriolanus feels a stream of blood travels down his chin onto the freshly washed shirt. He can't keep himself on the chair, sliding down from it on the carpeted floor. The surrounding furniture stands as if in a haze, and the only thing he can make out is the nearing steps of the heeled feet.

YN says something, kneeling beside him and putting his head on her lap, although he can't understand the word she utters. It hits him like a brick wall—the smell of roses radiating from her, the same perfume his mother wore. Her hands, although adorned with more rings than his mother could've possibly owned, are just as gentle when they touch his forehead.

''I'm sorry,'' he tries to choke out, but all that comes out of his mouth is hot, thick blood.

-

When Coriolanus wakes up in the hospital, he is frantic. The only thing he was familiar with was the only thing he tried so hard to escape. Fear. It spreads through his body, paralyzing his limbs in the white room of a singular bed. It chocks him, tugging the strings in his throat to leave hot, burning holes each time he swallows. It burns, and bites, and twists in his stomach; if he survives, YN will get her revenge.

That's why she kept him alive—to taunt and mock. He lost, once and for all, and got himself into a corner with no escape. There is no point in begging, no point in lying—his wife knows everything he did, and she won't hesitate to let the whole country know. Outsmarted, outplayed. Alone.

His eyes wander across the room in a last resort—he will take his own life, and she will have no power in making him a laughing stock. But the hospital room is empty; the only thing besides a small coffee table and bed is a pile of newspapers. Coriolanus stands up and almost falls in an attempt to reach them, yet manages to grab one. Just like he predicted, on the front page of it is the perfectly painted face of his wife; the beauty of it is disturbed only by a single tear rolling down her cheek.

POISONING ATTEMPT ON A FAMOUS POLITICIAN 

Three days ago, an attempted poisoning took place in the Snow's family's mansion. Our correspondent was lucky enough to ask a few questions to YN Snow, the wife of the victim.

''Tell me, Miss Snow, why do you think you and your husband were the targets of this crime?''

''I think it is rather obvious that motive was political; we all know that my husband posed a serious threat to Ethan Darius because he was estimated to win instead of him. That's why he decided to kill him in that dirty way, like a snake, with poison, instead of losing to him in a fair competition like any gentleman would!''

''And do you think there are any correlations between Mister Darius and a string of suspicious murders of civilians and people higher in power?''

''As far as my knowledge goes, the court is still deciding on the matter, but one thing I know for sure: if Ethan Darius went as far as to try to kill his opponent, what indicates he wouldn't have done the same with others? ''

''People of Panem were moved by the love you and your husband seem to hold for each other ever since your wedding, but the way you fight for justice made many wonder - will we see you as a first lady of Panem soon?''

''I just do what any person would—it is my duty as a wife and as a citizen to advocate for those who were wronged. As for your question, I do think this happening only solidified that our country and political scene need change. And change is what my husband stands for.''

''And lastly, is there anything you wish you could say to your husband right now?''

''I would want to remind him of a simple truth:  the one who is more afraid always strikes first. Thank you.''

Coriolanus didn't need to read anymore. YN made sure she wasn't going anywhere if he did something like that in the future—the public loved her before, but now they will go crazy. But that didn't bother him too much; on the contrary, he was rather impressed. Coriolanus felt fear leave his body with every breath. His place took something else, something he couldn't quite name yet—the feeling of stillness in his stomach. He wondered if that's what fullness felt like. A sweet, honey-like sensation in his veins.

-

The hall of the president's house is filled with what seems to be hundreds of people. Tables are overflowing with the most exquisite dishes, and laughter fills the air.

''Corio, look! The kids are dressed as little snowflakes—for us! Oh, isn't it so cute?'' YN coes, motioning at the girls-ballerinas in white tutus. They twirl on the stage, their movements mimicking the ones of snow falling outside.

He doesn't care if they are dressed as giant cockroaches, but he still nods in agreement. Coriolanus watches as YN steals one white rose from the piles decorating the balcony and throws it on stage, laughing in delight when girls start to argue over it.

There are flashes of cameras capturing every interaction between them; he knows that, so he places his hand on the back of the chair YN sits on. She looks as beautiful as always, perfect from every angle. His wife might be poison, dangerous, and lethal, but he is the one who knows that, when handled with care, it brings much more benefits to its owner than any other weapon.

Coriolanus already envisions their photo as the headline tomorrow morning—beside them, the big, bold letters.

Panem today.

He feels YN place a kiss on his cheek, staining it a little with her red lipstick.

Panem tomorrow.

Coriolanus smiles and brings her closer, whispering a compliment in her ear. 

Panem forever.

The hall erupts with applause and cheers, some even going as far as shouting words of admiration for the new president and his wife. 

They are the guard dogs, and they are the house dogs guard. And, until the last brick of it is there, they will bite. 

tag list (do tell me if I'm doing it wrong) @aemondsb1tch @cecekcecekceckceckceck @queenofshinigamis @julesandro

[taeghi]

silver spoons | (m)

READ HERE

🦢 summary : in the shadows of old money elites, you've always felt like an outsider amidst the glimmer of silver spoons and whispered secrets. raised by hardworking parents on society's fringes, opulence seemed a distant dream until a scholarship to Sterling Academy opens the your dream's doors. there, amidst the marble halls and manicured lawns, you encounter jake, the enigmatic heir of one of the oldest and wealthiest families who lets you in in all the high society secrets. just be careful to not indulge in their world too much; since once you are an outsider, you are always an outsider.

🦢 genre : old money, angst, smut ;D

🦢 pairing : scholarship girl x old money!jake

🦢 word count : 30k lmaooo

🦢taglist : ??????

mdNi

[elegantsplendour]

Once Upon A Time, A Dragon Met a Swan

Summary: After the Greens have won the war and Aegon’s passing, Aemond is crowned king. You, a high born lady he fell in love with during the Dance when he served as Prince Regent, became his queen. Years after your marriage, you’re still in love with each other as ever. One day, you discover age had a surprise for you.

Contains / warnings: fluff, king! Aemond, queen! Reader, smut, pregnancy, brink of death, happy ending

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💌

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @theroyaldixon @buglyberry @aemondx

Word count: 2k

Amidst the grand feast held in honor of your first born son Rhaegar's nomination as heir, the King and Queen of Seven Kingdoms adorned themselves in opulent attire, captivating all eyes. You wore a gown that sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand stars, its black and white hues revealing the elegance of your bare shoulders. Aemond's robe, a tapestry of red and black, was meticulously embroidered with golden thread, each stitch a testament to the Targaryen dynasty's resplendent might, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon.

As the solemn ceremony unfolded, the weight of destiny hung in the air, but it was the magnetic pull between you and Aemond that whispered a more primal truth. With each step on the dance floor, a current of enthralling energy surged through your veins, igniting a passionate flame that only grew stronger as the night wore on.

As the final notes reverberated through the hall, Aemond drew you into an embrace that spoke of a deep longing. His voice, low and husky, caressed your ear, "I need you tonight, my queen," A sly grin curved on your lips as his plea awakened a burning ache inside you.

The mighty Aemond Targaryen, pleading for your touch.

Not that the king and queen were not intimate in the privacy in their chambers.

Whispers have it that the queen has an insatiable appetite for her king.

You leaned close, the warmth of your breath grazing the skin of his neck, "There hasn't been a night when I haven't yearned for you," you teased, "Your Grace."

The air crackled with anticipation as Aemond caught his breath, captivated by your formality. Leaning his head against yours, he murmured, "You are insatiable as ever, my queen." A seductive glimmer sparkled in your eyes as you whispered back, "Then chase me to our chamber, my king." Leaving him burning with desire, you gracefully slipped away from his grasp, your sway like a seductive siren's call.

As the grand feast approached its final moments, Aemond hurried to your chamber, his heart pounding with a mix of longing and urgency. There, he found you standing near the balcony, the moon casting a gentle glow upon your exposed back. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his hands encircling your waist as his lips found the tender skin of your neck. A smile curled your lips, radiant with adoration and a hunger that mirrored his own. "Is that a wrinkle, Aemond?" you playfully remarked, planting a soft, teasing kiss where the mark of time would be.

Aemond cupped your cheeks, his deep chuckle resonating through the room. "Unfortunately, I lack the immunity to aging that you possess, my love," he confessed. Undeterred, you drew him into a fierce kiss, the intensity of your love blazing like a wildfire. "Nonsense," you purred against his lips, the fire in your eyes mirroring the heat between you. "Your Valyrian blood grants you such… an eternal grace."

With a surge of passion, Aemond's hand ripped away the fabric of your gown, leaving you gasping in delightful surprise. He swept you into his arms, carrying you to the bed with a mix of tenderness and urgency. His kisses trailed a scorching path down your body, igniting every nerve with searing pleasure. "Fear not, my love," he assured, his voice laced with raw desire. "Age brings with it a wealth of experience." As his lips traced down your neck, your breasts, your belly, and eventually down your core, your lips quivered with restrained moans as you pleaded, "Aemond, seal my lips with yours, otherwise I’ll lose control!”

You heard a barely audible chuckle before an overwhelming pleasure incited a loud moan, “Gods, Aemond.” His tongue worked expertly between your folds, his movements demanding yet tender.

“Beg for me, my love. I will give you what you want and more.”

“I want you inside me,” implored as you arched your back, showing him shamelessly how your body longed for him.

“Hmm,” Your king lifted his head, his good eye and sapphire piercing through you with amusement, “Here I thought my insatiable queen preferred some more torment.”

You left out a gasp as his rough movements transformed into a series of soft kisses around your most intimate parts but never really reached there.

His strong arms held your thighs in place as your body trembled and squirmed under his magic.

“Your Grace, please,” this time, your voice laced no more with desperation, but seductively while feigning innocence, “Spoil your poor queen.”

With a satisfied grin on his face, he hovers over you while giving a tight squeeze on your buttocks, “Is that what you want, love? To be so thoroughly ravished that you can’t even walk tomorrow?”

“No,” you breathe, uttering each word clearly,“I want you to make me unable to sit tomorrow.”

With that, Aemond finally crashes your lips, muffling your desperate moans as he thrusts into you forcefully.

Hands pinned by his muscular arms above your head, all you can think of is the sinful slapping of your skins, his growls amidst the mind-blowing pleasure crashing your core.

As Aemond felt your walls convulse, he grinned, “Let it out, my love. Let them hear you. Let King’s Landing know that the blood of the dragon runs hot.”

With a loud cry, you reached your peak together.

As he collapsed on your body, you didn’t waste a second to roll yourself on top of him, tantalizing him with your gentle yet teasing kisses.

Bathed in the exhaustion of love-making, he held you in his arms. Silence reigned over the bed chamber, the moon light casting an ethereal glow on both of you.

“I am the happiest Targaryen ever lived,”he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “If not the only one, thanks to you, my love. Before we met, I never thought a life like this was possible. With my father’s negligence and the Dance, I convinced myself that power was my only way out. For a time, I felt I was beyond redemption,” he confessed, hands tracing your jawline.

You held him tighter, cupping his cheeks, “Aemond, you are not like that anymore. You are strong. You have become a man your father never was, a man Aegon never was,” your unwavering gaze full of conviction, “You carry people, you carry the realm, our children, you carry me.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek with a contented sigh, “You are my life.”

After a peaceful silence, Aemond hovered on you again with a mischievous glint, “Ready for round two, my queen?”

You burst in laughter, “And here you said I was the insatiable one.”

The next morning, Aemond and you, hands tangled together, sneaked into the garden with a book in hand; the fresh moments before the Small Council’s meeting have become your morning ritual, reminding you both of the liveliness of your younger days.

Your children, unknown to you, gossiped while observing you from a distance. Baelon, the most mischievous of them all, rolled his eyes and whispered, “I am glad that our parents still behave like two newlyweds, but I simply wish that they would make their methods of maintaining their youth…” he paused in suspense, “Less audible.”

Elaena giggled uncontrollably. Even Rhaegar, the ever dutiful and serious son, couldn’t help but to chuckle, “It has been a long time since the realm has seen the king and queen so fiercely in love and devoted to each other.”

Just as the siblings giggled in secret, they heard a loud thud.

“Y/N !” Aemond screamed as you fell on the ground, “Call the maesters!” He picked you up and rushed to their chamber. As the royal family gathered nervously at the bedside, the maester turned around, smiling, “Congratulations, Your Grace, the queen is with child, again.” Aemond’s eye opened in surprise and joy but quickly it was quickly replaced by concern, “Is her health strong enough for delivering another child? I do not wish to risk her life, ever.”

The maester nodded, “Her Grace’s condition is impeccable for pregnancy. It is a rare thing for a woman her age.”

Relief washed over Aemond’s face as he traced your unconscious features. Elaena, fascinated by Aemond’s devoted gaze, whispered to Rhaegar, “If my future lord husband doesn’t look at me the way father looks at mother, I don’t want him.”

Rhaegar smiled, his eyes shimmering, causing Elaena's cheeks to flush. "I have absolute faith in you, my dear," he whispered.

Ten moons went by as fast as a wheel, but your labour was not nearly as easy as the maesters had described. You screamed in agony as the maesters informed Aemond regretfully, “Your Grace, Her Grace most likely may not survive, but there might be a way for the child to survive.” Aemond's eye blazed with fury, understanding the implications behind their words, "What you speak of borders on treason! I want her, the queen. If she dies, I will have every one of your heads."

The children trembled at their father ‘s roar, they had never seen him so much in despair and anger. their innocent hearts shattered by the sight of his despair and anger. They wept, clinging to one another, seeking solace in their shared fear and sorrow.

Aemond gripped your hands, tears falling down like a torrential downpour, “Fight for me, love. You are my life. It’s all my fault, I should’ve given you the tea…. ” You manage a painful smile , “It’s not your fault, Aemond. I… I had a wonderful life. You are… you and our children are at far the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never believed in destiny before, but… this is my time.”

Aemond held your hands desperately, “No, don’t you dare leave me, y/n! Don’t condemn me to an eternity of misery.”

In that moment of agony and farewell, the door to the chamber was forcefully opened.

“Rhaegar, you’re here,” You sobbed, the staggering pain muffling your words, “I thought… I thought you were at Highgarden visiting your betrothed.”

Rhaegar clasped your hands, his gaze fixed on you, “Mother, I have faith in you. Fight for us, please.”

Your boy, your first born, has grown into a fierce warrior, future protector of the realm. As you locked eyes with his violet gaze, a rush of distant memories flooded your mind, intertwining with the present moment.

The Dance had just concluded with a realm ruled by ashes, uncertainty and the Targaryen line shattered.

Where was the Prince Regent?

Pentos, in the arms of his beloved lady.

Amidst the blood-red dawn, a dragon and a swan sought refuge from violence and destruction, swirling on the shore of the Narrow Sea. Their laughter and love filled the air as if no one else existed in the world, with only the gods as witnesses to the passion of their love. Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, their bodies entwined, sealing their destiny until the end of time.

It was at that moment your first little dragon, Rhaegar, came to you.

Clinging onto the most cherished memory of your life and clenching your fists in the sheets, you let out a primal scream that seemed to reverberate through the entire Keep, pushing with a ferocity that defied your destiny, your determination burning like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

Your husband clutched you in his arms, his body seemed like an anchor to your life. Aemond gritted teeth as yours sank into his skin, his shoulder bearing the imprint of your bite, almost drawing blood. He longed to share your pain to shoulder the burden in your stead.

In a miraculous moment, you gave birth to a fragile little infant daughter. Tears streamed down your face like a river. You laid on the labour bed, trembling with both relief and agony, cried like a child while Aemond held you with all his might, “Aemond, it hurts.”

“It’s over, love. You’re so strong, so brave. I love you. I love you beyond everything,” his confession quivered, a testament of close call of losing you.

Shortly after, you drifted to slumber out of exhaustion.

Centuries later, in a scroll of healing account kept in the Citadel, the miraculous birth of Princess Daenyra Targaryen and survival of the Queen Y/N, wife of King Aemond Targaryen I, defied all reason, a baffling enigma to Westeros' maesters. Defying all signs of demise, love and hope emerged victorious even against the gods’ will.

Bedroom scene imagine

(From 1:45 makes me🤤🥰🤭）

“And a lust for life,

Keeps us alive.”

“And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places.”

[bloodlust-1]

୨⎯ May I Have This Dance? ⎯୧

Astarion x fem Tav — Fluff

Summary: A celebration! A royal party is thrown for the hero’s of Baldurs Gate, and everyone is dressed for perfection. Astarion eyes Tav as she is offered many dances, waiting to get his turn.

Note: I had this thought of Astarion eyeing Tav down at a ballroom setting, jealous of the guys asking for a dance. And well, here’s this straight from my noggin’

The latest 18+ fic (Halsin)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

In the grand ballroom, adorned with opulent chandeliers and intricately designed carvings on the ceiling, a lavish gathering was taking place for a special group. The room was filled with an air of excitement and anticipation as guests dressed in extravagant attire mingle and socialize. The men tailored in beautifully made jackets of all kinds of styles. The women wore elegant gowns that cascaded to the floor, embellished with sequins, lace, and intricate embroidery.

As the music begins to play, all eyes are drawn to one particular girl, Tav. She was definitely nervous for this event. Not because of how many people were there, but how fancy the event was. Tav was a noble before the tadpole situation, her bloodline magic descended from dragons long ago. Tav was familiar with a setting like this, but she did feel a glint of shyness because no one in her group had seen her this way. This felt a bit vulnerable for her especially in front of Astarion who was also familiar with ballroom adequate. She didn’t want to get judge for not knowing her waltz properly for sure. However, Tav exuded an aura of grace and confidence as her dress moves gracefully across the polished marble floor. Her gown was masterpiece of fashion, it huged her figure perfectly, accentuating her every curve. The dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that caught the light and created a mesmerizing sight in the eyes of the guests.

Her hair was meticulously styled into an elaborate updo, adorned with delicate jewels that glimmered in the soft glow of the ballroom lights. Of course, Tav had a great taste for style and knew what exactly fit her body. Her makeup was flawless, it enhanced her natural beauty and highlighting her striking features. Particularly her mismatched eyes, thanks to Volo.

“You look beautiful as ever, Tav.” A hand reached out to Tav, It was Gale.

Her smiled emulated warmth and she took his hand, “And as for you, good wizard.” She joked while doing a small curtsy.

“I knew you were a noble, but this is a side I’ve never seen of you before. It’s interesting to think about when I’m so used to seeing you snugged in a bedroll on the dirt floor. But of course, this is also a great view as well...” Gale cleared his throat for that last sentence, his face had gone red for a moment. He then smiled and led Tav onto the dance floor.

Tav nodded and followed Gale. But she looked around for familiar faces. She had caught glimpse of Wyll, shadowheart, and even Karlach that for surely was not wearing a dress. It was a beautifully tailored feminine jacket, and she looked fantastic. It was definitely more her style. Though, she was hoping to see someone else, Astarion. They had an intense romance while traveling together, and she was disappointed to have not spotted him out in the crowd. He was the only one who could really stir up her heart, with the history they made together. Astarion promised Tav he would be at the event, it was a matter of time of when he would pop up.

“My lady.” Gale kindly placed his hand on Tav’s waist as she placed hers on his shoulder. Hand in hand Gale began to waltz Tav on the polished floor. They danced and Gale was captivated by Tav’s beauty and grace. He thought she was like an actual princess even. He was steady and lead her around the dance floor. Tav even caught glimpses of Wyll who was smirking at the sight of the two dancing. It made her a little shy.

Across the room stood Astarion. He came fashionably late with his laced red top, it was very fitting for the dress code. He instantly smelled Tav’s sweet blood in the air. It led him to her with the sight of Gale. They danced swiftly, but Astarion instantly thought he could do better. He was too sloppy with his feet.

Astarion crossed his arms and leaned his back against a pillar. He watched Tav enjoy herself in the crowd. She was gracefully passed from partner to partner of many men Astarion was familiar with. Ones that he saw staring at her with loving eyes during camp. He knew that state all too well. But he also enjoyed seeing Tav so fluid. Engaging and captivating the crowd with her confidence and beauty. Astarion was equally mesmerized by her presence.

The atmosphere in the ballroom was electric and lively, filled with whispers of admiration and awe. The guests cannot help but be drawn to this captivating woman who stolen the spotlight. They are captivated by her elegance, poise, and undeniable charm. Tav effortlessly commanding the room's focus. Her presence was magnetic, and she effortlessly captivated the hearts and minds of all who have the privilege of witnessing her grace.

Astarion felt a mix of emotions— admiration, desire, possessiveness, and jealousy. He is unable to tear his eyes away from her as she twirled and spun with other men. Specifically Gale, who was a little more touchy than normal. He looked like a puppy following her around, tail wagging between his legs.

Tav took a break between the music and excused herself from Gale. She smiled and walked off from the dance floor. Astarion’s gazed followed her as she walked into a vacant part of the palace. He followed her moments later.

Tav’s heels clicked against the marble floor, it stretched out before her in its great emptiness. The room was lined with many mirrors of tall stature. She took small steps, heels clicking as her reflection stares back at her. Each mirror capturing every different angle of her, showing all sides of her beauty. Tav almost couldn’t recognize herself. Not after getting used to seeing bruises, blood, and war gear. This was a much more wealthy side of her. She wasn’t sure if it even represented herself anymore. She got used to living a simple life traveling.

She stared into the reflection of herself before hearing a voice, “You look absolutely beautiful, darling.”

Tav was startled at the compliment and saw no other reflection behind her, she immediately turned her head and saw Astarion in his best suit. She felt her cheeks go warm, “Astarion, You made it!”

He smiled gently, “of course, we are the guests of honor after all, hm.” He started to walk closer to Tav. The mirrors were empty with his existence. But she knew she wasn’t dreaming, this was real. Astarion was very much real and alive even if the mirror couldn’t show him how handsome he looked.

Astarion reached out for Tav’s hand, her skin was met with a warm kiss, “I admire your dancing skills, you could be holding a candle while dancing and it wouldn’t go out. I’m impressed with you. However…”Astarion held her hand and placed it over his shoulder, “I couldn’t say the same for your dance partner. Perhaps I can show you a real dance?”

Tav’s cheeks flushed, she nodded her head in a moment of shock. Sometimes she just didn’t know how to react to Astarion’s advancements. He was so charming. She looked into his ruby eyes, “A pleasure…” a soft whisper left her lips. Her heart was racing and she felt her legs go shaky. Why was dancing with him such a hard task, she just did it moments ago!

What Tav didn’t know is that Astarion felt the nervousness off her body. The little quivers from her hands and shoulders tense. He tried to ease her with a gentle squeeze from his hand around her waist, “Relax, love. I want you to enjoy this.”

She took a deep breath in and they took their first step together. What was a brief moment of tension melted away. Their bodies were perfectly aligned, as they gracefully swifted across the empty room. It amplified their foot steps and the mirrors showcased a movie of Tav’s reflection dancing as if no one was there. It was so magical. The attraction between them illuminated the atmosphere. The tension was so thick between the two. The pair became a timeless motion of synchronized passion.

Astarion’s gaze never left Tav’s face and it was nothing short of love and admiration. Every step they took was a showcase of passion in one beautiful dance. Tav let herself go in the moment and let out giggles and smiles as they waltz. Astarion brought Tav closer against his body and the show came to a sudden halt. Both their chests rose up and down from heavy breathing against each other’s bodies.

Astarion placed his hand under Tav’s chin, bringing her face up to his gaze. She clutched his shirt as he leaned in and placed a heated kiss on her lips. Tav has never seen Astarion’s face so red. And this wasn’t blood, it was his cheeks lit up like a fire.

“I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. And to see you at every angle..” Astarion looked at the mirrors around the ballroom floor. Each mirror represented a different side of Tav’s features. Her skin was unblemished aside from small scars, her lips like rose petals, but most of all those eyes. He couldn’t get enough of them. How filled of life they were. They shined like stars. Astarion was absolutely star stuck by her presence more than ever.

Tav’s heart melted under his grasp. But there was something also lingering in her head. Tav was still unsure where her and Astarion stood with each other. The thought of maybe just a fling hurt her heart. She knew her heart was trying to tell her more. The way her chest tightens with him, the heat of her cheeks flushing up, but the most of all…how the thought of him kept her up long nights. How unfair it was to not have him alongside her bed. It did hurt.

“I need to know…” Tav cleared her throat but it still cracked anyway. “If we are just to find each other in times of loneliness o-or, are we something that could blossom into something more meaningful?” Tav passionately stared at Astarion. She went completely shakey, yet there was a tone of authority in her voice. She knew she wanted more with Astarion, but he was too unpredictable. She feared she was just company when he wanted affection.

Astarion gave her sad eyes, his expression instantly went somber. There was a long pause. A once lively ballroom moment turned into an intense one. “Tav…”

She started to pull away from him. This wasn’t the way she expected him to respond. In a way she hoped for more. Maybe it was her own expectations of him that’ll be the cause of her heart break. “Every night I laid in my bed, thinking of how I would finally tell you how I truly feel. B-but I can’t feel like this a-anymo—“

Astarion cut her off and grabbed her body into his in an embrace. He held her tight. He did not say anything nor did he lose his grip. Just a long gap of hugging her body, smelling her scent. As he finally pulled away he saw streams of tears flow down her cheeks. How long has she been hiding her feelings for him? He couldn’t tell for sure, but it was driving him crazy that she didn’t tell him this earlier.

he swiped his knuckles against the tears to dry her cheeks, “please don’t cry. Tell me how you feel then. I need to know the truth.”

She bit her inner lip. Her nerves started to take over again. Her eyes started to feel hot, Tav was never a public cryer by any means. She almost felt embarrassed for Astarion to see her like this, “I’ve loved you for a long time now..I thought maybe you only saw me to pass time. I thought maybe it was just your trauma instincts kicking in, to charm me. In a way, I was delusional enough to hope so badly that your affection wasn’t that. But in reality..” she took a deep breath before shutting her eyes tightly, tears flowed down harder. She sobbed quietly, “…B-Be someone who was special to you. It hurts too much. Not seeing you for long periods of time. I thought I could be special to you. I just don’t know. B-but— I beg you please just be honest with me so I can heal.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you often after everything ended. I didnt want to overstep my welcome…I did not know how much that would hurt you. I had suspicion that maybe you saw me differently after Cazador’s death. The way you found out how I’d lure victims to him. I never meant to be the reason you’re tossing and turning at night. I’m truly, utterly sorry…” he reached out to clasp her hands in his own, “But if there was one thing I was certain about, it was that you were going to be mine. I haven’t felt differently since.”

Astarion clutched her hands tighter, “You don’t even know how much I love you. You’re the first person I truly cared for in over 200 years.”

It was an instant relief. The mental load was excruciatingly heavy on her heart. Finally could she enjoy her moment with Astarion that didn’t have the uncertainty of their relationship poking her head.

“You know, I could prove it to you how serious I am.” Astarion cupped her cheeks and swipe away any tears. “Let’s get you cleaned up, I want to show everyone something.”

He cleaned up her wet face and grabbed her hand. Astarion led her back into the party. The music was still playing but everyone seemingly turned their heads back on Tav, who was the star of the party. People of all races saw the vampire and hero hand-in-hand. The rumors of Tav’s romanced did circle around the city, but those were just rumors?! Right? The community had no real evidence of their rumored romance until now. Small gasps, whipsers, and even wide eyed stares pierced the couple.

Astarion walked to the center of the room, making sure to grab a glass of wine on a servers tray. The room fell silent, as all eyes were fixed on him as he lifted his cup. He still held Tav’s hand in the other, “Our city stands tall, it embodies strength as we continue to defeat any threat that comes to us, Buldarians! We were prayed on, stripped of our hope. But still, we persevered. We couldn’t have done it without each other, my friends…and, of course our heads held up high with Tav’s bravery.” He held her hand up high and the crowd began to cheer and clap. She was hero after all.

“She is all of our hero’s. I am lucky to call her my lover. My reason why I can stand here and give this speech to you all. Tonight, we dance, drink, and celebrate our freedom! As I will enjoy mine…Cheers!”Everyone cheered, and clank their wine glasses with each other. Both Tav and Astarion could see familiar faces. Wyll cheered, Shadowheart smirked and clapped her hands, Gale looked bittersweet, and Karlach yelled and pointed her finger, “I KNEW IT! Ahaha!”

Astarion kissed Tav’s forehead. So this is what he meant by proving it. He wanted everyone to know what she meant to him. An equal and a lover.

“Everyone saw how special you are to me…and tonight..” he glared red eyes at her, “they’ll hear how special you are to me.” He smirked and laughed devilishly.

“But for now— May I have this dance, my sweet?”

[dark-and-kawaii]

Unexpecected Care

Raphael x GN!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary:

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: A gift for @russica <3 Thank you so much for the little goober art! Hope you enjoy this xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Soft Raphael | Bathing With The Cambion | Tender | Comfort

During evenings like these, Raphael frequently experienced a deep desire for your contact, a sentiment he consistently kept silent, wary of the potential exposure of his innermost feelings. He felt a sense of unease at the thought of being so vulnerable. However, fate has a peculiar sense of humor.

When he entered his boudoir, he was greeted by a vision that evoked a strange sensation within his soul. There you were, positioned at the center of the room, draped in dirt and with blood smeared across your visage.

You sighed, exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and in this moment, all you sought was the presence of the devil you had grown so accustomed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this unorthodox intrusion, adorned as you are in such a... Feral state?”

He stepped closer, his gaze swept over your unkept appearance, and for a fleeting moment a crease of genuine concern furrowed his brow as he observed a droplet of blood trail down from your cheek. His voice, momentarily stripped of its affected grandeur, carried a note of unusual sincerity, “What befell you, my little mouse.”

The trace of worry in the devil's eyes, Raphael's concern, prompted a gentle smile to bloom across your face.

“No need to fret, my devil,” you murmured, your arms lifting up as a way to show you’re fine, “It's not my blood. Your little mouse is perfectly fine.” 

He extended his hand, invitingly, “Come,” he urged in a gentle command that you found yourself unable to resist. As your hand slipped into his, the unexpected gentleness of his grasp contrasted sharply with the usual firmness you had come to associate with him.

He led you to his healing bath, a haven designed for restoration and peace. His voice, low and soothing, issued another instruction, “Turn,” to which you complied without hesitation.

As he carefully began to peel away your soiled clothing, his expression soured upon discovering that not all the blood was foreign. The sight of the small lacerations on your arm seemed to disturb the poise he typically showcased.

His touch became delicate as his fingers traced the minor wounds, eliciting a flinch from you. It was then, in the quiet of his boudoir, that his eyes softened with a glimmer of compassion. 

With you now settled into the warm embrace of his healing bath, Raphael took position behind you. He reached for a cloth and, with a tenderness that would have surprised any onlooker familiar with his usual demeanor, he began to tend to your injuries, dabbing at them with the care of someone who found themselves unexpectedly concerned for another's wellbeing. As if he was your lover of many years.

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on your bare form, a sight that seemed to please him and provide a sense of satisfaction that his opulent surroundings alone could not, for once.

You allowed yourself to lean back slightly, your body easing into the expanse of his chest. Your eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the care and attention he lavished upon you. Raphael's touch, once expected to be harsh and demanding, was now tender and healing. 

The warmth of the water, combined with the softness of his ministrations, coaxed your muscles to relax, and you found solace in this unexpected sanctuary. It was strange, but you could feel it. Could feel how you both were letting the walls you both often held so high to crumble in the solace of this intimate moment.

Raphael's hands, usually instruments of assertive command, now traced your sides with a different intent. His lips brushed a small wound on your shoulder, prompting your lips to part in silent wonder. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as he indulged in the need to feel your skin against his.

His voice, a soft baritone, resonated in the quietude of the chamber. “I must admit, there is a certain... allure in this closeness,” he whispered, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, “The sensation of your skin, warm and real against mine… it's a luxury even I could not have anticipated desiring.”

You could feel his chest rise and fall with a measured rhythm, a silent echo of his controlled exterior giving way to his human instincts wishing for touch and connection.

“Raphael…” you called out, a whisper. You couldn’t see his face, yet you could tell, you could feel how his lips curled up into a genuine smile as he heard his name slip from your lips, a rarity from this proud devil.

His fingers gently tilted your head, turning it towards him. When his lips met yours, the kiss was soft and sweet. 

The kiss, tender and lingering, had broken only for you to turn into his embrace fully, your head finding his shoulder. Your body, weary yet content, melded into his as if you were two seamless pieces of a long forgotten puzzle.