#shadows even the silver spoon

[bragganhyl]

well... despite my best efforts i sure as hell managed to land Berci in the middle of a love triangle ✌️

which is both very funny bc pffff lmao imagine fighting over him but at the same time it's really frustrating bc... yeah

[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 :)

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

[harmonysanreads]

Dosis Sola Facit Venenum

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Yandere!Jiaoqiu x Reader

cw(s) : yandere themes, force feeding, drugging, implications of munchausen syndrome, biting, gaslighting, non-consensual touching, intrusive thoughts, victim blaming. read at your own discretion.

「 word count : 900+ 」 「 read on ao3 」

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Tagging @yandere-romanticaa I did not expect to write Jiaoqiu content so soon TvT

Your naïveté knows no bounds. Pushing, objecting, fighting and defying a phenomenon your senses can't even perceive. Blinded in spite of a functioning vision, immobilized even at the absence of tangible restraints. You protest and mewl and reject, but you're oblivious to what against. It's enough to lure out the claws kept in check, entice them to sink into layers of tender flesh.

Your turned head and stretched palm before his insistent advances are delightful to spectate, so much so the healer can't for once peel his eyes away. “I feel full.”

“Full? From two measly spoons of medicinal stew?” he tilts his head as though to better gauge the increasing pressure between your reddened lips. Blood rushes to and paints your skin in a flush, he can very well predict your next words.

“You call that medicine? It's spicy enough to burn my whole digestive system!” you all-but roar at his placid face, Jiaoqiu gives but a hum in exchange.

The bite of the capsaicin renders you restless, his scheming gaze doing little to soothe your distress. You are a pitiful, confused thing ; aiming your arrows without direction in hopes of eliminating whatever it is that sends you in disarray. A hunter lost in a maze of a forest, soon to lose their titular identity and succumb to the shadows' calling.

Your stare is dumb when his thumb swipes across the residue stew clinging to the corner of your lips, a shudder nearly cracks his facade when his tongue acquaints with the taste.

“Barely stings. If I add any less of a spice than this, it's going to taste like distilled water.”

Jiaoqiu nearly tsks at the way your fingers clench the ends of your garment, it should've been him — not some measly piece of fabric in the clutches of your attention. But the silence that now spreads around the room intrigues him, for once you have nothing sassy to say.

“Whatever. I'm not eating any more of that Jiaoqi—mmph!”

Silly little thing. Cloaking yourself in sickness in order to escape your duties, provoking a famed healer to cure your mystery, non-existent ailment. You're a sinner just as much as you're a sin, bit by agonizing bit, ensnaring his soul in your dainty grasp yet sporting the audacity to not see it. Jiaoqiu knows he could never escape from beneath your fingertips, but he can attempt to seize your flighty little being in a death grip.

There's a scintilla of defiance in your pupils even as his hand grasps your jaw, shining through the discomfort induced by the silver spoon shoving a mouthful of that detestable stew and not relenting until the movement of your throat determines its consumption. Your breaths are stirred in abrupt patterns, titillating the Foxian's interest. You eye his lingering fingers absentmindedly squeezing close the flesh of your cheeks, a few dots of darkness almost blurring your vision.

“Was that necessary?” you bite out vengefully.

“I think I need to cure that attitude of yours before whatever sickness it is that prevents you from doing that one particular work. As for whether this is necessary?” Jiaoqiu's free hand slides down to your right wrist, the fabric of his glove makes unwanted gooseflesh appear on your skin.

“Look at how skinny you're getting. Even an old fox like me could snap this in half and you're whining about me keeping you under observation? You really don't know what's best for yourself.”

You sputter at his pointed words, “I'm not that weak... and I definitely don't need your specialized medicinal stew to cure me—heck, I'm not even actually sick!” you snap with vigor but can't find the energy to snatch back your wrist.

“Oh really?” a squeeze to your cheeks shuts you up, the heat in his orange eyes threaten to engulf the spark still keeping you alight.

“But that's where you're wrong. You are sick and you do need me and my healing art. If you aren't in fact sick, how come you can't even keep your eyes on mine anymore?”

No amount of spice could rival the image that paints itself before him, muscles fighting the pull of slumber and sagging before his voracious gaze. Not even a single coherent word can escape from your heavy tongue and shut lips, no finger vigorous enough to lift against his grabby hands.

Jiaoqiu observes the pliant face in his grasp. The scent of fear and desperation tickles his nose and beckons him closer to the sin, fangs so insistently obscured now sinks on the first bite of his demise. You flinch upon the intrusion of something sharp on the skin of your throat, collapsing to a pair of awaiting arms. Indentions marr the previously flawless canvas, a sheen of saliva shines obscenely and the Foxian is certain he's too far gone.

Your resilience is an infuriating trait, especially in response to the forces that try to weaken the fire in your soul. When one drop of Tumbledust fails, a second is added and if this continues for more than one meal — even the most roaring flame will be rendered suppliant.

The dosage of medicine is an area of caution for any physician, prescribing more than what is necessary can accelerate the erosion of health. But without sickness and ailment, what value does a healer hold? Without the presence of this flame that brightens his stale life, what purpose is there for Jiaoqiu to continue pursuing this existence?

Naïve, pitiful, agonizing, sinful, intoxicating — he'd never run out of adjectives to describe you. You brought him to ruination, and an eternal damnation he'd choose still before the prospect of losing you, too.

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 5

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

ANGST, vomiting, Mention of the death of Mama Archeron

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Nesta could remember one time…the first winter they had spent in that godforsaken cottage…were Feyre had been so sick with fever, that Nesta had thought Feyre was going to die. 

It had reminded her eerily of her mother’s last days sick with Typhus…of the swelling scent of sick, the bright red cheeks and otherwise pale, clammy skin…

And she also remembered how she had behaved abhorrently. 

Eira had been the one taking care of Feyre. Their father had been useless as always. Nest had spit and snapped and Elain had…well, Elain had pretended like Feyre wasn’t a step away from dying. 

Elain was good at that. 

Eira had stoked the fire…Eira had made a bed out of blankets and pillows in front of it for Feyre…Eira had cooked soup and spooned it in their sister’s mouth. Eira had gone and begged their neighbour for her recipe for a cough medicine…and had then poured that down Feyre’s throat a well, cleaning up the vomit when Feyre threw it all up. 

Eira had done that. 

Eira had always done all of that. 

She had taken care of them all in these years in that cottage, had somehow managed to make sure that they all had two dresses to wear and that one was always clean…had managed to grow misshapen vegetables in that tiny patch of garden they had. If she hadn’t, Nesta was sure that they would have starved throughout one long winter. 

Eira was the second-born, right after Nesta. And somehow…while Nesta had always taken care of Elain…she had never done the same for Eira. 

Had never needed to. Eira had always taken care of everybody around her. 

Even now…She was still taking care of them all in her own ways, had gone out of her way to see Nesta every week, regardless of what Nesta had thrown at her head…took care of Nyx whenever Feyre asked, rocking him to sleep…helped Elain in the garden. 

And Nesta quietly wondered if anybody ever took care of Eira. 

Of Eira, who laid in her bed just like Feyre had done then…Pale and glowing with fever, covered with Azriel’s shadows, who did everything they could to preserve her modesty. 

She wondered what…wondered if he had given them that order. Or maybe they were self-aware enough to do it for themselves…

She wondered if it gave her sister any form of comfort from that, through that fledgeling mating bond. 

“If you show her naked form to him, I’ll burn you to crisps,” she hissed at the shadows who just ignored her. 

Rhys sat silently and unmoving, his face blank, chiselled in granite and Nesta swallowed at that. 

Maybe he could take some of the pain from her. Eira didn’t deserve the pain. 

Eira deserved nothing of this. 

Why had it been her? 

Why Eira? 

Why Eira, who had been turned into a fae just like Nesta and Elain had? And while Nesta had raged and Elain had spent weeks in that state between alive and dead, once again needing Eira to spoon soup into her mouth and take care of her…Eira had just…existed. 

And Nesta had taken it for granted. Had figured that maybe if one didn’t have the silver flame of death eating you alive from the inside out or have visions of death and destruction…maybe then it was easier to adjust to a new strange body, a new strange world. 

No mate for Eira either, a small mercy as far as Nesta was concerned. 

But the one thing she had noticed…it was that regardless of how well she seemed to adjust, Eira clung to whatever smidge of humanity she could dredge up. 

Starfall was something she hated, even when she never said anything…and when Nesta had her phase of going out and drinking every evening, Eira had one time and one time only come knocking at her apartment door, brought her food and then proceeded to ask her haltingly if this was what she wanted. If she didn’t care that her husband wouldn’t be her first. 

Eira and her romantic ideals of the future. 

Eira had clung onto that through anything. Her sister wanted a husband and children and that was that. He didn’t need to be particularly rich. He didn’t need to be anything other than kind. Eira would have been more than willing to be a farmer’s wife, to spend her days doing backbreaking labour if that meant…If that meant that she got a husband and children.

That was the difference between them. Nesta had been her mother’s prized possession. Elain her beauty. And Eira…well. Silent. Content in the background. Overshadowed by Elain’s beauty. 

It wasn’t like Eira wasn’t pretty on her own…wasn’t like that if she was given the chance, she couldn’t make polite conversation, once she had overcome her shyness…that she wouldn’t be able to keep a house running better than Nesta and Elain would have ever been able to. 

But none of that…none of that had mattered in the land of Prythian. 

And now this. 

Her little sister, lying in that bed, fighting for her life, because she had protected Nyx. 

Eira, who was clumsy enough that nobody had trusted her with a knife, because chances were, it was more likely that she would stab herself and not the other person. 

Eira, who abhorred violence and fighting and just wanted everybody to get along. 

Eira, who was sweet and soft and made dresses, little fingers dancing over fabric, stitching and tying off and embroidering and knitting, whose hands were always doing something…and if she wasn’t making something, she was cooking or canning or doing any other household tasks…now she was still.

For once in her life…she was not moving. 

She was just laying there, covered by shadows in a ripped and hastily torn apart dress. 

Nesta couldn’t fix this. Could fix none of this. 

Couldn’t fix Eira fighting for her life…couldn’t fix that mating bond that…

What would Eira think? Eira, who had fallen in love and tried to hide it so desperately and failed so horribly…what would she think about the mating bond snapping for Azriel? 

Would she be happy? Delighted? 

Or feel that this was one step too far from her humanity, one step too far from…

Nesta didn’t know. She had never talked with her sister about the mating bond or the lack of it for Eira…They had never talked about what had gone on between Azriel and Elain…though a part of Nesta had waited for Eira to find herself somebody else to fix her attention onto. Waited for Eira to realise that…that it was never going to happen.

Now though…she wondered if the mating bond hadn’t been there for her sister already. A pull that made it impossible for her attention to be changed to any other. 

She would be fine. It would be fine. It needed to be fine. 

It wasn’t fair that Eira, Eira was the one who…

It wasn’t fair that this had happened now. Now, when the mating bond had snapped and it seemed like her sister could get everything she had ever wanted…

And if there was a man that Nesta was going to trust with her sister, with Eira in all her sweetness and softness…then Azriel…then Azriel, it would be. 

Nesta couldn’t fix this. 

But maybe she could fix the dress…maybe she could…

She let go of her sister’s lax hand, as she stood and walked over to the closet. She opened it, half expecting a whole flurry of gowns to fall out. 

After their wealth had been returned to them, then in the Human Lands…Eira had stocked up all their closets with many new dresses and clothes. 

She had made most herself, of course, keeping the cost down to where it was an indulgence but not outright ridiculous. 

Nesta had expected the same now. Instead, with a blink, she weakly realised that she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

There had been the dress that Eira had worn today…and then there were 4 more…all of them dresses that Nesta could weakly remember Rhysand purchasing for them in these first few weeks in the House of Wind...a pile of dresses from which Eira had taken and fitted them to Nesta and Elain both, changed sleeves and necklines until they were exactly like they had wanted them to be. Eira had taken the leftovers...the ones neither Nesta or Elain had wanted. 

Nesta hadn't ever thought about it before today. There were servant girls who had more clothing than Eira seemed to have. 

And none of these dresses were decorated with the embroidery that was her sister’s trademark…the embroidery that decorated hair ribbons given to her sisters for birthdays and other occasions…that decorated the hems on Elain’s gardening dresses that turned muddy anyway. 

Eira's own dresses were well-loved, mended in places, threadbare in others. Of course. They had been well-loved for the better part of 3 years now. 

One dress was new. Nesta could see that. Beautifully grey, with long sleeves cuffed at the wrists and mother-of-pearl buttons. Beautiful. Simple. Heavy silk. Reminding Nesta of human fashion much more than the one of the Night Court. 

Going through her drawers didn’t make this any better. Nesta found aprons…but once again, a far cry from the aprons with floral embroidery around the edges that Elain favoured…and then sometimes in between old, well-loved things, meticulously taken care off…There was a pair of new shoes, leather and a closed with a crystal-embellished buckle. 

Such an indulgence that Nesta couldn’t help but smile and bite back the tears that threatened to overcome her. 

But that dress and that pair of shoes…it was one of the few things that truly showed her sister’s personality…

Finally, Nesta found her nightgowns…picking one up, made out of white cotton, with buttons down the front, that maybe would make it easier to dress her without hurting her. 

She took the nightgown and returned to Eira’s side, the shadows not having budged an inch. 

“Can you help me?” she asked, wondering if they even could understand her, or if they only listened to Azriel…

They understood. Immediately. They became nearly opaque, shielding Eira from Rhysand’s glance if he opened his eyes…and then so very carefully, arranged her sister in a sitting position so Nesta could remove the scraps of the dress she wore from her, see the white bandages tinted with red that Maja had used to protect the wound…

Eira was limp, unprotesting…against the gentle grip from the shadows that arranged her limbs so Nesta could easily undress her, and then fluttered around to help her pull the new nightgown over her sister’s body. 

The shadows pulled the covers back from the bed, and Nesta stared in admonishment as they lifted Eira up, becoming solid underneath her…nearly levitating her off the bed, so that they could quickly put fresh sheets on the bed, could tuck her underneath her duvet and fluff her pillows for her…take care of her, quicker and more thoroughly than Nesta would have been able to. 

The shadows picked up a hairbrush and whisked it to Eira’s side, brushing her hair until it was clean and free of tangles…pulling it back into a braid, tendrils of shadows trailing over her face…nearly lovingly. 

It must be Azriel’s doing. 

Nesta had never seen the shadows…dote on anything like that. She had seen them, rarely, top up Azriel’s teacup, but even that seemed to be an occasional thing. But for Eira…the shadows seemed to be at her very beg and call. 

Just yesterday she had raged at Cassian, that this didn’t mean that Azriel had any right to Eira, not when he had tried to pursue their other sister the year before. 

Now…after she saw this…it was…startling. 

She mulled it over silently. Eira and Azriel…the more she thought about it…the more she wondered if they didn’t fit together so well… Both so happy in the background, so painfully polite…so kind.

She picked up her sister’s blood-flecked dress, folding it with shaking hands…then picked up the petticoats she had worn. No blood on these. 

Nesta hadn’t seen any in her closet, so maybe Eira kept them in the chest at the end of her bed? She would just put them there…She opened that cedar chest and the cotton skirts were quickly forgotten, by what lay within it. 

The first thing she saw…were glittering silver flames. 

Nesta could just stare. 

There, safely folded…laid away…was a dress. 

She couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t help as she picked it up, hands nearly magically pulled towards it. 

Shaking it out…

A deep, dark red bodice…a v neckline…just deep enough to be interesting…peaked shoulders, not unlike the ones on Cassian’s fighting leathers…and then the skirts…layers upon layers of grey silk, embroidered painstakingly with silver flames that seemed to flicker in the light. 

It was the most beautiful dress that Nesta had ever held in her hands. 

And it was….she didn’t need to try it on to know that it would fit her like a glove. 

This dress…Eira had made this dress for her. 

She carried it over to her chair in a trance, smoothing it over her lap…seeing every single tiny stitch it had taken to bring it to life. 

It was perfect. 

She was ripped away from staring at it, with Rhysand’s sudden wretching, her head snapping towards him. 

“Fuck,” he choked out as he stopped vomiting. 

“Are you sick?” she demanded. “What if you get Eira sick, you idiot!” she seethed, but he held up a hand, vomit already being banished with nary a thought of him, as he looked at her, violet eyes…darker and…tortured in a way she had never seen it before. 

And then his eyes fell to the dress draped over her lap. 

“Eira made that for you,” he told her hoarsely, shuddering nearly “She…”

What had happened to him? Was Eira’s pain so bad that even Rhys couldn’t stand it? Was it…

“What happened?” she asked him sharply. “Is she in pain?”  

“Her mental shields are nonexistent right now. She dragged me into her memories,” Rhys answered, another shudder working over his body. “It was…unpleasant.”

That seemed to be an understatement. 

Nesta stared at him, grey eyes wide, red hot anger shooting through her. 

“So what, you just wanted to rummage through her mind?”  She snapped. 

“This was an accident. I did not do that on purpose,” Rhys shot back. “I wouldn’t have…”

“She has a right to her privacy!” Nesta raged. Hadn’t Eira already lost enough? Hadn’t they all lost enough?! 

“She does,” Rhys agreed, scrubbing one hand over his face.“She has a right to privacy. As long as it does not interfere with...”

“As long as it does not interfere with what?” Nesta demanded. “Your plans?” 

He stared at her, violet eyes wide and…hurt. 

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with her safety and happiness,” Rhys corrected quietly. He stared at the dress draped over her lap. “It’s a wedding dress. She made it for you,” he said with a nod towards it. 

A wedding dress? Why had she never…why had Eira never even mentioned it’s very existence? Why had she never…

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?” Rhys quoted, his voice quiet, deathly even. "Sounds familiar?"

Her breath caught in her throat. 

No. No. No, Eira couldn’t…Eira had taken that to heart? Eira had taken to heart what she had spat in her anger and desperation? Eira had…

“If it makes it any better…There was worse said by all of us,” Rhys said, looking away. “Every single one of us.”

What?

“I have news,” Amren’s voice suddenly came from the doorway. She stood there, Madja, behind her, obviously having come back to check on Eira.  “The lightning that was used to fell the three Darkbringers? The magical signature was unmistakingly female.” She nodded to Eira. “I think she finally decided to be interesting.”

The anger that flared in her chest was so bright and hot that it had taken her breath away. 

Rhys beat her to it. 

“That’s enough, Amren,” he spat out. “We need to have a talk.” 

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! I absolutely love your headcannons!! Would it be possible for me to request sick Astarion? Or Astarion with a sick Tav? :)

Hi! Thank you for your request! I think I can do both!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Caring for their sick partner

Astarion takes care of you

He isn't a nurturing type.

He doesn't really care about himself let alone someone else!

Besides, it's not like he used to hang out with mortals a lot.

During your post-game adventures, you end in the far north in the middle of winter.

Astarion doesn't feel cold, but he notices you feel uncomfortable near him - his body is cold, and he steals the heat you need so much.

It causes tension between you two - one of the first challenges for you as a couple.

During a fight, you fall through the ice and almost die in the dark cold waters.

Astarion saves you but the damage is done.

You are severely sick.

Astarion freaks out.

You are dying in his arms.

He has to save you. He won't lose you.

Astarion manages to dress you in dry and warm clothes. He leaves you by the fire for a bit to hunt - you need food, and Astarion needs blood to warm you.

Then, when you stabilize, he carries you to the closest village and gives you all the money you've earned in your travels for a room in the inn.

He spoon-feeds you and wraps you in the warmest blankets.

Sometimes you pout, refusing to take one more bitter medicine, but he can't take this nonsense - you are going to get better. Period.

When you wake up, still in fever, Astarion is always near. Either wrapping you with his blood-warm body or with his ear on your chest as if he was afraid your heart was going to stop at any given moment.

As the spring comes, you finally get better. Astarion gives you a bath, and you realize how itchy and sweaty your body is.

Then he lashes at you, of course.

You were reckless, you were risking yourself. How could you?

But you know he speaks out of fear, and you comfort him, promising to never put yourself in danger without a need.

You take care of Astarion

If you weren't a nurturing type, you wouldn't end up with Astarion.

The man needs help and care, something he never had.

You comfort him after the nightmares and kiss away his tears.

He doesn't need to be cared for physically - once the tadpole is removed, he regenerates, and it's impossible to wound him.

But he is a mental wreck who can have a meltdown over a trigger word or a cruel flashback after an innocent action.

But he is far from invincible.

He is being reckless and ends up surrounded by monster hunters.

They chain him in silver and leave him helpless on the ground to see the sun.

You manage to come to the rescue - and murder all three of them.

But as you fight, the sun rises, and it burns Astarion.

It's almost too late for him when you set him free and drag him to the shadows.

The regeneration is slowed down - the burns are as bad as if he survived a fire.

You give him blood. All you can do without killing yourself.

The assault causes one of the worst setbacks in his healing process.

Astarion is almost catatonic - curling in the darkest corner of the room in the fetal position.

You can only guess what prison his tortured mind is locked in.

You talk to him. Hug him. Takes care of his hair. Caress his back.

Days become weeks, weeks become months - and one evening Astarion is finally back.

He wraps his hand around you and nuzzles your collarbone.

By the end of the night, Astarion is his true self again, ready for everything freedom has to offer.

"I was there, in the tomb," he confesses. "I was locked there, in the dark, and all my life looked like a feverish dream."

"I am here, love," you say. "I will always be here for you."

You pretend you don't see his tears as you say it.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

[starrclown]

!SHADOWPEACH HEADCANNONS!

Exept it's easy to tell who my favorite is.

Pure silly addition! No angst here!

It's pride month yall so it's gay monkie time.

Showing his BF a new crayon color:

Wukong doesn't like thunderstorms. They scare the monkies and the unpredictably and sound make him uncomfortable. He's also not that big of a fan of water. Macaque doesn't mind storms, he doesn't like how loud they are but he's fine with them. Macaque uses his hearing to let Wukong know when thunder is coming so he can cover his ears.

Wukong hides most parts about him using glamors. He hides his eyes, his head scar, his height, and other things he sees as imperfections. Macaque would kill to see Wukong's features again cause he always loved those parts about him and he doesn't want Wukong to hide them.

Macaque just stays in Wukongs house. Like he just lives there and let's himself be know sometimes.

They have drawing sessions together.

Macaque HATES having his hair long. It's inconvenient, it gets stuck in his shadows, it makes him hotter because it warms his neck along with his scarf. If it gets even a INCH past his neck he has Wukong cut it immediately.

Wukong is a little spoon. Sometimes he's a big spoon but Macaque likes to hold him in his sleep so he just stays the little spoon.

They do that thing where one of them has one headphone in their ear and the other headphone is in the others ear. They love listening to music together.

They buy each other presents all the time. Wukong makes homemade presents with his art skills while Macaque steals from stores and malls to get Wukong expensive presents.

Macaque knows the basics of cooking and could make a decent meal but he pretends to be stupid so Wukong will make him his cooking.

Macaque has SO many pet names for Wukong while Wukong has like two. (Refrencing my art don't worry about that.)

Macaque loves the cold while Wukong can't STAND it.

Wukong is really good with kids and is a amazing babysitter. Macaque isn't bad with kids but when he tries to play with them he ends up scaring them.

If Macaque makes Wukong mad Wukong forces him to sleep on the couch.

Wukong hates scary movies because of the jump scares and the stupid decisions the characters make. Macaque LOVES scary movies but won't watch them if Wukong is in the room.

Macaque is super clingy and has at least one hand on Wukong at all times. It started as a nervous habit but then Macaque started doing it more when he started taking being Wukongs warrior seriously.

Their favorite shared food is fruit salad. They make them together alot.

Wukong has a walk in closet filled with clothes that he has either been gifted or he bought or made himself. Macaque owns like 4 shirts and 2 pairs of pants.

Macaque has a very dead tone so it sounds like he's being serious when he's joking. Wukong used to think Macaque didn't like him because he would say things in such a depressing tone it made Wukong think he was dead serious.

Macaque bought a blender specifically to make Wukong peach smoothies.

Wukong really likes to wear gold so Macaque will wear silver to match him.

Wukong has two pairs of moon earrings. A blue pair for Chang'e and a purple pair for Macaque.

Macaque hates his naturally white hair because he thinks it makes him look less scary. Wukong lives it cause it reminds him of clouds and snow.

Macaque loves when Wukong is blonde cause it means he's super happy.

Macaque has counted the freckles on Wukong's face so many time he can tell you the exact number he has.

Wukong steals Macaques scarf when it gets too cold out. He often forgets to give it back resulting in Macaque having tos each hours for it.

Wukong has A BUNCH of pillows and random covers. Macaque has to FIGHT to find a cheap space on their bed because of how many pillows and blankets their is.

Macaque loves grooming and running his hands through Wukongs hair cause he loves the cloud like texture.

Macaque doesn't like doing his makeup but if Wukong wants him to match with him he'll try his best to do it and make it look good.

Macaque intentionally makes himself look more unapproching and scary when he's out in public with Wukong so that people won't want to talk to him or Wukong.

They aren't legally married but Macaque gave Wukong a ring so long ago and he always wears it so he just calls Macaque his husband.

It is 1 am where I am and I should really stop defying sleep (I will be defying sleep).

Feel free to drop your SILLY headcannons cause I cannot be dealing with angst headcannons right now. Only sillyness.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[obsessive-evie]

keep them on, please

pairing: Caitlin Clark + fem!oc

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of rough sex, inappropriate use of jewelry??

Sets of perfectly mismatching rings always covered my fingers. A wrap-around Lilly spoon ring for my pointer finger was a specific favorite of mine. And Caitlin’s.

My girlfriend’s slightly anxious personality meant her eyes gravitated towards safety. Which was often found in the familiar, or my rings. The same rings every day on the same fingers, fiddled with in the same patterns, flipped across fingertips absentmindedly by myself.

So any chance my girlfriend could get, her hand would find mine, and I loved it. And every time without fail, her lengthy fingers would always find a way to maneuver said silver rings off of my own smaller ones, and into hers. She would fiddle with them, slide them along my knuckles, and look at them so closely you’d think she was trying to memorize every carving and scratch.

I’ve never really asked her about it until I noticed she looks at them during… certain times.

We had just arrived home after a night out with friends, after a few drinks in and her hands had gone a little too far up my thigh for the busy upscale bar, I’d told her we should head home.

The whole ride home was spent with my slightly more than tipsy girlfriend glued to my hands. The hands that once roamed over my thighs and hips in the dimly lit bar were now brushing over my knuckles and flipping my rings as she leaned on my shoulder.

Arriving back at her place for the night, we had ended up half clothed- my dress bunched up around my hips with straps falling off my shoulders as she hovered above me, her black silk shirt all the way unbuttoned to reveal a simple lace bralette.

Of course her hands held mine as she kissed my neck, leaving it up to me to undress us one handed. The silk shirt that I picked out for her highlighted her pale skin in the low light of her bedroom, the shadows from it accentuating her collarbones and abs as she left small bites on my neck.

Caitlin’s large hand came to pin down my own, her knuckles squeezing harder around my rings, which reminded me I needed to take them off before this went any further.

Pushing back on her shoulder with my one free hand, I break our kiss, “Wait babe sit up for a sec,” I say. She leans back to sit more on my thighs than on my hips, allowing me to sit up and begin to take off my rings.

A warm hand stops me, wordlessly, she pushes my shoulders back down and returns to my neck. I let her, thinking she just wants to makeout right now and not go any further.

But once she’d pulled me out of my dress and untucked her shirt from her jeans (the action totally didn’t kill me a little), unbuttoning them along the way, I realized this was most definitely not a makeout.

Pushing on my inebriated girlfriend’s shoulder once again, except this time hooking my leg around her own, effectively flipping out positions and seating myself atop Caitlin’s hips.

Attempt number 2 of taking off my rings: also unsuccessful.

I took a moment to appreciate my girlfriend with my hands on her abs, “You’re so pretty baby.” She still doesn’t say anything, a tendency of sleepy/tipsy/horny Cait. I brought my hands together once more to pull off my rings, but before I could even get one off, her hands stop me again.

Gentle and warm fingers press into my wrists, her thumbs barely cutting into my pulse point. Before I realize what’s happening, shes sat up onto her elbows and is kissing the soft inside of my wrist, followed by my palm, then the back of my hand, then lastly my knuckles, her lips barely brushing the cool metal adorning them. “Keep them on,” she finally voices in a quiet, almost timid voice. Caitlin going reserved in the bedroom wasn’t entirely unusual. She was an anxious person half the time and a confident powerhouse the other half, I never knew what I was going to get when we were undressed.

But this edge to her voice, the slight waver in her tone, the way her eyes relaxed slightly, like she was melting into my gaze. This was different. New. This wasn’t our usual game of cat and mouse, she was showing a different form of vulnerable I rarely got to see.

Her lips slide down my fingers, past my rings, until my nails are barely resting on the flesh of her bottom lip. Her soft grip on my wrist doesn’t change as she slowly opens her mouth wider and to take my center two fingers into the warm wetness. Her tongue juts out just slightly, sliding my digits deeper and deeper, making me gasp at her unwavering eye contact and bold actions.

Her lips close around my knuckles as she closes her eyes, my rings sitting just behind her lips. I can’t quite breathe, or think.

That’s when I feel her tongue begin to slide up and down the crevice created by my two fingers together, sucking just slightly. She tilts her head back faintly, allowing herself to slide the tip of her tongue under the rim of a thick stamped ring on my middle finger. The small but strong muscle moves said ring back towards her mouth as she slowly slides my hand away from her.

Her eyes open slowly once my nails are resting once again by her now closed lips, covered in spit this time. Now missing a ring, my pulse quickens at what I just witnessed. My tall and usually tough girlfriend completely surrendering to me, and taking my fingers in her mouth oh so gently, sucking on them and covering them with her warm spit.

Her soft eyes bore into mine as she opens her mouth to reveal my ring sitting so perfectly on her tongue. She sticks it out slightly, an offering, I realize. Like a pearl in an oyster, my shiny spit covered ring stands out against the deep pink of her mouth and tongue.

I reach my middle finger back over her tongue, placing the tip of it in the center of the ring, and slide it back onto my knuckles with my ring and index finger. The motion I’ve done a thousand times now has a different meaning to it once I look back at the loving eyes of my girlfriend.

She almost looks too pretty, too soft laying there like this, tongue stuck out and spit beginning to pool on the muscle. It slowly slides back into her mouth before she closes her shiny lips again and swallows. Caitlin’s takes a deeper breath, like she was in a slight trance (I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t either), and restates, “keep them on,” there’s a pause, “please.” She says the last part in an almost pleading, ever so slightly shaky voice. If I didn’t know her as well as I do, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But the unmistakable lilt of sheer wanton desire slides under her words like a silent stream.

I nod, feeling air enter my lungs in a deep inhale, allowing myself to breathe after such a tense moment. My fingers retreat from her lips, and I notice the sheen on her chin and surrounding areas. I swipe my thumb slowly across it, and her mouth opens slightly, almost instinctively. Before I back out, I dip the edge of my thumb into her mouth, opening her jaw wider by pressing on the lower row of her teeth. The slight bite of them pressing into the pad of my thumb makes me want her more as the dainty silver band sitting at the base of it is now flooded with spit.

I withdraw from her mouth once more after she swipes her tongue gently across my thumb. Keeping my hand resting on her jaw and cheek, I lean down to kiss my girlfriend deeply.

I breathe in her pulse, her soft hair underneath my under forearm as it holds myself up above her head, the taste of her lips on mine, and the unmistakable tang of metal on her tongue. I moan into mouth when she pushes her hip up into my center, her hands still resting frozen by her side like she’s waiting for permission to grab at my hips.

My right hand wanders down from her jaw to her neck and collarbones, framing where they meet in a perfect U-shape. My movement seems to spur her on, and I finally feel the familiar warmth of her hands on my hips, cradling the lace covered flesh with such gentle firmness I can’t help but kiss her harder.

My hand resting on her neck slides around to the muscle of her shoulder, sitting up and pulling her with me.

“Off.” Is all I say, sliding the silk fabric that was already hanging off her shoulders down the silent strength of her arms, as it was more just hanging off her slender form after being untucked earlier. Next I undo her belt, sliding it out of its loops without breaking eye contact. She understands to lift her hips after I unbutton her pants and open her zipper, revealing a matching. Set.

The same pattern of black lace and ribbed cotton adorns her hips and pussy, melting me from the inside out. My eyes meet hers before I slide her pants the rest of the way down her long legs, sitting myself back on her smooth skin of her thighs. She looks away, clearly nervous and awaiting my reaction.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” is all I can breathe out before I lean back up to capture her lips, my hands (and my rings) digging into her prominent hip bones to hold myself up.

The two of us were now only wearing our bras and underwear, each just sultry enough to elicit a reaction, but comfortable enough to wear on a night out. Caitlin’s was simply more jarring to me.

Don’t get me wrong, my incredibly sexy girlfriend liked to be girly and feminine, but usually opted for her more practical sports bras and simple underwear. So seeing her strong body covered in something so delicate and pretty was a pleasant surprise, even if her bra was visible all night.

Her warm hands pull my hips down onto her protruding ones, making me gasp into our kiss in surprise. Letting the sparks it creates burn through me, I push my hips down to hers this time, moaning into her mouth at the pleasant buzz. As I begin to move back from her hips, she pushes hers up, continuing my pleasure.

I shift my weight to my right knee holding myself up outside her thigh so I can reposition myself seated on just one of her strong thighs, allowing my kneecap to meet her black lace.

A bitten lip and a short exhale is my gift in return.

I move my knee once more, sinking back down onto the tense area where her hip bone meets her thigh. We fall into this rhythm, pushing my knee into her clothed center, grinding down and towards her on her thigh, while she pushes her leg up and flexes.

The result of this repetition is the sight of my girlfriend beneath me, wearing a matching set (which alone would kill me anyways), with her eyes squeezed shut, hips twitching and grinding against my own. Her mouth parts slightly with a gasp, her abs begin to flex even harder as her shakey grip tightens on my thighs.

I pull her hips down onto my knee and slow my grinding, allowing her to squeeze her thighs together. Running my decorated hand up her abs and chest, stopping once I get to her collarbones, I lean my head down to whisper in her ear, “you look so filthy fucking yourself onto my thigh.”

Her whole body shudders, her breathing stalls and comes out in rushed puffs of hot air, I see her mouth open wider as she tilts her head back.

Oh shit

Fast paced pants and whines fill the dimly lit bedroom, and she’s finishing on my leg before I can process how fast she got here, especially just through her underwear.

I don’t slow my movements, not for a second. Not even when her grip on my thighs turns almost painfully hard. Not even when I’m worried she’s not breathing at all.

A large and harsh exhale leaves her spit slick mouth, and her shudders seem to slow. I wait for her to slow her hips herself, leaving my knee pressed into her for Caitlin to decide when she’s done. Her hips come to a full stop, her tense abs and neck relax, and her death-grip on my thighs eases.

Her eyes are still closed when I slowly ease my knee away from her core, kissing her cheek softly as a distraction. Consciousness seems to flood her face after air fills her lungs once more for a complete breath at my actions.

I smile softly, kissing her cheek again, followed by her nose. She opens her mouth to speak, meeting my eyes. Nothing comes out, her eyes vulnerable and almost embarrassed. I move a piece of hair out of her eyes, admiring how the dark strands pool above her like a halo in this light.

“Are you okay?” I whisper softly, almost into her mouth. Her face flushes even more crimson, averting her eyes and tilting her head away from me. Her clear embarrassment at how fast she finished on my thigh surfacing at my question.

Oh so gently, I cradle her jaw, turning her back to face me. I kiss her firmly on the lips this time, not allowing her to turn again when I pull away. “I’ll ask again,” I whisper into her mouth, keeping her eyes on mine, “are you alright baby?” A slow but firm nod is what follows.

I feel her take a deep breath with her whole chest before responding, “I just didn’t expect that is all.” I feel a small smile grace my face at her embarrassment, her warm deep brown eyes nervously dancing between my own. My own teeth dig into my lip, deciding to be slightly cruel, I push my knee back up into her, making her gasp and squirm before I say, “I liked it.”

I can see her holding back a moan, slightly from overstimulation and slightly from my words and attention. I push again, making her flinch slightly, “Not yet, I can’t,” she gasps out, holding my hips firmly away from her, our slight strength and size imbalance making it easy for her to do so. My thumb soothes the creases between her brows, admiring her features in the moonlight.

She kisses me this time, myself too distracted with the beautiful girl beneath me to notice her own stares at my lips. We kiss until I can’t hold myself up anymore, my arms giving out forcing me to lay fully on my girlfriend. Our chests pressed together, hearts beating in synch, trying to melt every golden molecule of her body into mine, we stay like that for not long enough.

My hand on her jaw and cheek rings dancing along her warm skin, my other still playing with her hair, Caitlin moves her own hands up my back and waist, pulling me closer.

Before I can slink back down her body to give her another deserved orgasm, I’m flipped onto my back by the lithe muscles holding me. What once was my embarrassed and shy girlfriend post orgasm is now a smirking and hungry looking brunette above me. She begins kissing my neck softly, making me melt into the pillow. I almost don’t notice when her smooth hand slides under my slightly arched back, unclasping my bra in one quick movement.

Before I can protest and remove hers too, she sucks where my neck meets my shoulder, hard. “Hey! That kind of hurt…” I say in a tone slightly whinier than I would’ve liked. She laughs a breathy laugh before pealing the black lace off my chest and shoulders, tossing it to the side somewhere in her room. Her large hands cradle my upper rib cage, thumbs dipping into my sternum just under my boobs while her middle finger reaches all the way over the side of my torso.

She continues her slightly rough kissing on my neck, trailing down to my newly exposed tits. She knew how sensitive they were at times, and decided to get payback for earlier I guess. Attacking the soft flesh with a flurry of her tongue and occasional strikes of teeth, she began leaving tiny marks all down my chest and rib cage.

Deciding I’ve had enough of this teasing, and the fact that she still has her bra on, I pull her shoulder blades forward into me, causing her to lean down on top of me with her head pressing into my sternum. She looks up, meeting my eyes slightly, so I cradle her jaw yet again and make her fully look at me. “Kiss me,” I say, milking the slightly pouty nature hoping she’ll abandon her post at my tits in favor of my mouth.

She does, my girlfriend never being able to say no to me when I give her any ounce of control. Oh well bye bye control for her.

The second she gets close enough to my face, my decorated hand finds her neck, squeezing slightly in a consistent but firm grip. Never hard enough to hurt her or cut off her air yet, but hard enough to make her freeze. Now knowing how she feels about my rings, I make sure to push the base of my fingers just as hard as my fingertips.

Her eyes change again, back to a similar vulnerable air from before. Pushing harder with the base of my hand and wrist, I moved her away from my face and sit up as she moves. All I simply do next is push on her shoulders and she’s falling back into the pillows once more. There must’ve still been enough alcohol in my girlfriend’s system for her to be so pliant with me, her usual cocky demeanor shining through occasionally, even when she’s a total bottom for me.

Seating myself once more on her hips, borderline lower stomach. I keep her eyes on mine as I slowly remove one ring, a smooth moonstone juts out from its silver casing, so I place it on the nearby bedside table. Quite frankly that would not be comfortable in any situation. I make it very apparent I’m keeping the rest on by placing my hands on her chest firmly, and dragging the cool metal up and around her back.

She gets what I’m trying to do and arches just enough for me to unhook her perfectly pretty bralette. Repeating the actions she did for me silently, I take my time reveling in every inch of newly exposed skin, knowing she’ll start getting nervous soon under my gaze.

Running the now seven silver rings up and down her stomach and sternum, around her chest and collarbones, while purposefully avoiding too close to her tits, Caitlin begins to squirm. I glance up at her face, noticing she wasn’t making any kind of noise yet. She had her bottom lip trapped between the sharp teeth I know all too well, face turned to the side, eyes glancing anywhere but me while her eyelids fluttered every time I got closer to her nipples.

I lean down to kiss her cheek, which brings a small smile to the clearly high strung girl beneath me. Following that kiss with a quick one where her jaw meets just below her ear, then the side of the her neck, the hollow of her throat, the inner tip of her collarbone, lastly a feather light peck on her sternum. I pause, just hovering above her tits, I can almost feel her heartbeat pick up as my breath tickles her skin.

Glancing up her face once more, I take it her almost anguish gracing her features before relenting, and kissing my way across her chest. A gentle suck on one of her perked nipples and I finally get a noise out of her. A breathy, barely there whine albeit, but a noise nonetheless. Caitlin was typically pretty quiet during sex, usually holding back her noises out of embarrassment, or simply opting for heavy breathing and swearing, the occasional whine telling me I’m doing something right.

Rubbing up and down her sides, I move to alternate sucking on one nipple, and gently rubbing and pinching the other, eliciting a few more heavy breaths, and finally, “fuck, babe.”

I smile, taking that as my cue to start kissing her abs. I won’t lie, I definitely spent far too long with my lips attached to her abs. Little bites, gentle hickeys, kisses, anything I can to mark up her toned stomach, I will 100% always do. I can’t help it her muscles are incredibly hot and only available when she’s beneath me.

Her breaths come out faster and harder the lower I go, treating every ridge and hard line with a stark mix of gentle tongue and sharp teeth. My hands still keeping busy on her chest and sides, my large etched ring on my middle finger brushes her right nipple, catching on it as my hand travels. This simple action results in a buck of her strong hips, and her hand coming to hold the back of my head (like my head had anything to do with that action?), accompanied with a gasp that melts into a soft moan.

Her noises are more consistent now, but I can tell she’s still holding back. Never one to ask or beg for me to do anything, I travel to her hips, biting on my way down to her thighs to ease up on my relentless teasing. She finally looks down at me once I’ve seated my lips at the junction of her hip and thigh, sucking intently on the soft flesh there.

I grip her twitching hips slightly harder than necessary, making sure she feels the cool press of the metal adorning them into her soft skin. I keep her eyes on mine, making sure Cait sees my next move.

Kissing just above the lace on her hip, I pause. Grabbing the thin fabric between my front teeth, and her mouth parts even more. I pull the lacy black underwear concealing my girlfriend down to her thighs, then fully off her with my hands once I reach her knees.

Running my hands back up her outer thighs as I kiss the soft skin on the inside of them, she parts the strong muscles for me. This new position of staring directly at her cum covered pussy sends a new kind of determination through me.

I hesitate, glancing back up at her face for approval before moving straight into kissing and gently licking her dripping cunt. Her shaking hand immediately comes to gently hold the back of my head, her long veiny fingers threading themselves into my hair. I eat her out almost teasingly for a few minutes, holding back from sucking too hard or for too long. She seems to notice the teasing nature of my tongue.

“Babe,” is all she says softly, immediately glancing away and looking back at me with nerves. I don’t pause my tongue, I simply look up and meet her pleading brown eyes. Moving one hand from its tight grip on her hips, I run my fingers over the divots and lines of her abs and ribs, making sure she feels it. The newfound freedom of her hip means she immediately pushes down onto my face slightly.

I pull away entirely, earning me an annoyed glare and the sight of my usually tough top girlfriend throwing her head back onto the pillow in frustration.

“Eyes on me baby,” is all I say in a tone far lower than I expected. The warm brown of her eyes changes from sassy annoyance to one of shock and desire when I, without breaking eye contact, lean down slightly and spit directly onto her already wet pussy.

Diving down to clean up my mess, I eat her out with the fervor and pressure she clearly has been wanting. I’m met with a shocked moan and strong arching hips almost fighting against me to push further into my mouth. I lick up and down her folds, concentrating my lips on her clit.

I manage to keep my girlfriends hips down just long enough for her breath to pick up again, her thighs to start to squeeze around my head, and her hand to push me almost painfully close into her cunt, my nose barely peaking out over her warm mound.

Just as she sucks in a gasp of air, telling me she’s close, I pull away. “No, fuck you oh my god no,” she says, pleading. Her hand that was resting by her side comes up to cover her face, pushing loose hair out her eyes and brow. I smile at her frustration, it meaning she felt good. But I can make her feel better.

I kiss the thigh directly to my right softly, a small sign of remorse for my angry girlfriend. “Babe I swear to god if you don’t-“ I cut off her whining by sucking on her clit, hard. Her protest turns into a moan, half silenced by her hand now over her mouth. Gently flicking and pinching her nipples along with my mouth practically devouring her pussy, it’s not a surprise when my girlfriends heavy breathing picks up again, her thighs fight against my tight hold, and her back begins to arch just slightly. I hear a flurry of small curse words mumbled under her breath get more and more frequent. I press on her toned lower stomach gently, knowing the pressure inside her surely clenching cunt might’ve been enough to push her over the edge into pure pleasure. If I didn’t stop my movements and pull away. Again.

She punches the bed next to her, getting more than frustrated now. “Please oh my god I was so fucking close,” she says through spit slick and bitten lips, her eyes almost glassy. Cait rarely bottomed, let alone pleaded with me.

I kiss up her abs again, knowing her frustration at me is only because of her denied pleasure. Clearly she’s sobered up enough now to be vocal about what she wants, because by the time I get to her tits she’s talking again.

“Babe I am so serious what the fuck was that for I’ve been good I didn’t even move that much I just wanted you to-“ by the time I’ve reached her neck, I slide my middle two fingers into her rapidly moving mouth, effectively shutting her up. Despite her anger, Caitlin eagerly sucks on my fingers again, her warm mouth enveloping the metal and my nails. I sit myself atop her abs, maintaining eye contact as I push my fingers deeper that she can comfortably take, sliding them back out halfway before she gags.

I continue this motion until the fire in her eyes has dimmed slightly, showing me she won’t fight me when I slide a third finger into her mouth. My pointer finger however, doesn’t just have her beloved wrap around spoon ring, but a simple twisted band sits past my first knuckle, halfway down my finger. She clearly feels it on her tongue, because her eyes flutter slightly when it brushes far back in her mouth.

Submitting before me, I let myself rest and put my whole body weight on her torso, knowing the strong girl beneath me won’t be hurt by my smaller frame. (I’m totally not transported back to when she made me grind on her abs without any help as punishment for leaving a hickey so far down on her thigh it peaked out her basketball shorts. Thankfully it could’ve been mistaken as a small bruise but she was annoyed nonetheless.)

I decide she’s coated my fingers well enough, pulling out until only the very tips rest inside her mouth again. The pretty brunette takes in large gulps of air, spit dripping out of her mouth with every pant. Without moving myself, I reach the saliva covered hand behind me, and in once swift motion plunge two dripping nimble fingers inside my girlfriend.

Her reaction is instant, finally receiving what she’s been begging for, and so intently focused on. “Oh shit,” she says, I’m assuming mainly at the fact that the rings she’s been obsessing over and asked me to keep on were now inside of her, assisting me inside her tight walls. The pace of my middle two fingers pick up, causing her to arch slightly despite my weight on her torso.

“See? Was it so hard to be patient?” I say slightly teasing, grinding my hips forward to stop her from giving me a sassy remark. Caitlins large hands encase my hips, guiding me slightly forward and backward while I continue my relentless pace inside her. The pressure of her flexing abs beneath me combined with her poorly held back moans and breathy sighs when I curl my fingers up into her g spot were enough to send shocks of pleasure up into me, even through my underwear.

My hand begins to hurt uncomfortably from the awkward angle and speed, but I wouldn’t dare slow my grinding or my movements inside her. I plant my hand on her chest, using it as leverage to push myself onto her lower stomach. My hips now act as external pressure, eliciting a whine from my girlfriend. She turns her head to the side, panting with her eyes shut.

A constant buzz of pleasure fills me, so I decide to add a third finger to further Caitlin along.

“Thank you,”Is what I receive in return, the cool metal of my spoon ring and knuckle ring now deep inside her. My third finger was clearly what she needed to amp up her pleasure.

“How long?” I ask.

“What?” She says, clearly confused and fuzzy from the stimulation. “How long have you wanted this,” I slow my movements, hoping to get an answer.

She meets my eyes for just a moment, but lays her head back again and closes them, licking her lips in avoidance. I press my fingers into her as deep as they can reach, hard. She gasps.

“It doesn’t-“ another thrust, “it doesn’t matter okay.”

I stop my movements all together.

“Answer my question and you can finish, prettygirl,” I drawl, hoping the pet name I knew as her weakness would help my case.

“I said-“ she starts sassily, I begin to pull my fingers out at her denial.

“Wait wait fuck, no okay,” she rushes out, meeting my eyes desperately and trying to reach past my hip to grab my wrist unsuccessfully. I raise my eyebrows, keeping my fingers half out of her, feeling her pulse around the tips.

She takes a few steadying breaths, and opens her mouth to talk while still turning her head away from me. A simple glide of my hand off her chest and onto her chin allows me to turn her to look at me. “I won’t ask again, how long have you wanted my rings to stay on.”

“A while…” she appears to be thinking hard despite her clear embarrassment, “probably since that day in the car.” She says.

I wrack my brain as to what she’s referring to, and recall a late night drive turned quick fuck in the backseat after I said I couldn’t sleep.

She had ridden my fingers in my lap with her hand around my neck, not choking me but it was the thought that I knew she could that did it. She had sat herself atop my thighs, only taking the time to take off my middle two rings before sinking herself down onto my fingers, her own already working me up for my second orgasm. It was a rushed affair full of bitten lips, necks left bruised and seats left stained. Cait had confessed to me while driving that she thought about what it would be like to be rougher with me, leaving more marks and even choking.

This night however, was over three weeks ago, and we had fucked many times after that (many incorporating her rougher thoughts).

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted them inside you,” I whisper, leaning down slightly to take the weight off my hips, but also to force her to keep looking at me.

“Didn’t know if it’d be okay and…” she trails off. I give her a moment before she gathers any courage she has left and finishes, “it meant having to ask you to keep them on, and bottoming at the same time and that’s just- I can’t just-“ she sighs, clearly embarrassed and frustrated.

“From now on I want you to tell me if there’s something like this on your mind, okay? And besides,” I lean down close to her ear, making her breath hitch, “you’re so fuckin pretty when you’re flustered.” I make my point by plunging my fingers back into her, and she gasps before I kiss her neck, sitting back up.

I return to my relentless pace, hoping to actually make her finish after all this teasing and edging.

With all three decorated fingers now seated deep inside her wet, pulsing cunt, I bring my thumb up to circle her clit. The closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a true moan from my girlfriend graces my ears, spurring me to start grinding again.

Minutes into this process, she bucks her hips hard enough to make me gasp. Her thighs start to shake a steady rhythm. Each time I would push back in, her hips would grind down into my hand, and her strong thighs would twitch when I began to pull back out. Her gasps and breathing turned to swears and whines, telling me she was close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, I’m- babe don’t stop, please I swear don’t stop I’ll be good don’t stop,” she repeats a mantra of cuss words and pleas the closer she gets to finishing. Her promise of being good is new, but we’ll come back to that. Her slick is already pouring out of her and onto my stiffening hand.

I wouldn’t dream of denying her again. Besides, she’s strong, and scary when she’s mad.

Her legs bend inwards, head thrown back, mouth gasping and attempting to form words, and she finishing on my hand with a loud whine as her nails dig into my hips. I feel her cunt squeeze around all three fingers, her cum making each of them slide in and out as I keep my steady pace, bringing her through her second -but well deserved- orgasm. Her twitching and clear pleasure sends me over the edge with her, my own body tensing and arching on top of hers.

The thought of what we look like from the outside keeps the shockwaves of pleasure coming.

Finally, I slow my grinding and fingers to a stop, catching my breath a moment before I fall over. My girl looks fucked out beneath me, and I see a single tear track run down the side of her face.

I slowly pull my fingers out of her, which causes Caitlin to open her eyes like it was the hardest thing ever. I make sure she’s looking when I suck her juices off my fingers, going back in with my tongue to get her cum from around my rings.

I finally find the energy to roll off her, keeping my arm strewn across her rib cage as we both catch our breaths. “You did so good baby,” I say, kissing her cheek and moving closer to her warm body that was glistening with sweat. A soft “mhm,” is all I get in return, exhaustion clearly plaguing my girlfriend.

“You gotta go pee sweet girl,” I say softly, moving hair out of her face and eyes. “Of course after fucking me within an inch of my life the first thing you’re thinking about is a UTI,” Caitlin laughs with her voice taking on a rougher note, telling me she was louder than I thought.

“I’ll take it you liked it then?” I tease. “Yeah you asshole, I did,” she says in response, referencing my edging and mean tactics. I smile, kissing her cheek, followed by her temple and forehead. My hands tenderly rub over her stomach and hips as I try to soothe any other aches.

Finally she pulls away from my grasp, heading towards her adjoining bathroom.

While Caits gone, I take off my rings finally, making a mental note to wash them really well later, and slip under the covers, removing my soaked underwear in the process. Her warm body slides into the bed next to mine, her long arms enveloping me in a blanket of comfort, despite our earlier actions.

She speaks first, “I do trust you, you know that.” I wait for her to continue, “It’s just hard for me to say what I want to say, you make me nervous you know.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this fragile confession wasn’t it. I turn in her arms to face her. My hands find her face immediately, her vulnerable eyes finding mine in return. I stare into her beautiful features for a moment, just savoring this bubble of time. “I’ll always be patient with you when it matters,” is all I softly say, hoping she gets my message.

“Besides, you’re always in charge, what’s wrong with me making you nervous for once.” I joke. This makes Caitlin laugh, her hands ghosting over my back. She kisses me softly, melting my body and soul into hers. She’s the first to pull away after a few heartbeats, “I love you,” she whispers into my lips.

I kiss her again before replying, “I love you too, even if you think I’m scary.”

“Woah now I said you make me nervous, ain’t no one afraid of your 5’6” ass.” She says through small laughter. I pretend to act offended, even turning my head towards the ceiling to avoid her.

Her gentle hand cups my jaw, turning my face back towards her before saying, “I love your ass though if that counts for anything.” Her comment earns her a slap on the bicep and a disapproving head shake, even if I’m smiling ear to ear throughout my scolding.

She pulls me closer before I can say anything else. So close it feels like she’s trying to weld our hearts together, my head tucked into her neck and hers resting on my shoulder.

Eventually I hear her breathing even out, and I too join her in dreamland to the thought of how lucky I am to have a girl like Caitlin, even if I’m scary.

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart. 

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him. 

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend. 

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart. 

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them. 

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it. 

However… 

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up. 

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.” 

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue. 

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has  strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right. 

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.” 

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation. 

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen. 

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks. 

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you. 

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call. 

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention. 

He starts speaking once he knows he has it. 

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.” 

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues. 

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.” 

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud. 

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.” 

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.” 

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand. 

A validation. 

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?” 

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had. 

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you. 

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all. 

“Yes, she’s safe with me.” 

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.” 

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen. 

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready. 

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi. 

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.” 

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end. 

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across. 

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.” 

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words. 

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has. 

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break? 

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world. 

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.” 

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.” 

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it. 

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty. 

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling. 

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible. 

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end. 

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it. 

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?” 

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?” 

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?” 

There’s simply no way this is real. 

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.” 

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now? 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior. 

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?” 

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him. 

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued. 

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest. 

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange. 

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside. 

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest. 

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol. 

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie. 

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you? 

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders. 

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for. 

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?” 

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside? 

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face. 

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.” 

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety. 

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?” 

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth. 

And your words seep into his fist. 

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.” 

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?” 

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.” 

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.” 

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality. 

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin. 

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek. 

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment. 

“You have a bathtub?” 

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you. 

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you. 

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life. 

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being. 

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again. 

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well. 

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face. 

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way. 

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.” 

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too. 

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly. 

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours. 

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?” 

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging. 

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.” 

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.” 

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his. 

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand. 

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this. 

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk. 

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness. 

He might have just found his ultimate weakness. 

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him. 

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily. 

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.” 

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city. 

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time. 

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe. 

“Did I remind you of it again?” 

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water. 

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?” 

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him. 

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser. 

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into. 

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts. 

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.” 

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it. 

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated. 

For now. 

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him. 

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.” 

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength. 

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.” 

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life. 

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.” 

You love him. 

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place. 

You love him. And it’s real. 

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around. 

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully. 

“Put it in.” 

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.” 

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.” 

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.” 

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.” 

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.  

This is happiness. 

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful. 

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child. 

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager. 

“Please, Jungkook, take me.” 

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath. 

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” 

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you. 

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite. 

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.” 

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger. 

He’s starving. Terribly starving. 

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you. 

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight. 

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.” 

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there. 

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.” 

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.” 

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.” 

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation. 

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you. 

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you. 

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?” 

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound. 

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.” 

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him. 

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you. 

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this. 

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.” 

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him. 

“I want you.” 

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?” 

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.” 

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.” 

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity. 

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know. 

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love. 

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist. 

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.” 

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to. 

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him. 

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm. 

“That’s enough.” 

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all. 

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists. 

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.” 

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over. 

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased. 

Looks like you need another form of punishment. 

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will. 

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for. 

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes. 

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?” 

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.” 

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you. 

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?” 

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger. 

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level. 

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him. 

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?” 

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him. 

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?” 

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down. 

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there. 

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?” 

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.” 

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. 

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.” 

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair. 

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?” 

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night. 

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you. 

He overflows with a thrumming life. 

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?” 

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there. 

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?” 

You merely laugh through your nose. 

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you. 

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.” 

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again. 

“Good night,” you say. 

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[yourlocaltrashpandaa]

In Bed Together ~ Triple S Headcanons SFW

sonic x fem!reader, shadow x fem!reader, silver x fem!reader

headcanons

request: yes/no: this was a sort of a request; shadow was picked for a poll I did yet I decided to do the Triple S boys bc ppl love them

A/n: Hope you guys enjoy this~!

<=========>

Sonic

—Bedtime are some of the only moments that you see Sonic slow down

—But honestly it was no surprise to you since he probably burns so much energy in one day

—Running around and stopping Eggman being one of them

—Sonic would come home with you after a long day, having dinner with you and having a relaxing evening

—Sonic is very cuddly in bed with you

—Laying in your lap, hugging your waist as ran your hands carefully through his fur and quills

—Soon you’ll fall asleep spooning each. Sonic is the big spoon for obvious reasons

— “Sweet Dreams, N/n.”

<===>

Shadow

—you are usually in bed before Shadow comes home, you rarely see him unless he taken days for himself to spend with you

—he searches for you when he comes home, you are usually on the couch sleeping from waiting for him or already in bed sleeping. Sometimes he does catch you with the tv on still awake

—he sits beside you. “You shouldn’t wait for me, dear.” That’s all he said before he picks you up into his arms and taking to you to your shared bedroom

—if you are in bed asleep when he comes home, he’d smile at you peacefully sleeping, moving some loose strands of hair out of your face then gets ready to join you

— “Goodnight, Y/n…”

<===>

Silver

—silver is very shy boi even though you and him have been dating for a year now. Sleeping in the same bed as you still makes him flustered

—he likes being face to face with you, having late night chats like that are his favorite thing

—a few kisses here and there, mostly from you

—like Sonic, Silver is also very cuddly with you though not just in bed when it’s just you two hanging out at home. He’s likes to hold you or just be close to you

—he spoons you, cuddling into your shoulder.

— “Night, Y/n…”

[gremlinscomics]

No comic today y'all, Crow and I are still getting chapter 2 put together, HOWEVER-

Would y'all like some more Big Mama's Assistant content...?

Just a quick intro to who she is at this point in SOOP, read it on AO3 or just continue reading down below, enjoy!

Big Mama's assistant has been given many, many names throughout her life.

A champion, a work of art, Big Mama’s finest masterpiece.

She is everything that is to be expected from someone brought up by the most powerful Yokai in all of the Hidden City. A sharp-witted young woman and the perfect extension of power.

Outsiders may say she’s barely more than a pet, never out of her owner's sight, a product of a flamboyant businesswoman's flights of fancy. 

She’s an echo, who’s voice is nothing more than myth to those around her, whose face is concealed by a well designed muzzle.

Big Mama’s loyal assistant, with not a thought of her own, merely a vessel for a higher power.

The older Yokai at the hotel, the ones that have been there since its beginning, who witnessed her sudden appearance, will deny that she’s simply just Big Mama’s assistant.

To them she is known as Venus DeMilo.

Sole heir to the Nexus and all the glory surrounding it, a child born with a silver spoon in her mouth. They say that her loyalty to Big Mama is nothing new, not something that simply appeared one day. Even from a young age, she was more than willing to obey every order. It’s not uncommon knowledge that she was raised knowing her status was high above those around her, second only to her Mother’s.

She and Big Mama once attended human galas together; Their carefully crafted cloaking brooches allowing them to seamlessly blend with the crowds of New York  elites. Venus was an endless source of bragging, with Big Mama never passing up an opportunity to talk about her dearest daughter's latest achievements or praises.

Even as the years went on and, despite her social appearances becoming fewer and further between, her reputation remained intact.

Venus DeMilo is a loyal daughter who preens at the praise of her elders and puffs out her chest when Big Mama mentions her latest accomplishments.

Venus DeMilo comes from a high pedigree, she’s a debutante. 

But, there’s an air around her, one that sets others on edge. She is something more than just a ward blinded by their admiration for their provider.

She is a soldier who will gladly spill blood if her commander tells her to.

And she does.

Venus grows up in the arena, with millions watching.

She goes from a child to a champion nearly overnight, to the surprise of few and the cheers of many. Her first match for the title of top fighter in the Battle Nexus drew in droves of Yokai, all more than eager to watch a young Venus crush opponents ten times her size under her heel.

In the arena she is untethered, no one there to hold her to the etiquette and rules of high society. She breaks bones, maims without a second thought, competitors beg for mercy when they see their fleeting lives in the reflection of her tessen and she always, always, emerges victorious.

Venus looks up after every match, like clockwork, not towards the roaring crowds who adore her every breath, but at Big Mama's private box high above them; always asking a silent question, waiting almost hesitantly for a few moments, before bowing her head and making her exit; a trail of destruction left in her wake.

Big Mama brags about her creation, her crown jewel, always praising Venus on how close she is to succeeding; Lamenting on how she’s nearly caught up to her reputation.

Over the years, Venus has never wavered, never questioned her place. She loves her mother and her mother loves her, wants what's best for her, and that is enough.

She is content with her role, she is happy to blend into the shadows until Big Mama asks her to step into the spotlight, to show what years of an upbringing under proper conditions can yield.

There’s a power behind Venus, a constant brand, reminding her who she owes her success to. It whispers and instructs, never leading her astray.

If it tells her to jump, she jumps, if it tells her to win, she snatches victory up from her competitors' cold, stiff hands.

When it tells her to live up to the statuesque legacy she’s been given, she gladly chips and chisels away every single inadequacy; always just out of perfection's grasp but nearing it more and more with each attempt.

Because she is Venus DeMilo, soon she will be Big Mama’s pièce de résistance.

Soon she won’t just be a champion.

She will be a victor.

[maeby-cursed]

vampire!satoru who’s not used to being in the shadows. 

he gets turned very young and lives through every stage he could possibly live through; denial, starvation, a deep self loathing and a bitter feeling of acceptance. he was never too concerned about harming others but he was also not used to having his liberties curtailed.

vampire!satoru who begins to hunt others.

he needs the blood, quite literally, to survive. he’s also gotten even more vain in this new skin, this odd state of life between what was and death. he hasn’t found any others like him yet so he has no guidance, he hunts men and women alike and tries to figure out what he likes. he can’t help but admire himself though; this new glow of his skin, his elongated canines… he enjoys the blood dripping down his face, the only drop of color against the white of his hair, skin and eyes. 

vampire!satoru who gives up on morals entirely. 

he finds new victims easily and feeds on them, enjoying himself like narcissus in the lake. he buys a mansion by stealing money from every prey and works out a system to enjoy his life to the fullest even if he cannot see the sun ever again. he tricks and manipulates women and lies and slaughters men by the thousands. he feels numb with every drop of blood.

he never once kills a child.

vampire!satoru who meets you.

it’s a cold january night and a blizzard has struck the town he resides in at the moment. he could very well go out if he felt inclined to but he’s not forgotten his lazy ways, he doesn’t feel like chasing some poor victim in the middle of a snow storm just to get a drop of cold blood. he’s not that desperate. 

he spends his night reading, studying, turning the tv on and off and contemplating himself on every surface he can see himself reflected upon. 

he’s in the middle of admiring his eyes on a silver spoon when someone knocks on his door. he’s so startled he drops the utensil, and now he’s annoyed. no one startles the satoru gojo.

vampire!satoru who opens the door and sees your face for the first time.

you’re wrapped in a thick coat, hair floating around your visage due to the wind. he’s struck for a moment with a memory he can’t recall; a warm smile and a mane of black hair. 

“who the hell are you?” he asks. 

vampire!satoru who for an unknown reason decides to listen to you.

you explain how you were about to catch a flight when the storm hit, how you don’t know the town very well and cannot find your way to a hotel. a shy smile makes your cheeks soft when you timidly ask if you could stay for a night. 

vampire!satoru who is a predator, vampire!satoru who is an animal, vampire!satoru who is not human, not your friend, not kind, not good.

vampire!satoru who for a second feels greedy.

you trust him. you trust this creature in front of you who is very obviously not like you, who has the coldest eyes you’ve ever met and the longest canines you’ve ever seen. your instincts know – they must.

and yet… he can see it in your eyes, the kindness hidden behind the pupils that tell him you always expect people to be good, even when you shouldn’t.

vampire!satoru who feels thirsty for something that isn’t blood for the first time in a hundred years.

vampire!satoru who can’t remember who he was all those years ago.

he can’t remember the faces of those he used to love, can’t remember how he looked like or what he thought of the world. who was a human in a world of humans and now feels like a child who’s been told he has to hurt others to survive. 

he can’t remember what he’s done since he was turned, can’t remember the number of victims or what they looked like. who was reborn alone and has lived alone and will exist forever alone.

vampire!satoru who really truly doesn’t want this to be his existence. 

vampire!satoru who answers your question with an “okay” and lets you in.

[siribaes]

FEELIN’ IT

KOFI SIRIBOE X blackfem!reader

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Drank In My Cup by Kirko Bangz, Drunk in Love by Beyoncé, Refill by Elle Varner

WARNING: 18+, SMUT, Henny D*ck from Kofi lol, praise kink, semi-rough s*x, unprotected pinv (wrap it up kids)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: beware of typos & mistakes lol, and this one is for my petite girlies (*cough* self-insert) / GIF CREDIT: @tishrivers

Low rumbles of movement awoke Y/N from her sleep. Y/N stirred for a moment as the movements continued, shifting slight in her spot. She cracked one eye room, immediately welcomed by the pitch blackness of the room except the silver of neon light from a side table clock.

2:16 AM.

He’s home.

Y/N yawned as she sat up from her bed. Stretching her arms and legs she flipped the blanket off her, getting up from the bed. Y/N softly padded out of the bedroom and downstairs to the source of the noise.

She could see a shadow stretch from the kitchen and into the hallway. Smiling slightly to herself, Y/N tip toed her way to the kitchen. Her smile grew wider as she saw the culprit behind the noise.

He stood with the fridge partially open, the light illuminating his beautiful angular features. His brows were furrowed, as his coca-cola brown, yet borderline blood shot red eyes scanned the shelves of the refrigerator. Y/N chuckled softly at his expression while he had spoon held in his mouth. Y/N’s eyes traveled to the island where a large bowl filled with ice cream sat. Immediately she knew what he was searching for.

“Kofi,” Y/N spoke aloud. Immediately Kofi turned to her, taking the spoon out of his mouth. A slow syrupy smile grew from his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Bottom left drawer.”

It took a second for the information to sink in, for Kofi in his buzzed haze. It did though, Kofi’s eyes lit up, his smile grew even wider, as he turned back to the fridge. He bent down opening the drawer and pulling out a brown bottle of chocolate sauce.

“You the G.O.A.T., baby,” he murmured as he closed the fridge.

Y/N walked to the island, watching Kofi pour a generous amount of chocolate sauce onto his ice cream. He took a huge spoonful and shoved into his mouth. A groan erupted from him, a dangerous one that should’ve not sent tingles through Y/N body, but did anyway. He had that effect on her always.

“It’s good?” Y/N asked. She lifted herself up and sat on the island counter next to Kofi. She caught huge whiff of the Hennessey he must've been sipping on from earlier on.

“I fucks with this Vegan ice cream heavy,” Kofi proclaimed, pointing his spoon at the bowl.

He took another spoonful as his gaze dipped towards Y/N’s bare legs, it fully registering her sleep attire, a huge Destiny’s Child band t-shirt and short shorts. His eyes traveled back upwards to Y/N’s gaze, a bit more heated than previously.

“You taste better tho,”

“Kofi, don’t start,” Y/N chuckled, playfully swatting his arm. He jokingly cowered and continued to devour his dessert. “How was the club? Y’all have fun?”

He nodded slowly, setting the spoon to the side, and scratched at his beard.

“Yeah. Good vibes. Good music too...Tre was in better spirits since the split," Kofi mused, his eyes slightly danced as he absentmindedly scratched at his beard. He turned towards Y/N peering down at her. Large, calloused hands found themselves at the soft flesh of her legs, the pads of his thumbs rubbed on the tops of her thighs. A warmth bloomed underneath Y/N's skin, while butterflies flew around in her stomach, and dampness pooled in her panties. "You should've been there with me."

A soft moan threatened to escape Y/N's lips, she choked it back before she spoke.

"M-Me? Be responsible for interrupting boys' night, I dunno about that, baby."

Kofi tipped his head to the side, a sly grin bloomed across his lips. A flicker of mischief appeared in his eyes. He stopped rubbing at Y/N's thighs and instead gave them gentle squeeze. Y/N whimpered slightly, causing Kofi's grin to grow even more.

"Maybe it was a good thing, I was bricked up thinkin' about you, anyway," Y/N's eyes slowly trail down, seeing the large print behind his black jeans. Kofi palmed himself and groaned. "You gon' help me, pretty girl."

Y/N nodded quickly, immediately bringing Kofi down to her, crashing her lips against his. Initially, a kiss that was heated and messy, turned slow, and passionate. Kofi's tongue swirled around in her mouth, she tastes the sweetness of the vanilla ice cream and chocolate, with the slight bitterness from the Hennessey. He kissed her so softly and sweetly, that it put Y/N a daze. It was all mere distraction, as Kofi slid his right hand down her shorts curling two fingers inside of Y/N.

"Kofi," Y/N whimpered as Kofi's fingers began to slowly pump in and out of her. "Fuck, baby!"

Kofi peppered kisses on the side of her face, nibbling on the outer shell of her ear.

"I feel you tightin' up, let me see ya pretty ass cum, baby," Kofi drawled, his LA-New Orleans accent slipping through, spurred Y/N even more.

The pleasure began to pulse through her as she felt herself clenching around Kofi's thick fingers.

"I'm-I'm gonna cum baby, fuck!" Y/N mewled.

"Let go, baby. I gotchu," Kofi rasps.

Her orgasm pooled out of her, flooding Kofi's fingers. He thrusted his fingers a few more times before he pulled his fingers out of her. Y/N slightly pouted at the lost of Kofi's touch. He chuckled softly before he sucked on his two fingers, swirling his pink tongue around them.

"Turn around for me," Y/N happily obliged, she quickly discarded her shorts and panties, flinging them to the side. She turned and faced the counter. Y/N stood on her tippy toes, excitement rushed through her as she heard the sounds of Kofi undoing his pants. Y/N almost crumbled as Kofi's rubbed the head of his dick between her soft, wet folds.

"Don't play, Kofi. I need you," Y/N whined, attempting to draw him further inside of her.

Kofi's hand came crashing down on Y/N's ass, it echoed throughout the kitchen. She yelped, slapping her own hands against the marble counter.

"Relax, Y/N" Kofi groaned has he continued to rub himself in her folds. "So fuckin' hard-headed, gimme a minute baby,"

"Sorry, "Y/N moaned quietly.

After a few more seconds of teasing, Y/N's prayers were answered as Kofi finally plunged into her warmth, completely bottoming out before he began to drill into her.

“You feel too good baby," He's deep inside now, with his large hands gripping at Y/N's waist, Kofi continues to grind his dick into her, with rough, sloppy strokes. "Fuck you so tight, all this shit for me?"

Y/N could feel herself gushing at just the tone of his voice. A sweetness managed to cut through all of the hoarseness and lust. It always drove her crazy when he did shit like that. The familiar thrumming of her orgasm, hurdled towards the surface, she squeezed and tightened around him. Kofi moaned at Y/N gripping him.

"You close?" Kofi asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

"Yes baby, I'm gonna," Y/N's orgasm shot through her before she could finish. She whined and moaned as Kofi continued to fuck her through it.

"You still with me pretty girl?" Kofi rasped in her ear.

“Mhmmm, Kofi, shit!” Y/N babbled, her mind only zeroed in the pleasure between her legs. It was too much trying to keep with Kofi too.

Kofi grabbed a fistful Y/N’s coils bringing her upwards, not all the way, but far enough that she couldn’t use the counter to support herself.

“I said, you still with me pretty girl, hm?”

Y/N nodded. A sharp slap on her ass caused her to whine, a small punishment for not responding. Whether he liked to admit or not, Kofi was a words kinda guy. He loved to hear how he made you feel, even if it was garble of incoherent nonsense, he needed to know that you were there with him, present for it all. Still, the words choked on her tongue. Another slap, harder than the last, had Y/N squirming underneath Kofi. Another slap was soon to follow, but Y/N responded before he could.

“Yessss, baby I’m with you! Fuck meeee!"

"Fuck, I'm about to nut. You gon' take this shit like a good girl, huh?"

"I will baby, fuck, give it to me please!"

Kofi went into overdrive, fucking Y/N wildly. She felt him swell inside of her. His bulbous hammered at her spot, sending her into throws of pleasure, so much so she felt tears prickle in her eyes.

"You so pretty takin' me, fuck I'm cumin'," Kofi groaned as he spilled inside of Y/N. They both shook and moaned together, as Kofi slowly fucked his cum inside of her. He slowly slipped out of her, his breath on Y/N's sweat-slicked skin. Kofi tapped his finger Y/N's waist, signaling her to face him. She turned around only to be greeted by his glistening, cum-dripped, shaft. It was still hard.

"I wanna see that pretty ass face when I cum inside you," He proclaimed, slipping right back inside Y/N, ready for round 2.

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

HIS SONGBIRD

Warning: english is not my first language, aemond is obsessed, mention of masturbation

Kings landing was always bustling, whether it was merchants offering their wares or whores luring passers-by into the house of pleasure. There were thousands of voices in the city, but recently there was one more that was louder and kinder than the others. A voice that used to sing for money, food, or a place to sleep. A voice that every innkeeper wished to have with him, because his sound attracted customers even from the outskirts of the city. Lately, the owner of the voice has been seen in very crowded marketplaces singing songs encouraging the common people to support the rightful Queen Rheanyra. These meetings were always ended by golden cloaks that began to make their way through the crowd, but the girl always miraculously evaporated in the adjacent alleys.

Aemond left the brothel in the early hours of the morning. He was tired, stayed up all night and told his woes to the madam in the brothel. He felt a little better, but he was still bothered by the fact that without the coin, the madam wouldn't even look at him. All he longed for was his soft bed with its silky, cool sheets. When he saw a female figure dancing and tapping a tambourine to the beat of a song. Her voice left him mesmerized, he was used to bards from the court, or the songs of dragons as they soared into the sky. Her voice felt like cold water after days of thirst, he listened to her voice so much that he didn't even realize the words of the song.

In the shadow of the palace, the people cry,

Underneath the gilded rooftops, where the hungry die.

Golden crowns and silver spoons, but empty plates,

While the children of the kingdom face their cruel fate.

From the throne, they preach of grace and charity,

But in the streets, there’s only pain and disparity.

Hey, King, can’t you see?

Your people starve while you feast.

Hey, Dowager Queen, hear our plea,

In your kingdom of the beast.

No more, no more, we won’t bow

We’re rising up, we’re shouting now.

These words, although not directed at him, angered him. How could this street rat say this about the royal family and how people seemed to agree with her.

And you know what they say don't make a dragon angry.,, Hey you, stop now.” he yelled at her. Her face immediately realized that silver hair meant trouble for her. Before he could blink, her dark blue skirt was already disappearing around the corner. He immediately ran after her, pushing several people out of his way. He couldn't even see her properly for several streets, he always caught a glimpse of her hair, or the edge of her purple scarf tied around her hips. In one street he thought he had lost her for good, when he heard the faint strumming of a tambourine coming from under the cloak of a veiled figure walking hand in hand with a little girl. He slowly followed them, the tall figure didn't turn, but the little girl periodically turned and watched him. When the figure, which turned out to be an unknown singer, finally approached them within two steps, she pushed the little girl into the next alley. “Run Jenny.” she called to her and ran into another alley that turned out to be a dead end.,, Now what about songbird, looks like you're trapped.” he taunted. "Don't worry, prince, I won't be in it for long," she snapped back at him. He didn't even realize it, but they were standing in an alley that housed a woodworking shop. A log was leaning against the wall that blocked the end of the street. Like a wild cat, the woman leaped onto that log and climbed onto the roof of the wall and kicked the log down so he couldn't climb up to her.,, Goodbye one eyed prince I hope you enjoyed my performance.” she taunted him.,, Once I will catch you and then your treacherous head will be exposed for all to see.” he cursed at her. "That sounds very good, you're very interesting Targaryen prince, maybe I'll write my next song about you." But before the girl could disappear, her scarf got caught on a piece of chipped wall, unfortunately the woman was already jumping to the other side of the wall, so her scarf remained gets stuck in the wall.

The next day, a new song about the one-eyed Targaryen was heard throughout the city.

Hey, Aemond, how’s it feel to be so bold? With all your fire, yet your heart is cold. Hey, Aemond, playing the warrior prince, We all laugh at your pretense. In the shadow of your brother, you try to stand tall, But you're just a puppet at the grandest ball. Scheming and plotting, with your dragon's might, But when it comes to bravery, you’re out of sight. You talk of honor, of strength and pride, But without your dragon, where do you hide?

Although the song offended him, something inside him warmed his heart. He made such an impression on her that she wrote a song about him. He could only smile and listen to her voice waft through the city as he pulled her scarf to his nose and breathed in her scent. It was a mix of herbs and smoke, the combination made his cock harden again, and his red head was already leaking some of his spending onto his stomach.

Oh, the next time he sees you won't run away from him, he'll keep you as his own little bird just for his pleasure, he'll put you in a golden cage so you'll never fly away from him again.

Pt.2????

If anyone have request i would be happy to write it for you.

And only best for you. kisses

[avaritia-apotheosis]

They Might Be Giants

Alfred Pennyworth receives a phone call and is given custody over his recently orphaned nephew Danny Fenton.

A DPxDC Crossover // Read on [AO3] // Fic Masterlist

◆◆◆

one. 

Alfred received the phone call on an idyllic Sunday afternoon. Wayne Manor was a sleepy old thing in this weather, the house quiet and still as Alfred polished the silver to a shine. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were out, taking little Master Bruce with them to see a new exhibit on the Mesozoic period.

He picked up the ringing kitchen landline and cradled the receiver in the juncture of his shoulder and ear, a practiced speech of “ Wayne Manor, may I know who is speaking? Apologies, the masters are unavailable at this moment, but may I pass on a message?” already at the tip of his tongue. 

Before he could open his mouth, the caller spoke. “Is this Mr. Alfred Beagle?”

Beagle was his mother’s maiden name, and the name Alfred took when he worked in Britain. The Pennyworth name, after all, was too closely associated with the Waynes. No one had called him that for years, now. He adjusted his grip on the receiver before resuming his polishing. “This is he. May I know who is calling?”

The caller—a tired sounding woman with a midwestern lilt—introduced herself as Mrs. Eller, the attorney to Jack and Madeline Fenton. “I am sorry that you had to learn about it like this, Mr. Pennyworth, but your cousin, Maddie Fenton, her husband, and their daughter Jasmine recently passed away in an accident this Wednesday. You have my deepest condolences.”

They were second cousins. That was the first thought that came to Alfred’s mind, the cloth in his hand frozen at the dip of the spoon he was shining. Their fathers were cousins who lived on opposite sides of the pond. Despite this, Alfred and Maddie remained in close contact with each other throughout their childhood. They were penpals, sending letters and photos and holiday postcards (Maddie more so than Alfred).

He was even invited to their wedding.

And now—

“Wait a minute…” Alfred’s mind stalled. He set down the silver and the cloth. “You said that the daughter died as well. They had a younger son. What happened to him?”

“He is alive and…as well as he could be in this situation. Danny is actually the reason why I needed to contact you.” Mrs. Eller cleared her throat. “In the Fentons’ will, you were named as their childrens’ legal guardian in case…the worst ever came to pass.”

“I…me? What about Alicia? Maddie’s sister?”

“It’s the late Doctors Fentons’ will, sir. And Danny has agreed to it as well.”

“I see.” Alfred’s breath came out in a shuddering gasp. “Well, if my dear late cousin willed it, then I am willing to comply. Please, let me make some arrangements first, and then I will get back to you with the details.” 

He hung up the phone—

—buried his face in his hands—

—and breathed. 

Alfred could not afford to cry right now.

◆◆◆

two. 

Thomas and Martha were more than happy to accommodate Danny within the manor when Alfred told them about his current situation. It was expected—the Waynes always had a penchant for generosity—but Alfred couldn’t help the sigh of relief all the same. 

(Master Bruce, precocious eight-year-old that he was, wrinkled his brows at the news. While fine with sharing his own things, the attention of his favorite people on the other hand, he hoards like a greedy dragon.)

A week after that terrible phone call, Alfred pulled the black Bentley up to the correct airport terminal and waited for his new charge’s arrival. 

Alfred had seen grief in many faces. Had experienced it himself. Despite this, nothing would ever prepare him for the utter desolation that seeped through Danny’s body. The boy was wan faced— skin almost gray. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, eyes bruised by shadows and stained red by tears. His back was hunched, less from the weight of his backpack and more so from the grief that hung on his shoulders. 

“Mr. Pennyworth?”  Danny’s voice was a dull timbre, nearly cracking at the edges. Alfred shook his hand (freezing cold, but not clammy). “I remember you. Mom always made sure to send you a Christmas card.”

The Fenton family Christmas card was always something Alfred appreciated. He had no family of his own that he was particularly close to, his immediate relatives all dead or estranged in some way. That Alfred received a card without fail every Christmas was always a novel feeling. It was…nice, to know that he still had ties somewhere. Danny, Alfred remembered, never really smiled in those cards. Oh he’d stretch his lips wide and show his teeth, but it was obvious from the way the smile never reached his eyes, and the tightness around his jaw that Danny wasn’t a Christmas person. 

And now, with only a few weeks left till Christmas, he might never be one. 

The two slid into the Bentley and drove off in relative silence. Danny had his head pressed against the window, eyes glazed as he watched the high-rise Gotham streets soon fade into open, rolling hills, and then the palatial monument that was Wayne Manor. 

At the sight of the manor, Danny blinked. “You a millionaire or something?” (Shoulders tensed. Hands curled into fist. His jaw clenched into a hard line, and there was a kind of acidity in his tone at the question. Problems with wealth? No. People with wealth.)

“No.” Alfred kept his tone bland. “But I do work for them. I am the Head Butler for the Wayne family, and have lived here with them while under their employ. They’ve graciously extended that hospitality to you.”

“Do I have to work for them or something?”

Most definitely a problem of someone with wealth.

Alfred shook his head. “While I would appreciate some help here and there, you have no obligation to do so. This is where you’ll live, with me. You can live here for as long as you’d like, and when you feel ready, we can also talk about entering you into school again.”

Danny drums his fingers against his forearm, eyes trained on the stone statues that guarded the door.

Thomas and Martha welcomed the boy with open arms. Danny shook their hands and thanked them with a raspy voice, polite smile not reaching his eyes. 

Master Bruce, shy and wary of the newest addition to the Wayne household, hid in the shadows of his mother’s ash mauve skirts. His blue eyes peeked upwards at Danny inquisitively.

(Later, after Alfred helped Danny settle into the room across from his own, Master Bruce would pull Alfred aside and ask why Danny looked so sad. 

Alfred knelt to Bruce’s eye level and pressed a warm hand on his shoulder. “He is sad because his family is gone.”

Master Bruce tilted his head. “Gone where? When will they be back?” For all that he was an intelligent lad, Bruce was barely more than a child. Death was a foreign concept. The death of a loved one was even moreso.

“Somewhere far, far away.” Alfred doesn’t want to be the one that teaches Bruce about death.)

◆◆◆

three. 

Wayne Manor was rumored to be haunted. It was a silly rumor of course; the Manor was an old house, and old houses have a tendency to make noises. But with Danny, one might almost be tricked into thinking it was true. 

Danny was a wraith. He haunted the wide and empty hallways with preternaturally silent footsteps, the hairs on Alfred’s nape standing on ends whenever he’d suddenly catch a glimpse of the boy at the corner of his eye. Sometimes Alfred would see him linger in shadowed nooks or in the solitude of his bedroom, staring vacantly at nothing. 

“He is still grieving,” Thomas would say. “Be patient with him.”

“He needs space,” Martha advised. “Just be there for him, Alfie. Let him know you’re someone he can trust, someone he can count on for support.”

Alfred looked down at his white-gloved hands. He knew that. He knew Danny needed support, needed space, needed time . But what about after? When the pang of grief had dulled with time, and Danny decided to step into the world instead of letting it pass by him? He was a child, and all children need parents.

Alfred remembers his time as an intelligence officer, slumming with petty criminals and socializing with wealthy targets. Living double, triple, quadruple lives, and exploiting every weakness that he could dig up in order to tear people down. 

Nurturing hands he had not.

(Fatherhood would never suit someone like him.)

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed.

“But you must either way,” said Martha. “You are all Danny has left in the world.”

“The best is all you can really do,” added Thomas. “Look on the bright side: you’re already doing so well with Bruce.”

Sighing through his nose, Alfred rubbed the ache away from his temples. Recalled, then, the distant past with his own father who cared more for another family than his own. Jarvis Pennyworth was an austere man who embodied the ‘stiff upper lip’ idiom so commonly applied to the British people. Even in Alfred’s memory, Jarvis barely smiled. 

Jarvis was not a warm father. And yet…

Alfred still remembered the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he was young and saw a plate of freshly peeled fruit sitting on his desk.

Jarvis was not a particularly warm father, and more often than not was clumsy and awkward with his affection. But he loved his family still. Even far away, Alfred knew that his father would always be there for him.

And maybe, that’s what Danny needed from him too. 

◆◆◆

four. 

Alfred's previous occupation necessitated light sleeping habits, and for all Danny's too-quiet footsteps, he too was at the mercy of the Manor's age. Danny's door creaked open in the dead of night, rousing Alfred from his rest. From there, it only took Alfred fifteen seconds to ascertain that Danny had already turned around the hallway.

Alfred rose from his bed and tied his dressing robe around his waist. His nephew had a habit of wandering outside his room late at night. At first, from Alfred's observations, it was only to aimlessly walk throughout the Manor. After the first week, Danny had begun to gravitate to one place in particular.

The library.

Though it was less for the comfort of books or the rather comfortable wingback armchairs that surrounded the fireplace, and more for the small balcony that overlooked the topiary garden.

The first time Alfred had followed Danny there, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw Danny sit at the edge of the balustrade, feet dangling twenty feet above the ground. He nearly gave away his hiding spot in the shadow of some shelves. Fortunate for him that Danny wasn't the most observant person. He was like his mother in that way; for all that Maddie was an intelligent and frightfully observant little girl, she could be totally blind to some of the most obvious signs. (Alfred wondered if she ever grew past that.)

Like the first time, Danny sat at the edge of the balustrade. His fingers drummed a rhythmic pattern against the stone, head tilted up as he watched the starry sky above. Unlike the first time, Alfred made a stop at the kitchen first, coming out with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Made just the way his own father used to. 

Alfred deliberately stepped on a few creaky floorboards on his way over to alert Danny of his presence. He set down his own mug atop the railing before offering the other to his nephew. "It's cold out."

Wordlessly, Danny wrapped his hands around the mug and tucked it close to his chest. His blue eyes— startlingly bright in the darkness—scrunched in confusion as he tried to figure out Alfred's angle.

"It's not poisoned," Alfred joked dryly. He took a sip of his own mug as if to prove it. "That's too cliche."

"Too suspicious, too. It'd be easier to just push me off the balcony. Makes it look like an accident." Danny turned pink, sheepish. "Oh no that was kinda morbid. I'm sorry, I don't — I don't know why I said that."

He chuckled. "I'm the last person to reprimand you for morbid jokes, boy. And besides, you're right." Alfred smiled from beneath his cup when he saw Danny take a sip of the hot chocolate. "What brings you out here, anyway?"

There was a line of chocolate above Danny's lip. He wiped it away with the back of his wrist. "Stargazing, I guess. It's— there's less light pollution here and I wanted to just…look, I guess."

"Do you like astronomy?"

Danny nodded, gazing upwards at the cluster of stars above. "I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little."

"And now?"

"I still do. A lot. But I don't think that's possible for me anymore."

Alfred adjusted his grip on his mug. “Why not?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t…know, really.” His voice is infinitesimally small that it is almost carried away by the evening wind. He hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees and mug settled on the bannister. Looked as if he was teetering on the edge and Alfred’s hand itched to pull on his arm as if to anchor him. “It feels as though I’m someone else. Like the Danny that wanted to become an astronaut lives in an entirely separate reality, and it feels weird to still want that dream because he and I are so—” 

His breath catches in his throat. Eyes wide as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Then, all at once, his energy leaves him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Alfred shook his head. “No. Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” He met Danny’s gaze. Hoped that the boy would see the sincerity in his own eyes. “You are right. You are changed, Danny. I don’t know in what way, but you have changed and it is alright that you feel like a different person. Grief changes you, but it doesn’t mean you have to distance yourself from who you once were.”

Danny gripped the bannister tight. Fingers dug harshly into the stone. “I heard a lot that ‘time heals all wounds.’ ” He laughed humorlessly. “Is that actually true?”

“No,” Alfred said. “It doesn’t. The wound will never heal, but time will numb it enough that it no longer feels as painful.”

Danny looked at Alfred for a long moment, searching for something. The cold wind tousled his hair. Despite the frigid temperatures, Danny had not shivered even once.

Then, he spoke. “I still don’t think I can become an astronaut.”

Alfred’s gaze softened. “That’s alright. You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do with it.”

◆◆◆

five. 

Surprisingly—or perhaps, unsurprisingly—it was Master Bruce that pulled Danny out of the shadows of grief. Not completely, but…enough so that Danny began to finish everything on his plate and was unafraid to sleep some nights without waking up in nightmares.

Thomas and Martha were pleased, of course. For all Bruce’s brightness and endearing personality, he was so shy and struggled to make friends his own age. Danny at fourteen was still years older, but progress was progress. The Wayne couple would encourage the two’s friendship with a warm smile and an overindulgence in their antics. As long as Danny and Bruce didn’t leave the estate without their permission or stay out too late, the boys were free to wander as they liked.

In Alfred’s eyes, the connection between the two was obvious. Like called to like. Loneliness called to loneliness.

Once, Alfred caught the boys laying down in the soft grassy fields behind the manor. Their heads are pillowed by their arms, eyes craned towards the bright array of stars above, and willfully ignorant of the curfew they were breaking.

Danny lifted his arm to point at the sky. “See those three stars in a line?” he said to Bruce. “Those three stars make up Orion’s belt, and are the brightest stars in his constellation. See? If you follow it, you can sorta make the shape of a person.”

“I see it!” Master Bruce exclaimed. He traced a vague shape in the air. “There’s his chest. That, his arm. And look! I can even see his bow!”

“You know, a lot of people actually think that’s a shield.”

“But that looks nothing like a shield!” 

Alfred couldn’t see for certain, but he felt that Danny would’ve shrugged at that statement. “Shield, bow, pelt of fur, doesn’t really matter in the end. The important thing was that you could see it. The ancient Mediterraneans used Orion as, like, an old calendar to know when it was a good time to thresh—that is, to separate the seeds from like a barley plant—their crops.” He moved his hand again. “The other cool thing about Orion is that it’s a good way to find other stars. See, if you follow the line of his belt away from his bow, you’ll find Sirius, which is the brightest star in the canis major constellation.”

“Is that his dog?”

“Yeah, that’s his dog. Sirius is also the brightest star in our night sky— well, after the sun at least. Anyway, if you follow the line of Orion’s belt towards the bow and even past it, you can see a cluster of stars way up there. There should be seven, but it might be hard to see all of them.”

“I think I see it? Is it that one?”

“Uh, a bit further— yep! That one. That’s the Pleiades, an open star cluster and probably one of the most well known stars in history. There’s actually way more than seven stars up there, but as far as seeing with the naked eye goes, we can only see seven. Like Orion, they were used to mark when it was a good time to harvest, but more than that, they were used by Greek sailors to know when it was a good time to sail. If the Pleiades were setting, or they were gone from the sky, then the seas would be too dangerous and it was better to go home.”

“What about that star over there?”

Alfred sees Danny shift, his head tilting towards the small lump that made up Master Bruce. “Which one?”

“Between the Pleiades and Orion there’s this really bright orange star.”

“Alpha Taurus. The brightest star in the Taurus constellation.” A beat. “Aldebaran, I think is its name. They call it ‘The Follower’ because it always follows after the Pleiades. Fun fact, it’s like over forty-times larger than the sun.”

“Really?” Alfred could hear the incredulity in Master Bruce’s voice. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“Well, all of those stars are lightyears away. They’re so far away that, technically, we’re not really seeing the stars. The light they give takes a long time to actually reach here on earth for us to see, so what we’re looking at is the light of a star from hundreds or thousands of years ago.”

Danny went quiet for a moment. “Really…for all we know, some of the stars we’re looking at have been dead for a while. Alive to us, but dead in reality. A weird kind of limbo.”

“Does it matter though?” Master Bruce said.

“What?”

He turned over, laying on his belly and holding himself up on his forearms. “Dead or alive? Does it matter?” 

“I don’t…”

“I don’t think it does.” Master Bruce flopped back down to the grass. “If it’s alive, it’s alive. If it isn’t, then… it’s still alive in a way? My dad said that you’re never truly dead as long as someone remembers you, and as long as we see the star then it’ll always stay alive.”

Danny was silent for a moment.

Then he laughed and ruffled Bruce’s hair. “You know, Bruce, you’re way too smart for your age.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Never. You kinda remind me of my sister a bit.” 

Alfred’s breath hitched. It was the first time he had ever heard Danny willingly bring up his family since they first met. 

“She was a huge know-it-all,” Danny continued. “Annoyed me a lot because everyone always noticed that I wasn’t smart like her, but…she had a big heart, like you.”

Danny hauled himself to his feet before offering an arm to Master Bruce. “Come on, we better head back before anyone notices that we snuck out past your bedtime.”

Master Bruce whined. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?”

“We can do this again tomorrow night.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die and all that.”

The two walked arm in arm back through the patio entrance, Danny’s footsteps still that same eerie silence, and little Bruce’s slowly matching his gait to copy Danny’s movements. Neither were aware of Alfred, who clung to the shadows, watching his two boys go.

(Alfred said nothing of the boys’ late-night astronomy lessons. He continued to say nothing whenever he caught the two of them breaking curfew. Instead, he’d settle on a chair in a hidden nook that comfortably kept the two in sight, and watched the stars.)

◆◆◆

six. 

Months passed, and slowly, Danny learned to move on. He ate more now. Smiled more. Laughed more. Lived more. 

Danny was a delight to have in the Manor. He was an extra voice that bounced around the vast hallways, another plate set down for family meals, and a point of normalcy in the glittering world of the Waynes. He was Alfred’s apprentice in the kitchen, their handy mechanic when technology went awry, and Bruce’s ever watchful guardian. 

Martha and Thomas loved him. Bruce adored him. 

And Alfred?

Alfred could not help the little voice at the back of his head that wanted to call the boy his own. Danny was his nephew, his family along with the Waynes. 

Despite all the tragedy that brought Danny to Gotham, Alfred could not help but be happy that Danny was here with them.

But Gotham was a cruel mistress.

And Happiness was as fragile as a string of pearls.

Alfred drove Bruce away from that godforsaken alley as soon as he could. The boy (eight years old, he was eight years old and stained in his own parents’ blood) shivered in the passenger seat, an officer’s jacket slung over his small frame. He was silent. Unmoving. Hollow eyes trained at the darkening sky ahead.

They reached the Manor to find Danny furiously pacing on the front steps, teeth worrying the end of his thumb. He froze as soon as Alfred stepped out of the black Bentley.

He jumped down the front steps, shoes skidding against the gravel. “Alfred?”

What happened?

Is everything alright?

Alfred could read every bit of Danny’s body language as if the boy was an open book. The tense line of his shoulders; the rigidness of his spine; the sudden depth of his respirations as if Danny was forcing himself to calm down but couldn’t quite get there in time. There was a wild sort of desperation in his eyes— but Danny wasn’t looking at Alfred. Wasn’t here. Not completely at least.

Some part of Danny was back in Amity again. A young boy like Master Bruce watching his whole world fall apart with a bang. 

Alfred kept a stiff upper lip as he opened the passenger door and helped Master Bruce onto unsteady legs. He had to be strong now, for both his boys. 

“Alfred,” Danny started again. “What— what happened? Where’s—” At the sight of Master Bruce, Danny stumbled to his knees. 

“Bruce? Are you—” He cradled Bruce’s blood-stained cheek, fingers shaking. 

Bruce spoke. The first words he’d said since Alfred came to get him. “What do I do, Danny?” His voice is shaking and raw and so small . The wind could almost carry it away. “They’re gone, Danny. My parents are gone, too.”

Alfred could see the instant Danny broke. 

(Alfred could feel the second he broke, too.)

He pulled both his boys into his arms and held them tight. They were all each other had in this world, and Alfred begged to a god he hadn’t believed in for years that the world not separate them even more.

◆◆◆

seven. 

It’s been a week. 

Alfred found both boys curled up in the grassy fields behind Wayne Manor, staring at the dark expanse of night.

“I never want anyone else to go through what we did,” Bruce said. 

A promise. 

Danny turned to look at Bruce, a hand held out. Aldebaran shone bright and red above him. “Never again.” 

A pact. 

◆◆◆

eight. 

When Bruce is midway through his first year of university and Danny is nearly finished with his bachelor’s degree in aerospace engineering, the two of them dropped out of college, packed a bag each, and disappeared into the night.

 They gave no word. They left no note.

Months later, they were declared dead. Another tragedy for the people of Gotham, who mourned their bright prince. 

All of Bruce Wayne’s finances and belongings were left to Alfred, who continued to tend to them, as if any day Bruce Wayne and his smiling shadow would return. 

Time passed.

The world turned.

Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton remained dead. 

Until one night, when the Pleiades had begun their descent from the sky, Alfred woke to a phone call. He held the phone to his ear, spoke into the receiver in hushed tones, and hung up a few minutes later. 

He readies his uniform. Made sure that it was free of lint, and the fabric was ironed out of any wrinkles. He dressed, made himself presentable, and drove the black Bentley all the way to a lonely airfield on the outskirts of Gotham.

He waits. 

He does not wait long. (He’s waited long enough.)

A small plane descends. Landed on the runway. Stopped. 

An eternity, and the doors opened. 

Out steps two young men, tall and lean, with whipcord muscles and scars that held stories that Alfred might never know.  Their eyes are tired but bright. Hungry for vengeance, for justice, for Gotham .

Alfred smiled at his boys.

“Welcome home.”

[piplup335]

Darkheart x reader!

H E L L O, F E L L A S ! ! ! ! ! ! !

*ahem*

I'm back to write! My exam just ended 2h ago, and I'm doing alright! To whoever requested this, I'm so sorry you had to wait so long ;-; I had stuff to do and I had to rush this because I may not be posting for another month or so otherwise ;-;

but yea, enjoy the story! :D

-

Crossroads. Known for being the lively town which joined all four factions together...and the only thing stopping them from engaging in war.

Blackrock, Playground, Lost Temple and Thieves' Den.

For generations, Blackrock had considered themselves sworn enemies with Playground, and the phighters of Playground thought likewise, so the sight of demons from each faction leaving the other alone instead of going at each other's throats in Crossroads was a treat for everyone. 

It also just so happened to be the only place where people of different factions could meet up and relax after a long day of phights. 

Someone from Lost Temple could chat with someone from Playgrounds without any conflicts happening on either side. 

Someone from Thieves' Den could walk into a bar with someone from Blackrock, and that would be perfectly fine on all sides. 

However, Crossroads wasn’t just the number one hangout place for phighters- it was one for the SFOTH deities, too. Especially during their days off. 

And sometimes, they just so happened to be in the places no one would expect them to be. 

Of course, Firebrand was standing in the centre of it all, boasting to demons about his great power and how he ruled over the entirety of Crossroads. 

Other deities hid elsewhere. They watched over Crossroads from the shadows, save for Windforce who went to Banlands to find her son. 

They all had a favourite place to watch Crossroads from. Illumina enjoyed standing at the edge of the Crossroads tower, watching demons move around like ants on a grid. 

Some of the deities’ favourite spots were slightly unusual, however…

…such as underneath a bridge. 

“Freaking finally…”

The weekend was here. You, a phighter, made a living by duelling other demons in “phights”. They were regularly hosted by Dom and Valk, the two famous idols known as Flipside. 

They were born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and you were participating in these phights to maybe, just maybe, make enough from them to ensure you get to live well for the rest of your life. 

You knew you already could, however- because of your lover. 

He had everything. Strength, affluence, hell, he was also well-known around the Inpherno.

He had offered you everything you could ever wish for. He just wanted you to be there with him until the end of time. 

You refused, however- how could you let your loving boyfriend do all the work?

So, you still worked by phighting- you enjoyed the job, anyway. Your boyfriend would even visit sometimes. Just, well- to annoy the hell out of others.

"A little bit of chaos is fun...don't you think?"

You internally cheered at the sight, but everyone else groaned. Even Biograft, despite it being a robot, seemed to tense up, gripping its energy blades harder...

To you, it was a blessing.

To other players, it was a curse...literally.

“Feeling vulnerable…?”

Just then, the enemy Biograft seemed to falter, its lights dimming. Seemed like he got the curse…

“WHAT THE HELL? AM I NOT VULNERABLE ENOUGH ALREADY?”

Those were his last words before getting obliterated by your ally, Hyperlaser…

Your ally, Shuriken, was chasing down Sword, who was on 15 HP. 

“We’re feeling a gust of wind come along…!”

The next thing he knew, Shuriken got blasted upwards…and out of the map. 

Of course, Darkheart would make sure that you were out of harm's way before casting another one of his curses. Though, he wasn’t as merciful with your teammates…

So here you sat, after a long day and a hard battle, snuggled up in your boyfriend’s arms. 

"Darkheart...I'm exhausted..."

"No need to worry, dear...we'll be here..."

You never really understood why your boyfriend always referred to himself plurally, but it was just another one of his quirks that you adored about him. You loved him, and he loved you back.

His one withered wing wrapped itself around your frame- his own special way of hugging you. Another one of his little habits. 

"We just don't want Illumina to get to you, you know...? We're trying not to be too overprotective...who knows what he'd do to you?"

You giggled. Typical Darkheart- always protective of you, fearing for your wellbeing...sparing you from the usual curses he'd inflict on the others- hell, Darkheart would even curse other people if they got too close to his beloved. 

As you fell asleep in your boyfriend's arms, you couldn't help but let out a small smile. Seeing your happy expression, Darkheart let out a small chuckle.

"Sleep well, my dearest..."

This was your life. Yourself, with Darkheart by your side. Sure, there were little disputes or disagreements in your relationship, and sometimes people would laugh at you because Darkheart was so much taller than you. But despite all this...

...you couldn't ask for more.

- thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! this is my second (I think lmao) romance fic, so if you have any feedback do leave it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D