#here to save her wife presumably?

[booasaur]

The Wheel of Time - 2x06

[simpjaes]

paid in & paid off

Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

 ៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader | park jongseong x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 30k

 ៸៸៸ genre: college break au, summer setting , smut, stepcest 

 ៸៸៸ content tags: angst, smut, fluff, more dominant jay, inexperienced jake, infidelity(?), jealous and possessive behavior, risky sex, jay is mean, jake is a total loser posing as a dude who knows how to pick up girls. reader has hair that can be grabbed and pulled during smut scenes.

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: dub-con, step-cest, jay is a narcissist, manipulation, possessive behavior, use of degrading names such as: dumb, stupid, whore, and slut. i am not responsible for your inability to consume the right content for you. 

 ៸៸៸ side characters: sunghoon as your ex boyfriend, heeseung as your ex boyfriend’s best friend 

 ៸៸៸ a/n: thank u for 1k followers <3 lets just call this one a late new years gift and a thank u for indulging me! btw, this isn’t edited!

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: jake is a boob guy, big dick jake, thick dick jay, degradation, finger fucking, doggy style, mating press, unprotected sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, crying, being pinned down, but also!!!, soft and passionate fucking, riding, marking out, blowjob/deepthroating

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay knew his dad was quick to love, but quick to marry wasn’t really something he was expecting. It took the span of a single semester for him to not only learn that his father had a new girlfriend, but that he was eloping with her, meaning, Jay would be coming home for the summer to an entirely different home life.

He knew nothing of this woman and barely even knew what her name was but it’s not that big of a deal to him, considering he’s out of the house anyway save for holidays and summer breaks. It’s not like he’s going to have to deal with it too often. Afterall, he’s an adult, and so is his father. If anything, the man deserves to feel some love after sending Jay away to one of the best colleges around. Why does it matter that the marriage happened so quickly? 

It doesn’t. 

It’s much the same for you, if not the exact same thought process on the way your mother calls you and dotes on her new husband as if she’s one of your best friends calling you after a hook-up. You’re even a bit excited to head home once finals are over to see your much-missed mother and her new husband. 

Your mother is more detailed in her descriptions of the new life though. Her husband is tall, he’s handsome, he has money, he has a son with the highest GPA on his campus. You weren’t too inclined to process the information at the time though, considering she had called you dead in the middle of crunch time for finals. 

All you know is, your mother is happy and you’re happy for her. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Why the fuck are you here?” Jay asks upon returning home and walking through the front door.

The first thing he noted was that there is a girl sitting on his father’s couch, and she’s far too young to be his new wife. Upon her turning to face him, presumably to see who is walking into the house, he notes that it’s you. 

“No fucking way.” You start, standing up and brushing off your legs of imaginary dust. “You’re the son my mom mentioned?”

Jay looks at you with a bit of shock unable to be hidden within his expression.

“I have a fucking sister? And it’s you, of all people?” Jay huffs in an annoyed way, ultimately because, what kind of shitty luck in life is he set up for? 

The only reason this is his reaction is because, well, the two of you have history. Kind of. To him, at least, probably not to you. 

He remembers the first time he ever saw you, bright eyed and bushy tailed during his freshman year on campus. He thought you were pretty, but it’s not like that thought would go anywhere further. It’s the fact that he found everyone beautiful on campus, solely because he knew he must have been surrounded by people as smart as he is, or perhaps as well off financially as his father is. 

The day he decided that you’re really pretty was during a gen ed class that year. A class that he really could have done with his eyes closed if he’s being honest, but still, his eyes stayed open due to being paired with you for a simple single-class project. Where the two of you were to separate from the other pairs and come up with some sort of argument on a whim regarding a given topic. 

You were great at arguing, even better than him perhaps. 

And from that moment forward, he noticed you more and more through the semesters as you grew as students, despite only having one other class together during that time. 

He noted during that single other class period he shared with you some year and a half into his educational journey that you were one of the only students who didn’t boast about their GPA, which led him to believe you’re probably a little bit dumber than the other students. 

He also noted that you’d hang around the hockey team a lot as time went on, specifically Sunghoon and his friend Heeseung. Those two were rowdy, loud, and always threw the best parties. Or so he’s heard, it’s not like Jay ever showed up to them or anything. His GPA was far too important to not prioritize. 

Eventually, he’d end up noting that you would always be all over Sunghoon. A clear indication that he should keep his eyes to himself, especially with the way Sunghoon would occasionally make eye contact with him after eying his presumed girlfriend for too long. 

Dating Sunghoon though? Yeah, you’re probably a little more than a little bit dumb.

Still, it was just a little college crush that would never turn into anything further. He didn’t need more than the ability to glance at you from time to time and remember how well you argued in that first semester of college. After all, there are tons of other pretty girls on campus too, some that are also probably far more intelligent and not wasting their time on the meat-heads that barely keep their GPA up enough to attend the school. 

That’s why he’s shocked to walk into his father’s house, happy to be home, to find none other than you sitting on that couch. 

And now you’re standing up, facing him, and looking at him for probably the first time in several semesters. He’s actually a little shocked that you remember him at all. 

“Did–” You pause, looking at him confused. “Did your dad not tell you?”

Jay slowly shakes his head, dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes. 

“Probably didn’t think it was too important.” He finally says, shrugging and stretching his arms out above his head after the long drive. 

“It’s pretty important, actually.” You laugh awkwardly, having just gotten to your new home yourself, waiting for your mother to come out of her shower. “This is fucking awkward.”

Jay nods and then walks past you. 

“Hey wait, where are you going?” You ask, confused by the atmosphere in the room. 

“To my room?” He says back in a sarcastic tone, internally conflicted over the fact that his father forced him into crush-hood with someone he is now related to by marriage. 

Still, that’s something he will keep to himself. After all, it was just a small crush that never went away due to not having a reason to stop thinking you’re pretty.

He has a reason now, and he’s still happy to be home despite the awkwardness that’s now living beside him. If anything, he can fill his free time with his old friends rather than becoming friends with you. And he does, entering his room, locking it, and immediately sending a text to his long-time friend that he hasn’t seen since last summer. 

Speaking of said long-time friend. Jake grew up down the street from Jay and as expected, chose to stay home with his family rather than travel for college. He loved them too much to leave them, plus the college here was good. Not as good as the one Jay goes to, but still a great accomplishment nonetheless. 

Jake has a perfect GPA, a perfect family, perfect hair, and a very imperfect way of living up to his own accomplishments. 

For instance, not going with Jay to university despite having a high chance of making it in. He didn’t even try, didn’t even fucking consider it. Jake is the type who is both entirely lost in the world and one hundred percent okay with it. He doesn’t know who he is, who he wants to be, or what to do about it outside of following the general rules of life. 

Be born, learn to talk, learn to walk, go to school, go to college, work, die. 

Still, he is Jay’s best friend, which is why he is the first person he texts upon returning home. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The first dinner with your new family felt strange at best. You have a brother figure now, a father figure, and your mother is smiling for reasons that aren’t you or her new favorite show on tv. It’s both nice and insanely weird to experience sitting at a dinner table with more than just yourself. 

Things were always casual with your mother. Dinner is whenever, eat wherever. But as you look at her, you see her trying to fill a role for the handsome man she’s now married to. You don’t dislike the guy but as her daughter, who she raised almost entirely on her own, you’re cautious about him. 

And looking at Jay? It’s a little bit strange for you. He was so quiet on campus, which is a stark contrast to his loud and vibrant father. The two of them are still alike in some way when it comes to their ice cold stare that can’t be as icy as it appears. 

You remember working with Jay maybe once or twice throughout your semesters, and he was very well spoken. To the point that it almost felt as if you were working directly with a professor rather than a college student. He was clean back then, and somewhat brooding in his own way. It still rings true today if you remind yourself of his attitude upon meeting you in the living room. 

“Jongseong,” His father clears his throat with his son’s name, a smile forming as he places his cutlery to the side. “How did your finals go?”

Jay perks up at the ability to talk about himself and his accomplishments as he looks to your mother. He smiles at her, and you can’t help but think he’s putting on some sort of act. He never smiled too often when you did see him. 

You snort. 

“Jongseong?” You say, laughing at the way his father is so formal. “I thought your name was Jay?” 

Jay was mid-sentence when you so rudely interrupted him and his shiny GPA, as he shot his head to you. 

“Okay,” He says shortly. “What’s your GPA then?”

His father and your mother share a quick glance at each other, seemingly worried that the two of you appear to already be acting like siblings that do not get along. 

“Pfft,” You snort, rolling your eyes. “My GPA is just fine, Jongseong.” 

You’re just kidding around, but you can’t help but press when you note his, almost immediate, annoyance. Which to you is a bit too uptight if you’re being honest.

“So what is it then?” He glares, huffing out through his nose. “Because mine is a weighted 4.7.” 

It’s the fact that you already hate that he’s challenging you. You had no idea that his GPA was so high already, revealing that he must take extra honors classes and advanced courses by this point. Probably making straight A’s in most of them, if not all of them. 

You swallow around your spoon, your cheeky smirk falling almost instantly. 

“Point taken.” You roll your eyes. 

“What is your GPA?” He asks again with a smug smile. 

“I told you, my GPA is fine.” You argue. 

Jay thinks you must have fallen off of your ability to argue, because you’re really not putting up a fight like you did during that first semester. 

“Doesn’t seem fine.” He laughs, grabbing his cup and glaring at you from over it. “Probably just hiding that you’re failing,  just like that boyfriend of yours.”

You pause, actually mad now. 

“Excuse me?” You stare at him, dropping your spoon and clenching your fist. 

“Jongseong!” His father raises his voice at the family mishap, taking your mother’s hand on top of the table. 

Both you and Jay shoot your heads to him.

“That is your sister, don’t be rude.” His father says in a booming voice, reminding Jay that he can’t be petty like this to you. 

Despite wanting to. Mad that he still thinks you’re pretty even with the new discovery, even more mad that he enjoyed pushing your buttons just now. 

What’s worse is the way he glances at you and sees you snicker at his scolding before flinching as if your mother kicked you from under the table. 

He grimaces at the situation, at you, and then smiles at his father. 

“Sorry,” He says, scratching his forehead before grabbing his cup again. “Would have been nice to know I was coming home to a sister though.” 

His dad’s eyes widened before narrowing at his son, annoyed that his own flesh and blood is acting like such a child over this matter. 

“Jongseong–” He warns, and then your mother is speaking up.

“Wait, you didn’t even tell him that I have a daughter?”

The apologetic look that takes over your new step-father’s face is interesting because, honestly, it is a weighted question. You’d like to know why he didn’t tell Jay too, then again, maybe it wasn’t intentional. 

With that, you watch as Jay stands up and leaves the kitchen, leaving his plate there presumably for someone else to clean and can’t help but do the same.

You can see that familiar look of hurt on your mother’s face and feel it best that you sink away into your own room, which still needs to be set up and rearranged anyway. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week and a half since you’ve been to your new home, a week and a half of awkward family dinners, a week and a half of being shunned by your new step brother, and a week and a half of your boyfriend not texting you back.

Safe to say, this summer is starting off on the wrong foot for you and you’re already wanting it to be over so that you can at least focus on schoolwork, rather than the fact that it feels like everyone on this earth must hate you. 

You sit in your room once again after an awkward dinner, hearing your mother and Jay’s father talk quietly in the living room about being in love or something, you’re not sure, you don’t really care. 

At this point, being here rather than your mother’s old house just makes it worse. None of your friends are close enough to just up and visit you, Sunghoon certainly isn’t going to come un-bore you, and it appears that the only form of entertainment you can focus on is your own self-doubt at this moment. 

Why not go hang out with Jay? At least pushing his buttons would be more fun than wallowing in boredom and self-pity. Surely it would be more fun, surely he’d probably have some fun too, since he seems so fond of pissing you off already.

Up you go, onto your socked feet as you head for the door and just across the hallway to his cracked door. 

You don’t even knock before stepping inside as if it’s your own room.

You note that he jumps, startled at your presence. That split second of seeing him before, from behind, it seemed like he was quite focused on his pc, but his little surprised jump leads you to believe he was a bit too focused on it. 

“Sup bro,” You smile, flopping down on his bed in a grand entrance. “Watching porn?” 

Jay rolls his eyes, closing out his tabs because, well, he was gonna but hadn’t yet opened the website or closed his door. 

“Why are you in my room?” He asks, not turning to face you yet.

“I’m bored.” You admit, eyes looking at how messy his bedroom is. Posters on the wall, clothes thrown all around, abandoned dumbbells lying in the corner.

 If anything, you’re a little shocked that Jay is so messy. He appeared so clean cut and well-put together back before you were forced into close proximity with him, his room is a huge mismatch in your head right now. Like, wow, he has personality? His clothes aren’t all boring tones of white, beige, and gray? He likes music? Arguably pretty decent music if the posters are anything to go by.

“Your room is disgusting.”

“Then leave.”

You pause, sitting yourself up and staring at the back of his head.

“Why are you so fucking rude?” You ask, glaring a hole through the mess of hair on his head. 

“Because you’re incapable of having an intelligent discussion and still try to talk to me.” 

God, he’s so robotic when he speaks to you, it’s so disheartening. So emotionless, so boring.

“Jongseong.” You say, mostly to try and elicit some type of emotion out of him. 

He swivels his chair around to look at you, just as annoyed as you expected him to be.

“Stop calling me that.” He warns, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “Why are you bothering me right now?”

You shrug, eyes looking up and around his cluttered room again before sighing. 

“I’m bored,” You try to say nonchalantly. “And lonely now that my mom is too busy with your dad.”

Jay tilts his head at you in curiosity, almost seeming interested in your issues before smirking. 

“Yeah, well,” He chuckles, turning back to his computer. “What makes you think I’m not busy?”

You stand to your feet, huffing in defeat. 

“Listen,” You say, nearly tripping on a neglected shirt on the ground and grabbing his chair to force him to turn around. You see that it’s annoying him, which is great. “We should at least try to get along.”

Jay stays silent, looking past you and to his skewed bedroom door before sighing. 

“So, I guess you’re not as stupid as you seem then?” He offers, looking up at you from his chair with a stupid smirk on his face. Seemingly proud of how much he intends to talk his shit at you. “Smartest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying. Why does he act like that? So pompous with such an ego. Which is really pathetic when you think about it and all of the times you never once noticed him on campus. Sure, there were a few times that you did, but what gives him the right to act so high and mighty? No one even knows who he is save for the professors who deal with his constant ass kissing.

“It’s embarrassing for you to think that your high GPA is all that's worthy of a person. You’re so stuck up, you know that, Jongseong?” You argue immediately, backing away and sitting right back on his bed. “It’s no wonder you’re such an asshole, you should go get your dick sucked or something because this is ridiculous.”

Jay pauses. 

“I’ve had my dick sucked plenty.” He laughs, because he’s not lying. “Still, sex doesn’t make me that dumb.”

The way he looks down on you is demeaning and offensive, if you’re being honest. And somehow, you’re shocked by those words, like entirely floored that he’d even say such a thing to you. You told him to get his dick sucked to loosen up that up-tight shitty personality, not because you wanted to fucking know that he’s not the virgin he parades around looking like. 

Still, you’re floored that he’s focusing on that single aspect of your comment. Simmering on it, insulting you for having sex. Calling you cock-stupid basically. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You think half the school doesn’t see you practically ride Sunghoon in the hallways?” He rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe you’d have a brain in that little head of yours if you weren’t too busy letting him fuck it out of you.”

You lean back in disgust at him, reminding yourself that not even Sunghoon wants to talk to you right now. Sad that he’s almost right about it. Sunghoon does fuck you stupid, and you probably are fairly obvious about it considering there have been more times than you can count that he’s been just as hot and bothered mid-class day with you.

That doesn’t matter now though, considering he won’t fucking text you back. 

“Well, maybe you’d feel better knowing that I’m about to break up with him.” You huff. “Again. So maybe then, you’ll stop basing my entire existence on the fact that I get fucked like any normal person.”

Jay stops for a moment, seemingly pleased with what you just said. 

“Hmm,” He hums out, looking at you with a less annoyed gaze. “Maybe he hasn’t rendered you completely incompetent then.”

And with that, you’re done. You stand to your feet with a scoff and immediately head for his door. Only to bring Jay’s attention further to you. He presses your buttons on purpose, of course, but it’s fun for him. It’s not like you weren’t doing the same thing. He really thought you’d at least fight him a little more in this argument, and he finds himself confused as to why you’re actually offended. 

Soft, gullible, and stupid?

“Wait, hold on.” Jay says, noting the way you stop. “What did he do?” 

Of course he’s nosy, of course he wants the details, you think. And of course you’re going to stay and give them to him considering your mother is too wrapped up with someone else to hear about your relationship problems anyway. 

“I don’t know.” You give in immediately, prancing back on his bed as if you’re in a girl’s room and hugging one of his pillows. Which, mind you, somehow smells good despite the room looking like it should smell like dried sweat and cum. You’re pleased with the aroma as you breathe in to continue.  “He hasn’t texted me back since the last day of class, and I already know what that means.”

Jay leans forward in interest, for the first time listening to you rather than complaining about you. If anything, he’s invested in the break up solely because his past-self did find himself a little jealous that you wasted your time on such a man. 

“What does it mean, then?” He asks. 

“He’s probably with that girl he was with last summer.” You admit, voice cracking only a little bit. “He promised he wouldn’t but this would be the third time if it’s true.”

Jay was going to say something, but you cut him off.

“I broke up with him last summer too, and just a few days before the semester started he called me and begged for me to take him back. Something about how it won’t happen again this time, that he promises he will block her for good, and that he’s sorry.” 

Man, you are dumb. Which is a shame, because even for someone like you he doesn’t think that’s very fair. He knew Sunghoon was an asshole by his appearance alone, but like, cheating? On someone that’s as hot as you? With a body like yours? Really? 

“Huh.” He says, pinching the sides of his chin as he thinks. 

“Last time, he didn’t even respond when I broke up with him. I was finally feeling better when he decided to come back.”

“Then, just don’t let him this time?” 

You sit for a moment, thinking about if you’d have the ability to actually stay away from Sunghoon. He’s hot, and good fucking lord is he good at pleasuring you. Part of you was okay with the kind of, like, fling thing you had going on with him. The first two times he ignored you for someone else hurt, but you’re not hurting as much now.

You’re just annoyed now, because if Sunghoon would just be honest, maybe the two of you could work out something. How come he is rendered single during the summer but you’re not? After all, if you so much as mention another guy to him he gets mad. Hell, he even argued with Heeseung in front of you simply for hugging you around the waist rather than over the shoulders. 

“You know,” You start, trying to come up with some sort of solution. “I always think I won’t, but he always says the right things to make me believe him, even just in the moment.” You pause to take a breath in. “Things are so good during the semester, then he’s just gone when we are away.”

Jay thinks hard about this, and even harder about the crush he had on you previously, knowing that it’s still there despite trying to pretend it isn't. Knowing that he’s glad you and Sunghoon are in this back and forth. He’s happy you’re going to leave him, and not entirely because he’s cheating on you.

It’s partially because he doesn’t want to have to look at you with him. As wrong as that is. It didn’t hurt too bad before he knew you. After all, you were just a pretty girl to look at. But now? Seeing you around the house? Knowing your daily routine? Forced to be close to you and loving it despite pretending he hates it? 

It’s sad, really, that Jay immediately became more interested in you the moment he knew it was not only against the rules, but morally wrong. Still, ss dumb as you are, he knows he’d treat you right. 

And you know, if he could, he would. He would try and swoop in considering he’s around you during your breaks and has the full ability to be there on campus as well, unlike Sunghoon. Never would either of you have to be apart from each other. 

There are several issues with this though. Obviously. And he has to keep reminding himself each time he thinks about it. He doesn’t fucking see you as his step-sister. You’re still just that pretty girl with the pretty lips, who wastes her body on men who don’t want her. You’re not his type at all, and yet? You’re entirely the girl of his dreams.

Logically, he clearly isn’t your type either, if Sunghoon is anything to go by. 

By marriage, he is now your brother. By marriage, he is now barred from openly glancing at you and your body. By fucking marriage, Jay is forced into a guilty mindset of wanting to disobey every moral direction in his head involving you.

The good news? By marriage, he is now obligated to protect you as your brother. So, is it really a taboo that he’s happy to see you think about leaving Sunghoon? Of course it isn’t.

And he’s gonna keep telling himself that. 

“Then maybe, since you’re away from him and he’s out doing his thing, you should–” He internally panics for a second, knowing he’s talking too quickly to stop himself. “Maybe you should go out and have some fun too.”

He immediately regrets it upon saying it. Why the fuck would he insinuate you should go out and fuck more dudes who would probably treat you just like Sunghoon does? He has to think fast, and he has to think now.

You watch him, amazed by the fact that he isn’t arguing with you. He’s actually helping you, and offering some pretty solid advice. 

“Like, I should just cheat on him?” You stare. 

“Well, no. You’re breaking up with him, aren’t you?”  He continues, tuning out to what you’re saying and tuning in to his head in order to figure out how to bar you from actually heeding the advice. 

You take a moment before nodding, it’s not like this would be anything new to Sunghoon anyway. 

“I’m sure you’ll meet someone here that’ll be better.” He finally adds to his advice, entirely half-assing it because you’d better not. Unless that person is him.  “Perhaps you wouldn’t want Sunghoon back by the time fall semester starts.”

And with that confirmation, you smile at him. 

“Aw,” You say snidely. “Look at us, getting along and shit.”

He stares forward, narrows his eyes just like before, and then turns back to his PC. 

“Now get out.” 

And for the first time, you don’t argue. Feeling a little better about joining his family now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“A hundred dollars a month.”  Jay emphasizes in a hushed tone to Jake. “Just hear me out, she’s hot.”

“Jay, that’s your sister.”

“Okay? Are you going to do it or not?” 

“Make it two hundred.” Jake counters, leaning close and staring his best friend in the face. “I gotta say, it’s a little weird that you’re paying me to do this. I’m only just finding out you have a sister, dude.”

Jay keeps his face calm, trying to appear like this is simply to help out his lonely step sister. In reality, he’s doing this solely so he knows what is happening with your relationship status, and he is absolutely praying for Sunghoon’s downfall. 

Plus, if he pays someone to date you, it makes up for the fact that he can’t give it a shot himself. Jake can easily get your focus off of Sunghoon for even just a little while, he’s sure of it and considering he’s his best friend, he knows Jake wont cross any boundaries and keep this to strictly business. After all, Jake can just break up with you by the time you’re over Sunghoon, and who will be there to comfort you?

Exactly. Jay will be there. 

Essentially, your step-brother will have full control over your love life for a mere two hundred dollars a month. 

All so you don’t go out and actually meet someone else. All so he doesn’t have the jealousy in the back of his brain nagging at him. All so he can, kind of, in his head, keep you to himself. 

“Well, to be fair –” Jay offers to Jake, noting how long his hair has gotten. “I’m just finding out I have a step sister too. But listen, she’s got this asshole going back and forth with her and I can’t let him keep doing it.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, you’re paying me to get your sister’s mind off of him?” Jake raises a brow, stunned by the fact that he hasn’t seen Jay all year and this is the first thing they talk about upon meeting up again. “Why me?”

Jay smiles.

“You’re my best friend, anyone else would cross a boundary. Just date her ‘til she moves on or something, I don’t know. I don’t want to watch her be taken advantage of by someone like him.” He explains, as if he’s not trying to take advantage of the situation himself.

Jake nods, not really needing to think too much about how good of a deal this is. 

“What makes you think I could pull her though? You just said that she’s hot. Since when can I pull hot girls?”

“Well, you probably can’t,” Jay laughs, “But you could probably play the part pretty well if you act like your GPA is garbage and like, i don’t know? Act cool? She seems to like the idiot edgy guys.”

Jay is pleased with the way Jake instantly accepts, and doesn’t focus on the fact any longer that he called his step sister hot, or at least, until he does.

“Okay. Act cool, maybe paint my nails–” Jake’s eyes light up. “Oh! Do you think she’s into, like, band guys? I can pull out your old guitar and say you’re teaching me to play so I can get bitches.”

Jay smacks him across the head for already acting about as dumb as you’d probably like, then actually considers the fact that it’s a great idea.

“Wait, yeah actually.” Jay smiles. “Would probably be best if she doesn’t know we are friends too. Use that as an excuse to come over and hangout and stuff.” He trails off momentarily before Jake speaks again.

“So, is she actually hot though?” 

Jay freezes, because yeah. But he really can’t just say that again considering the circumstances. Plus, why the fuck should Jake care? He only said it before as a means to convince him to take the deal.

“You’ll like her.” He avoids saying anything else, ignoring the feeling in his gut that he knows Jake is going to be all over you the second he gets the chance. “Just–listen, there are rules involved in this.” Jay finally warns, tapping his wallet.

“Rules? Okay, go on.” 

“For two hundred a month, take her out. Just dates. Talk to her and hang out with her, I don’t know.” He starts, waving his hands around as if he’s trying to think about what he’s saying, and ultimately, beating around the bush. He notes quite quickly though, how Jake looks at him as if he just stated the obvious.

“I mean, like, don’t fuck her. Don’t kiss her, don’t be weird.”

Because that, somehow, feels worse than knowing you’re already wasting your body on Sunghoon. 

Jake tilts his head in confusion.

“How exactly are you going to pay me to date her and not act like I’m interested?” He asks, furrowing his brows. “What if she tries to kiss me? What if she tries to fuck me?”

Jay laughs, or snorts, really.

“Please.” He waves him off. “I doubt that will be an issue but if, for some insane reason it does come up– just tell her you’re saving yourself or something.”

And at the end of the day, Jake accepts the terms of the deal, not yet pocketing the money because Jay tells him that he needs to go home before you come home. 

Why? Because he’s not looking the part. If you walk in and see this loser sitting in front of him, you’ll automatically know that Jake is a close friend of Jay’s. You need to not know that. 

So, with that, Jake goes home with a plan to come over for “guitar lessons” the following day, at a time where Jay knows you’ll be home. And then? After the initial meeting, he will get his first payment. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He knew it. Jay fucking knew you were a slut. 

Jake didn’t even have to try that hard. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic to watch. If anyone on campus found out, if Sunghoon found out how you’re acting right now, he thinks your reputation would spiral straight into the gutter. 

And while he shames you for unintentionally falling into the trap, he feels proud. Proud that his best friend is able to play a part so well. 

Jake came over, dark hair unbrushed but somehow intentionally styled, flannel hanging off his shoulder, where a ratty black tank covered his chest underneath. Ripped jeans just tight enough to show off, just loose enough to make it look like he knows how to wear these kinds of clothes, and he wears them well. Nails painted, and it even appears that he intentionally chipped them. 

Hell, he barely recognized his own best friend when he walked through the door. 

“Holy shit.” Jay had said upon sizing him up. “What the fuck?” 

And Jake just smiled at him, with the same loser-filled dopey grin as he always had before the two of them went to Jay’s room, made sure the door was open, and plugged in the guitar for maximum noise level.

After all, His father and your mother go on date nights like three times a week it seems. There’s plenty of time to be rowdy college kids if need be. 

And the need is definitely here. 

It wasn’t long by the time you came home, curious as to why you were hearing the sound of guitar strings being plucked terribly. When the fuck did Jay play a guitar? Arguably, if this is what he does when no one is home, maybe he’s a little more likable in the fact that his hobbies aren’t sitting around and jerking off while staring at his GPA. 

When you walked into the room though, prepared to annoy the fuck out of your step-brother, you stopped upon seeing him look the same as ever while sitting just in front of….some guy.

Just, some fucking guy. 

A hot fucking guy. 

With a guitar on his lap, with your step brother offering direction to him.

Jay looked at you, noted your curiosity of his best friend-turned-pretend-stranger, and then glared. 

“Can I help you?” He had said, taking the guitar from the guy and propping it up on his lap.

You stood there, feeling the eyes of the other dude staring you up and down before shaking your head 

“Uh, no.” You had responded before awkwardly slinking away and into your own room.

And honestly, it would have ended there if it weren’t for the fact that Jake was immediately whisper shouting at Jay about how you really are hot. Making plans on how to get you back in the room, or perhaps how to get Jake out of it and beside you.

It wasn’t hard really, as Jay reminds himself how it all went down. His own discomfort aside at how Jake appears to act much like he does in his own head. 

“Just finished up the lesson, you wanna come eat something with us?” He had said, far too out of character.

“You give fucking guitar lessons?” You responded, entirely confused by the fact that….Jay was the one who played the nice sounding strums, not the guy in front of him, the one that appeared to be the type to be the one giving the lesson.

“Yeah? Are you coming or not?”

You paused, and ultimately joined them upon Jay stating that you could starve for all he cares. 

And that’s when Jake started his act. 

Sitting next to you, looking at you, asking about your interests, telling you that Jay is helping him learn the guitar because he has dreams of forming his own band someday. That he’s in college but doesn’t really care much for it, that his dreams lie in the stars still and no desk or nine to five job would bring them down for him.

Jay did want to smack his best friend across the head for that lame line, but you seemed to think it was poetic, or romantic, or some shit. It only further reminded him that you’re entirely too dumb and he needs to be here to make sure you don’t get all caught up again with a guy who doesn’t look at you the way he does. 

The way he can’t stop looking at you, actually. 

Jay watched as you fell in tune with his best friend’s pretend-persona, and arguably Jake was far more charismatic than usual. If he chose to really dress like this, or act like this, Jay thinks he could probably pull any girl he wants. 

And he watched, and he watched, and he watched. Up until the third time Jake pretended he was going to leave so as to not intrude in the home any further. 

Jay didn’t have to make the excuse that time. It was you. 

And that’s when he noted that you are, absolutely, unmistakably, a fucking slut. 

Why? Well, it could be due to the fact that after having a quick meal, you ran to your room and came back out dawning your own fucking tank top, showing off a pair of nice tits that you seemed to hide from him. Which, his head shouldn’t be in the gutter about that but man. He and Jake were both stunned at how you decided to present yourself. 

Could be due to the fact that it’s like, you met Jake for a solid hour and immediately started sucking up. Using a cute voice that Jay knows for a fact is fake as hell. You whine about Sunghoon, like you’d struggle to truly break up with him, but you’re still all over Jake like you’ve been flirting for fucking years.

It could also be due to the fact that you invited Jake to stay longer by inviting him into your room under the guise of “checking out your music selection.”

Jay was left to his devices by that point, where you led his best friend to your room and closed the door in his face with the argument of, “Jongseong, since when were you so interested in what I listen to anyway?”

He huffed in annoyance at you saying his name and then slamming the door on him, he huffs in even more annoyance as he steps back and leans against the wall thinking hard about the plan he’s come up with. 

The fact that he’s living with a total skank who never once looked at him the way you did to Jake all fucking day. Is he that boring? Really? He knew you liked edgy guys based on Sunghoon. Such a pretty boy, despite getting rowdy and dirty during hockey practice and matches. Jay never understood how he kept his face pristine, and also never understood why girls liked him at all when it came to how much of an asshole he was. 

And then there’s Jake, playing the part of someone Jay assumed you’d like. It’s the fact that you do like it, and it’s entirely different from himself. Even if you weren’t now related by marriage, he probably never would have had a fucking chance with you to begin with.

Even with all of that clicking in his head, he still finds himself wanting you more now than he ever did before. With that fucking tank top, and that stupid fake voice you were using, and with your stupid interest in his stupid best friend.

This was probably a bad idea. After all, he could have just left it alone but no. He just had to be in control of who you’re dating. At the very least though, Jake knows to keep his hands to himself, and that’s the only thing that comforts Jay in regards to this deal.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jongseong?” Jake laughs when you close the door and trap him in your room with him. Eyes glued to you and the sweet deal Jay offered up. “I’ve never heard him called that before.”

He’s lying, of course. Jake has been in and out of this house since he was a child. He’s heard the name hundreds of times, if not thousands. 

“I know, right? I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard it the first time.” You snicker, putting on a show when you head to your unpacked box of disks and vinyls. “I don’t think he likes it when I call him that, so I try to do it as much as possible.”

Jake offers you a crooked smile, messy hair dangling in front of his eyes as if they were somewhat….shy? Like he’s being bashful in this room with you, but you try not to think about that because, well, look at him. 

He doesn’t seem like the shy type. 

“Maybe I’ll start doing it too then.” Jake laughs, standing awkwardly behind you when you bend over to pick up the box. Immediately he chokes up, stepping closer unintentionally because honestly, who wouldn’t think with their dick at this point? 

And when you stand back up, turning with the box, you jump at how close he’s gotten. 

“Oh!” You breathe in surprise, looking away shyly for a moment, wondering how lucky you must be for your boring ass step brother to invite such a nice looking guy into the home. “Um, you have a nice smile.” You add out of nowhere, and then immediately feel embarrassed. 

“You have nice tits,” is what Jake would say in response if he were for one, allowed to, and two, not a nervous mess about being alone in a room with such a pretty girl.

Only now does he realize how difficult this might be to get through. For two hundred dollars? Well, it’s a sweet deal if you actually want to go on a date with him, and given the persona he’s given himself, he thinks he could probably get away with asking tonight. Which is insane, because he really thought he’d be paid another two hundred just to get to that point. You’re entirely into him though, and he hates to admit that he might be entirely into you too. Jay would kick his ass if he knew what’s going through his head right now.

“I like your tank top,” Jake says instead, wanting to reach forward and snap the strap of it solely because he feels confident enough to do it, but he doesn’t. The words are actually quite lame, and are a blatant show at how bad he is at talking to girls. Thankfully though, you know, since he’s supposed to sound like a guy with two brain cells, it kinda works out. 

“It matches mine.” 

You smile shyly yet again, entirely in tune with the idea of taking Jay’s advice and having some fun yourself. Perhaps with this guy. But for now? You have to at least pretend you actually want to show him your music collection.

And of course, Jake has to pretend he actually cares about it when you sit down on your bed and start sifting through the boxes. 

“Huh, you like some pretty heavy stuff. I wasn’t expecting that.” Jake compliments, though uninterested in a music taste that isn’t his own, it’s insane how the two of you do listen to some of the same bands. 

“Oh yeah? Why not?” You ask, sitting up straight and making sure your chest looks good enough to keep his eyes glancing down at them.

Because he hasn’t stopped looking, really. 

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, watching how your tits squeeze together and he can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. No girl has ever tried to show off for him like this, and he’s enjoying it a bit too much. “I, um,” He loses his train of thought when you lean back, letting your breasts fall into their natural position as you look at him. 

“My eyes are up here, Jake.” You smile, watching him tear his eyes away and swallow around a lump in his throat. 

“Oh, right.” He lends a nervous chuckle, one that he feels is entirely out of character given the personality he’s supposed to have. “Can’t really help it, they’re nice.”

Ah, right back into the act, perfect. 

He almost panicked at the forwardness too, because Jake would never have the confidence to say such a thing to a woman on any other day. 

“Oh? You can’t?” You smile, leaning back up and pushing the box from your lap. “Maybe I should cover up then?” You add, staring right at his flannel. 

Jake notes your line of sight and then looks down at his own shirt. 

“What?” He says, pinching the collar of the flannel and shaking it. “You already wanna wear my clothes?” He smiles. 

“If you wanna see me in them.” You comment shortly, sizing him up for the billionth time. “Or out of them.”

Well, it’s safe to say Jake wasn’t prepared for that. This deal is going a bit too smoothly, and he just knows that Jay must not have any idea of this side of you. His sister, right here, insinuating Jake should like, take her clothes off. Or rather, take his clothes off of you.

It’s against the rules but goddamn is he feeling the spark with you. Right in his pants, actually. Embarrassingly. 

“I’ll give it to you right now if you go out with me tomorrow night.” Jake avoids the situation smoothly, while offering an alternative. “Then, we can talk about getting my clothes off of you.”

You nod, feeling your heart skip beats at flirting with a man that isn’t Sunghoon. 

“Hand it over then.” You reach out, leaning in real close to him. “But, I’d still rather you keep staring at my tits.”

Man, following the rules Jay set in place is gonna be way, way, harder than he thought. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake could get used to this, really. Taking you on dates, anyway. What he can’t get used to? Dodging anything more than dirty talk and then coming over just the next day to see the confusion on your face as to why he isn’t picking up your hints. 

He wants to, like really, he really, really, fucking wants to. You’re so blatant with him on dates, rubbing up on him, whispering slutty little words that only drive his cock to pulse and beg to be used. He can’t bear it, especially knowing that these very dates are paid for by your own step brother.

 Still, if he were allowed, he probably could have gotten himself between your legs on the very first day he met you. 

“No, dude, she was all over me this time, even more than usual.” Jake explains to Jay during another guitar lesson, pleased that he’s actually learning how to play. “She even mentioned that guy Sunghoon and said I was way cooler than him.”

Jay was pleased, he could say. Save for the jealousy that only grows each time he watches you take Jake away from his lesson to hang out with, without him. Save for the fact that you only continue to prove that you like any guy who isn’t him. In reality, why would you? He knows there is logic to this situation, but he is finding it harder and harder every day to think logically around you. 

Jealous. He’s jealous. He’s mad at how bad you want it from Jake. Hell, you’d probably take it from anyone at this point as he eyes his best friend and his new found fashion sense. It matches him, and acting like an idiot seems to match him too. Maybe Jay should consider not brushing his hair and dumbing down a little bit too. 

Then again, this could just be the resentment in him building up. He’s the only reason Jake has a girl throwing herself at him. Both you and Jake should be far more thankful for what Jay has brought upon the three of you. 

Still, he’s pissed about how good the plan is working, and before long, he’s hoping that Sunghoon will be long forgotten when Jake finally asks you to be his girlfriend. Then he can toy around for a bit before breaking up with you under the guise that “you’re just not his type.”

“I had the idea that she was easy,” Jay explains, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “No wonder Sunghoon kept coming back, it’s like he knew she would throw herself at him at the drop of a hat.” 

Jake pauses, furrowing his brow. 

“Why would you even say something like that?” Jake asks, tilting his head. “Aren’t we doing this to like, help her?”

Jay shakes his thoughts out, realizing how awful that must have sounded. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves off his edgy best friend. “Of course. I was just saying.”

There's some awkward silence in the room now as Jay’s internal panic takes over. He doesn’t want his reputation on the line for this. Even just to Jake. Perhaps he’s being too resentful with his words, only able to offer passive-aggressive remarks out loud when it comes to you. 

“I just thought that if we got her away from him, maybe she’d stop throwing herself at guys that don’t care about her, is all.”

Jake gives him a look of further confusion, maybe even some concern. “Um, isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” 

Damn, Jay really should’ve thought that through. Is he losing his touch? Is your stupidity rubbing off on him now?

“Yeah, but you’re not touching her so, maybe it’ll help her learn some fucking self restraint? I don’t know dude, just be a good boyfriend, fuck.” 

Jake raises his hands in defense, realizing he basically interrogated Jay of his choice of words, and perhaps thought too deeply into them. Still, he can’t help but feel like Jay holds some type of hatred within him for you, which is weird, considering the lengths he is going to try and “help” you. 

“God, relax.” Jake reaches forward to grab his best friend by the shoulders. “As much as she throws herself at me, I guess I can kind of understand what you mean.” 

Jake understands far too well, having gone through one too many dates while trying to contain himself to give in to your every hint or insinuation of at least kissing. 

He happens to miss the way Jay glares at him for his words though. Because in all honesty, no one is allowed to talk about you like that but him, and there was something in him that broke to hear Jake insinuate that you’re a slut. Like Jake isn’t the luckiest guy in the world right now to have you throwing yourself at him? 

Bullshit.

“I’ll be a good boyfriend, I promise.” Jake finally adds, checking his watch. “She’s gonna be home soon too. I’ll try and get her to hang out in the living room this time so you can see what I mean though.”

Jay wants to refuse the option to watch even more than he already has to, but there’s something in him that kind of can’t resist it. 

“She likes horror movies, you know?” Jake continues, giving Jay information that he probably should have already known, but somehow doesn’t. “I’ll tell her that you wanted to watch the new one, and I’ll pay to rent it since, you know, you’re paying me to do this.”

Jay shrugs casually, anticipating the image of you and his best friend all tangled up on the couch, while he’s stuck at the end by himself. With no one. Alone. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dad’s probably gonna be home but I can ask for the living room.” 

“Oh shit, wait–” Jake thinks hard. “What if he sees me looking like this? Acting like this? She’s gonna find out that I've been lying this entire time about us being friends and shit.”

Jake only panics because he believes he’s acting more with Jay than he is with you. If you were to find out that he’s been lying, you’d be so angry at him. But do you know what scares him more? Jay finding out that he maybe kind of actually likes you more than he’s supposed to.

Jay sighs in defeat because his best friend is right, if his father finds out that Jake is running around acting like this, dressing like this, he’ll definitely say something about it.

“You know…” Jake finally says, staring at Jay’s TV. 

“No.” Jay immediately shuts the idea down, not at all wanting to experience the two of you tangled together on his own bed. 

“Dude, come on. Why not?”

Jay rolls his eyes in an annoyed huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands to put the guitar away, ignoring that there was no practicing at all today. It’s just been hours of talking about you. And how you’ve managed to find yourself a summer job so fast, and how you’re entirely horny for Jake, and how–

“I don’t want to see my own sister try and get in your pants in my room.” Jay tries to explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, immediately he gives in. Solely because the sudden thought of you lying in his bed at all again is something that….might help later.

“Jake, so help me god if you so much as brush your hand across her tit I’m going to slice your tires.”

Jake smiles in victory, nodding to his best friend with the promise that, at least tonight, he wouldn’t do such a thing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every day you find yourself wondering why it is that Jake appears to be so into you, yet constantly shooting you down. 

When you try to kiss him, he leans in, his eyes start to close, sometimes you can even feel his breath on your lips then, he just– pulls away?

When you try to insinuate that you want to touch him, or want him to touch you, you can physically see his reaction. The way his ears go red, his eyes go dark, and occasionally you even catch a glimpse of what’s in his pants growing heavy and strained. 

It’s driving you crazy, really. With the way he talks all that shit but doesn’t live up to it. He’ll say some of the nicest things, he’ll dirty talk you in the middle of a restaurant, he’ll even make promises to follow through with it too. But he never does. You find yourself wondering why you even continue to text him back, or why you consistently keep this fucking flannel he offered up to you on the first day of meeting. 

Every single date, you’ve worn it, just to see if he’s got the nerve to take it off of you. And every single date he pretends like it wasn’t his flannel to begin with, despite his hungry stare constantly staying on you. 

So now, as you awkwardly half-lay on Jay’s bed with him, Jay separated and on his computer chair, you wonder why he’s even here. 

Sure, Jay gives him lessons but as far as you know, it’s a little strange that he stayed over to watch a movie with you presumably, only to invite Jay, and to you know, watch it inside of Jay’s room.

Are they like, friends now or something? Well, arguably they had to have at least been friends on some level, but still. It feels awkward hanging out with Jay when you’re trying to get his “friend” to rail you. 

Either way, you guess you don’t mind too much when Jake is actually next to you. Most doubt sinks into the back of your head and the confusion is replaced with that of extreme arousal. Something about this guy, Jake, is alluring and feels…right? Is that the right word for it? Like, correct? Or maybe, meant to be? 

You know, maybe he’s waiting on sleeping with you because despite his edgy appearance and his dead-beat goals in life, maybe he really is just a big softie and wants this to work out long-term. God, you hope you’re right about that.

Doesn’t stop you from trying though, as the movie reaches its climax and you move your hand under the covers against Jake’s legs, feeling the rips of his jeans and sliding your hand through one of them. Gently, attempting to feel the warmth of his skin in a discreet and somewhat cheeky way. 

You hear his intake of breath at the touch, his shoulders stiffening as he stares forward to try and focus on the movie. Still, you feel his hand move lower, lying it directly on yours with only his thin, ripped denim separating the touch. 

“Oops.” You whisper to him, slowly massaging the thick of his thigh with your finger tips, toying with the way he reacts.

You don’t notice the way his eyes shift to Jay, who was already glaring at the movement he noted under the covers, on his fucking bed.

Jake, on the other hand, feels like he’s between a rock and a hard place right now. 

He’s being paid to pretend to like you, being paid to not genuinely like you, being paid to not touch you, and practically being paid to ask you to be his girlfriend only to break up with you.

Which fucking sucks because he maybe, kind of, likes you? A little bit?

A lot, actually, especially with your cheeky little whispers and sneaky little hands. 

Arguably though, Jay should have known better than to expect Jake to not feel some type of way towards a girl like you. To Jake, it’s insane anyone could simply pretend to be into you without actually falling in deep. You’re not only hot, but you’re fucking funny too? You laugh at his jokes? You cuddle up with him? You’re actually a lot smarter than Jay gives you credit for? And you appear to want to kiss and touch him just as bad as he does.

So, it’s torture really, that he’s so close to breaking. So fucking close to kicking Jay out of his own room just to feel what your hands alone could do for him but, he refrains. 

He suffers, sitting here with this not very good horror movie, pretending his cock doesn’t ache for you. Pretending his own best friend doesn’t see how much he wants it. Yet, still hoping you see. 

And you do. You do see it. 

You feel it too, as you shift your hands out of his ripped jeans and move them upwards as silently and secretly as you can while remaining focused on the movie. You brush your pinky up and against the dick you clearly want so badly at this point. And the way Jake flexes it, almost intentionally lifting his cock up for you to know he likes it, despite the risk of Jay seeing. Despite the fact that he hasn’t done this at any point when the two of you were alone. 

You smile to yourself, pushing your hand closer, closer, closer, until you grab it.

There goes his stiff shoulders again, there goes a soft sigh, and you’re fucking beaming.

Jay sees the way the covers are moving over the lap of his best friend, and honestly? He’s appalled over the fact that Jake was right. You fucking throw yourself at him with no shame, to the point that not even being in the same room as your step-brother would stop you enough to have some fucking self-restraint. 

He watches for a while, about five minutes or so. Studies the way Jake makes attempts to arch away from your touch as if he’s following the rules of the deal but, Jay isn’t stupid. Jake, of all people, should know that. He can fucking see the way he also arches into your touch too, despite it all being under the blanket he sleeps under at night. 

It’s not until Jay sees you throw your leg over Jake’s, and you lean in really close to him to the point your face is hidden in his neck and Jake appears to be listening to something you’re saying, that he decides to put a stop to this. 

Neither of you are even watching this movie. You’re encouraging Jake, surely. You’re trying to snake your hand down his pants. You’re trying to fuck his best friend, right in front of him. 

It feels like an insult, or perhaps an intentional act of defiance and god knows Jake wouldn’t be able to resist if Jay himself feels a twitch in his pants at the scene unfolding, even through this frustration. 

Why are you like this? Why do you just–do this to yourself? To him? To his best friend? Why do you seem to know how irresistible you are? It’s almost at the point that Jay wouldn’t even want to put a stop to it solely to see what your hands could to for him if this life wasn’t so fucked up. 

Still, he has to put an end to it. Jake is breaking the rules. 

“Are you really trying to do that right now?” Jay asks out, and he watches the way you snap your hand back and lean away from Jake. 

Both heads turn to him, and he huffs out a sigh of frustration that shows you crossed a line. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to pretend that you weren’t doing anything at all to the pretty boy sitting next to you. 

“God–” Jay grimaces. “You’re really gonna play dumb after arguing with me that you’re not?”

You lift past Jake, staring at him. 

“You can be a whore all you want, but to assume I want to see it? You’re disgusting. I’m your fucking step-brother.” He finally says, as if it’s final, and as if to convince himself that every word he spits is true. 

Jake remains silent as he listens to the way Jay speaks to you, quite offended for you, maybe even a bit pissed off about it himself. Then again, it could just be because Jay is dead set on cock-blocking him. 

You though? You feel silenced, a little embarrassed, and entirely turned on by the fact that Jake’s first time letting you actually touch him, was right here. Maybe he’s into that. You know, like, being caught or something. Still, the quickness in which Jay shames you isn’t shocking at all but for him to have an ego to the point of assuming you did this for him to watch? Insane, he’s so fucking stuck in his head to believe that everything a person does, is because of him. 

A fucking text-book narcissist.

“And you.” Jay says, shifting his eyes over to Jake. “You could do better.”

Ouch. That stings a little bit, as your eyes avoid looking towards Jay and fall onto Jake, who only swallows at his words. 

Without another word, you shift from the bed, stand to your feet, and walk out, leaving the two in the room alone.

Jake feels, uh, bad? 

Or rather, he knows he’s supposed to but he simply doesn’t. After all, it’s been two paychecks from Jay now and he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend solely because he finds himself wanting it to last. 

Even without the sex. Even with the intense edging he’s being put through. Even with the fact that he’s hard as a rock as Jay attempts to scold him, he doesn’t feel bad.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jay finally offers to the silence of the room upon turning off the movie. “Did we not agree that you’d–”

Jake huffs out, annoyed for the first time.

“Dude, shut up already.” He rolls his eyes as he turns to his friend, wincing at the way his cock is going soft and sensitive. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking see me try to stop her.”

Jay thinks that through for a moment. Not entirely blaming Jake for like, eventually giving up and letting you touch him but also entirely pissed that it’s happening for Jake, and not for himself. 

“You did a bad fucking job of it.” He gripes back to him. “If you give in to the fact that she has no self-respect, you’re just as bad as Sunghoon and I’ll just go find someone else to take care of her.” 

Jake pauses because he's right in terms of the deal but god. It’s not like he can just out and say “hey, so i think i actually like her and wouldn’t be against actually dating her, like for real, also i hate the way you talk to her so if you don’t stop i might have to punch you in the face.” 

“I’m not going to give in.” Jake lies, knowing for a fact that it’s only a matter of time before he does. “She still cries over Sunghoon and I’m genuinely trying to make this situation better here, Jay, so fucking relax.”

Jay wants to believe him, but truly, he doesn’t. Solely because there’s no way he won't give in considering what he’s just witnessed. At this point, you might actually end up wanting to be with Jake for good, and Jay will lose his control of the whole situation. 

“Plus, you can’t just go find some stranger to do this, they’d definitely fuck her, day one.” Jake makes a good point to his friend, reminding him that he isn’t the dumb guy he’s parading as. 

Jay does take those words into account. Honestly, he really would have the entire control taken from him if he paid someone else to do this. At least he can threaten Jake with friendship, or guilt him or something if he does step over the line.

“Hurry it up then, I don’t want this shit to last all summer.” Jay finally huffs out, slightly defeated that this is his fault anyway, but still trusting his best friend and understanding him on some level. 

“Okay, I’ll go ask her to be my girlfriend right now.” Jake smiles. “The sooner I ask, the sooner she gets over him, and the sooner all of this can be over with, right?”

He hopes he’s wrong.

Jay nods reluctantly, and Jake is instantly out of the room and able to breathe the biggest sigh of relief in his life. It’s insane how he’d rather be with you over his own childhood best friend, but whatever. Life works in mysterious ways or something. 

And as Jay sits in silence, glaring at the spot on the bed where you had his best friend’s dick in your hand, all he can do is feel angry.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hear the soft knock on your door and already know exactly who it is. It’s not Jay, it’s not his father, and it’s certainly not your mother. 

The knock is gentle, almost reluctant despite knowing he’s allowed to walk into your room at any point, without so much as asking. 

“Come in.” You smile to yourself, trying to push the awkward situation that just happened out of your mind. 

The door opens and Jake steps inside, looking to the floor and seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. Part of you wonders if it’s because he finally had the balls to let you touch his dick, but another part of you knows it’s probably because Jay just chewed his ass out for letting you do it right in front of him.

“Sorry about doing that,” You look away now, trying to deafen the silence in your room into a numbness that doesn’t feel nearly as awkward as it does right now. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of Jongseo-”

Jake immediately shakes his head at your words, sitting down on your bed and grabbing your face in his hands. 

It’s a shock, actually, that only now he acts the way you expected from the beginning. 

“It’s my fault.” Jake explains, holding your face to look at him. “I wanted to make you my girlfriend before we did anything more–” He continues, already leaning in to kiss you for the first time without shying away from it. “I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to fuck you.” 

And man, that hit you right in the heart, especially because he said it, and then immediately kissed you before letting you answer him. As if he was afraid you’d say no or something. As if he’s trying to prove something right now. 

He certainly is proving it too, surprising you in the way he’s a decent kisser though not entirely great at it. Such a confident and pretty boy seems to not have nearly as much experience with girls as he lets on. That alone was something you picked up on, because let’s be honest. 

No one but Jake would get that obviously hard at a restaurant over spilled water on your tits. 

And when he pulls back from the kiss, he feels elated in the way he just lied straight to Jay’s face. Promising to follow through with the deal, which also held the promise of no physical contact with you. 

He really walked straight out of his best friend’s room, went to your room, and kissed you. He couldn’t be prouder of it when he pulls back, heart pounding in defiance, and looking at you for an answer. 

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” Is the first thing you ask, feeling his hands fall from your face and land against both sides of your hips as you look at him. “And that’s why you let me make a fool of myself trying to get in your pants?”

You both smile before chuckling and looking away from each other at how blatant that question was, because you both know how true it is. 

Only Jake knows how true it isn’t supposed to be though. 

“Yeah,” He answers, looking away from you and ignoring the chill on his shoulders from the air in your room. He really should stop trying to dress like a slutty man for you, honestly. It’s no wonder you were all over him.

“I kind of don’t think it would be a good idea if I fuck my guitar teacher’s sister without at least taking her on a few date’s first, you know?”

“Hah,” You roll your eyes briefly before flopping back against your pillows and feeling the way his hands fall lower to the top of your thighs. They’re warm, and big. “You’re always around and I can’t say Jongseong has that many friends to begin with.”

Jake almost feels bad that he knows you’re right. 

“Arguably, you’re probably his only friend and he would feel embarrassed knowing you don’t even see him as one to begin with.” You laugh at how sad Jay really is as a person. “Just your guitar teacher, huh?”

Someone so entitled, so fucking rude. If anything, he should know by now that his lack of friends are determined entirely by his shitty personality. 

“I can see that,” Jake nods, staying put as you blink up at him from the pillows. “I mean, I like hanging out with him but I don’t necessarily like the way he talks to you. I can imagine he’d kill me if he knew I kissed you.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can assure you, Jake. He doesn’t give two fucks about me.” Your arms reach out for him, and immediately he intertwines his fingers with yours.

And it feels good for him to do. To have a girlfriend in some way, despite it not technically being real to anyone but himself and you. After all, a relationship built on a lie can’t last, can it? 

Maybe he really should just stick to the plan and pull back before it’s too late. Maybe you wouldn’t even be interested in him if he didn’t act this way. Or if he didn’t dress this way. Or talk this way. Or play guitar. 

How could he ever think he’s even in the right to do this to begin with? What? For two hundred a month? God, he fucked up yet, he doesn’t want to turn back now. 

There’s a chance it can still work, right? He can at least enjoy the time he has with you before he inevitably has to break up with you, right? 

You don’t have to know about the deal, and Jay doesn’t have to know about how he intends to break the terms of it. 

…Right? 

“So,” Jake finally says, looking away from you before turning and falling forward over you, keeping his fingers tightly locked with yours above your head as he lands his face in front of yours. “Will you be my girlfriend then?” 

You smile shyly, looking down before making direct eye contact with him again. Noting how his lips constantly form a natural pout in silence, and the way his eyes are always so bright. 

“What about when my break is over and I have to go back to campus?” You ask reluctantly, hoping that he isn’t like Sunghoon. “Are you just going to stop talking to me?”

Jake hates that he is in a position where he has to lie, going back and forth in his mind of whether to betray himself or his own best friend.

“I like you, you know?” He says, not breaking eye contact. Trying to will his words now to stick with you through the inevitable break up if that's what it comes down to. “I’d come see you every weekend.” 

You smile. 

“So, what? You think I’m just gonna let you be so far away all the time?” He continues, instilling a sense of comfort in your chest. “You think I’d be able to stay away from you for a whole semester? I can barely make it a few days as is.”

The way he chuckles at how silly your question sounds makes you feel…wanted? Almost needed?

And as you look up at him, with that mess of fluffy hair and big, sparkling eyes, all you can think about is how lucky you feel to have so many new people in your life this summer. Even Jay. You appreciate the fact that he brought Jake into your life, even if accidental. 

You’re happy your mom is in love, happy that his father appears to be good for her, happy that Jake is here right now, treating you like a goddamn person. 

Happy that Sunghoon hasn’t texted you. 

Happy that even Jay encourages you to keep your break-up status with the man, showing that he cares on some level for your well being. 

“You’re too good to be true, you know?” You say, sending Jake into an absolute world or happiness.

He’s never had a girl tell him that. Let alone a girl so fucking pretty.

“That still doesn’t answer the question, babe.” He finally says, ticking his tongue as if he’s being cheeky. 

“Oh, right.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “I thought I was being obvious with my answer, but I forgot that you’re kind of dumb.” You add with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against his nose. 

“I am kinda dumb, aren’t I?”

If only you knew how true that statement is. No GPA can explain why he feels so stupidly attracted and attached to you. He can’t explain it to anyone but you. 

Jay would kill him if he knew how real he wants this to be. 

“A little, yeah.” You laugh, kissing his cheek this time. 

“For you, at least.” He whispers, feeling like he’s being far more real than he should be and loving every second of it. “So, be my girlfriend.”

You roll your eyes again, lending him an even brighter laugh.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t?” 

And he just smiles, dipping down to kiss you again for the second time. 

You can’t help but feel elated by it, and the way he seems to break how eager he’s been for this. Elated by the fact that he waited, and he has done nothing but respect you as a person. 

Arguably, you don’t think you could ever refuse to be his girlfriend. With that rough fashion sense and entirely too-soft personality. It’s such a stark contrast when you think about it.

All of the cocky dirty talk, all of his boldness? It was clearly just a front that would make you like him because this is not at all what you expected. If anything, it’s a pleasant surprise that he did that for you. Showing off, trying to get your attention, then flipping on a dime when you give him the time of day. 

“You’re a lot sweeter than I thought you’d be.” You finally whisper out. “Honestly, I expected you to fuck the lights out of me and never call back the first day we met.”

Jake chuckles, trying to avoid how much that statement turns him on because on instinct he knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Can I be honest?” He asks against your lips, lending a small lick to the bottom one with a nod. “I really, really, wanted to.”

You pause, opening your eyes and seeing that he’s already looking at you. 

“I would have called you though.” He smiles, calming the immediate insecurity you felt about his statement.

Now though? The thought of knowing Jake wanted to fuck you since day one only drives you to like him more than you already did. 

“Oh yeah?” You smile, feeling his fingers release from yours and move right back to your hips. “Does it make me a bad person to say I would have let you?”

Jay would have called you a slut again over that. 

“No, babe.” He shakes his head with an amazed chuckle. “If that makes you a bad person, wouldn’t it make me a bad person too?”

Wow, the first man to ever speak to you as an equal. 

Jay would probably call him a slut too. 

“What about now, then?”

God, Jake really can’t resist. He’s already waited so long, and now that you’re officially his girlfriend…kind of, why should he? Jay doesn’t need to know that he’s trying to think up some way to get out of the deal. Really, Jay should be happy that you’ll be with someone who actually cares for you, right? 

After all, this whole plan was to help you. 

Why should it matter if it ends a little bit differently? All he needs to do is sit him down and talk to him. All he needs to do is not accept any more money, right? Technically, Jay isn’t the type to be that bad of a person. Like, he wouldn’t actually be mad that Jake caught feelings, right?

He’s not breaking the rules if it’s true. 

“If you can be quiet–” Jake says, leaning back and glancing around the room. “Jay was really mad about what happened in his room, I don’t want him to kick my ass thinking I came in here and railed his sister.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jay doesn’t give a shit. He probably thinks we’ve already been fucking.”

God, the dynamic between you and your step brother is so fucking weird, Jake thinks. You have such a weird view of him, and he seems to have such a weird view of you. You really think Jay doesn’t give a shit while he’s the one who seems entirely too protective of you while also being an absolute scum-bag towards you. 

“Still,” Jake pauses, pulling back entirely and sitting over you. “I’d rather your parents not walk in.”

“Then, lock the door?” You offer, eyes scanning his body and noting the way he’s always hard when he’s with you. Those tight jeans do nothing to save him the embarrassment, and part of you wonders how often he wore them on purpose. 

Plus, you can imagine he’s probably suffering after having already played with him briefly in Jay’s room. 

“Right. Doors have locks on them.” Jake dead-pans, standing up and wincing at the way his cock is entirely too obvious about what he wants to do right now. “I’ll just–” He points his thumb to your door before locking it and practically leaps back on the bed with you, laughing all the way.

And you know, the last thing Jake expected today was to share his first real touch with you, first real kiss with you, or his first time actually, like, pushing to break the rules. He’s a little nervous, seeing as how he’s maybe had sex with two girls in his entire life, but still.

He can’t possibly be bad at it, right? 

It doesn’t process in his mind how he’s absolutely breaking boundaries right now, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. The way you laugh along with him sets his heart aflame, and the way you look at him shows him that this could be real. He could truly be your boyfriend, slowly reverting back to his normal self under the guise of a “bad boy” phase or something. 

And now, as you look at him, you note how soft he truly is despite all of those dirty words he said previously. He’s really just sitting on your bed, laughing like a boy in love and it makes you feel entirely different than how Sunghoon makes you feel.

“It’s nice, you know?” You say, glancing down when you reach out to him again, mostly to resume the position and pull him back on top of you.

“Hm?” He hums, following the pull and landing both of his hands on either side of your head, staring down at you as if he could eat straight through your chest and to your heart. “What is?”

“The fact that there’s someone here for me, I guess?” 

Ah, he’s a goner. Sorry Jay, the deal is over. 

“Do you think Sunghoon will try to get you back again?” Jake follows up. “You know I won’t let him, right? You’re my girlfriend now.” 

You smile, lifting your head a bit to kiss his plush top lip before shaking your head. 

“I’m sure he’ll try, but I don’t think I’m interested in him anymore,” You start, hearing the buzzing in the air due to the pure electric feeling in the room. “Now that I’ve met you, anyway.”

This is the point in which Jake is supposed to move back from you. This is when he’s supposed to whisper to Jay that the deal is done, and that Sunghoon is no longer an issue. This is the point that Jake absolutely shouldn’t be rolling off you, feeling your soft pillows hug around his head, and pulling you on top of him instead.

It’s like you’re meant to straddle him with how perfect you look right now.

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, losing the persona he’s supposed to have, unable to pretend like he isn’t smitten at this moment. 

“Yeah.” You say, smiling on top of him and feeling his length pulse beneath you.

You’ve wanted to get on him like this so bad, since the very first night you met him. He waited, he respected you, and now? He’s your boyfriend. He’d let you, right?

“You seem happy,” You rock back on him without warning, listening closely to the way he sighs out at the pressure you offer. “You said if I can be quiet, right?” 

He nods eagerly, unable to speak as he watches you move on him, hands reaching to brush the tufts of his dark hair out of his face. 

“Can’t make any promises, Jake–” You add, reaching down to the hem of your shirt and lifting it off of you in one motion. “What about you?”

Jake is stunned audibly. You heard his breathing hitch when your shirt blinded you from looking at him for a split second. And who could blame him? He knows he’s staring at the way your tits bounce with just the small lift of your shirt, bulging only partly over the lining of one of the cups.

 Immediately he throws one hand up, cupping one in his hand and bucking his hips upward at the ping of arousal centering itself in his body. 

“Can you be quiet?” You continue playfully, placing your hand over his and the other behind you, unclasping the bra with ease and letting it fall onto his chest. 

Jake immediately shakes his head because, no. Absolutely not. He will not be able to be quiet if any of his jerk off sessions regarding you are anything to go by. In fact, this situation could be quite telling about his lack of experience with women. This situation could be quite fucking telling to anyone outside of this room, actually.

“I thought not,” You smile, reaching down and lifting slightly to remove his ratty old t-shirt. “I don’t care if Jongseong hears anyway. He’s a weirdo, would probably be jealous.”

Jake would like to think you’re wrong about that, but something inside of him agrees with you. The way Jay reacts towards you is fucking weird and ultimately uncalled for. Then again, if Jake had to come home to a brand new sister, who is like– really hot, Jake would probably have a dilemma on his own.

Still, that’s kinda gross if it’s the case, so he tries not to think about it. 

“Let him hear then.” Jake finally says, confidence boosted solely because he is now thinking with his dick. 

His hands fall straight to your waist once you get his shirt off of him, his eyes stay glued to your tits, and all he can do is push and pull you over his length, praying that these tight jeans don’t rub him raw before he gets to pull it out. 

You can tell his body is acting on its own too, with the way he seems entirely gone for you over something so basic in terms of foreplay. After all, this is just grinding. It’s just tits. But you get it, as you stare directly at his toned body that has remained partially hidden from you until now. 

And it’s the way you’re just as shameless as he is when it gets hot and heavy. Your lips don’t leave his for the most part after that, at least until you hear his muffled moans as you’re soaking straight through your shorts and onto him. 

Both of you are kind of moaning into the kiss actually, and to you it sounds so loud, but you’re sure no one in the home has realized yet. Plus, locks. Doors have locks, so even if they did, you wouldn’t stop anyway. 

You can feel the way Jake wants to push, how he’s thinking a mile a minute in the way he kisses you. His tongue seems eager and messy, trying to kiss every part of you, trying to lick and taste your mouth in ways Sunghoon wouldn’t even do. 

Arguably, it’s sexy that he does this. So messy and dominating in the kiss despite being worse at it than he was when he came into the room. There’s something about the confidence in being bad at living life that turns you on. He could be bad at everything and you think you’d still want this with him. 

Even the way he moves you on his length is messy and not at all thought out. It’s jerky and almost frantic in the way he thrusts up out of time with your movements, like he’s chasing a consistent pressure on the whole of his cock. And like, if he wants that, maybe he should just pull it out for you. 

After all, even with the messy boy lying under you, kissing you like he’s desperate for it, you’re still wetter than you’ve ever been with another person.That’s an honest truth you can come to terms with too. Someone obviously so inexperienced? How does he make it feel better than Sunghoon’s expert hands? Fuck if you know, but you can’t help but love every second of how Jake writhes under you.

He acts like he’s never felt so good in his life, and that alone makes you feel entirely needed.

“Let me,” You say in a wet whisper against his lips, sliding your hand down between your bodies and attempting to undo his pants. “Jake, take them off.” You whine shortly after, unsuccessful with unbuttoning them on your own. 

“God, fuck, yeah, okay.” He responds frantically, out of breath. 

He lifts up, feeling you shift on his lap as you stay in place to your best ability and his eyes don’t leave yours when he undoes his own pants, blinking up with a pretty, glassy gaze and messy dark hair. 

All you can do in that moment is hug his head into your chest due to the sheer amount of endearment he gives you, brushing your fingers through his hair and halting his hands where they stay on his undone jeans. There, you grind, hiccuping what resembles a moan solely because he is genuinely just so fucking attractive. You can’t help it, you really can’t.

He’s in awe of the way you use him, hugging his face against your tits, which only allows him to attach his mouth to one of them and moan himself at what you’re doing to him. God, sign him up if this is how you fuck. Holding a person in place, grinding against them, smothering them with your pretty tits, moaning the whole time? He could give you everything. He wants to give you everything. All of him, all of the world, every shiny trinket that’s ever been made. 

Honestly? It doesn’t even matter that he couldn’t get his cock out yet, this is something he’s never had a girl do to him and it makes him feel entirely wanted. It’s an addicting feeling too, knowing that you’re chasing the feeling of what he has to offer under these restricting pants, and not being able to wait for it. 

“Babe–” Jake mumbles around your nipple, trying to fumble his pants down but being unable to, considering you’re grinding on his lap right now. “Baby, let me get it out–”

It’s kind of insane how you could have gotten off from doing this, fully clothed, fully ready to do it. But, he’s right, and that deep register of his raspy voice only drives you to pull off of him as quickly as you can.

“Mm, sorry, you’re just so,” You start, falling off of his lap and spreading your legs open to show him the wet spot on your shorts. “Shit.” You stop yourself, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing how you display yourself to him. 

“Shit.” Jake follows up the same words, not even caring how stupid he must look trying to kick these death-grip skinny jeans off of him. 

You do stifle a little chuckle at that blatant show of arousal from him, and you do him a solid by removing your shorts too, heart pounding and face warm when you see his cock spring free once he finally gets the pants down his thighs. 

Honestly, you don’t even let him take them off in full before you’re shoving him back to your pillows and smiling at the way he gives you a kind of half-drowsy smirk. You watch his eyes stare you down and you can tell he likes what he sees probably about as much as you do. 

“You look so nice in my bed,” You start, crawling over him and grabbing his hand, putting it straight between your legs. “I’ve thought about you every night.”

His eyes roll back in a glorious show of how much of a loser he truly is. A loser for you in full right now, as he feels the wettest part of you yearn for him. His fingers slip and slide so easy, and he plays with your folds in an instant. Drenching his fingers to the point that his own leaking cock wishes you’d do the same for him. 

“Me too.” He says, unable to string together a full sentence. “All night.”

You tick your tongue and coo out at him, feeling the way his fingers are gentle, staring down at the way his cock flexes every few seconds. 

“What do you think about?” You ask now, crawling over his legs and leaning down to blow against his cock. You see it twitch and stand proudly at the feeling of your warm breath hitting it. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”

His fingers can no longer reach the wettest part of you with the way you’ve moved on him, but he doesn’t mind considering when he looks down, you’re smiling at him with his length inches from your face. He chews against his bottom lip at the image before slipping his fingers into his mouth, tasting what could be if you’d let him. 

“Nothing as good as this.” He manages to get out from around his fingers as he stares down at you, elated by how he would never let another man experience this from you. 

You smile, nodding at the way he doesn’t lie before you lightly tap two fingers at the head of his cock, feeling the precum dribble with each tap enough that it’s almost dripping down his length. You focus on it only for a moment before you use the wet to coat his length in one long stroke. 

Another beautiful groan from him, fingers still wedged in his mouth as his eyes roll back again. Then, he’s rolling his head forward, looking down at how your hands grip him, and how your lips look so pretty when you kiss the underside of his length. God, it feels like he’s neglected himself despite jerking off every night to this exact image. Or rather, something that resembles this but could never feel as heavenly. 

And when you trail your lips down, kissing against his heavy and cum-filled sack, you feel his entire body flinch in sensitivity and a chuckled moan come from him. 

“Sorry–” he mumbles, reaching a hand down to brush against your cheek when you come back up to look at him. “No one has ever done that to m-”

“I’d do just about anything to you right now.” You cut him off, licking against the head of his cock and enveloping his entire length. 

He has no words, but so, so many thoughts. Would you really? Anything? Goddamn, he would do anything to you too. Not just right now, but any time. All you’d need to do is ask. All you’d need to do is push him down and sit on him. 

And it’s kind of cute really, how he speaks with his body alone. The way his hands grip anything he can get ahold of when you continue to take his cock further and further into your mouth. Up until the size of it is restricting your airways and he’s stuttering against the sheets with a death grip.

He could come right now if he isn’t careful, and he does his best to hold off. 

His grip stays tight against your sheets when you breathe through your nose and flex your tongue against the underside of his cock, the weight of his length making it nearly impossible to do. It’s great, actually, how he doesn’t fuck into your throat and render you unable to utilize your own skills to please him. 

The sweet, salty flavor of his precum is constant until you take him in too deep to taste it, and when you flick your eyes up, you can see that he’s amazed by how you do this. Part of you wonders if he’s ever been deepthroated at all, with the way he appears to breathe through it and tries to feel each clench of your throat.

God, your mouth is so tight around him too. So warm, tight, and perfect for him. With the way your lips stretch and your cheeks hollow out. He can’t bear to stare at you for too long when you’re doing this. Already he’s trying to hold in moans far too loud, already he knows that one right clench around him, he’s not going to last. 

And you love it. Quite literally, you are in love with the way he seems to struggle through the pleasure. So blatant and unashamed of how much he likes what you’re doing. Because honestly? Most men act like you could do more, most act as if you’ll never give the best head of their life.

Jake though? He makes you feel like you’re the only person who could render him a whimpering mess. Part of you wonders if he even knows how loud he’s already being. With his rasps and grunts, with his higher pitched sounds coming from his chest and forcing their way out of his wet and bitten lips. 

He really looks like this is where he belongs. Against your pillows, in your bed, cock out, eyes rolled back, hair cute and fluffed out against your pillows. 

You pull back slightly when your eyes threaten to become too wet to see him, easing the tension in your throat with each inch of his length that leaves you. And when you fully pull off of him with a pretty and wet little “pop!” sound, he regains all of his composure and stares right at you. 

“Holy fuck–” He says with a heaving breath. 

“Jake,” You start, clearing your throat before using your hand to gently jerk him off, lips landing against the head of his cock again as you speak. “You kind of act like a virgin, which is funny considering all of the things you said to me before.”

You smile as you say the words, precum still coating your lips.

He lends you a crooked smile, feeling entirely like himself in this moment and not at all ashamed of his lack of experience. He would think that comment would scare him, like he’s doing bad or something. But the way your hand works his cock is just enough to tell him that you love it. 

“‘M not a virgin.” He says, voice uneven. “But I can’t say I’ve fucked that many girls.”

That elates you. The fact that he’s so real about it. The idea that he held off with you for a reason that didn’t involve disinterest. It’s almost like he prefers sex to mean something, which is a long forgotten concept to you and anyone else in your life it seems. 

“That’s hot.” You comment, halting your hand at the base of his cock before releasing it entirely and crawling further up to straddle him right where you want him.

If he wasn’t already gone for you, he is now. He can feel the warmth of your pussy sit against his already sensitive and needy cock and it takes everything in him not to groan out. 

And well, he appears to have zero control of his volume because he does, in fact, groan out. 

Loud enough to probably alert the person who he wishes didn’t exist right now. 

You moan back at his desperate action, wiggling your hips as if to dig his cock into your thigh, smearing the mess seeping through your panties onto him. 

“All this time, I thought about how you could hold me down,” You start, noting how he is nothing like how you imagined he would be. “How you could fuck me hard, and deep,” You slide forward and back a little quicker now, letting the head of his cock bump your clit. “How you could ruin me if you wanted to.”

You’re the one ruining him though. You both know it. 

“It looks like I was wrong about those thoughts though, wasn’t I?” You smile at his panic when he shoots his eyes open. 

“No!” Jake half-moans, louder than he meant to once again. “I can do that.”

You wouldn’t have believed him if it weren’t for the fact that he definitely tries, lifting from your pillows and tipping you back onto your mattress. Before you even know it, your panties are off of you and he’s grabbing your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist.

Then he just stares at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips.

“I can do anything you want.” He continues, snaking his hands under your ass just to lift your lower half against the underside of his cock. “You want me to hold you down? Fuck you hard?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling up at him with a pleased sound at how he shifts who he is entirely for you. Thirty seconds ago you wouldn’t have expected him to change up like this, and it’s only lends you more to like about him. 

“Hold onto me, then.” He gives a gentle warning, wishing he could have like, ate you out first or something, but he’s too far gone now to imagine doing anything other than what you ask of him. He can get his head between your thighs another time, yes. He can lick you clean, making sure you know how much he wants you. 

And you do, you hold onto him, legs around his waist, hands in his hair, feeling the weight of his cock sit against your wet folds while his hands hold you in place.

And it’s like, woah. Okay, you already experienced how big he is but feeling it there is another thing. He’s quick to stuff your blanket up under you to keep you lifted, and then he’s immediately using one free hand to press down on your stomach, and the other holding his cock as he slides it himself through your folds.

He stares down at the way his length looks between your heat, so wet and glistening from the mix of arousal the two of you drip out. You wish you could see it too, with the way he wets his lips and keeps the bottom one caught between his teeth. 

And when you moan, his eyes flick up to your face, so innocent looking at this moment despite your kissed lips and heaving breath. Tits on full display, pussy spread out around his cock, god. He’s in heaven. He can most definitely hold you down and fuck you deep, it’s like he was born to do it, if he’s being honest. 

And then, in one movement, he pushes his cock down with his thumb and slides in, bottoming out in one motion while keeping his eyes on your face. With the way your jaw is slack, and your eyes close in pleasure. 

He does much the same, holding his breath as he feels the way your soft walls hug around him, strangling his length in a way he truly needed. You’re so tight, god, so, so, so wet. At this point, he’s not even doing it because you are asking him to, he’s doing it because he can’t help it. His body loses composure the second he bottoms out and feels the entirety of how much this pussy wants him. 

Jake doesn’t let you adjust, hell, barely even lets himself adjust before there's an echo of his thighs meeting the flesh of your ass. Consistent, deep, hard. Just like you wanted. 

Just like he needed.

And it gets to the point where Jake is burying himself so deep, that you can barely make out words. Moaning his name in hiccups, trying to say something but always stopping short of it. 

“J-Ja-J.” You hiccup through each thrust, waiting for him to kiss you, wanting him to kiss you, wanting him to ruin you like you asked, like he promised.

And when Jake is out of breath, listening to that pretty little stuttered mantra of his name, he does lean down to kiss you. Tongue immediately licking against yours to the point that he swears he feels little dribbles of desperate saliva leave the corners of his mouth.

All of it is hot breath, wet, wet, fucking wet. All over. 

His hips move faster, and he drives his cock in deeper, his moans only come out louder with each stutter of his name, and honestly? The death grip your legs have on him, keeping him from pulling out of you too far? He has no idea how he’s lasted this long already, but he loves himself a little more knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Yeah,” He grunts out, pulling one hand back to hold your leg tightly against him, and the other falling on his elbow above your head. He makes direct eye contact with you here, just inches from your face as he speaks with full confidence. “Say my name,” He says almost defiantly. Hoping Jay hears it and knows how good he can be for you. “I’ve been dying to hear you say it like this.” 

His thrusts somehow remain consistent as you shoot your hand to your clit, rubbing harshly at his words. You give him exactly what he wants, moaning his name in full against his lips with a desperate and bitten kiss from you, all while your pussy practically strangles the base of his cock with each deep thrust. 

His moan sounds relieved when you repeat his name, he swallows your hiccups up, proud that despite how fucking bad he probably is at fucking, you seem to love it. 

And when you rub against your clit just right, feeling his abdomen press your fingers against it harder, you continue his name. 

Breathing it out in a gasp before your orgasm hits you and he somehow manages to fuck you straight through it. His stuttered name coming out with each slam, never quite able to moan it in full again once you’re seeing stars. 

And when your ears pop, and your eyes feel tired, you look at him.

You feel him.

His cock moving desperately in and out of you, the sweat on his brow proving to you how much he wanted to do this to you and for you. 

He wants it so bad.

He wants you so bad. 

You reach up, feeling the sweat in his hairline when you run your fingers through the mess of hair on his head and push his face down. Your legs fall from around him, and instantly he’s moaning. 

“You don’t need to pull out.”

“Fuck–” He stutters, hips meeting your thighs once more before you feel him release strings of thick cum in you. Amazed by that single sentence, half-not even realizing a condom was nowhere in sight anyway. He doesn’t know if he could have pulled out to begin with but the words of encouragement shoot his orgasm straight through him. 

And the way he moans through it with uneven breaths? Perfect. He sounds perfect. The way saliva dribbles from the sides of his mouth as his lips desperately kiss against your neck and shoulders? More perfect. 

The way he pulls back to look at you after the fact? Twitching inside of you, unmoving, and not pulling out? God.

The two of you lay like this for a while, his cum bubbling out of you from around his sensitive and softened length by the time he finally decides to pull out. Which saddens him a little bit because he hates that he can’t have his cock in you at all times, but still.

And then the panic washes over him. There’s no fucking way Jay doesn’t know what he just did, and the fact that there were no harsh knocks on your door? That’s even more scary. 

His heart rate picks up instantly, but you somehow calm him as you continue running your hands through his hair, down to the back of his neck and scratching.

It’s like he mewls at the feeling, nuzzling against you as close as he can get before sighing. 

“Jay is going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin with closed eyes. 

You hum out a small chuckle, feeling the sticky mess between your legs and somehow not feeling as grossed out as you normally would by this. 

“Jongseong isn’t going to do shit.” You smile, shifting to sit up and feeling more cum drip out of you. “I actually can’t wait to see the look on his face when I drag you to shower with me.”

Jake panics internally but he can’t stop himself from smiling at you with a nod. 

And he does follow you into the bathroom. Straight past the bedroom of his glaring best friend with the wide open door. 

He pretends to not hear the way the door slams when the two of you get into the bathroom, and desperately begins thinking of a way to make this work out for the better. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay heard all of it. Every slap of a cock driving into you, every breath, moan, giggle, and every fucking dirty word the two of you shared.

He tries not to think of the way he slouched against his bedroom door, straining his ears to hear all of it too. He tries not to think of how his hand could never live up to whatever the fuck you were doing to Jake either. 

Time and time again he could get off to the thought of you, but each time it just becomes more and more unbearable to see you face to face after. This time? Having to hear you with someone else? Someone that he, himself, was supposed to trust? It’s the most unbearable, and it hurts him inside to know that you liked it. 

It isn’t fair that he was stuck, alone against his door, biting back moans of a situation he hated more than anything. His best friend was in there fucking the daylights out of the only girl Jay has ever wanted like this, and all he could do was fuck his fist and release a half-sobbed moan in his own silence over it?

Honestly, the orgasm hit him harder than he’s ever felt when he heard you moaning the name of his best friend. The stuttered breaths of Jake’s unfinished name sounded just like his name, and his brain went insane wondering if that’s what you’d sound like if his cock was pounding you. 

Would you stutter like that for him? Would you moan out his name in such a pretty way too? 

“Jay! Jay! Jay!” 

It replayed in his mind over and over again up until he saw the two of you in the hallway. Jake appeared to be ashamed to look at him, avoiding his gaze. 

Jay felt pathetic, angry, and entirely empty. Jake fucked up big time, betraying his trust just minutes after promising the opposite. There is so much shame within him right now, but none of it lives up to the fucking rage he feels towards Jake.

Never in his life has he ever felt so betrayed by not one person, but two. As if you knew you had such a hold on him to betray him at all, but still. It pisses him off more than anything that he still has to hear the two of you in the bathroom now, unashamed of what just happened behind your closed bedroom door like your parents aren’t just downstairs and probably aware of what their slut child was doing. 

He seethes for what feels like hours. All the way until Jake slinks out of your room after the parents went to bed, and into the night without a word to him. 

Days, even. As the sounds of you fucking Jake haunts him. 

What’s worse? Jake ignores his texts even when he’s being nice. Inviting him over for a “lesson”, begging him to come talk, saying he isn’t angry he just wants to know where the deal stands. He ignores him even on his payday, which arguably, Jay wasn’t going to pay him this time but as a bribe to get him to talk to him? Of course he texted him again.

And with the way you’re leaving every other night, Jay can tell it’s because you’re going to see him outside of his control. Likely because Jake suggested it, and no part of him feels thankful that he can’t hear what the two of you are up to behind his back.

He could rip his hair out at this point, when each family dinner feels empty and filled with disgust. Looking at you and wondering what it must have felt like for Jake to get between those thighs that seem to open for just any man that would lie to you. You eat quietly, sometimes shooting him a happy smile as if you can’t tell that he’s rotting in front of you over the fact that you’re happy with someone that isn’t him.

He can barely look at you when you’re home without the thoughts flooding his brain, rendering him jealous and resentful of everyone in his life whether they’re involved in this situation or not. He doesn’t hold back remarks each time you come back home either, bright eyes with a sex glow surrounding you.

“Out spreading your legs again, I take it?” or  “Can never get fucked enough, can you?”

He says them proudly to you, as if it’s any indication that he likes you far more than Jake ever could. But, to his dismay, you look happier and brush him off without a single furrowed brow or argument. You’ve been nicer, and you even walk with better posture now. 

He wishes you would argue with him about how untrue his words are, but you don’t. Which renders him only further angry because you don’t deny it, and that you agree with him. The issue is that Jake is on the receiving end of why those words are true.

Jay only wants them to be true if he is on the receiving end.

He wants you to spread your legs every other day for him. He wants you to never be fucked enough….by him. Not by Sunghoon. Not by fucking Jake.

And then? Three long and agonizing days after Jake’s payday, he finally texts.

Jake: we need to talk. 

Jay: come over then

Jake: no, i’m not coming back to your house until we talk. 

Jay: yours then?

Jake: yeah

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things were instantly awkward for Jay when he stepped through Jake’s door. It’s like he could tell you’ve been here recently by the feeling in the room alone. You always leave a room so alluring, so stupidly bright. 

Jake even appears happier, much like you do when he manages to take note of how you act back at home. 

Still, Jay doesn’t come too far into the house out of fear he may very well end up breaking things if it comes down to it. Instead, he stands in the doorway, shoes still tied on his feet, eyes still heavy with an exhaustion that only he can explain. 

“I know you know what’s been going on,” Jake starts, raising his hands in defense as if to try and save both his friendship and new relationship. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but it did, and I want to at least tell you that I’d treat her right.”

Jay stares forward, feeling his imaginary monarchy fall. His gaze goes straight through Jake and to the room behind him as he listens to him say words that any sibling would love to hear. All he can feel right now is buzzing, goosebumps on his skin threatening his sanity over the fact that he's always gotten everything he ever wanted, except for you. 

And he didn’t even want you like this until he knew he couldn’t have you.

“You promised me.” Jay starts with a harsh tone in his voice. “You went straight into her room and started fucking her? And now you have the audacity to ask me if you can date her?!” He bites out with angry brows, now clenching his fists.

Jake should have known better than to think he would be reasonable about this, given how he’s acted throughout the entire situation. Still, he’ll never stop thinking how fucking weird it is. How Jay is entirely protective over you despite consistently making sexual remarks, staring for a little too long, paying a stranger to date you just so you get away from your ex boyfriend. 

For all Jake knows, if it wasn’t for you confirming the situation, he could argue Jay would have made up lies about Sunghoon being a bad boyfriend too. 

Jay is jealous and Jake fucking sees it. 

“You literally paid me to date her. So what if I actually want to be with her now? Why is that such a bad thing?!” Jake retorts, throwing his hands up as if everything Jay is saying doesn’t make any sense to a normal person.

Which is true.

“I paid you to pretend, not to actually want her!” Jay raises his voice again, despite being in Jake’s home, despite being his long time childhood friend. Over all, trying to appear more threatening as a means to regain his control. 

“I don’t understand why you’re not okay with this.” Jake starts, much calmer than Jay. “What? You're gonna keep her from dating anyone ever again?”

Jay stands down at those words, knowing that if he could he would. Knowing that it must be incredibly telling to Jake, who isn’t as stupid as he acts.

“Why? You’re mad because you can’t be with her? And if you can’t, then no one can?” Jake adds with a smile. 

Immediately Jay storms up to him, fisting Jake’s shirt collar in his hand. 

“You think I want to be with trash like her?” He seethes out in a hot whisper, body telling on him in the way his words don’t match the defensive stance he takes. “I just don’t want you fucking my sister.”

“The deal is off, Jay.” Jake says in an even calmer tone, almost smiling. “Besides, I already fucked her.”

Jay intensely stares at him, anticipating the next word Jake says ending in a swift punch to the jaw.

“Multiple times.”

That breaks him. 

What he thought would end in a physical altercation appears to be ending in his own begging. His own self-pity at how sad he is for himself over this overtakes every thought in his head. He is desperate to get you, and desperate to make sure Jake leaves and never comes back.

“I’ll pay you double what i’ve already paid to break up with her.” He bribes. “Triple.”

“You can’t just keep her, she doesn’t want you.” Jake continues, pressing all of the buttons of a friend he used to trust with his life. “She doesn’t even like you.” 

Jay stands there, releasing the grip on Jake’s shirt and taking a step back. He knows Jake is right, and he hasn’t done anything to make you like him either, but still. Why does everyone else get parts of you that he can’t have? 

“Jake, you’re misunderstanding.” He tries to reply in a calmer voice. “I’ve known her since freshman year and I’ve watched her get hurt. I don’t want anyone around her.”

Jake laughs at him. And honestly? It shocks Jay with the way his friend has changed in just a matter of weeks. It’s the fact that it’s his fault. 

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” Jake continues to laugh. “You know me better than anyone and you don’t even want her to be with me? Of all people?”

Jay listens, trying to ignore how his truth has to come about another way. If Jake wants a fight over you, so be it.

“Sunghoon? Yeah, I get it but, the fact that you won’t even let me be with her? When is it what she wants?” 

“Break up with her, this is my final warning.” Jay dead-pans.

“Or what?”

Jay stands there, directly in front of a friend he just threw away over a girl. Staring at him with such immense hate in his eyes that even Jake feels a shiver run down his spine.

He says nothing when he shoves past Jake and walks straight out the front door, only speaking before closing it with a “You have a week to break it off.”

Jake rolls his eyes at the words, shrugging at the situation despite knowing the sadness of losing a friend will hit sooner or later. Really though? Deep down, Jake knew that Jay had a thing for you after the way he’s been acting. 

And it’s like, Jake knew he was bad at talking to girls but at least he doesn’t call them sluts and whores, or make them think he would rather be run over by a fucking tank than to say anything nice to them. 

What’s worse is that he gets it. You’re entirely likable, lovable even, and it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of threats to pull Jake away from you. Likewise for Jay it seems. Step-siblings aside, there’s no way Jay didn’t have a crush on you before you became his step sister. Anyone would have a crush on you.

Still. That’s weird, and there’s nothing Jay can do to have you. With or without Jake, you’d never want him after the way he spoke to you. You’d never fuck family, nor would you ever be interested in a guy like him anyway.

At least with Jake’s false persona, he acted more like his true self than he meant to when he was around you. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A week goes by and there is no word of Jake ending it with you. 

In fact, you’re still leaving every other night to see him, coming home with a little bounce in your step and a stupid fucking smile on your face. Jay can’t stand it anymore. 

He thought a week was him being nice. Giving Jake, who he still cares about, mind you, enough time to come to terms that this will never work if Jay is around. Once again though, Jake didn’t listen. The once lost and intelligent guy now appears to know exactly what he wants in life and it’s so fucked up to Jay that it just so happens to be his girl. 

A girl that isn’t really even his, and the only ownership he has over you is a title that makes him want to gag.

Step-sister.

Jay has come to terms by now that he is willing to end his longest friendship over you. He is willing to defy his own moral standards for you. He is willing to love you, touch you, and be anything you need. The only issue is the fact that he’s already fucked it up for himself.

Jake was right in saying you don’t even like him. Not as a friend, not as a step-brother, and certainly not as a boyfriend. It truly is his own fault too, but things can change. 

And they will change. 

“Why do you act like Jake is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Jay asks, leaning against the frame of your bedroom door with his arms crossed. 

“Oh, am I?” You look down shyly, smiling because you can’t stop. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Jay lends a short nod and a smile to himself, feeling more and more calm as the seconds pass and he steps into your room. 

You, on the other hand, are elated tonight solely because of the date Jake took you on just the day before. He was so sweet, and so nice. Even going as far as eating you out in his car simply because he couldn’t resist, and missed you too much in the twenty four hour span of not seeing you previously. 

You wish you could talk about it with Jay, you wish you could thank him for bringing Jake into your life and let whatever fucked-up relationship you have with him die so that it can be replaced with something more pleasant. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You say meekly as he enters and wanders around your room, staring at several of Jake’s shirts hanging in your closet. 

“Hm?” Jay responds off handedly, reaching into the closet to feel one of your soft t-shirts. 

“Thank you for letting me meet Jake. I was shocked that day you invited me to eat with you guys, so I assumed it was to help with the whole Sunghoon situation. It did help, you know?” You smile fondly, thinking of your boyfriend and how nice he looks when he’s holding your hand.

“Ah–” Jay turns to look at you, letting one of your soft shirts fall from a hanger so that he can run his fingers through his hair with a stressed look up at your ceiling. 

You watch as he takes in a deep sigh before hanging his head.

“Listen, I have something to tell you about Jake.” He finally says, walking to your door and closing it before sitting on your bed and looking at you with a serious expression. 

“What is it?” You tilt your head at him.

He watches your face of confusion, seeing how heavy the feelings are that you’ve managed to grow for a man you were never meant to have feelings for. The way you swallow around a lump in your throat shows him that you’re going to listen to him, and possibly believe him.

For the first time, Jay isn’t going to be lying to you about Jake either.

“Jake is only dating you for the money I give to him every month.” Jay admits, knowing you’re about to bombard him with questions as to why he’s paying Jake to do it. 

“What?” You question again, dead-pan staring at him.

“I paid him to date you because I trusted him not to be like Sunghoon, and you seemed really hurt by what happened.”

“What?!” You echo yourself, furrowing your brows at Jay and the way it’s the first time he’s ever looked at you in such a soft way. “How much?!” 

“Two hundred a month. I dropped off his last payment last Sunday.” He lies.

You pause, reminding yourself that just the Saturday before he was holding you close to him on his couch, telling you all sorts of nice things that made your heart double in size. 

“He only learned to play guitar because we thought it would be your type. Jake is more of a loser than I am. If you had met him just a day earlier, you wouldn’t have looked at him twice.”

You remain silent, listening to all of this fucked up information.

“Here pretty soon, he’s supposed to break up with you.” 

And now your face is hot, and your eyes are burning. All of those words Jake said to you felt entirely genuine. The way he kissed you, touched you, and even the way he looked at you felt so real and electrifying. 

There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe a word Jay is saying, but there’s also a part of you that wonders how much of it is true. You’ve seen Jake’s room and his selection of monotone and earth tone clothing that you’ve never seen him wear before. 

“I don’t believe you.” You say, crossing your arms, looking away from Jay, then sniffling. “It would be so fucked up if you really paid some guy to pretend he liked me.” 

Jay shakes his head in mock sadness for you.

“I set rules, you know? He wasn’t supposed to let it get so bad. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with you or even kiss you, I know that he did though.” Jay says, reaching a hand out to yours. “I keep seeing how happy you look and can’t stand that he’s doing this to you. I just wanted to help.”

You blink up at Jay. 

“Why did you care so much to help me get over Sunghoon? So much that you’d pay Jake to do this?”

“Because I didn’t want to see you be taken advantage of. I see that it was a bad idea now though, because Jake definitely took advantage of you when he could.” He looks down, still in mock sorrow for you. “I wanted to punch him so bad when I paid him last time, with his stupid shit eating grin like he’s won the lottery or something.”

“Do you–” You pause, trying to process the information. “have proof?”

Jay nods, pulling up the few text messages he and Jake have sent about the situation. 

Jay: do you think she fell for it? you completely changed vibes bro

Jake: yeah for sure i got a date tomorrow with her

Jay: if i knew it would be this easy i wouldn’t be paying you so much

Jake: money AND a girl? best deal ever.

Right then and there, upon reading those texts, the crying really does start. You question your ability to read feelings, body language, and words. You really thought Jake meant everything he said, and over all you’re just learning that…well, he’s a great liar.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to make it right.” Jay soothes, scooting closer to you and hugging you against his chest. “I’m here whether you’re mad at me or not.”

You shove him away from you initially, but he uses his strength against you to hold you against him tightly. It’s the first time Jay has ever hugged you, the first time he’s ever comforted you while simultaneously being the cause of your shattered heart right now. 

“Why are you like this?” You ask in a truly pathetic voice, raspy and full of overwhelming emotion that you don’t know what to do with. “Why did you have to do that?” 

Jay takes in a deep breath, readying himself for whatever reaction you could possibly give to his next, very carefully thought out words. 

“Because I’ve liked you since freshman year, and now you’re my sister.” He says in a sweet whisper against the top of your head. “Because you never noticed me before, and you barely do now, but I wanted to help your situation somehow without making it weird.”

He feels you cry harder against him now, your hands gripping his shirt without intention as you try and work through the even bigger flood of information now. It’s true that you didn’t notice Jay too much, and he never indicated any type of feeling for you. He could have been your type, if he had made an attempt to get to know you, but he never did. He became your step-brother instead. One who would do nothing but ridicule you and pay men to fuck you, apparently. 

And as you cry, all you can do is raise that same gripping hand and land it harshly against his chest in a punch that feels weak to him. Over and over again, and he just takes it. Sitting there hugging you against him in a way that keeps your abuse weak and pathetic as you release the emotion on him. 

“I would have been able to do more for you if it wasn’t for Jake taking advantage of my own weakness.” Jay now says, trying to land the final nail in Jake’s coffin for you. “In some way, I think I would have made you happier.”

Your attempts to hit the anger out of you fall short with each passing moment as your fingers find purchase back in his shirt, and the feeling of being enveloped by an apology overtakes you in full.

You can taste your tears against his shirt, feeling sorry for yourself for dampening him like this. Feeling sorry that he likes you and knowing you don’t like him back. Feeling sorry that the only person you’ve ever felt strongly for like this, never felt a thing back for you. 

You’re worth two hundred dollars to both of them. 

And when you pull back, feeling Jay allow you to pull away, you just stare at him with an empty and broken expression. 

Jay can’t help but think you look even prettier with a broken heart. Mostly because he knows he’s the only person here who can fix it for you. He knows exactly what’s going through his mind when he leans forward and kisses you without hesitation. 

You are shocked by the action, feeling unfamiliar lips on yours for just a moment before you’re shoving him back with a grimace.

“What the fuck?!” You yelp, baffled and entirely disgusted. 

Jay says nothing as he stares at you as if he’s lost his mind. His mouth is slack when he looks at you and it’s a face that very nearly scares you. Especially when he takes your face in both of his hands and does it again.

A harsher kiss, with him holding you there against his lips, running his hands down to keep your body from pushing him away again. 

“Let me make it better.” He pleads in a desperate whisper between his forced kisses. “Just this once.”

You’re not sure what’s happening right now, as you sit stiffly in his grasp, feeling him plead and kiss against you like a mad man. Wondering why you’re not fighting after hearing his broken voice. Wondering if he feels just as broken as you do right now. 

This is your sibling by marriage, trying to give you something that he should not be giving you. Indulging you in truth, too much truth. And maybe you’re going a little crazy too, because you just let him.

And you let him, and let him, until he’s releasing his grip on your body forcing you to stay close to him, and gently caressing your face through his one sided kisses. 

“Please.” He whispers just against your lips, pulling back a few inches to look at you. 

And when you look at him this time, it feels raw. That’s the only way you can describe this situation of immense loss inside of you. Forced away from someone while being totally suffocated by another who only seemed to want to hurt you before all of this. 

“Jongseong, no.” You warn, not entirely understanding why you don’t fully agree with your own words right now.

Maybe it’s because you want to be wanted, or needed, or loved at this moment. 

“Don’t call me that.” He whispers, leaning forward again, kissing you on the corner of your mouth. “Why won’t you let me try?” 

You take in a deep breath, wondering the same thing.

Because he’s your brother?

Because he paid Jake to break you more than Sunghoon ever has?

Because you want to let him try, solely to numb yourself from everything else for the night?

“I–” You start, staring forward and straight through him. “I don’t know.”

He smiles, spreading his legs wide beside you to adjust himself solely because he got to feel your lips on his. His hands stay against your face as he looks at you through this, and notes only slightly the way you reach your hands up to grip his biceps. 

“You don’t?” He asks. “Why do you throw yourself at everyone but me then?”

Those are words that should hurt you more than he already has, but they don’t. He’s not wrong. If you were more careful of the people you lend your body to for pleasure, maybe you wouldn’t continue to get hurt. Maybe everything he’s done really has taught you how to pick and choose better people.

Sunghoon, Jake, and now him. 

Now him.

It feels so final, like a last hurrah of hating yourself before you decide to never let another man into your heart again. You won’t date Jay, you won’t even think of him as someone you could be with solely due to the circumstances.

But for some reason, there is something you will do and that happens to be living up to all of those insults he threw at you before. Dumb, whore, slut. 

And you’ll do those things solely to make yourself feel better right now. Sex isn’t healing but when a person appears to want you this badly, it kind of is in its own way. A reminder that at least you’re wanted on some level, especially when you’re running circles in your head over what it could be that you keep doing wrong. 

This time, Jay is shocked when you’re the one who leans forward, your hands falling from his biceps straight to his hands over your face. You cry when you kiss him, feeling utterly insane that you’re doing this, not knowing why you’re going to keep pushing, and absolutely ignoring that you’ll regret it. 

“If you want to fuck me so bad, just do it then.” You say, more as an insult to him, yourself, and the entire situation. 

What’s worse is, you said that so Jay would pull back and come back to his senses. Anyone who hears those words should know that it’s an all or nothing question. Any decent person, any selfless person would deny fucking you in this state. 

And while you want him to fuck you at this point, just to prove how badly he’s wanted to, you equally wanted him to just be here for you in the way he was supposed to.

Jay doesn’t pick up on the cue though, and instead jumps right in. Kissing you back and pulling you down with him against your mattress. 

The bed feels less pretty with Jay lying in it with you, but his lips work better than Jake’s did the first time he kissed you so messily. You don’t mind only because you don’t care about a single outcome at this point. 

Everything bad that could happen to you has already happened. 

Jay wants you to like it though. He wants you to like everything about him. Even the aspects about himself that he can’t stand. And he kisses you in a way to try and force this outcome. 

Jake is still in the front of his mind though, as he takes his girl back on the same bed where Jake presumably took you away to begin with. 

And you’re so pretty too, with your tear stained cheeks kissing him in an angry way. Jay couldn’t be happier that you’ll take this out on him. He deserves it, doesn’t he? To be hated? Hated enough to be kissed by you? It’s wonderful, really. 

He stays like this with you for as long as he can, the fear of it stopping fizzling out with each passing minute that you only kiss harder, harder, harder. Up until he can’t stand the feeling of his cock in his pants, up until he can’t help but feel you up, relishing in your hot skin and the way you still shiver probably through the chill in your heart right now. 

His hand lands under your shirt, pulling your bra down just so he can eagerly circle his fingers around one of your nipples. Thinking so hard about the tits he’s wanted to see bare for so long, feeling it perk up against his finger in reaction. 

He throbs at it, even if you won’t make eye contact with him between kisses. Even if you kiss him like you mean it but clearly don’t. He’s taking what he can get, taking what you’ll give to him. 

“I heard you guys, you know.” Jay says, pinching your nipple before rolling on top of you just to dig his length against your leg. “You seemed so happy to gag on him, why aren’t you like that for me?”

You ignore his words, trying not to moan at the thickness you feel in his pants. Never once have you thought about what Jay could be packing, but it’s…bigger than you probably would have expected. Feeling it against you breaks that final barrier in your brain keeping you from being entirely turned on by the lack of morals you’re sharing with him.

This is the first thing you’ve ever shared with Jay outside of an argument. 

“Can you stop talking?” You ask in a huff, breath hitching when he adjusts his hips between your legs and rubs himself against the center of your heat. “It’s pissing me off.”

“Mm, I bet.” He smiles, using both hands to push your shirt and bra up to your collarbones, revealing your chest to him. He grabs both of them without hesitation, and studies the way they fit in his hand. “I’m trying to fix this right now though.” He nods to himself, smirking the same smirk he always gives you when he’s being an asshole and squeezing the tit that rests above your heart. 

You’re angry that you like it. You enjoy the way he grips tighter, and ruts himself harsher against you. Almost more desperately than Jake did. Rougher, so much rougher. 

“You can’t fix what’s happened.” You groan out, annoyed and equally as aroused. “So, stop trying.”

“Getting you wet can fix it.” He says, leaning back and placing both hands on your knees, spreading your legs wide. He stares at you and the dismay on your face, then down between your legs. It doesn’t take much convincing from him though, to have you bucking your hips up against your own will. 

You never knew Jay could be so confident or dirty. 

And when he backs up just to take off your bottoms in one swift motion, you don’t even hide your face. Because you don’t care what you look like right now, or what he sees. You’re already past the boundary and at this point your body wants what it wants. 

Quite frankly, you hope he fucks the morals right out of you. You hope he fucks the emotion out of you, and renders you a shell of a person that can no longer feel pain in any capacity. 

“Well, well, well.” Jay gloats as he gets back between your legs, noting how you’re already wet. Not entirely wet, but definitely turned on. “Can’t believe you’re wet for your own brother.” 

You roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop focusing on that. You’re barely related. Just by marriage, anyway. 

“Stop talking.” You argue. 

And, well, for the first time he listens to you. 

If you knew you could shut him up by putting a pussy in his mouth, perhaps you would have done this sooner. Then again, you likely wouldn’t have considered it before now. 

Anything he could say to you right now is muffled, and all you can hear are groans and grunts each time he tries to lick straight into you. Through you almost. His tongue is just as harsh as everything else, neglecting your clit and going straight for what he wants in his mouth. 

He licks and laps at you without shame, knees planted on the floor and fingers spreading you open against his lips. His eyes stay open though, staring up at you, only blinking slowly when he gets a taste of something particularly sweet. 

You try not to reach down like you always seem to do for Jake. You really do try, but it’s like an instinct thing, you guess. You find your fingers in his hair, gripping the strands much harsher than you usually would this time. 

If he’s rough, you can be rough too, right? 

You drag him up by his hair, listening to his shameless moan of pleasure at how you treat him. You plant his face directly against your clit, and he’s just as harsh with his tongue against it. Flicking it, swirling his tongue around it, side to side, up and down, before he circles his lips around it and sucks with another one of his embarrassingly sexy moans. 

Something about him liking this to the full extent is so good. It’s so wrong, but it’s so, so, fucking good. 

And as you hold him there, his fingers slide into you as if he knows exactly how to do it. You’re shocked that he does, actually. With someone so invisible to the world to anyone but himself, he must have gotten plenty of practice in with all of the snooty book-smart girls back on campus. 

You hate to admit that they’re kind of lucky. Jay is clean with it. Goes straight for the pleasure spots and doesn’t fuck around at all. Sunghoon was always messy with his fingers, smiling and playing with you and the way you’d whine for him to hit a particular spot again. Jake, on the other hand, would never know where to land his fingers, but he’d find it and keep hitting it when you’d make that one specific sound. 

Jay knows where it is, and he knows he does. 

You know he does.

To the point that you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. Almost as shameless as he is, avoiding the fact that you do like this. You do like the entire situation that surrounds it. After all, you’d never get fucked like this is it wasn’t from Jay, right? If he didn’t go off and set you up for failure first, right? 

Fuck Jay.

Quite literally. Fuck him for being so good at ruining everyone. 

“I hate you.” You whisper between moans, already feeling the tears bubble up again. You hate him so much, and you hate everything about how he really could have been something had he tried before. 

You hate that it feels so good.

You hate that he chuckles at your words, vibrating his voice against your clit and making you shiver.

You can’t stand that he can fit three fingers into you with ease, proving how wet you are for him. 

And even more do you hate the way he pulls back, staring up at you as he quickens his fingers, hitting that same spot, over and over again with a filthy smirk on his glistening lips. 

“Hate me all you want,” He says in a smooth voice, listening to the sounds of how wet you are gushing out and against his palm. “You seem to love what I can do for you.”

You groan out again, from deep in your chest as you try to close your legs around him, as if to push him out of you but you can feel the way he easily keeps one of your legs spread out and open, preventing the act. 

And as he listens to the sounds of your body, it all clicks in his head. It’s no wonder Jake wanted to be with you so bad. The taste of you, the smell, the sounds your body emits to be fucked? He wouldn’t let anyone take you from him. Sunghoon too, no wonder he kept coming back. That girl he always fucks during the summers surely doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

No one could look so sweet and sound so arousing like this but you. Not a single other person in this world could have his cock straining against his pants like this over the act of giving head. If anything, Jay hates giving head. But you’re clean.

You taste sweet. 

He could eat you out for days. 

“God, just fucking look at you.” He groans to himself when he stares at his three fingers plunging into you, hitting that same spot since he started. 

He can feel the squeeze of your pussy around his fingers each time he drives them in deep, pushing them together. And you only squeeze more and more as he does it. He knows exactly what this means. 

“Already?” He asks snidely. “Just from my fingers?”

You stay silent only because you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. Never has a man assaulted your g-spot so well before, and you’ve felt it building up this entire time. Your whole body feels weak, your eyes feel fogged over, your brain is going numb as you relish in the pleasure rather than the reality just outside of it. 

“Fuck, Jay.” You manage to get out, not even shocked that you just said his name in regards to this situation.

Nothing shocks you anymore.

And it’s like music to his ears to hear you sing his name in pleasure. It’s not a stutter of Jake’s name this time. It’s really his name, and he feels so fucking elated by it. He fucks his fingers in faster through the eagerness of hearing you willingly say that to him. He even dips down, his shoulders keeping your legs open just so he can lick around the same hole his fingers are stretching out, and right there is where he wills for you to come.

He wants to feel it drip against his tongue, he wants his fingers and face to be fucking soaked in you and all of that hate you claim you have for him. 

It’s not a shocker to him that you do, either. He knows how to touch a pussy, you’re not a puzzle for him. But at least your cum is sweeter than he’s ever tasted. He laps it up like a fucking dog, moaning through it as you hold your breath. Your legs shake, your cunt clenches, your clit throbs, and he’s the reason for all of it. 

He works you through it so well, to the point that you’re out of breath and looking at him as if he is your boyfriend. Only now do you wish that your mother didn’t have to go off and marry his dad. You could have easily dated this asshole just for the way he gives head and uses his fingers alone.

Yeah, maybe you are a slut. 

“Mm, I heard that.” He coos out, licking up the last of your orgasm before lifting and resting his head just below your belly button. “You moaned my name.” 

You’ve never seen him smile like this. His eyes have never looked so bright before. You’re mad that he looks attractive between your legs, with his lips dripping in your own arousal. You hate that you like it. 

“I did.” You say, leaving no room for him to respond. 

After all, he probably said that just to try and get a rise out of you. 

“You’re going to do it again, you know.” He responds anyway, now standing and reaching for the button on his pants. “And again.” 

You watch him, not wanting to believe that you’ll be moaning his name again tonight. Thinking that this is the end of it, though you should have known better. He’s going all the way. 

“Roll over.” He says now, almost demanding in a way that makes you immediately follow the direction.

You roll over perfectly for him, presenting an already fucked and pulsing hole for him to rub up and against. He actually has to blink up at the ceiling with a deep breath before really getting a good look at this angle. 

A perfect ass, perfect cunt, all wet and willing for him of all people. You’re right where you belong at this moment. Against your bed, with his cock out and ready to fuck you until you forget Jake ever existed. 

“Damn.” He comments, thumbing at your pussy lips and gripping himself with the other hand. “Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror like this?”

That’s a weird question, but yeah. 

Still, you don’t nod or answer. You just stuff your face into the very same pillow that Jake laid against the day you straddled him. If you breathe in hard enough, you can almost smell him on it. 

“I’m sure you have.” Jay answers for himself, now spreading your cheeks and getting a good look at both holes. 

Then, he leans forward, takes off his shirt, and slaps his cock against your swollen lips. Over and over again, watching the strings of your previous orgasm connect him to you. He pushes, and pushes, rubbing it between your lips and relishing in the image of his cock against you.

Where it fucking belongs.

And then he’s releasing a string of saliva, letting it drop directly onto the head of his length before he pushes the tip in. 

God, he’s thick. Just the head alone feels so much bigger than you’ve had before and it’s a bit unfamiliar. Because, of fucking course it is. 

Still, he stays like that. Pushing his tip in, out, in, out. 

Over and over again, giving you small sighs from his throat at the feeling until you can’t fucking stand it anymore.

You’re the one who pushes back, slipping another inch of him into your tight and wet walls, gripping your sheets much the same way Jake did when you went down on him.

“Fuuuuck,” Jay moans out slowly, using both hands to spread your cheeks and get a good look at the way you’re the one who wants more. “Didn’t expect you to be this tight, baby.”

You ignore his words, knowing they’re more insulting than you need to hear right now. 

And then, you feel his hand move to the small of your back and push a perfect arch out of you, his other hand pushing forward to grip your tit. He slides all the way in this time, bottoming out before staying in place just to feel you adjust around him.

“Let me feel how tight you really are then,” He smiles from behind you, finger flicking your nipple and flexing his cock inside of you. “Squeeze it.” 

You clench on demand, not because he asked for it, but because the feeling of his fingers on your nipple forces you to do it. It’s a slight pleasure that always shoots straight to your pussy and you can’t fucking help the moan. You’ve always been weak to have your nipples played with, and Jake really indulges you in that. Jay is doing the same without even fucking knowing what it does to you. 

“Goddamn, I just know they’ll miss you.” Jay breaks out in a moan, boasting about having his cock in you and feeling the way your perfect cunt jerks it off for him. “Wouldn’t let anyone fuck this pussy again,” He continues to ramble to you, spilling out his filthy desires. “My pretty slut of a sister, giving it to me like this?”

You gasp when he finally moves, pulling out nearly all the way before stuffing you full again.

“Finally letting me see what all the hype was about?” He degrades, keeping his pace slow just to hear you give into his words with each moan. “I’ll give it to you, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nod against your will, never realizing that maybe you like being called these names. Jay, once so quiet and stoic, now talking to you in a way you never could have imagined. You don’t know why it’s so hot. You won’t think too hard into it, nor will you ever bring this shit up again either. 

“Wouldn’t you?” He repeats, leaning down against your ear. “I’ll be the one to fuck you the way you need, won’t I?”

His hips pick up at that point, driving those long and languid strokes into you at a quicker pace, with so much ease and confidence that you almost find it hard to think he’s lying. Maybe the only person you shouldn’t be fucking really is the only one who could fuck you the way you need it. 

“Jay,” You hiccup against your pillows, trying to lift, but his hand only pushes you further down, keeping that perfect arch for him to hit your g-spot much like he did with his fingers. “Jay,” You try again, wanting to say something and not yet having the ability. 

“That’s right.” He encourages you through his own stifled grunt, putting all the force in his body behind his thrusts now. “Say it.” He continues, now moving the hand from your tit to your hair, forcing your head back and your arch to reach pure agony. 

God, that slight change in position nearly does him in. The way you gasp out and let him force you into a shape that only a gymnast could achieve. So flexible. So slutty. You’re perfect. 

“God, Just fucking say it again.” He groans, now releasing your hair and gripping your ass, forcing you to ride back on him, trying to memorize the way your pussy walls hug around him, trying to memorize the way you moan for him, the way you’re wet for him, the way he’s finally fucking you. 

“Jay–” You moan out, lifting on your arms yourself this time, ruining the arch but pleasing him all the same when you bounce back, to the point that he’s chuckling out his groans and biting his bottom lip to the point he may actually be bleeding. 

You are truly so unbelievable to him.

“So needy for dick.” He tuts, trying to keep his composure as he stares down at the scene of you riding against him. “Just gonna ride me like the filthy slut I always knew you were?” 

You hiccup, chasing the pleasure for yourself and you alone. Loving the numbness in your brain right now, and the way his cock pulses inside of you. You feel like you could burst with every color of emotion you’ve ever felt in your life, but you refrain. 

You bounce back harder, harder, harder, until your knees buckle and he slips out of you when you fall flat back onto your stomach. 

He thinks it’s cute though, in the way you fucked against him until you couldn’t anymore. Rendering your body a melted mess of a woman, where he can easily move you to roll over, and take you for all your worth. So he can fuck you better than anyone ever has, so he can remind you that while you’re dirty, and give yourself to just about anyone, you’re proud to have given it to him too. 

And as you lay there, staring up at him when he pushes your legs up to your chest, slipping right back into you with a pornographic moan of his own, you can’t help but see him as anyone other than Jay. 

He’s too attractive, he fucks too good. 

Except it is Jay. You’ve moaned his name. It’s his cock inside of you, he’s the reason you’re so close to your second orgasm. 

And goddamn, do you need it. 

You need it so much that your fingers leave marks against his shoulders as you try to hold onto him. All you can hear are his breaths of the words “Yes.” and “Mhm.” encouraging you to scratch him harder and deeper as he fucks into you.

He knows you feel good, mostly because of the way you finally make eye contact with him, and the way you look at him as if you want him to be the one fucking you right now over anyone else. 

“You really are just–” He starts, in awe at how pretty. “So fucking pretty.” He laughs this time, slamming his hips into you at a pace that forces small moans out of you with each pointed thrust. 

And you are shocked by his sudden kind words. This whole time you never could have guessed he had some weird little crush on you, and event through him fucking you, you couldn’t tell. But now he suddenly wants to say you’re pretty? 

You don’t get him. Nor do you even care to understand, because what he’s doing right now is enough to distract you from the inevitable situation that will follow. 

You remain silent save for the few moans you offer, trying to focus solely on the way his cock splits you open. And man, he really does fuck hard. Each slam into you feels like you’re seeing stars, to the point that you can feel your throat go dry from your slacked lips.

To the point your tits are squished under your legs painfully. 

To the fucking point that the saliva that does collect in your mouth only falls out of the corners of your mouth.

Jay is so quick to catch it too, leaning down and squishing your tits even more painfully as he licks up each dribble and revels in the warmth of your mouth. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, no. He likes seeing you cock-drunk for him too much.

You’re really letting him fuck you, and you’re really just letting him do whatever he wants? All it took was losing Jake as a friend? He’d do it over and over again just to experience this in all the different ways he could imagine. 

And as he thinks about it, with your pussy clenching him so tightly, he finally releases your legs and focuses on getting you off once more. He lands his fingers right between your legs, aggressively rubbing your clit in time with each of his breathless thrusts.

He’s out of breath by this point, sweating, and his hair is falling against his face only to stick to his forehead as he gives it to you the way you deserve. He wills it out of you, unsatisfied if he can’t get you to come at least twice on him.

Then, he encourages it. 

“Come on, baby–you’re close, right?” He grunts, already feeling dangerously close to his own orgasm. “Let me feel it,” He continues, staring straight into your eyes as if he’s telepathically forcing the orgasm out of you. And it works, he can feel the clench become suffocating around his length, forcing his own eager orgasm to the surface.

“Fuck, yeah, this is what you wanted.” He nods to himself frantically, fingers stuttering against your clit as he grinds his cock into you as deep as he can manage, holding it there as he witnesses your second orgasm along with his own. 

And both of you are whispering moans and strings of “fuck” and “goddamn” and even a few of his name. 

It only drove his orgasm to keep spurting out of him far past your own high. You feel it, and you watched him do it. He didn’t pull out, nor did he even ask if he needed to. He fills you to the brim and only keeps going, lending short thrusts as if to push the cum deeper and deeper into you until he’s entirely drained and spent. 

There, he pulls out without a single glance to you before he falls onto your bed, letting the mess on his cock seep into your sheets. That’s when he looks at you, out of breath and sparkly eyed as he pushes his hair out of his face. 

He fucking smiles at you. 

“Feel better?” He asks through deep breaths, reaching his hand up to your cheek and caressing it as if he actually cares.

“No.” You say numbly, feeling more hollow than you did before giving in to the temptation of a situation so fucked up. “I feel worse now.” 

“Aww,” He coos, lifting on his elbow to look at you. “You should’ve told me, I could have kept going.”

You stare at him, unsure of how you feel about any of this. Certainly not wanting it to happen again, but somehow knowing that it very well might. 

On your terms. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things are weird after Jay goes back to his room. He even cleaned you up a little bit using one of Jake’s old shirts with a chuckle. Even nodded to you, saying you should give it back to him unwashed when he inevitably breaks up with you. 

It made you cry the instant he finally left you alone. Which is so fucked up because you couldn’t even tell if you wanted to be alone or not. You almost wanted him to stay and pretend to love you for a little longer despite how wrong it was. 

At the end of the day though, Jay got what he wanted, and you’re still here having to clean up the trail of destruction he leaves behind him. 

The first thing you need to do is talk to Jake and lay it out straight to him. You want to tell him you know the truth, but most of all you want to ask why he did it. You want to know why he was so good at lying, and you deserve to know if any of it at all was real.

Because if he so much as nods his head that any of it was real, you’d never talk to Jay again. In fact, you’d never even look at him again. Especially after what just happened. Regardless of if you liked it, regardless of if Jake really did lie to you, you’d tell Jake everything.

Even if it makes you weird for letting Jay fuck you. Even if it’s weird that you fucked yourself against him.

You’d give everything to Jake if he’d accept it, and all you can do now is hope that somehow this situation is flipped on its head. 

Though there’s no way it could be. 

So, you lay there, alone in your bed wishing so much that you had someone to tell you that everything will be okay.

The last thing you needed was for that person to be fucking Sunghoon. 

The bright and unknowing text makes you cry harder, but you still respond to it. 

Because at the end of the day, you really are dumb. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Approaching Jake the next day felt like a whirlwind of emotion in your chest. Wondering if everything Jay said was true, wondering if it’s a lie. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hoped more for anything. For Jake to explain it all, for him to make promises and never break them. For him to still want you even if you don’t want yourself. 

He sees your face fall the second you look at him. You look nervous, scared, maybe even a bit broken. Which is insane compared to how you normally look at him, or act around him. He immediately panics too, especially when you don’t lift up and kiss him like usual.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting with you in his driveway after a silent drive over. “Things feel really weird and I’d rather you just tell me now because I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Jay told me everything.” You say, voice breaking throughout each word as you try your damndest to keep the tears from falling and making you look more pathetic than you already do. 

Jake is silent when he hears you say that. Reminding himself of the threats Jay threw at him last week, and wondering why he, himself, didn’t try to work things out further with Jay so the truth wouldn’t have come out this way. 

You probably hate him. After all, this whole relationship is based on a lie, but that doesn’t mean he lied about his feelings. Because he fucking meant everything. 

“Can we go inside to talk about it?” Jake asks gently, turning to you in a timid stance, seemingly curling in on himself. He reaches out to you, but you flinch away, not wanting to be touched by anyone. “Please?” 

You try to look at him but the second you do, the tears well up to the point you’d rather just go back home. You feel so tired. Your legs are sore from what Jay did with you, your heart is sore from what Jay told you, and your really, really, just want to sleep it all away. 

“Did he really pay you?” You ask through your tears, shifting closer and closer to the door just to create distance so you can breathe. 

“Please, just come inside.” Jake pleads, face flushed and heart buzzing at the fear of losing you. 

Angry over the fact that Jay would really stoop so low. 

“No.” You dead-pan, staring out the window. “I don’t want to go inside with you.”

That really shatters Jake. Entirely, actually, in the way you say it so confidently. He knows you deserve answers though, and you’re probably sick of people toying with you and your little frail heart strings. 

“Okay.” He says in a sigh, breathing out and pushing himself against the back of his driver’s seat before turning to look at you again. “He did pay me, but I need you to tell me what he said to you.”

You feel that last bit of hope dissolve with his confirmation. Why does it matter now what Jay said? It’s probably true, right?

It takes you a few minutes to regain composure, crying hot and salty tears next to a man on the verge of breaking someone’s arm over this. 

“He said he paid you to get me away from Sunghoon. That you lied the whole time, and that you were planning to break up with me soon.”

In that instance, Jake sees red. 

You can hear him breathe through his nose trying to control how badly he wants to raise his voice, not at you, but at Jay. Jay isn’t here though, no. Jay is at home, daydreaming about how he had you once and for all, and the way he set it up for Jake to have no room to wiggle again. 

You hear Jake call your name, trying to get you to look at him, but you can’t. You try to keep your eyes out the window, solely because you refuse to look at him if he can’t come up with some type of excuse for you to cling onto. 

Jake is good at lying though, you remind yourself. 

“I didn’t lie the whole time.” He starts, leaning himself back against the seat of his car and trying to think up a way to explain it that doesn’t make him look worse than he already does. “There’s no way I can explain this without it making me look bad but–” He stops, lifting in his seat and reaching for you, forcing you to look at him. “I only lied to you about wanting to start a band, everything else was real. I stopped taking his money. I tried to tell him the deal is off because I want to be with you, I–”

You look at him this time, letting the information sit right in the center of your brain.

“He got mad when I told him I didn’t want to break up. He offered to pay me triple to do it, then threatened me when I ignored him.” 

Maybe he’s not lying. 

“I’ve known him since childhood, I only took this deal because I thought he was genuinely just trying to get you away from some asshole. But when he didn’t even want me to be with you, I realized–”

“He fucked me, you know?” You say, shaking your head with a sad laugh. “I let him. I don’t know why but,  I did.” 

Jake freezes, his apologetic tone leaving his body in an instant.

“Are you fucking joking right now?” He asks, clenching his fists before loosening them to grab your face on both sides. “I need you to understand that I lied to you before I knew you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You stare forward in a numb way, feeling his warm hands caress your cheek like it doesn’t look like he wants to murder someone right now. 

“I don’t care if you slept with him. He’s the one who took advantage of you, not me.”

Only now do you think your tears dry up, choosing to believe Jake, choosing to hate Jay. Both with all of your being. 

“I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.” You say with a hollow voice. “I need you to make a lot of promises to me after this if you still want me.”

“Wha-” Jake is dumbfounded by your words. “If I still want you?!” He continues, that angry expression now turned at you. “You think I don’t want you now? Because my own best friend decided to become a piece of shit? This isn’t your fault.” 

You feel lighter at those words, your legs feel less sore, your heart starts beating at a pace that you can hear. 

“I let him though.” You say, trying to look away but feeling Jake hold your face and keep it from moving. “I believed him over you.”

Jake nods, softening his features in an instant when he lunges forward to kiss you. 

“Let’s just– let’s go inside, okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling slightly dissociated about all of this, especially with the way your entire life and moral status shattered within the span of a day and a half. 

And when Jake walks you inside, he sits with you on the couch with no indication of taking advantage of you. He looks just as hurt and confused as you do despite being Jay’s co-conspirator at one point.

“Sunghoon texted me.” You add to the whirlwind of mishaps. “I responded, but then he ghosted me again.”

Jake nods, listening to you before the room falls heavy and silent. The only comfort you feel comes from the warmth of his side pressed against yours. 

“I really hope you believe me when I say I meant all of what I’ve said to you. If I was really going to break up with you and do what he wanted me to do, I wouldn’t have slept with you.” 

You pause.

“You wouldn’t have?”

Jake shakes his head, proving to you time and time again that he is nothing but a man who cares about how other people feel. If he were to continue the deal and have no feelings for you by the end of it, you genuinely believe the blow would have hurt less because he would have made sure of it. 

“As much as I wanted to sleep with you from day one, I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t as attached to you as I was, or still am.”

Everything always feels better when Jake is the one talking, explaining, navigating. It’s like there’s nothing in the world he can’t do. A situation that felt like it couldn’t be fixed, suddenly feels mended and unbelievably stupid to you.

Jay is pathetic, and you gave in to the way he spoke to you, you gave him what he wanted, and what did he do? Smile because he got his way? Chuckle at your pain? Get off on it, even? God, you’re so stupid. 

“I believe you.” You finally breathe out, feeling an immense amount of weight lifting off of you. “What should we do, then?” 

“Piss him off? What? He doesn’t have anything on me after this anyway. He isn’t gonna run and tell your mom he slept with you or anything, I know for a fact his dad would beat his ass.” 

You chuckle, which feels morbidly uncanny to do right now, but you worried you’d never be able to crack a smile again. 

“So, what else then? What else did you lie to me about?” You ask, blinking away lighter tears now. 

“My gpa isn’t a 2.1.” He looks away, feeling bad that he lied to you at all. “It’s a 4.3.”

Oh. A smart boy. 

“I don’t usually paint my nails or wear ripped clothes, and I’m kind of a loser. I’ve only slept with like two girls before you.” He continues, looking at you with sparkling eyes. “I think I like this look on me though, so in a way I wasn’t even lying about my fashion sense past the first day, if I’m being honest.”

You smile, reminding yourself of how genuine he felt when you were with him back then. 

“Only two girls?” You pin point that quick statement he made. “I definitely wouldn’t have guessed.” You laugh sarcastically, sniffling a bit due to the sheer amount of crying you’ve been doing. 

Jake rolls his eyes at you. 

“Isn’t that proof enough to know I wouldn’t have done any of this with bad intentions?”

You smile, nodding, feeling like you’re worlds away from the pain you felt this morning. 

“I can’t believe he did that.” You finally let out, leaning closer to Jake and gripping onto his arm as if you need more balance. He lets you, feeling happy but still angry at the man who used to be his most beloved friend. 

“I’d like to say the same, but unfortunately I’m not shocked.” Jake shakes his head in pity a Jay, the guy who thinks he has it all. “He’s always been awful to other people, but never to me until now.”

You nod in agreement.

“I barely noticed him before my mom decided to marry his dad. It’s going to be hard going back to campus without you. He’s probably going to sabotage me more or something.” 

“Nah,” Jake shakes his head languidly. “4.3 GPA remember?” He continues, wrapping both arms around you and hugging. “I could transfer.”

And for some reason, you can’t help but feel excited knowing Jay may have had you once, but he will never have you again. You can’t wait to see the look on his face with Jake rolls up on campus, tainting any plan to get close to you. Even more? You know Sunghoon will be fuming to know he fucked around and found out.

After all, with your mother so lovey dovey with Jay’s dad, you could always spend the summer with Jake instead. Leaving Jay all alone, where he fucking belongs.

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

preview one

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

[this-tastes-lemony]

Falsettos Food Theory

Okay so someone asked what this is and I really wanna explain! So the falsettos food theory is that food represents love throughout the Marvin trilogy.

In the show, In Trousers, Marvin is very strict about what kind of food he wants, and he gets very upset when he doesn’t get it imminently or the way he wants. For example, in the song ‘How Marvin Eats his Breakfast” there is the lyric,

“No one looks busy in this kitchen

And my breakfast isn't ready

And my stomach aches.”

This is in reference to that no one at that moment is giving him the love that he wants, and that he aches for it. Later in the song he also says ,

“I don't want miracles from heaven

Just some eggies over spinach over toast

No, I will not apologize!

She should win a prize:

Very best emoting

That girl can't cook”

When he says the first line he doesn’t literally mean he just wants a basic breakfast, he means that he doesn’t want much, he just wants to feel loved. By saving “that girl can’t cook” he doesn’t mean she’s lousy at making food, he means that she doesn’t give him the kind of love that he wants. One of the other ladies says

“maybe she can’t cook, but have you seen her milk a cow?” Implying that sexually she “provides” to Marvin, even if he doesn’t romantically like her (obviously this means nothing, just because they can be sexually active does not mean that it is love).

Another one is in Whizzer Going Down he says,

“he hates my wife

I hate his food”.

He’s saying he hates when Whizzer shows him love because he is not ready to accept the fact that he can be loved and he can love another man.

There are many more references of this in the show In Trousers and if anyone wants to hear them I’ll gladly go into it in another post!!

The ones in Falsettos are even more obvious references to love. In the song Tight Knit Family, Marvin sings,

“We all eat as one

Wife, friend, and son

And I sing out as they cook

I love my tight-knit family

I love the way they cook linguine”

They all eat as one meaning they are all receiving love from one another, even if it isn’t good. The next line being “I sing out as they cook” (singing out meaning to say or shout something loudly, most likely implying the unhealthy relationship he’s in with his family) this line is saying that while they provide him love and what ever he asks, he continues to complain about it.

However, in the next line he says “I love the way they cook linguine” which is a considered normal traditional meal for a lot people. This is showing that he enjoys when they provide him with basic normal love, instead of arguing or disagreeing with him.

Another reference later on in the musical is in the ENTIRETY of the song “This Had Better Come To A Stop”. The first set of unique lyrics though is what I’ll cover.

“Whizzer's supposed to always be here

Making dinner, set to screw

That's what pretty boys should do

Check their hairlines, make the dinner

And love me”

This is saying that Whizzer is supposed to always be at Marvin’s command, loving him and giving himself to Marvin sexually at all times. He mentions making dinner twice in these lyrics, again implying that he doesn’t want Whizzers love unless it’s later in the day once he’s gotten his love from his other family ( breakfast specifically).

Another general reference to food equaling love is Cordelia’s entire character. All she does throughout the show is provide food and such to the characters, this being her giving them constant love. Since Cordelia was giving Marvin so much food (presumably) during the two year gap during intermission, we can assume that her unique and (sometimes) not so great food taught him that he doesn’t always get to choose what to eat, but that he should be greatful someone is cooking for him anyway. I think Cordelia is one of the most amazing characters in the story.

For all of the song “Days Like This” she’s trying to get Whizzer to eat something, meaning she’s trying to share her love with him.

In the song “Jason’s Bar Mitzvah”, Dr. Charlotte says

“She's cooked for some 200 guests

[CORDELIA]

We number not that many

Actually... we're seven”

This shows that she has provided so much love for all of these people, even though there’s only seven. Only a couple lines later, she tries the food Cordelia made, and says that the food “tastes really yummy.” (in the pro shot Trina nods her head to agree).

This is important to me because it shows that Cordelia finally found a way to show/express her love with the rest of the characters, and have them reciprocate it for the first time on stage, showing that they are all at peace and finally love each other.

Just like in trousers there are hundreds of more references in Falsettos so if any of you would like me to go more into it I’d be happy to!

This is all speculation of course, we don’t know if any of this was intentional, buts it’s by far my favorite thing to talk about that’s falsettos related. Hope you enjoyed reading!

[novaursa]

Legacy (sisters)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the north and the south

- Next part: drawing the lines

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

Tywin Lannister and Jon Snow sat opposite each other at the long table in the Great Hall of Dragonstone. A week of heated discussions and negotiations had brought them here, to a moment where a tentative agreement seemed within reach. The hall’s stone walls absorbed the low hum of voices as you sat at Tywin’s right hand, your presence a quiet but steadying force in the midst of it all. Davos Seaworth stood behind Jon, his weathered face calm but watchful.

The Painted Table between them was scattered with maps, letters, and reports, each detailing threats and opportunities. Tywin’s eyes fixed on Jon, who met his gaze with equal intensity.

“You’ve made your demands clear,” Tywin said, his tone measured. “Justice for your family, recognition of the North’s independence, and preparation for the so-called Long Night. You’ll find I am not a man who agrees lightly to terms that serve others more than myself.”

Jon leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve seen the signs. Your wife has told you of what’s coming, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The dead are marching beyond the Wall, and if we don’t prepare, it won’t matter who sits on the Iron Throne or which house rules the North. The living will fall.”

Tywin’s expression remained inscrutable. “You speak of an enemy that has not yet crossed into the realm. Meanwhile, a very real threat sails toward us from Essos. Daenerys Targaryen, has aligned herself with the Ironborn—a fractured fleet, perhaps, but still formidable. She comes with the Dothraki, a horde of savages, and the Unsullied, disciplined but foreign. She believes her claim to the throne outweighs that of my grandson, King Tommen, or indeed, my own children.”

Your breath caught at Tywin’s words, but you said nothing, your mind reeling with the weight of the situation. Jon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he absorbed Tywin’s dismissal of the Northern threat.

“You’d place her above your wife?” Jon asked sharply. “Above the mother of your sons?”

Tywin’s gaze flicked to you briefly, his expression unreadable. “Do not presume to lecture me on loyalty or duty, boy. My wife is of Valyrian blood, the mother of my heirs. Her claim to the throne is stronger than her sister’s, but this does not negate the danger Daenerys poses. She comes as a foreign invader, not as a queen to unite Westeros.”

“She comes with dragons,” Jon countered. “And you’ve seen what dragons can do.”

At this, Tywin leaned back in his chair, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And I also know how to harness that power, as you’ve seen here on Dragonstone. Do not mistake me for a fool, Snow. I’ve considered every possibility, and while your warnings of the dead may hold some truth, they are not my immediate concern.”

You placed a hand gently on Tywin’s arm, your voice calm but firm. “Jon isn’t asking you to ignore Daenerys. He’s asking you to consider the larger picture. If we’re divided, we’ll fall—to her, to the dead, to any threat that comes our way. The North needs the South, and the South needs the North. We can’t afford to be enemies.”

Tywin’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, though his tone remained cold. “Unity is a fine ideal, but it must be built on terms that serve both sides. Snow demands recognition of the North’s independence—what assurances do I have that he won’t sever ties entirely when it suits him?”

Jon’s eyes flashed with determination. “You have my word. The North will fight alongside the South against whatever comes. We’ll defend this realm, and we’ll remember who stood with us. But if you refuse to acknowledge the North’s sovereignty, you’ll leave us no choice but to stand alone.”

Tywin’s mind worked quickly. After a moment, he spoke, his tone clipped and decisive. “Very well. The North will remain autonomous in its governance, but it will not sever its ties to the Iron Throne. You will recognize Tommen as king, and you will not see again to crown yourself or any other Stark.”

Jon hesitated, glancing at you before nodding slowly. “Agreed.”

Tywin continued, his gaze hard. “In return, you will provide men and resources to defend the realm against Daenerys’s invasion. If your warnings of the dead prove true, you will lead the North’s forces in that fight as well.”

Jon’s voice was steady as he replied. “The North will do its part. But know this—if you focus all your attention on Daenerys and ignore the threat beyond the Wall, you’ll lose more than this war. You’ll lose everything.”

Tywin said nothing for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the Painted Table. Finally, he stood, signaling the end of the discussion. “Then we have an accord. Prepare your men, Snow. The battles ahead will test us all.”

Jon rose as well, his expression grim but resolute. “And the living will need every advantage.”

As Tywin left the room, you stayed behind with Jon. His shoulders were tense, his face etched with frustration. “He doesn’t understand,” Jon said quietly. “Not yet.”

“He will,” you replied, your voice soft but confident. “Tywin Lannister is not a man who ignores proof. He’ll see the truth when the time comes.”

Jon nodded, though his doubt was evident. “Let’s just hope it’s not too late.” The alliance between the North and South was fragile, but it was a start. And in a world on the brink of chaos, even the smallest hope could spark a flame.

The deck of the flagship swayed gently beneath Daenerys Targaryen as the winds carried the scent of salt and promise across the Narrow Sea. The rhythmic crash of waves against the hull provided a steady backdrop to the flurry of activity as her Unsullied soldiers, Dothraki, and sailors moved purposefully to prepare for their departure. Sails bearing the sigil of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen were being unfurled, their black and crimson hues stark against the endless expanse of blue.

Daenerys stood at the ship’s prow, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she gazed toward the horizon. Her dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, circled overhead, their shadows passing over the fleet below. Their roars echoed across the sea, a reminder of her power—a power she intended to unleash upon Westeros.

Behind her, Tyrion Lannister approached, his footsteps light but deliberate. He came to a stop beside her, his gaze following hers toward the unseen shores of Westeros. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice tinged with caution.

“You know this won’t be the welcoming parade you might imagine,” he said, his tone diplomatic but firm.

Daenerys turned to him, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. “And why is that, Lord Tyrion? Westeros has suffered under unworthy rulers for years. They will welcome the rightful queen.”

Tyrion tilted his head, his expression both patient and resigned. “You forget, Your Grace, that Westeros has already had its fill of dragons. Your sister’s dragon, Viserion, has become a familiar sight. By all reports, the realm has grown accustomed to her presence, and to her rule alongside Tywin Lannister.”

Daenerys frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Viserion may be hers now, but that dragon was once mine. And my sister will see that this is our chance—our chance to bring justice to our family and take back the throne that was stolen from us.”

Tyrion’s brow arched slightly, his skepticism clear. “Justice is a noble goal, but Westeros doesn’t see you as a liberator. Not yet. You’re arriving with a Dothraki horde and an army of Unsullied. To the lords and ladies of Westeros, you’ll appear as a foreign invader, not a rightful queen.”

Daenerys’s eyes flashed with determination. “Then I will show them who I am. I will free them from their chains, just as I did in Meereen and Astapor.”

“And you’ll burn half the realm in the process,” Tyrion said bluntly, earning a sharp glare from Daenerys. He sighed, stepping closer to the rail. “Your Grace, I am not doubting your abilities or your claim. But the noble houses of Westeros are fickle creatures. They won’t bow simply because you have dragons. They’ll see you as a threat to their power, especially if you come with foreign armies at your back.”

Daenerys’s gaze softened slightly as she studied Tyrion. “And what do you suggest, Hand of the Queen? That I abandon my armies and fly to Dragonstone alone?”

Tyrion shook his head. “No. I suggest you tread carefully. Your sister is a key figure in this. By all accounts, she is loved by the people, respected by the lords. If you can convince her to stand with you, to lend you her voice, it could change everything.”

Daenerys’s expression turned thoughtful as she looked out at the sea once more. “She will listen to me,” she said with quiet conviction. “She understands what was taken from our family. She knows the pain of betrayal, of loss. Together, we can restore the Targaryen name to its rightful place.”

Tyrion studied her for a moment before speaking, his tone laced with both hope and caution. “I hope you’re right. But don’t underestimate her ties to Tywin Lannister. Whatever her reasons for marrying him, she’s a part of his house now. And Tywin doesn’t let go of his allies—or his assets—easily.”

Daenerys’s gaze hardened. “She’s not an asset. She’s my sister. And I won’t fight her. If she stands with me, there will be no need for war.”

Tyrion exhaled softly, his gaze drifting to the dragons overhead. “Let’s hope she sees it that way. Because if she doesn’t… this could be the bloodiest campaign Westeros has ever seen.”

Daenerys turned to him, her voice steely. “I will take back the Iron Throne, Tyrion. With or without her. But I would rather have her by my side.”

Tyrion nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “Then let’s make sure she knows that when you arrive.”

The moon hung low over the Narrow Sea, its pale light reflecting off the gentle waves as the fleet sailed steadily toward Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen sat alone in her cabin, the sound of Drogon and Rhaegal’s distant roars echoing faintly through the night. A single candle flickered on the small table before her, its light illuminating the old and weathered maps spread across its surface.

Her fingers traced the outlines of Westeros, stopping at Dragonstone, then moving north toward the Eyrie, and finally to Winterfell. Her mind, however, was far from strategies and conquest. It wandered instead to the stories her brother Viserys had told her so many years ago.

Viserys had rarely spoken of their family with affection. His words were usually cruel, laden with bitterness for what they had lost. But when he spoke of their eldest sister—the sister Daenerys had never met—there had been a rare softness in his tone, an almost desperate longing that had always struck Daenerys as unusual.

She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, and the memories came unbidden.

“She was beautiful,” Viserys had said one night as they sat by the fire, huddled together in a dilapidated inn somewhere in the Free Cities. His voice was quieter than usual, almost reverent. “Hair like yours. Violet eyes. Everyone said she looked like Mother.”

Daenerys, barely seven at the time, had tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What was her name again?”

“Y/N,” Viserys replied, his lips curving faintly. “The Flame of House Targaryen, they called her. Father’s favorite child… until she wasn’t.”

Daenerys frowned, her small hands tugging at the hem of her tunic. “Why wasn’t she his favorite anymore?”

Viserys’s expression darkened, the fleeting warmth in his gaze replaced by a familiar bitterness. “Because Father went mad, that’s why. He saw enemies everywhere—even in her. She was sent away before Robert’s rebellion could touch her. Willem said it was to protect her, but I think it was for something else.”

“Where did she go?” Daenerys asked, her voice small.

“To the North,” Viserys answered, his tone heavy with disdain. “To Winterfell, of all places. They struck some deal with the Starks. She was meant to be a ward, but it was more like a hostage. The Starks shielded her from Robert’s wrath after the rebellion ended.”

Daenerys’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t they love her?”

Viserys scoffed. “The Starks? Love a Targaryen? Don’t be foolish, Daenerys. They kept her safe because it suited them. But she… she was different. She thrived there, somehow. Made herself at home among wolves.”

His words hung in the air, and Daenerys had hesitated before asking, “Did you miss her?”

Viserys’s eyes had flashed with something unreadable—pride, sorrow, perhaps even guilt. “Of course, I missed her. She was my sister. Our sister. She held me once, you know. When I was very little. I barely remember it, but… it’s one of the only good memories I have of Father’s court.”

His voice had grown softer, his gaze distant as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “She sang to me. A Valyrian lullaby. I don’t remember the words, only the sound of her voice. It was… soft. Gentle. Like Mother’s.”

Daenerys had been quiet, unsure of what to say. It was rare for Viserys to speak so vulnerably, and she hadn’t wanted to break the fragile moment.

“Do you think she would have loved me?” she had asked after a long silence.

Viserys’s expression had softened, and he had reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “She would have adored you,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with longing. “She would have fought for you, protected you. She was strong like that.”

The memory faded, and Daenerys opened her eyes, her chest tight with emotion. She stared at the map before her, her fingers tracing the path to Dragonstone once more.

Viserys had clung to those faint memories of their sister, holding onto them like a drowning man clutching driftwood. He had seen her as a symbol of what their family could have been, what it should have been. And now, Daenerys would finally meet her—this sister who had lived through the rebellion, who had found strength among wolves, who had become a mother and a queen in her own right.

But would she stand with her?

Daenerys’s gaze hardened, her resolve solidifying. She would remind her sister of their shared blood, of their shared loss. Together, they would reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Still, a whisper of doubt lingered in her mind, a quiet voice echoing Tyrion’s warnings. What if her sister saw things differently? What if she had truly become a Lannister in more than name?

Daenerys shook the thought away, her hand clenching into a fist. “She will stand with me,” she said aloud, as though speaking the words would make them true. “She must.”

The distant roar of her dragons was her only answer as the ship continued its journey toward destiny. The past was a weight she carried, but the future was a fire she intended to ignite.

The flagship of Daenerys Targaryen’s fleet cut gracefully through the calm waters surrounding Dragonstone, the rhythmic crash of waves against its hull echoing faintly over the expanse. Overhead, Drogon and Rhaegal soared majestically, their vast wings slicing through the air with powerful strokes. Their roars resonated across the sea, a declaration of their presence and their queen’s arrival.

Daenerys stood at the prow, her hair billowing in the wind, her eyes fixed on the rocky shore of Dragonstone. The castle loomed in the distance, its jagged towers like dark sentinels against the cloudy sky. Yet her gaze was drawn to the figure perched atop one of the cliffs near the shore—a massive cream-and-gold dragon with scales that gleamed like molten gold under the overcast light.

Viserion.

Daenerys’s breath caught as she beheld the dragon she once thought lost to her. But something was different. The she-dragon’s body was clad in intricate armor, the likes of which Daenerys had never seen before. The Lannister colors of crimson and gold adorned the plates, which were meticulously crafted to fit the dragon’s form.

The armor’s design was a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship. Interlocking plates of burnished steel and gold covered Viserion’s neck and shoulders, the joints flexible enough to allow full range of motion while providing impenetrable protection. Her chest and underbelly were shielded by overlapping scales of reinforced metal, forged to mimic the natural texture of her hide. Along her spine, a row of serrated ridges glinted menacingly, each tip fashioned into sharp points, discouraging any would-be attackers from climbing her back.

The armor extended down her legs, ending in polished steel greaves that encased her talons. The claws themselves were tipped with blackened steel, honed to razor-sharp perfection. Even her tail was armored, with segmented plates running along its length, ending in a deadly spike that could skewer any opponent foolish enough to get too close. The entire ensemble was both practical and imposing, a testament to Tywin Lannister’s meticulous attention to detail and strategic foresight.

Daenerys’s heart sank as she noticed the dragon’s posture. Viserion was not relaxed, nor was she welcoming. Her wings were partially unfurled, the tips trembling with agitation. Her tail lashed against the rocks, sending small pebbles scattering, and her golden eyes were fixed on the approaching ship with a look that could only be described as suspicious. The low, guttural growl that emanated from her throat sent shivers down the spines of everyone aboard.

“She doesn’t look happy to see us,” Missandei observed quietly, her gaze fixed on the armored dragon.

Tyrion, standing beside her, gave a dry chuckle. “No, she doesn’t. But then again, family reunions are rarely pleasant—especially this one.” His eyes scanned the delegation waiting on the shore, his tone turning sardonic. “And speaking of awkward reunions… look who’s decided to personally welcome us.”

Daenerys followed his gaze and spotted Tywin Lannister, unmistakable in his own crimson-and-gold armor, standing at the head of a Lannister delegation. His posture was rigid, his presence commanding even from a distance. His green eyes were fixed on the approaching ship, and though his expression betrayed nothing, there was an air of readiness about him, as if he anticipated a storm.

Beside Tywin stood Jaime Lannister. Behind them, a line of armored soldiers stood at attention, their faces impassive but their weapons ready. The Lannister lion banners fluttered in the wind, a reminder of the power and wealth that Tywin wielded.

Missandei frowned, her voice low. “They come prepared for a fight.”

Tyrion shrugged, though his eyes never left his father. “That’s Tywin for you. Always calculating, always cautious. He doesn’t trust anyone—not even his own blood.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her hands gripping the rail as she watched the scene unfold. “He doesn’t need to trust me,” she said firmly. “He needs to listen.”

Tyrion glanced at her, his expression skeptical. “He’s not exactly known for his willingness to listen. And you’re arriving with dragons and a fleet full of foreign armies. To him, you’re the embodiment of every threat he’s ever prepared for.”

Daenerys’s gaze remained fixed on Viserion, her voice soft but resolute. “Viserion will remember me. She’ll know I’m her queen.”

Tyrion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I hope you’re right. Because if she doesn’t…” He gestured to the armored dragon. “I don’t think she’s wearing that armor just for show.”

Drogon and Rhaegal let out simultaneous roars, their massive forms circling overhead as they took note of Viserion. But the she-dragon was unmoved. Instead, her growls deepened, and her tail lashed with greater force, sending a clear warning. She lowered her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as she tracked the approaching ship.

“She’s agitated,” Missandei murmured, her concern evident. “She doesn’t recognize Drogon or Rhaegal as kin anymore.”

Tyrion sighed, his voice laced with dry humor. “Welcome to Westeros, Your Grace. Home of suspicion, hostility, and deeply complicated family dynamics.”

Daenerys ignored him, her focus entirely on Viserion. Her heart ached at the sight of the dragon, once hers, now clad in the colors of a family that had brought so much pain to her house. But she would not falter. She would remind the dragon—and her sister—of who she was and what they shared.

The ship slowed as it neared the shore, the waves lapping gently against the hull. The Lannister delegation stood their ground, unmoving, their presence a wall of unspoken defiance.

Daenerys’s expression hardened, her resolve burning brighter than ever. This was her moment. The pieces were in place, and now the game would begin.

The flagship docked, the gangplank lowered with a creak. But before Daenerys stepped off, she allowed herself one final glance at Viserion. The dragon’s growl rumbled through the air, low and menacing, and Daenerys knew without a doubt—this was going to be the most dangerous negotiation of her life.

The gangplank creaked underfoot as Daenerys Targaryen descended onto the rocky shores of Dragonstone, her boots striking the ground with deliberate force. Behind her, Missandei, Tyrion Lannister, and a small contingent of her loyal Unsullied followed. The banners of House Targaryen snapped in the sea breeze, though they paled in the presence of the Lannister lion banners adorning the walls of her ancestral home.

The delegation waiting to greet them was as imposing as it was calculated. At the forefront stood Tywin Lannister, clad in polished armor, his keen eyes assessing her every move with an air of cool authority. Beside him was Jaime Lannister, his gilded hand glinting in the sunlight, his expression unreadable but no less intimidating. Around them, rows of Lannister soldiers stood at attention, their faces blank but their weapons gleaming.

Missandei stepped forward, her voice steady and formal. “You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains.”

The titles echoed across the rocky beach, but Tywin’s expression didn’t change. He remained silent, his eyes fixed on Daenerys as though she were merely another piece in a game he had already mastered.

Tyrion, ever the contrast to his father, stepped forward with a smirk that barely masked his animosity. “Father,” he said, his tone light but edged with sarcasm, “I must say, your hospitality never ceases to amaze. A Lannister welcoming another Targaryen to her own home—it’s almost poetic.”

Tywin’s eyes flicked to Tyrion, his voice low and measured. “Spare me your wit, Tyrion. You are here as a bystander, nothing more.”

Daenerys took a step closer, her eyes blazing as they shifted between Tywin and Jaime. The sight of the two men—one who had orchestrated her family’s downfall, the other who had murdered her father—stirred a fire within her that was hard to suppress. “You,” she said, her voice laced with venom as her gaze locked on Tywin. “The man who betrayed my house, my father. The man who shattered the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin met her glare with an unsettling calm, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your father shattered his own dynasty long before I played my part, girl. And as for betrayal—loyalty to a mad king is not a virtue.”

Daenerys’s fists clenched at her sides, but before she could retort, Tyrion stepped between them, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Now, now,” he said, his tone light but insistent. “Let’s not turn this into a battlefield. After all, we’re all connected now, aren’t we? By blood, by bonds. My dear aunt,” he said, gesturing to Daenerys, “and my dear father, united through the jewel of this dynasty: Lady Y/N and her sons.”

Tywin’s expression hardened, though his composure never faltered. “Spare me your theatrics, Tyrion. This is no family reunion.”

Daenerys’s eyes flashed, and she took another step forward, her voice unwavering. “I did not come here to bandy words with a man who has brought ruin to my family. I came to speak with my sister.”

Tywin’s gaze bore into her, his tone as cutting as steel. “Your sister will see you when it is appropriate. Until then, you and your entourage will be escorted inside under heavy guard.”

Daenerys stiffened, her pride bristling at the command. “This is my ancestral home. I will not be treated as a prisoner.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly, the closest thing to a smile he would allow. “You will be treated with the caution befitting your arrival. You come as a foreign invader, with dragons and armies at your back. If you expected open arms, you have miscalculated.”

Tyrion stepped in again, his voice tinged with urgency. “Perhaps we could all take a moment to remember the bigger picture here. The realm is on the brink of collapse—dragons, wars, winters, and all that. Maybe we shouldn’t start this family meeting with threats.”

Jaime’s voice broke through for the first time, calm but carrying a hint of curiosity. “It’s not every day we see a girl disembark with such confidence. I’d almost forgotten Targaryens had a flair for dramatics, Y/N rarely uses it.”

Daenerys’s glare shifted to Jaime. “And it’s not every day I stand before the man that murdered my father.”

Jaime’s face tightened, but he said nothing. Tywin, however, stepped forward, his presence commanding as he addressed Daenerys directly. “If you wish to speak with your sister, you will do so under my terms. Disregard that, and you will not step inside this keep.”

Daenerys’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded curtly. “Then lead the way.”

Tywin motioned to the soldiers, who formed a protective line around Daenerys and her delegation. Tyrion lingered by her side, his expression thoughtful. “This is off to a fine start,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from Daenerys.

As they moved toward the castle, Daenerys cast one final glance over her shoulder at Viserion, who watched from her perch with a low growl, her armor glinting in the light. But Daenerys would not back down. Not now. Not ever.

The Great Hall of Dragonstone was bathed in the amber glow of firelight, its ancient stone walls towering and imposing. The carved dragons that adorned the pillars seemed to loom larger in the flickering shadows, their fiery gazes mirroring the dread in the air. Daenerys Targaryen, flanked by Missandei, Tyrion Lannister, and a small contingent of her loyal Unsullied, stepped into the hall with deliberate grace, her eyes scanning the space with equal parts determination and wariness.

At the far end of the room, Varys, the Master of Whisperers, stood near the Painted Table, his hands folded neatly before him. A faint smile played on his lips, his watchful gaze sweeping over Daenerys and her entourage. His expression bordered on amusement, though it was tempered by his usual inscrutability.

Tyrion caught the look and quipped under his breath, loud enough for Varys to hear, “You look far too pleased with yourself, Varys. Have you missed me that much?”

Varys’s lips twitched as he turned his attention to Tyrion. “Always a pleasure to see you, my lord. Though I must admit, I find the situation more fascinating than amusing.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Of course you do. This must be a feast for your endless curiosity.”

Before Varys could respond, Tywin Lannister, standing near the head of the hall, cleared his throat. The sound silenced the murmurs and brought all attention to him. “Enough,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We have no time for your games, Varys.”

Varys inclined his head slightly, his tone unbothered. “Games, my lord? I merely appreciate the gravity of this moment.” His gaze flicked to Daenerys. “A reunion long overdue, I believe.”

Daenerys’s expression remained impassive, though her posture stiffened slightly. “And where is my sister?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with impatience.

Varys turned back to Tywin, his voice calm. “Ser Barristan Selmy is escorting her here as we speak. She will join us shortly.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, though he gave a curt nod. The hall fell into a tense silence as all eyes turned toward the heavy doors at the end of the chamber.

Moments later, the doors creaked open, and the sound of measured footsteps echoed through the hall. You stepped inside, your silver hair catching the firelight as you moved with quiet confidence. At your side, Ser Barristan Selmy walked with his usual air of calm authority, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

Daenerys’s breath hitched as she saw you for the first time. The woman before her was undeniably Targaryen—silver hair, violet eyes, the unmistakable features of Valyrian descent. But there was something more, something distinctly your own. Your expression held a softness, a quiet warmth that seemed at odds with the guarded look in your eyes.

For a moment, Daenerys could only stare, her thoughts racing. This was the sister she had heard about in whispers, the one Viserys had spoken of with equal parts bitterness and longing. You were older, wiser, shaped by experiences Daenerys could only imagine.

You stopped a few paces from the gathering, your gaze sweeping over Daenerys and her entourage before settling on her. A faint smile touched your lips, though it was tempered by caution. “Daenerys,” you said softly, your voice steady but tinged with emotion. “We finally meet.”

Daenerys took a step forward, her own expression softening. “You’re… different from what I imagined.”

Your smile grew faintly wry. “And what did you imagine?”

“Someone like Viserys,” Daenerys admitted, her voice quiet. “But you’re not.”

Your gaze darkened slightly at the mention of Viserys, though you kept your tone light. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

Tyrion, ever the mediator, stepped forward with a flourish. “Well, this is positively heartwarming. The Targaryen sisters, reunited at last. It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye, isn’t it, Varys?”

Varys arched a brow but said nothing, his gaze shifting between you and Daenerys with quiet interest.

Tywin, however, was less amused. “Enough of this,” he said coldly. He turned his sharp gaze on Daenerys. “You wanted to meet your sister. Now you have. If there is more to discuss, we will do so on terms that serve the realm.”

Daenerys bristled at his tone but forced herself to remain quiet.

You placed a hand on Tywin’s arm, your touch light but firm. “Let us speak, Tywin. There is much to say.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly, stepping back to allow the sisters to move closer. You turned your full attention to Daenerys, your expression softening once more.

“Come,” you said gently. “Let’s talk.”

The tension in the Great Hall of Dragonstone grew thicker as the gathered parties settled into place. Daenerys, standing with her delegation, exuded an air of resolve, but the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes was unmistakable. Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the Painted Table, his gaze flicking between the two sisters like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. You sat beside him, your expression calm but unreadable.

Daenerys inhaled deeply before stepping forward, addressing you directly. “I have come here to seek your support, sister. Together, we can reclaim what was stolen from our family. The Iron Throne belongs to House Targaryen.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his disapproval clear. His eyes narrowed as he leaned slightly forward, but he said nothing, allowing you to respond.

You turned your gaze to Daenerys, your voice steady as you asked, “Why?”

Daenerys blinked, slightly taken aback. “Why?” she echoed, as though the question itself was absurd.

“Yes, why?” you pressed, leaning forward slightly. “Why do you want the Iron Throne? What is it that drives you to seek it?”

Daenerys’s posture stiffened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. She glanced briefly at Tyrion, who remained silent, watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and caution. Finally, Daenerys straightened her shoulders and replied with conviction, “Because it is my birthright. Our family ruled Westeros for three hundred years. The throne was taken from us by traitors and usurpers. I was born to sit on it.”

You regarded her quietly, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Then, with a calm but firm voice, you replied, “You are mistaken.”

Daenerys frowned, visibly thrown off by your response. “Mistaken? How can I be mistaken? I am one of the last Targaryen born of our father’s line.”

You raised a brow, your tone unyielding. “By that logic, the claim does not belong to you. It belongs to me as the eldest surviving child of Aerys II, or to my sons, who follow me in the line of succession. Even if you pressed your claim further, the lords of Westeros would never accept you as their queen.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, her lips parting as though to argue, but no words came immediately. Tyrion stepped forward, his tone light but edged with caution. “Siblings arguing about succession—a tale as old as the Iron Throne itself. But perhaps we should focus less on who deserves it and more on why it matters.”

Daenerys shot him a glance but turned her focus back to you, her voice more measured now. “I do not claim to be the heir above you, but you have not pressed your claim. You have allowed the realm to be ruled by Lannisters and usurpers. Do you not see what the Iron Throne represents? It is the heart of Westeros, the seat of power. If we do not reclaim it, who will?”

Your expression remained calm, though a flicker of something—pain, perhaps—crossed your eyes. “And what will you do with it, Daenerys? Will you sit upon that throne surrounded by the ashes of what you burned to claim it? Will you rule a kingdom of fear and fire, as our father tried to do?”

Daenerys bristled, her tone sharp. “I am not our father. I am not the Mad King. I seek to bring peace, justice, and freedom to the realm.”

You leaned back slightly, studying her intently. “Freedom… from what? From whom? You arrive on Westeros’s shores with foreign armies and dragons, demanding allegiance. The lords and smallfolk will see you not as a liberator, but as an invader.”

Daenerys’s voice rose slightly, her frustration evident. “You sound like Tyrion. He warned me of this, but what choice do I have? Should I stand aside while others rule a throne that should be ours?”

Your voice dropped, quiet but cutting. “The Iron Throne is cursed, Daenerys. It has brought ruin to everyone who sought it, everyone who sat upon it. Our father went mad clinging to its power. Our brother Rhaegar lost his life and his family for it. I lost everything to it.”

Daenerys stared at you, her breath catching at the raw emotion in your words. She tried to speak, but you raised a hand to stop her.

“I have spent my life cleaning up the ashes left by our father’s reign,” you continued, your tone heavy with conviction. “I have seen what the pursuit of that throne costs. And I will not see my sons burned for a seat of melted swords.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Tyrion seemed at a loss for words, his usual quips silenced by the gravity of the moment.

Daenerys’s voice was quieter now, almost pleading. “Sister, we could change things. Together, we could break the cycle of suffering.”

You regarded her for a long moment, your gaze softening but remaining firm. “Perhaps we can. But not by chasing a throne that has destroyed so many before us.”

Tywin, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke, his voice calm but menacing. “This conversation is over for today. You will be escorted to your chambers. We will speak further when the time is right.”

Daenerys hesitated but nodded, her jaw tight as she stepped back. Tyrion placed a hand on her arm, guiding her toward the exit.

As she left the hall, her mind churned with frustration and doubt. The sister she had imagined for so long was not the ally she had hoped for. But Daenerys Targaryen was not one to give up easily.

And neither, it seemed, was her sister.

[athenasdaydreams]

okay i should be studying for my bio final but i couldnt stop thinking of jj maybank asking kook!reader's parents for permission to marry you (still on s2 of outerbanks idk what happened after that....)

jj, at 23 years old, thinks its so archaic to ask your parents for permission to marry you. hes been thinking about it for months now. he would much rather pick you up and go over to a courthouse and get it done with. not a flashy type of guy. but, growing up rich, you had mentioned so many times about a dream wedding and who was he to deny his girl's wishes. youd mentioned it so many times, even going as far as sending him your wedding pinterest board after being inspired by sarah and john b's shotgun wedding (or rather in an effort to make sure jj didn't expect you guys to have a shotgun wedding).

sarah cameron wanted to be as much of a pogue as possible, while you were reluctant to give up your kook lifestyle of dior lipgloss and chanel handbags. that was exactly why after taking up a second job at the wreck, a loan from the bank, a third job cleaning some kook's boat, and another loan from the guy at the fishing store (he didnt know it yet but jj was sure he'd pay him back), jj stood outside your family's mansion with a gold band tucked in his back pocket, and some pictures of some houses he was looking at, ready on his phone. he felt like he'd been standing out there for hours. 'now or never, maybank,' he mumbled as he wiped his hands on his old faded blue jeans which had been paired with pope's white button up, knocking on the door.

the woman who opened up the door looked exactly like you, just about 40 years older. 'evening mrs l/n, i'm jj maybank, your granddaughter's boyfriend.'

after giving him a scrutinising once over, she said 'she's not here,' and attempted to close the door. jj made sure to tell her that he wanted to talk to your parents about something important, and she somewhat reluctantly let him in.

your mother was sitting on the couch, reading the latest edition of vogue (something he could picture you doing a few years in the future) while your father had presumably just gotten back from work, enjoying some expensive looking drink while talking to his wife about his day.

'mr and mrs l/n?'

both of them whipped their heads around and looked towards jj.

'jonathan?'

he was regretting ever telling you his full name, more so regretting letting you introduce him to your parents like that, during that one horrible dinner that ended with you and your mom crying and your dad and jj almost killing each other. as time passed, they stopped hating him so much, but some resentment remained.

'uh, jj is fine. listen, i gotta talk to you guys about something'

'you didn't get her pregnant did you?!' your father stood up, trying to intimidate him. what for, he didn't know.

'NO no i didn't! i promise!!' he said as he stood in front of them, reaching into his back pocket. 'I came here to ask for your permission to marry your daughter.' your mom looked like she was about to have a stroke and your dad was about to protest.

'listen, before you guys say anything, i want you to know that your daughter was the best thing to ever happen to me. i love her more than anything in the world and i would sacrifice everything, including my own life for her. i know you guys think i don't have the means to support her or give her the life she deserves and i agree. i'll never be able to give her the life she truly deserves but that doesn't mean i'll try. i've taken up 2 more jobs to buy her this ring and save up for a house- its really nice by the way, i have some photos-and i would take up all the jobs in the world just to give her the life she wants. so please, please let me marry your daughter,' jj said in what felt like one breath.

your father was shocked and your emotional mother was on the verge of tears.

"jj?"

at the sound of your voice, jj turned around to be met with your confused face. "i didn't know we had plans today... and why're you dressed like that?"

he turned to your father, who gave him the slightest nod, signalling him to approach you.

"i had a whole thing planned to do this, with dinner and candles 'n shit, but i feel like if i dont do this now im going to explode."

"jj, what do you mean? you're scaring me." you looked at him with concern, the poor boy looked like he was about to pass out.

he got onto one knee and held out the ring he had bought for you.

"from the moment I first saw you, I knew you were something special. you were unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. And now, standing here in front of you…I’m pretty damn sure that i wouldn't wanna spend my life with anyone but you."

your vision started blurring from the tears in your eyes.

"will you marry me?"

[professorsnape394]

Day 7: Escaping the Manor

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥰?

Prompt: Flame

Summary: An unexpected member of the Order of the Phoenix rescues Y/N from Malfoy Manor.

A/N: Inspired by the scene in Beauty and the Beast where Belle helps the beast when he gets hurt saving her from the wolves.

Warnings: Mention of sexual abuse. Mention of burns/injury. Mentions of blood.

Word Count: 2216

Credits to Gif Creator

Y/N had no idea how long she had been kept hostage by the Malfoy’s. The dungeon she was thrown in was damp and cold and had no access to any type of natural sunlight. Or any light for that matter. The small torches that had been lit the day she arrived had long since extinguished.

She didn’t assume they were planning on coming back for her any time soon. Their plan was presumably to wait for her to grow weak enough to torture for information when she was desperate enough to give it. They could wait forever and she would still not divulge the secrets of The Order. Her only hope now was to escape.

Long periods passed before she received a visitor but when they did eventually come, they came in two forms; those bringing her scraps of food, and those hungry for her body.

The first didn’t enter her cell and instead passed food through the gaps in her bars. She could attack them sure; she was feisty when she wanted to be, but how could she escape her shackles? The second were more promising. The men who visited her at night liked to get close enough to touch. But as far as she was aware they were under strict orders from Lucius Malfoy to not physically assault her; he was leaving that privilege to himself.

That is when she would strike.

Days came and went before the platinum haired man revealed himself. Impeccably well dressed, freshly manicured hands and well-kept hair, Y/N was positive he would not lower himself to molesting her here in the dungeons. He liked his home comforts.

Bound in even tighter shackles and cursed to remain powerless; Y/N had only brute strength and sheer will power to escape.

Multiple masked men escorted her through the mansion; presumably all waiting to take their turn with her after Lucius had had his fill.

His first mistake was not chaining her to the bed. While she was weak, Y/N would do just about anything to escape this prison.

Lucius locked the door upon entry; it was just the two of them now. That was his second mistake.

Slowly, carefully he started to undress, leaving his discarded clothes in a neat pile on the dresser. The sight of his naked body made her want to vomit.

Y/N lay stiff as a board in the middle of the bed, staring down her kidnapper.

“Don’t look quite so disgusted, Y/N. I’m the least of your worries tonight.”

The thought that that might be true turned Y/N’s stomach. She had seen some of the men waiting for her downstairs, even been touched by some of them, and she could say with certainty that she never wanted to be near a single one of them again.

Biding her time, Y/N played along with Lucius’ seduction, allowing him to think he was winning her over, even if just slightly.

She moaned into him when he kissed up and down her neck while secretly rolling her eyes at the same time.

She leaned into his touch when he caressed her breasts, though her attention was preoccupied by his wedding ring. It didn’t surprise her that a Death Eater was willing to cheat on his wife, but it turned her stomach just the same.  

Y/N even kissed Lucius back when he stuck his tongue in her mouth, it had to be believable.

She moaned into his touch, running her still bound hands up the expanse of his bare chest, letting him think she was heading in the direction of his hard pencil-like dick.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resit me.” He panted at her touch.

Y/N simply moaned louder into his mouth, further deepening the kiss.

Finally, her hands reached his cock.

“Can I?” She asked, putting on her best obnoxiously horny voice. “Please.”

“Fuck yes.” Lucius permitted, moving to lay flat against the bed.

Y/N took her only opportunity to attack. Lowering her mouth down to his erect penis, Y/N took her time teasing the man with her lips. When he was finally zoned out enough, she wrapped her mouth around his shaft and bit as hard as she possibly could.

Lucius let out an agonising scream, shouting and swearing when his vision caught sight of the blood gushing from him.

Knowing she had limited time before a hoard of Death Eaters descended on the bedroom; Y/N opted for the only other exit in the room: the window.

Hands still tied and now working against the clock, Y/N descended the nearest drainpipe with the utmost caution, she was sure there would be men patrolling the grounds and she refused to fall at the last hurdle.

Her bare feet hit the stones with a thwack, but having no time to react to the pain she bolted for the gate.

The grounds were big enough that she managed to dodge the first few wizards she encountered, some of them never even having seen her at all. Others chased her for a bit, but being a lot bigger and slower than her they soon fell behind. She was almost away completely scot-free until she rounded the final corner of the house, ready to make one last mad dash for the exit.

Suddenly out of nowhere, three groups of Death Eaters descended upon her; two coming from in front, two from the left and one from behind.

Flames sprouted from each of their wands, barrelling in her direction. With no protection to defend herself, Y/N knew she was fucked.

Preparing herself for a nasty scolding, Y/N raised her arms over her face, and crouched down to avoid as many shots as she could.

The third man from behind raised his wand just as Y/N could feel the heat from the fireballs approaching. Miraculously she remained unharmed. A protection spell fell over her, deflecting the flames from her body, redirecting them in the direction of her attackers. The last thing she saw before being disappearing from the grounds, was the mysterious masked man, using his body to shield her from the single fireball that made it through his charm.

Looking around her Y/N didn’t recognise anything to decipher where she was; except for one thing. The man who saved her had quickly fell into a chair upon apparating, clutching his arm and hissing frustratedly.

“Severus.” She gasped at the sight of him. “You saved me?”

Her thoughts flooded with a million questions all at once.

How did he know I where I was? Where did he get a Death Eater mask from? Why did he save me? Is he hurt?

“Don’t sound too grateful.” He snapped in response. While he wasn’t expecting a congratulations, she could at least be a little thankful she wasn’t scolded to death. He, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. Peeling back the scorched material of his shirt, Severus revealed a smattering of burns and sores.

“You’re hurt?” She stared at him wide-eyed, finally piecing together the last few moments.  

“That much is obvious. Now do you mind actually helping me?”

It wasn’t unlike for Severus to snap at Y/N but for once there didn’t seem to be as much bite to his bark.

“Of course.” She shook herself back to reality. “Could you?”

With a flick of his wand, Severus vanished the metal cuffs from around Y/N’s wrists.

Y/N hurried herself about Snape’s unfamiliar house in search for anything that might help ease his pain.

First thing on her list; whiskey.

She dropped the bottle off in front of the potions master before scurrying off to find something actually useful. Uncapping the lid and taking a swig straight from the bottle, Severus shot Y/N a thankful glance.

She brought back an armful of rags, cleansing solution and burn creams and ointments, along with a number of potions bottles she thought might help.

“Is all that really necessary?” He rolled his eyes at the sight of her.

“Do you want my help or not?” She dumped the contents on the table and folded her arms over her chest defensively.

“I wouldn’t need your help at all if I hadn’t had to save your life.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I was doing just fine on my own.”

“That much is true. Until the quadruple fireballs came hurtling towards you, that is.” He raised a sceptical eyebrow at the witch, knowing she had nothing to throw back at him.

Begrudgingly, Y/N took her seat next to Snape, and began unravelling one of the rolls of bandages.

Snape watched the woman intently as she carefully rubbed a cold soothing cream over the rough texture of his skin, meticulously wrapping the bandages around the entirety of his arm. He loved to watch her dainty fingers at work, despite the grubbiness of her hands and the days of dirt buried under her nails, she somehow managed to still look pristine. He hated knowing a woman as pure as her had been thrown into a dungeon and forced to endure what she had. It took everything in him not to break her out the second she was imprisoned, but he knew it would have been a stupid risk to take, even for her.

Lost in his thoughts, Severus couldn’t help but let out a sharp hiss as the tight cotton rubbed against his sores.

“Careful.” He barked through gritted teeth.

“Stay still.” She warned him.

The tension in the room only grew thicker, the intensity of the man’s gaze pressured her into silence.

“How did you escape?” Severus finally asked, easing the tension. “I heard what Lucius had planned for you; I was going to get you out, but you got there first. So, how’d you do it?”

“I bit him on the dick.” Y/N admitted, blushing red, embarrassed by the implications of her confession.

To her surprise, Severus let out a loud throaty chuckle.

“That bastard deserves it too.” He laughed heartily, taking another large drink to ease the pain.

The room fell silent. The one question Y/N most wanted to ask dancing on the edge of her tongue.

“How did you know where I was?”

Severus seemed caught off guard by her query, like he hadn’t pre-planned a convincing answer for her to believe. He thought for a second, unsure whether or not the truth was the best response to give. With a huge sigh, Snape tipped his chin in the direction of his other arm, gesturing for her to pull up his remaining sleeve.

Y/N lifted his shirt, revealing a black splotch of ink covering his entire left forearm. The Dark Mark. He was one of them.

Y/N gasped, jumping from her chair, trying to put as much distance between her and the Death Eater as possible. A few bottles tipped over in the process, neither of them cared to stop them from spilling.

Severus remained seated, unmoved, despite her abrupt departure from his side.

“You’re one of them.” She gulped, her gaze darting between the mans face and his arm. “What are you going to do to me?”

“If I wanted to hurt you, Y/N, I would have let those fireballs hit you and saved myself the hassle.” He knew she wasn’t going to take it well, but he couldn’t believe she thought he wanted to hurt her.

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I want you to sit back down and please finish attending to my arm.” He begged, just wanting to be near her again.

“How can you be one of them.” She repeated, her voice barely audible.

“I’m a double agent.” Severus explained. “I spy for Dumbledore and feed information back to the Order.”

“How can I trust you anything you’re saying?”

“You don’t have to believe me, Y/N. But I risked my position to save your life because you thought it would be a smart idea to go off on your own. The least you could do is finish bandaging my arm, and then you’re free to leave if that’s what you want.”

Y/N hesitantly made her way back to her seat, not wanting to piss Severus off further. Afterall, she didn’t have much left to wrap.

“Why did you do it?” She said after a long moment’s silence, her fingers shaking this time as she held his arm.

“Do what?”

“Save my life. If it was a risk to do it, why bother? You could have left me there and no one would have been any wiser.”

“I saw you in the dungeons. I heard what they were going to do to you. I couldn’t leave you there after that. I never would have forgiven myself.”

“Why?”

Severus looked into the woman’s eyes knowingly. He had already revealed one dark secret tonight, he didn’t plan on exposing another.

Y/N quickly looked away, the sudden realisation dawning on her.

Is Severus Snape in love with me?

The look on his face said it all.

“Well, thank you, anyways.” She finished tying off the bandage. “If someone had to save me, I’m glad it was you.”

Y/N placed her hand gently on top of Severus arm.

“Just don’t make me do it again.” He placed his good hand on top of hers, his thumb rubbing the top of her hand affectionately.

[badaziraphaletakes]

I have some questions

Hi... Aziraphale had no way of going to hell in search of Crowley??????

Oh wait that's not a question, that's a statement. Lol nvmind.

And how would Azi even get him back out? Stop blaming her for what the heaven/hell apparatus is doing to Crowley and to her. (Y'know what, I'm gonna be referring to Azi as "she/her" in this post, because we all deserve more of that. So deal with it.) Do you think she hasn't been racking her brains trying to think of a way to save Crowley ever since the Fall, and even before that?

Also - If Aziraphale went to hell and got stuck there, she'd probably be forced to torture people and that's not cool. (She probably wouldn't get a job on earth like Crowley.) Whereas there is no evidence whatsoever that Aziraphale has to actively do harm as part of her current role on earth. There are very good reasons Crowley doesn't want her to go to hell / become a demon / whatever. He doesn't want Aziraphale to suffer the same moral injury that he has.

Also also - Aziraphale mouths "Crowley" instead of screaming it because she knows it'll only get them both in more trouble if heaven/hell finds out they have an acquaintanceship, let alone that they care about each other. As an ab*se survivor, it's one of the most painful moments in the series for me, seeing Aziraphale distraught and having to hide it.

Azi mouthing "Crowley" while frantically trying to keep a straight face is the equivalent of Charles immediately trying to run after Edwin. It's arguably even more loving, I'd say. Aziraphale loves Crowley so much that she saw her worst nightmare come true (or rather, didn't see it? you know what I mean lol) and still managed to keep her "We don't know each other" mask more or less intact. Utterly devastating. This was the ultimate test of her love for Crowley, and she passed it.

*** Side note: If Aziraphale behaved the way fans want to demand she behave, hell would have killed Crowley so many times already lmao. And then of course the fans would be blaming her for that instead. << Babygirl can't win. She's damned (ha) if she does and damned if she doesn't. ***

You can see the horror and terror and devastation in her eyes.

Here's a really good post about it:

But even if we didn't have that glimpse of her face at that moment... FUCK thinking Aziraphale wasn't worried about Crowley then. There is literally NO reason to assume she wasn't upset about seeing him dragged to hell to presumably be killed. (And yes, Azi knew hell was ab*sive and violent to Crowley, even back then. I'd argue she's known since NLT Uz. After all, she knows Crowley didn't "kill" the goats and the kids because he wanted to. She knows it was because hell made him do it.)

Also also also: She literally did go to hell to save Crowley, later on?

And wtf is wrong with what she wrote in her diary? "That was the last I was to see of Crowley for some time" is (so far as we know) a factual statement. She's writing about an upsetting experience. Journaling is a healthy coping technique. But apparently that's bad now lmao. (Not to mention there were so many things about that diary entry that were so blatantly weird that it's clear we can't take anything about Aziraphale's journals at face value anyway. But I guess we're just ignoring that.)

OH AND ONE MORE THING! That's "husband" or "wife" or "spouse" to you, not "friend"!

[ladyofpembroke]

I also love how we saw Corlys’ is already considering making Addam and Alyn his heirs. Rhaenys suggests Rhaena (presumably because Baela is going to be the Queen), she says it’s because Joffrey is too young but we can all imply that it is because she wants her children’s inheritance to go to their true descendants. But Corlys mentions that neither has experience at sea, something his bastards have, especially Alyn who appears to be the elder here. He has his blood, like Rhaena, but he has also proven himself a worthy sailor, and saved Corlys even when they were clearly estranged. I think it’s an interesting bit of foreshadowing, especially when we will see Corlys disregarding what might be his wife’s last wish in order to put the product of his infidelity above their granddaughters.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Funny valentine: (name) please..i love you so much that it physically hurts me, please accept my love, (name)...

Reader: don't you have a wife?? 🤨

Funny valentine: i don't know what you're talking about..

Proceeds to write on a divorce paper and immediately sends it to scarlet

Saved this for today since it’s the 4th of July.

Reader: *gets Scarlet to try and convince her husband to not divorce her* *you even plead how good of a couple they are, she knows him better than you do*

*proceed to butter her up too much*

Scarlet: I like your spirit, but it’s cute you think you can run off just like that. You won’t get married outside of myself or my husband , he won’t allow it. I could shield you, that’s the best thing you have right now. Reader: *looks at Scarlet freaked out* I- I can’t possibly stay here…

Scarlet: *expression softens she’s totally enamored with you* You still want to run anyway? I won’t stop you, *she proceeds to pull out a small piece of paper to write on it* “however, I have something in mind…”

she hums a short moment later sliding said bit of paper to you.

Scarlet instructs you to go to this address and that someone will be there to help you.

Scarlet: I’ll propose something to my husband, a wager of finding you. We’ll work separately,

Reader: that sounds insane!

Scarlet: Not as insane as you running away without a plan, this is the federal government we’re talking about here dear y/n. If my husband is head over heels for you as you describe then you’re doomed from the start.

She hurt to see the look of defeat on your face, the way you were vulnerable right in front of her. No wonder her husband liked you,

Whether you liked it or not, this probably was the greatest chance at freedom you had. But you couldn’t help but feel you were only marginally safer with Scarlet than Funny Valentine. Shakily you accepted her offer and she guided you out of her room and out the building. Making sure not a single guard would see you.

Funny Valentine later approaches her asking where dearest y/n went. Scarlet: Let’s talk about that shall we? *She gestures at the divorce papers* I’ll protect y/n one way or another as best as I can, to give them a chance to run away from you. They’re so cute I couldn’t stand to just squash their sense of hope right in front of them. I know how you work after all dear,

Funny Valentine : *His eyes furrow looking at his current wife in front of him* Are you trying to suggest something here?

Scarlet : *Nodding confidently* See normally I’d be upset at such an announcement you handed me, but something about seeing y/n coming through the door and begging me to talk some sense into you, stirred certain emotions within me. They listed everything about how I knew you so thoroughly like a lovely wife should, they paid attention…

Her fingers tapped on a nearby table she was leaning on

“I’d like to propose a wager on y/n, I’ll help her from my side, not once do you interfere in my end. However, you can continue looking for her however you see fit outside of that. If you find them, I’ll gladly sign the divorce papers you have served me…”

Funny Valentine : then I presume we’d stay married as long as they’re still on the run.

Scarlet : Either way, it works out for both of us. I won’t be having them marry anyone else, I’ll likely have them come back somewhere around this area, if I win. Not “here” so to speak, if they hold out long enough.

Funny Valentine: I’m sensing a time limit as another condition to potentially win.

Scarlet: more so for me to fall back on, but yes, about a year should do it. If I manage that I get to do what I see fit with them, as I suggested moments ago, with moving them back here. You’d still get to see y/n even, you have the simple restriction of being unable to marry them

If you manage to foil me and find them first, then they’re all yours my lovely husband.

Funny Valentine : So interesting….and such a clever way to torture me. Yet, a fitting punishment.

Scarlet: Are you’re changing your mind on this? You can just let them go and everything would be fine

Funny Valentine : *shaking his head* No, it’s the opposite I agree to your terms, testing me on my desire for y/n. Perhaps even you’re testing yourself here, I find it fascinating…

*In your desperation to run away you somehow made everything worse for yourself*

[rachaels]

I'm rereading the Hunger Games books and I truly cannot overstate how little grittiness and bite and general depth of emotion has translated over to the movies. I know it would've been difficult to really capture how Katniss thinks and feels without the aid of her internal monologue, but the viewers lose SO much here.

in the movies, when Katniss visits District 12 after it's been reduced to ash, the only thing you realize is that it was her home and now it's gone — you don't feel the weight she feels, because none of the characters who are presumed dead by the start of the third book were ever introduced in the movies to begin with.

she walks through the remnants of the bakery where Peeta's family used to live. through the books, you know that Peeta had an abusive mother, and two brothers who were either too old to volunteer for him in the games or simply wouldn't sacrifice themselves to save him. and you know Peeta's father, who promised Katniss he would feed and care for Prim before Katniss went into the games in the event that she didn't come back, who bought game from Katniss and Gale when his wife wasn't home, who knew Katniss's mother when they were kids and dreamed of marrying her one day.

and as she walks through the ashes of their home, her internal monologue says they all died. just like that. she's numb to the emotion of Peeta having no family to come home to. she's numb to the fact that her childhood friend and the Mayor's daughter, Madge, who gave her the pin and effectively started the mockingjay symbolization, died along with her parents. and as she passes by skulls and bones, she tells them, "I killed you. and you. and you." because she blames herself for every single death in District 12.

the movies never stood a chance. they can't be meticulous enough to introduce the Mellarks, or Madge and her parents, or Bonnie and Twill — and that's just a fraction of the characters who were cut for time. they can't effectively make you feel exactly how Katniss feels. and they had to stay within the confines of a PG-13 rating. they never stood a chance and it wasn't even close.

[americanwh0rerstory]

her patient, his savior [kit walker]

SUMMARY: when kit gets thrown into briarcliff for a second time, yet again for a crime he didn’t commit, he meets a nurse: Y/N

CONTENT WARNING: violence, briarcliff, mental asylums, angst, platonic relationship but could be romantic depending on your perspective

A/N: the dates might be wrong, but i couldn’t find any explicitly stated dates so i had to use what i could. this does not match up with the ending of the show but it’s an idea that came to me

NO NSFW. PLS ENJOY

being a nurse at briarcliff wasn’t an easy job. you’d deal with the aftermath of the brutal punishments that the sisters would give to the patients. the welts, the burns, you saw the lot of it.

nobody there was anyone you wanted to associate with, it was clear that 9/10 people seemingly deserved to be there. granted you didn’t know most of them, but you read their files and found their backstories. however one person stuck out to you: kit walker.

a charming man who managed to be discharged from briarcliff. he was framed for the bloodyface murders and thrown into the asylum without a second thought. judging by his files he endured a lot. the electrotherapy, the beatings, the hydrotherapy, it was atrocious. he was discharged in 1965 though, so why was this relevant? why were you reading his files in 1971?

kit was back. back for murder. He knew that Alma murdered Grace, but he couldn’t let Alma take the fall for it; he gave himself up to save her, a chivalrous act for his wife.

This same Mr walker had just entered your infirmary looking beaten up. his eye was blackened, bottom lip bloodied, and god knows what else. But kit was your nicest patient, he wasn’t creepy and was polite. he was like a saint in a house of devils.

“sista’, mind fixin’ me up?” he asks in his boston drawl, standing in the doorway waiting for you to give him permission to be seen. he knew he didn’t need to ask, but he still wanted to be polite and keep that sense of humanity in him. his hair was messy, sticking to his forehead a little with the sweat presumably from the fight he got himself into. kit was such a sweet soul, you never believed anyone when they said he was violent.

“of course kit” you beam softly, not wanting to seem overly eager but also not wanting to seem monotonous like everyone else here. it was either monotony or anger, no in between. to kit you were his ray of sunshine in this place, he appreciated having a nice nurse this time round rather than Dr Arden.

“thanks-” he began to say, cutting himself off with a hiss of pain when the antiseptic made contact with some of his grazes and cuts.

“sorry, ‘s just hurtin’ a little” he mumbled, apologising for his reaction to the cool antiseptic wipe you began to run along his battered body.

the two of you made idle chit chat whilst you fixed him up, your eyes meeting his occasionally. he made you laugh with some sort of witty comment/remark he made, and you giggled like a school girl with a crush.

nothing could happen though, he still had alma on the outside. nothing would ever happen… right?

A/N: i’m gonna be real and say i got a bit lazy towards the end and also couldn’t be bothered to make a banner. i’ve got a lot to work on so fics might be slightly lower quality than usual, but i’ll try my best <3

[diazsdimples]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Hi, it's new wip time. I started watching Man in the High Castle and had the biggest hit of inspiration I've had in weeks. The TV series is based off the premise of "What if the US lost WW2 and were occupied by Japan and Germany?" Here is a snippet, with context and tags below the cut!

Buck shifts restlessly from foot to foot. It’s stiflingly hot in the station, the air oppressive and suffocating. Every glance from an officer seems condemning, as though they suspect something. Beside him, Lucy is the picture of tranquillity. Her hand rests gently on the swell of her abdomen, cradling their – no, her – baby as she waits. Sensing his unease, Lucy lays a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter, darling?” she asks. From the outside, it seems like nothing more than a concerned wife checking in with her husband, but Buck can read the subtext. Quit fidgeting, dickweed, you’ll blow our cover. Buck moves towards her, his lips ghosting over her ear as though leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Omnis nox mox vertetur in diem” he whispers, repeating the code they’ve spent days mulling over. The only clue Nash had given them about the identity of their contact. “How do we know which one he is?” Lucy reaches up and brushes a curl off his forehead, smiling sweetly. “Best hope he’s got a great fucking sun on his shirt, hadn’t we?” She pats his cheek, outwardly reassuring, but he knows she’s reminding him of their situation. One slip up could end them both in the cells, beaten for information until they spill. She might not actually be his wife, but Buck feels a sense of duty towards Lucy and her unborn child, at least until they’re through the checkpoint and he’s met the contact – night turning into day or whatever the fuck that means. The line moves forward, and Buck takes the opportunity to scan the people waiting on the other side. There’s an elderly couple, the lady clutching a handy to her chest as she waves at someone behind him, a severe looking man in a black trench coat and a hat – far too obvious to be their contact – standing beside a harried looking couple with four young children, all clamouring for their parents’ attention. A man catches his eye. He’s tall, brown hair flopping over his eyes as he eyes the people in line. A thick moustache rests on his upper lip, but he’s otherwise clean shaven, smooth brown skin that vanishes into the crisp, pressed collar of his shirt. He looks to Buck to be of Latin descent – something he doesn’t come by often in the East. Beside him stands a young boy, leaning heavily on a set of wooden crutches. His legs seem to be bent, but if he’s in pain he hides it well. He looks up at the man – presumably his father – with wide and trusting eyes. Waiting for the return of their mother and wife, Buck assumes. Lucy takes his arm and ushers them forward again, jolting him from his daze.

Context: In this fic, Buck is a member of the resistance and escapes the German East with Lucy (also a member of the resistance) so he can deliver information to R. Nash in Los Angeles. Lucy only goes as far as Colorado. Eddie is also a member of the resistance, living in the Neutral Zone. He and Buck meet in Colorado and travel together the rest of the way to the West, where they finally reach the resistance stronghold in LA. And the rest I shan't say. But here's a snippet, beneath the cut to save your dash!

Tagging @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @buckera

@steadfastsaturnsrings @actuallyitsellie @bigfootsmom @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss

@lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @wikiangela

@cal-daisies-and-briars @tommybuckleykinard @bibuckbuckgoose @wildlife4life @bucks-daddy-issues

@dorkydiaz @queerdiaz @bucksbignaturals @exhuastedpigeon @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @perfectlysunny02 @inell

@epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos and anyone else who wants to share something (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 3

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Masterlist

Summary: At the fundraiser, you and Parker go undercover as husband and wife. Which puts you two in some very interesting positions.

Word count: ~6.5k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Fake dating!! Forced proximity!!! (< my excitement for those tags lol). Kissing. Banter. A lil' bit of jealousy. Sneaking around. Mention of throwing up. Swearing. Tension.

A/n: Sorry it's been awhile. You know how it is. Thank you for the love on the past parts :) I like how this one turned out. Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! <3

As soon as Parker led you through the towering front doors of the mansion, you clung just a little tighter to his arm. Your fingers fidgeted with the simple wedding ring sitting on your ring finger, something he had picked up yesterday — presumably from “the guy he knew.” To save your nerves, you hadn’t asked, instead just accepting the likely fake diamond ring that felt too heavy and gaudy for your tastes. It certainly fit right at home here.

People in gowns and tuxedos you guessed cost more than you could ever afford walked throughout the sprawling main room. The clicking of their shoes against the hardwood floor joined their voices and the small live orchestra sitting near the podium at the other side. The sight of all these people only made your fingers play with the ring faster, your nerves alight.

A soft touch along the back of your hand had you stopping your fidgeting, your muscles stilling as you looked to your right. You slowly blinked your eyes at Parker’s, the chandeliers above bringing out the shades of brown they held.

In the boyish grin he gave you, there was calm reassurance flashing across his face. It sat somewhere between the confidence of his persona for the night, Sam, and the smugness of the Parker you were often met with. In an instant, his expression dropped easily into the facade as he grabbed two flutes of champagne for you both from a passing waiter holding a tray.

“For you, dear,” he said, handing one to you before taking a sip of his own. You watched his gaze flick across the crowd of wealthy guests. Maybe they were in the dark about where their donations went, but you guessed that more than a few knew the truth — and benefited from it. 

“Hello,” a soft voice said from behind you, and your body fought the urge to jump at the sound. A smile that didn’t reach all the way up to your eyes spread across your face as you turned. 

Parker’s arm wrapped around your back while you were met with an older couple focused on the two of you. The women introduced themselves, but you found trying to play your part convincingly while focusing on their names and the conversation proved harder than you’d expected. Especially as the heat of “your husband’s” body settled along yours.

But Parker’s voice pulled you back into the moment as he answered a question they must have asked, the rumble of his voice vibrating against you. “Rose’s grandmother recently passed. She loved this city and Beaumont’s work. The two of them were good friends, so we’re here to support him in her memory.”

The one on the left reached her hands out, clutching onto your free one. “I’m so sorry. What you’re doing here would make her very proud.”

You quietly thanked the woman before her wife asked, “And what do you two do for work?”

A long beat of silence passed over all of you, to the point where you could hear Parker swallow hard beside you. In all the planning you’d done the last few days, neither of you had come up with jobs. 

Shit.

“Teacher.”

“Teacher.”

You both said the word at the same time, a slight panicked look passing between you. 

You turned back to the women, letting out a laugh that felt too tight and forced. “My grandmother left our family money. To donate,” you clarified with a straight smile. You muttered out, “Since there’s not too much money in teaching…”

“Oh, how lovely. Do you work together?”

“Not anymore,” Parker answered. “But we’re happy with our jobs.”

“And what do you teach?”

Internally, you clenched your jaw and cursed these women for being so friendly and asking so many questions you didn’t think about beforehand. But that didn’t seem to stop Parker as he responded with ease.

“Chemistry for high schoolers. And Rose here teaches, um…” His words briefly trailed off, his tongue coming out to wipe over his bottom lip as he hesitated. Okay, maybe not as smooth as you’d hoped.

“English,” you finished for him. Leaning into Parker, you let out a laugh. It almost felt natural to place your hand on his chest as you spoke, lied, to these women. “Sam would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him.”

That sent them both into loud giggles, a smile spreading across your face as they held onto one another.

“Oh, you two sound like an old couple already,” the left woman said between breaths. 

At least you had the bickering side of things down already. 

But as their laughter died down, the one on the right opened her mouth once more, probably to ask another question you had no answer to. The tightness holding your body hostage sagged as another couple came up, hugging the two women like longtime friends. 

Your rapid heart silently thanked Parker as he took the moment to lead you both to a quiet corner and around the crowd of people waltzing to the soft music, but you still gritted out, “You didn’t think to come up with our careers?”

“Guess my pea-sized brain can’t do all of the work here. What’s your excuse?” he whispered back. His words had you shoving your elbow into your side, but all it did was earn your bare arm a light pinch from him. 

Finding a quiet-enough area, your steps slowed, letting your mind calm down for a moment. Somehow, Parker still wore that casual smile as one hand held the glass and the other sat along your side. But you took a step out of his grasp once you saw no one was looking, letting the space between you two give you extra room to breathe. To think.

You took in the sight of the busy mansion. Mentally, you ignored the now cold spot from Parker’s missing heat, instead marking doors and noting who spoke with who. You were able to recognize some of the attendees — most of which were other local politicians. 

How far did all of this go?

Before you could think further, Parker leaned over to speak close to your ear, a distinct scent of  coffee and something familiar wafting from him. You’d expected him to explain your next steps, so you quickly looked at him in surprise when he asked, “Did you want to be a teacher as a kid?” 

Raising an eyebrow, scanning the expression he wore, you replied, “Yeah… I did. You too?”

“Yeah…” He nodded, staring downward as if in thought.

Your attention went back out to the people, chewing on the inside of your cheek as brief moments passed in silence. All too quick, he followed up with, “Though there’s not much espionage or breaking and entering in teaching these days.”

You gave a quiet laugh, suddenly wishing you’d gone into teaching. The thought made you take another sip of your champagne. A small sip — you needed to stay focused on tonight and learn as much as possible about Beaumont.

But Parker once again came close, the back and forth of him almost making your head spin more than the alcohol could. He whispered, “I spotted a sort of VIP section I could make my way into. It’d be easier to do with just one person, so you can mingle yourself into some important conversations. Beaumont’s not out here. And his little speech and the auction aren’t until later anyway. How does that sound?”

His eyes traced over your face. A slight crease forming between his eyebrows was the only indication that he wasn’t actually the suave Sam Bennet.

You gave a few hesitating nods, your gaze looking at anything but his eyes. You could do this — you’d spoken with people to get information from them before. And even if you couldn’t, maybe Rose could.

Before leaving, Parker shot back the rest of his champagne and set the glass on the nearest flat surface. You fought back a disbelieving scoff when he winked at you and strode toward a closed door on the other side of the room. 

For a few moments, all you could do was watch after him. The party felt much bigger as you stood there alone. A small part of you wondered whether he also felt like that.

You shook your head, clearing your mind with a deep breath in and out. You straightened your back and lifted your chin. Scanning the crowd, you spotted a member of Ellis Beaumont’s team. The middle-aged man stood along the wall near the orchestra, his attention fixed on his phone. You felt as if you’d found your prey as you set down your drink and made your way toward him, one heavy step in front of the other.

You knew he handled marketing for Stronger Together and Beaumont in general, a target full of information ripe for your picking — information you could ask about without drawing suspicion. But all the false confidence you built up deflated as you approached, watching as another member of Beaumont’s team pulled him aside for a hushed conversation. 

Swallowing down a frustrated groan, you instead pivoted to look as if you were enjoying the band. The dancing strings and piano would normally be lovely to listen to, but now it felt like the soundtrack to a headache threatening to form along your temples. 

The two team members walked to the door Parker went through. You didn’t have long to look around for another person to question before you felt a presence to your left. 

“So, do you prefer the upbeat plucking style of Brahms or the legato tone of Debussy?”

The question came from the young man next to you, and within an instant of seeing his styled hair the color of the night and the sharp line of his jaw, you knew who he was.

“I’m just kidding,” he said, flashing a white smile that crinkled the corner of his dark eyes. “Classical music’s never been my strong suit, and I stopped learning their names years ago. Though…” He paused, admiring you, “I wouldn’t mind learning yours.”

Your mouth opened slightly, your mind forcing out a small laugh that you hoped sounded believable enough. Was this actually happening?

Shaking your head, you stuck out your hand. “That might be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. But the name’s Rose,” you told him. 

He took your hand, wrapping his long fingers along your skin with a smile that could take anyone’s breath away. “You’re not wrong about that, but it got you to talk to me,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m Will.”

You bit back the urge to say I know. You’d done enough research to recognize William Beaumont, the only child of Ellis. In his mid-20s, Will had already quickly risen through the ranks of politics — though not that it seemed to interest him all that much.

But he had to know something and might just share that knowledge with you. Whether he saw the wedding ring around your finger, he didn’t say. 

Flirting for information was not something you had much experience in (or any experience in), but how hard could it really be?

At the expectant look he gave you, one that said he’d rather have his attention on you than anything else in the world, it suddenly felt very hard.

Shoving down your worries and trying to fall into your role like Parker could, you smiled sweetly at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Will.” You let your hand drop back to your side as you said, “And for the record, I’d have to go with Debussy.”

His hands sat casually in his pockets, his head giving a light nod. “Since I’m not entirely sure who he really is, I’ll have to agree with you.” He let out a soft laugh, his easy tone lightening the tightness in your chest just a fraction. 

A moment passed as you laughed along, the band continuing to play softly. “So, if you were being honest with me, do you ever get tired of these things?”

He sent a sly side eye your way, a smirk crossing his face. “If we’re being honest, then I’d have to say yes. If you’re going to repeat my answer to my father or his associates, then I’d say that I never bore of helping this wonderful city of ours.” The way his voice turned almost mocking at the end made you hide a smile, your face turning slightly away from him.

“What a very professional answer. I can only imagine how many meetings you’ve had to sit in on and say something like that.”

“An excessive amount, yes,” he said, running a hand down his jaw.

“Do these fundraisers all go the same way? Conversing, speech, dinner, auction, then more conversing? I’ve never attended one like this before.”

He gave a short nod. “For the most part. It’s close to the same speech every time, and nearly the same kinds of things auctioned off — most of them coming from donations made primarily by the wealthiest guests here.”

Things you were sure you could only imagine owning. The thought of listening to another speech from Beaumont after all your research only made the small stabbing in your head increase.

Trying to sound casual, unassuming even, you asked, “And what do you exactly do?”

His face shifted toward an unreadable look, making you fight uneasiness rising through your body. You followed up with, “I think it’d be boring if you just sat and listened, so I hope you get to actually play some part in the organization.”

You watched his gaze consider you for a moment, the seconds passing forcing your heart into your throat. Part of you debated faking getting an emergency phone call to get away if this went south.

Tilting his head, a soft smile spread across Will’s face. He held out his hand toward you, palm facing up. “Would you care to dance with me, Rose?”

A twisting feeling reeled through your stomach, your body on edge in an instant. At your hesitation, he said, “Just one dance. And I can answer your question while we’re out on the floor.”

As you raised your hand and laid it in his, you mentally said every expletive you knew at this terrible summer internship, at Parker, and at yourself. But you held an easy smile while the two of you made your way to where others danced along to the orchestra’s playing.

He brought your right hand up in his left, his other hand smoothing across your arm and landing on your back. You tried focusing on your fingers laying atop his shoulder, feeling the soft material of his jacket beneath you. 

“If we’re still being honest with one another, I am not the world’s greatest dancer. I apologize for any toes I step on,” you quietly told him, your words accompanied by a nervous laugh you didn’t have to fake.

His hold on you supported your body as he began to move, your feet trying to follow his. He gave a kind laugh, his hand squeezing yours once. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your gaze cast downward to make sure you moved the right way. Slowly, you began to recognize the repeating pattern of steps, your muscles becoming a little less wound tight.

“That’s it,” Will said with an encouraging tone. “Now, can you bear looking up instead of at our feet?”

A laugh slipped from your lips as your eyes trailed higher until they connected with his. You appreciated his kindness, but being here by yourself, there was no way you’d relax enough. Not until–

From the corner of your vision, you spotted Parker walking from that door he’d slipped through. You watched him begin walking this way and scan the crowd, one hand holding another champagne glass and the other running through his hair. It was only once he found you that he stopped, and it brought a relieving sigh from your chest.

As you danced and turned though, you couldn’t see Parker from this angle anymore, but Will said, “There you go. Not so tense anymore.” 

You offered him a grin, one that you fought to maintain as too many thoughts ran through your head. You needed to focus.

“So, I’m dancing,” you began with a laugh. “Your turn to hold up the bargain.”

He returned the laughter, those crinkles around his eyes returning. “Fair enough.”

People passed by in a blur as he continued to lead you across the floor, the orchestra’s music thrumming along with your heart. You’d long lost sight of Parker with all the spinning.

“Sometimes, I do just sit in meetings — whether I’m also listening depends on how boring the topic is. And other times, I pitch ideas for projects or try to lead them.”

You nodded. “Which seem to be doing well, correct? I haven’t followed Stronger Together all that closely lately, so I haven’t seen its impact up close yet.” 

Please, you silently begged him, to give you something.

His eyebrow twitched upward as he hesitated, the muscle of his jaw feathering. “It’s never as easy or quick as we’d wish, but that doesn’t stop us from working toward the organization’s goals. Especially ones I’m passionate about.”

“Like what?” you asked almost a bit too quickly. You tried giving a look that said you were just excited to hear about him.

“Like ensuring everyone has the right to a proper education. We don’t always have jurisdiction for these projects, but what does jurisdiction matter when people’s lives are at stake?”

A smile — a real, genuine smile — overtook your face. “That’s exactly what I say. How can we let red tape get in the way of helping one another?”

He let out a sigh, one that seemed to course from his whole being. “I sure wish my coworkers thought the way you did,” he said, pulling your body just a little closer to his. 

A small feeling, one spreading from your chest, hoped that he was telling the truth. That if you discovered Ellis Beaumont’s crimes and told the world, maybe there’d be a better future in his son.

As that comforting thought passed through you, your eyes caught a moving figure from the corner of your vision. You couldn’t miss the sight of Parker dancing with a woman several yards away. She looked vaguely familiar, perhaps someone involved with the non-profit. 

Your gaze drifted to where Parker’s hand laid on her, the deep plunge of her gown’s back letting his hand rest across her skin. The two of them danced easily, their hold on one another looking so natural. 

You eventually looked up, your steps nearly stuttering when you saw his eyes were already on you. They traced over your form, just the flash of a hard look crossing his face before his mouth began to move. Hopefully, he was asking a question that would lead you both somewhere. But even as he spoke, he stared over her shoulder at you.

That warmth in your chest spread outward. Up your neck, the heat snaked through your skin until your breaths came a little quicker.

Only once you and Will turned again were you able to break from the moment, to focus back on the man you were dancing with. You squeezed your eyes shut for just a second. 

Determined to get something out of this whole thing, you opened your mouth to ask him another question — but he spoke first.

“So, tell me about your husband, Rose.”

Your gaze immediately found his and the expectant darkness waiting in them. “What?”

“Your husband,” he repeated, angling his head toward your wedding ring. “What’s he like?”

A breathy “Oh” passed between your lips…

So this wasn’t flirting? Your mind couldn’t make sense of what William Beaumont wanted, not as you danced in his arms while “married” to another man.

“He’s, um. He’s nice.”

At Will’s laugh, one of your own following, you said, “Most of the time, he’s sarcastic — and I wish there was a way to attach a zipper to his mouth. I think, though, underneath it, there’s kindness that he doesn’t always show. But you know it’s there when you get to know him.”

As you turned again and made eye contact with Parker still far away, you mindlessly muttered, “Sometimes, I wish he wasn’t so smart. It makes me look bad.” A wry smile crossed your face, and you could’ve sworn the ghost of a grin appeared on Parker’s as well. “And while he’s the most chronically late person I know, he’s there when you need him.”

A moment passed before Will pulled back, staring at you as if he could see all the way through you. The orchestra played the final note of the song, your steps slowly coming to a stop. You could only stand there as he leaned closer, his mouth right along your ear. His breaths made goosebumps rise across your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Heart pounding in your veins, you whispered, “For what?”

“For dancing with me.”

With that, he pulled back, squeezing your hand once more before letting it return to your side. “Enjoy the night, Rose,” he said, nodding his head and turning. You quickly lost him through the sea of people, not that you really tried to search for him long.

Guests around you began to disperse to their tables, a sign to get your feet to move — wherever your own seat was. Lights dimmed above, creating a stir of conversation between people while you looked around, searching for Parker.

You barely finished the thought when he appeared at your side. His arm wrapped around yours as he whispered, “C’mon.”

You followed, the cold shock of Will disappearing under the warmth of Parker against you. But as you both weaved through people still going to their tables, you saw he wasn’t taking you somewhere to sit down and listen to Beaumont’s speech.

Instead, the two of you went through double doors into a hallway leading to the bathrooms. People walked in and out, and if you hadn’t done the research beforehand, you would’ve seriously questioned where he was taking you.

But you’d remembered there was an exit near here, past the bathrooms. There would also be another door — one that took you up and further into the mansion. 

With minimal guests around to witness, he walked right to it.

The staircase behind was thin and illuminated by only a few warm lights. Unable to walk side by side up the steps, Parker let go of your arm and led the way. You only heard the muffled sounds of the hallway behind you, making you a little hopeful that this wasn’t an often-used section of the house. 

“What did you find?” you asked, your hands pulling up your dress while you climbed the stairs.

After two flights, Parker stopped before a door. He turned the knob, letting it swing open silently into a hallway shooting off into many rooms. As he stepped through, he angled his head toward you and said, “Nothing. Which makes me very worried.”

All you could do was begin chewing on your bottom lip and follow him. The plush carpet luckily hid your footsteps, but every nerve in your body stood on edge. You imagined that they’d be fraying and burnt out by the end of this night.

“I know there’s something here though.” Parker motioned toward a door on your left. “You check that one. I’ll look in this one,” he told you, pointing to the room across from it.

Eyeing him, you grumbled under your breath, “A please would be nice.”

And without looking, you knew he was rolling his eyes. Still, you went to the room — even though some instinctual part of you almost insisted that it was safer to go together. You had no idea what was on the other side of this very nice and expensive hardwood door.

The only thing that got you to turn the handle was the sound of Parker going into his room without hesitation. Though you thought calling it the “sound of his audacity” had a better ring to it.

And following in his footsteps brought you to a… bathroom. Sure, it appeared fancy with its probably imported floor tiles and French-inspired sink or something, but the only suspicious thing in this room was why anyone would choose those ugly decorative towels.

Still, you looked through everything — even the medicine cabinet, which made you feel like some sort of rude house guest. You took a photo or two of the bottles inside, most of which turned out to be painkillers. Strong ones.

Before moving to the next, you listened for any footsteps or voices. With silent steps and slowed breathing, you crept from the bathroom — only to be met with Parker walking freely from his room without any caution. At the incredulous look you gave him, he just gestured for you to hurry up.

You made a point to glare at him as you approached the next door. As it creaked open, your body wincing at the noise, you stepped inside. At first glance, it seemed to be a bedroom, which wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. It had no computer to search through or a convenient map laying out their entire plans.

It appeared to be largely unused, a faint layer of dust coating most of the furniture. But as you walked toward a small desk in the corner, you saw some papers scattered atop it. Some appeared to be emails that held no significance without any context. Others seemed to be invitations to a few of Beaumont’s fundraisers.

The walls or shelves in the room gave no indication as to who these papers belonged to, but you took pictures of them regardless. As you set them back, you looked further down. The desk also had drawers.

One pull on it told you they were locked though, and surprisingly, lock picking wasn’t a skill you listed at the top of your resume. Maybe you could try and get through the back…

The door squeaking open made you jump, your body straightening up and hitting the desk. You stifled a groan as your eyes found Parker at the entrance of the room. Silently, he held up his hands — not in apology but in a way that was supposed to somehow absolve him of any guilt. 

You could already feel a bruise forming along your hip, your hand rubbing the bone. Parker approached you, whispering, “Settle down, Nancy Drew. Have you found anything useful?”

“Unless you can open these locked drawers, how about you keep your mouth shut, Parker,” you quietly gritted out.

His grin grew into something taunting. “Guess I’ll keep this mouth wide open then, sunshine.”

You watched with furrowed eyebrows as he knelt down and took two bobby pins from his inside pocket. Before you could even ask, he interrupted. “I come prepared, so keep your smart comments to yourself.”

Widening your eyes with a huff, you stood there, leaning against the wall. Your arms crossed in front of your chest as you observed him. 

“So… when did you learn to pick locks?”

Under his breath, you barely heard him mutter, “When’d you learn to flirt for information?”

As you were still processing his words, your mouth opening slightly in shock, Parker popped open the drawer. Any retort died in your throat — but stayed very clearly in your mind — as you looked past him at the papers he pulled out.

They seemed to detail some sort of… super suit? Scribbled notes sat on the margins of blueprints for a suit with metal arms, protective armor, even grenades. Almost like they were a mismatch of parts from Spider-Man’s villains. Doc Ock, The Rhino, The Green Goblin.

A shaky breath punched from your lungs, your stomach sinking so low you had to set a hand on the desk to steady yourself. Was Ellis making himself into a supervillain?

The thought barely seeped into your mind when you both heard a floorboard groan from out in the hallway. Your head whipped to the door, neither of you moving an inch. At another creaking sound, Parker silently made his way to peek out from the room.

He must have heard something you didn’t because his entire body tensed, but your hands were already moving. By the time he turned back to you with wide eyes, you stood next to him, your heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“We’ve gotta go,” he whispered, the words barely audible. You fought back the urge to say no shit. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to utter the words with how your body now shook.

Parker crept out into the hallway, looking both ways. He nodded for you to follow with a quick jerk of his head. But as you closed the bedroom door behind you, the squeaky hinges echoed into the air. Your eyes met Parker’s, his jaw tight as alarm flashed across his face.

In an instant, his fingers grabbed onto your wrist. He pulled you across the hall to the nearest room and clicked the door shut behind you. 

Through the whiplash from sudden movement to stillness in complete darkness, you felt a hand cover your mouth. The back of your body leaned against what felt like wooden shelves while your front pressed into Parker. 

You felt the beating of his heart against your own.

Despite him covering your mouth making you want to do the opposite, you willed your breaths to slow down until they were nearly silent. Though you couldn’t see, you guessed the two of you were sandwiched inside a closet of some kind.

You brought your hand up to remove Parker’s from your face. You might’ve pinched him if you weren’t hiding from whoever was also here, though that didn’t stop you from flipping him off in the shadowy closet. You felt him push your hand away with a quiet huff.

Only a moment later, through straining ears and clenched muscles, you heard a door open. Then footsteps.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the heat in the tight space beginning to grow unbearable. That, on top of your mind and body turning into a live wire from your nerves, made it feel harder to breathe.

And you knew you had to be quiet, but your back screamed at you to move from the hard shelves digging into your spine. As you tried to silently shift forward to find any kind of relief, you were stopped by palms quickly landing on your hips. 

You heard a strangled sigh come from Parker as he held you firm, your body unable to move any further under his grip. Your top half leaned into him more in this position, your hands instinctually holding onto him and finding hard muscles beneath. 

In the dark and under the threat of making any noise, you were unable to ask him what he was doing. All you could do was feel him.

But his head came nearer. You swore he whispered, “I…” before trailing off. He was close enough that you could feel the word caress your cheek. Then, as if time froze for a few seconds, neither of you even breathed while the footsteps grew louder and louder until they came so close to the door.

And then they kept going, the footfalls becoming just a bit quieter with each one.

You would’ve sighed had the hands on your hips not still held on so tight. His breathing sounded labored, his body rigid. With worry starting to take over your senses, you barely let his name pass your lips. So quietly, you whispered, “Peter?”

You knew he heard you because every muscle of his tensed. The movement had his arm hitting the shelves, and all of the blood rushed from your head as something fell and hit the floor with a dull thud. 

The footsteps stopped.

Parker grabbed your shoulders, his grip twisting the material of your dress wherever he touched. Maybe he knew that your mind was spinning, that your stomach threatened to empty itself, or that most of your extremities had gone numb despite the heat. He held you there, keeping you grounded as the steps became louder once more.

“Do you trust me?” Parker said, the words wrapping around your body with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

Your mind’s first instinct was to tell him no, you absolutely did not trust him. You wanted to ask him whether he even trusted you. But your throat allowed no response to pass, your tongue unable to shape any of the sounds. 

And… if you were to once again follow your heart, follow the pull in your gut, you’d nod. 

So you did. 

With that, he leaned forward to press his lips to yours. A quiet noise of surprise came from you as his fingers now danced up to hold your jaw. Only once you responded, your fuzzy mind catching up enough to kiss him back, did he lunge further forward. 

Quick breaths came from his nose as his mouth overtook yours. His body pressed roughly against you, the feeling doing nothing to slow your dizzying senses. Your fingers gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. And by the time you’d finally responded with the same intensity as him, nearly fell face first into the feeling, light flooded in from behind your eyelids.

Breaking apart from Parker with a start, you blinked until your vision made out the security guard in front of you. Your chest still heaved and your heart still pounded. Even your fingers still itched for him to ground you again — so much so that you grabbed his hand as the worker let out a scoff.

“Christ… Don’t you have anything better to do? Or any place better than this?” he asked, his flashlight flicking between the two of you.

“Sorry, sorry. We’ll go,” Parker muttered, his voice tighter than you remembered. He used one hand to shield his eyes from the light and put the other on your back to guide you from the closet. 

He made a good show of not knowing which way to go, making the guard point toward the door you came from with a tired look on his face. It took everything in you to not hide behind your fingers, embarrassment crawling up your neck and heating your cheeks.

Neither of you said a word while walking back to the main room, just pointedly not catching each other’s eyes. It felt harder to swallow, to think even.

Finally, outside the bathrooms, Parker broke the silence. He turned to you, saying, “Your, uh, dress.”

He approached, trying to fix the rumples he created in your gown. But you batted his hand away, unable to deal with his touch on you again right now. Your fingers smoothed it out yourself while you told him, “Flatten your hair back down.”

And before he even finished, you’d begun walking down the hallway to the doors. Anything to create room between you two — because you could still feel the weight of him clutching your jaw and the burn still present on your lips. 

And you didn’t want to think about what you just did for this story, or about kissing Peter fucking Parker.

His shoes clicked against the tile as he caught up. Your eyes saw a glimpse of him reaching out, your body bracing itself for his grip around your arm. But he stopped short, instead pleading, “Wait.”

“What?” you asked, a soft bite to the word. Your head sat on a swivel for anyone who could be watching or listening.

He gritted his teeth for a moment, thinking. “Should we go back? To take pictures of the diagram?”

With a tight smile, you told him, “No need.” 

Your fingers pulled the papers from where you’d tucked them into the front of your dress. You only paused long enough to feel smug at the surprised look on his face before hiding them once again. 

Without seeing whether he’d follow, you strode through the double doors — just always walking barely ahead of him. Luckily, your seats were near the back and away from the spotlights trained on the stage. 

Once settled into the chair, your hands firmly in your own lap, you let out a long breath. From beside you, Parker leaned in close, whispering, “Sunshine… Can I ask you something?”

Your eyes darted in his direction, nausea suddenly flooding your system all over again. You only looked at his shoulder as you slowly nodded, wondering if it was a mistake to do so. 

“Am I…”

He paused, and you could’ve bolted right then and there. Letting out a sigh, he asked, “Am I like the best kiss you’ve ever had?” 

He barely made it to the end of the sentence before his usual shit-eating grin returned to his face.

You relished in the way it twisted in pain when you kicked him under the table, hoping it’d leave a bruise. Partly, you were grateful he broke the tension, but that didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of breaking his foot too.

Turning back to the stage, you finally focused on the man standing atop it. That salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, and “winning smile” looked back in return.

It was hard to pay attention to his speech still going on when all you could think of was Beaumont’s diagram of the super suit. In your head, those eyes turned hateful, that smile cunning. You still felt them even as the speech ended, all of it just propaganda as you expected. 

What information you took from the auction was just how much money was going toward Stronger Together — which was a hefty amount. And all you got from the dinner was that they needed to learn how to better season their food.

After it all, Beaumont was immediately surrounded after the auction. People you assumed were shareholders or investors (i.e., rich people) took the conversation back into the VIP area before you could even think of approaching him. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could handle any more sneaking or lying for the rest of the night anyway.

But you had what you needed, for now.

And while making your way toward the mansion’s towering front doors alongside other couples, you could’ve sworn there were two sets of eyes burning a trail past your every move. One of them you refused to meet.

@reidslovely @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @dil3mma @hollandweather

[celticcrossanon]

Excerpts of a podcast discussion about H&M

Celta, there’s a podcast called Juicy Scoop, hosted by Heather McDonald, where she has Spencer Pratt on an episode (SP is an American reality television personality and hears gossip in Hollywood) and they discuss H&M. There’s not really any new tea but I thought I would pass it along to you anyway what was said. :)Below are excerpts transcribed by “RBXChas” at https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/1ch2ayp/summary_of_august_2023_juicy_scoop_podcast_re_hm/

Spencer says he has some “real deal” information from a friend who tried to go to TMZ, but if you don’t have a photo, they don’t care, even if it’s a really good story. His source said that H&M do not live together (H lives in LA), and H cannot believe that they need two nannies because he and Prince William only had one. Heather reads that as he is bitching about M as a mom and why does she need two nannies (e.g., complaining about her spending), which Spencer confirms.

Spencer says he has another source at Netflix who says that “the numbers that we heard had a lot of extra zeros for their Netflix deal, so there wasn’t that much money coming in”. He thinks they went too big with their house and wants to see her get back into acting because he liked her on Suits.

Heather asks him if he thinks M will have to go on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. He thinks H&M are not going to make it (Heather agrees) even though he wanted it to work out, but he believes his source (presumably about their living apart). He thinks H will go back to England and “get back in the family” and do the RF thing, only coming to the US to visit, because he thinks he could do so much more if he teamed up with Prince William.

Heather says that she has her own source of really good intel, definitely not the same source as Spencer’s. She says that it is true that “they are grifters” and that “they are constantly social climbing and trying to get free shit”. She knows someone who “they did that exact same thing to, met them, asked if they could stay at their very fancy third home” and then “asked ‘can we use your jet’ all that kind of stuff”, that “it’s her, that she’ll like zoom right in, but he’s down for the free shit, too, he’s used to getting free stuff, and he’s used to people wanting to host them”. She says the people who’ve gotten to meet them and are trapped into socializing with them realize H&M have the “stink on them”, so even if they socialize with them, “they don’t even want to take a photo with them” because they “don’t want the world to know that we’re buddies or that you stayed at my house, and by the way you’re never staying again.”

Heather talks about the phone hacking case. She thinks it’s about money and staying in the press. She thinks H should let it go, especially if he is going to divorce M, and just say he is “moving on from this chapter” of his life.

Spencer says that H just needs “a reboot”, that he’s not too old to do it, that “this is like red alert, like you’ve got to turn this around”. Heather and Spencer agree that the only way H can save himself is a divorce, which they both think is sad.

Enjoy the tea!

*

Hi TeaWithBooks,

Thank you for sending that in.

Here is the link if anyone wants to read the entire interview transcription (it is a lot more than the above)

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/1ch2ayp/summary_of_august_2023_juicy_scoop_podcast_re_hm/

I agree with the conclusion that was drawn (8 months ago?) If Harry is to make anything of his life and redeem himself, he needs to get rid of his wife. Unfortunately, I don’t think Harry sees it that way.

[ravenousrampage]

My lovely lovely friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) wrote me an amazing little snippet for Knight, and has given me permission to share! Please enjoy, I certainly did! Enjoy Knight eating some Goblins and being very unsettling to people!

Could it even be called a knight?

Nothing about the being that stood before Lord Kelvin struck him as particularly human. However, the details were trivial, and the innkeeper claimed that the "Knight's" bravery was unparalleled. He wasn't sure what that meant in this case, but he knew he was desperate and the mission was simple enough.

"Your pay will be ten gold pieces."

The helmeted head of the creature creaked in his direction, but otherwise made no sound. It was unnerving. Statue still but emanating an aura that made a cold sweat prickle at the back of his neck.

It stared at him - into him.

"And five silver, as well."

He tacked on, barely able to stop the tremble in his voice as the Knight grunted.

"My duties begin now?"

The lord nodded and Knight turned heel, walking from the room with no sense of urgency. This was a simple mission. Miss Innkeeper would be happy to get paid and he would be happy with a free meal.

-----‐---------‐

The woman he accompanied was vibrant and oddly chatty with Knight, it was similar to how Miss Innkeeper treated him, and he liked that much better than the screaming that often followed his appearance.

"Such a willowy, waifish fellow. What court do you hail from?"

She mused, hiding a chuckle behind her hand while astride her steed. Just at eye level, Knight failed to notice the cheeky curvy to her lips. Even if he had, he held no interest in that sort of thing.

What an interesting question though.

Knight wasn't particularly sure himself.

One day, his eyes opened and his empty stomach grumbled - he had been on the move ever since.

This plating that covered his appendages seemed to earn him a lot of undeserved perks, but it also usually roped him into situations that did not interest him.

Had it not been for the pay, and, more importantly, the promise of a meal, he didn't think he would have taken this mission.

"What?"

"Your court, dear fellow!"

That answered none of his questions, but he was saved from having to answer as a small creature tore into the path.

"Oh, my! A goblin! Slay it, knight!"

The goblin looked unsurprised to see them there, drawing a dagger to brandish at the two with a bored air.

"Surrend the woman to us. Tell your lord to pay our ransom and she will be returned promptly."

A few more goblins appeared from the brush, each had daggers and bore the same expression as the presumed leader.

Knight's charge shrieked and squawked, calling the goblins 'vermin' and 'monsters' from the back of her Palomino. It all felt very staged… because it was.

Lord Kelvin had made a deal with the local goblins. Once in awhile, when his wife started to drive him batty with her nagging, he would send her on a little outing with a knight. They encountered goblins at some point in the trip, the knight would defeat them, and the lady would be back in her husband's arms grateful that she was alive and that he had spent a pretty penny to keep his wife safe.

The longer the charade went on, the harder it was to find knights who would take such a task and to appease the goblins who demanded more and more each time.

Knight was here to eliminate the problem.

He strode forward, feeling his stomach rumbled in approval when he unceremoniously grabbed one goblin, not the ringleader, and, without warning, scarfed it down.

His helm tipped back, revealing to only the goblin about to enter his maw while lie beneath, and shoved the monster in. There was some scrabbling and clawing - nothing he wasn't expecting from alarmed prey.

Gulp

Completely ensconced within Knight's elastic throat.

GULP

The squirming goblin settled in his stomach, fighting for an exit that would never appear. Another groan from his belly. Knight leaned down and repeated the process, savoring the heaviness of gut when the second goblin was down.

Only then did everyone start screaming.

Knight sighed.

Before the group had time to disperse, Knight grabbed a goblin in each hand, tucking one under his arm and lifting the other over his head.

"What kind of knight are you?"

One screeched, Knight's tongue wrapping around the creature's waist and began to drag the stuggling goblin closer.

"A hungry one."

This one, although it writhed and wriggled, he tried to take a moment to appreciate the flavor. Miss Innkeeper was always getting on his case for eating too quickly.

Rot and earth. Smoky and musty. Putrid in a way that deterred all other predators with olfactory senses, but not Knight.

He took his time, taking a few shallow gulps and feeling his throat bulge as his muscles worked hard to drawn his prey deeper into his belly.

The sharp plate that usually protected his abdomen was digging into him uncomfortably. Although elastic inside and out, Knight could still feel the discomfort and he took a second to stop swallowing his prey and pry his chest plate off.

Stomach bulging and writhing, Knight lifted a hand and covered his helm with a fist, so much movement was making him burpy.

For a moment, he debated if he could even fit another goblin. He felt quite full and he didn't have the luxury to sit down and digest. No Miss Innkeeper to soothe his swollen stomach with calloused, but kind hands (she would probably wait anyway, she didn't like when he came back with a stomach full of a fresh meal).

However, he had a job, and the last goblin he caught was the ringleader. There was no pointing waiting for the goblin to begin bargaining, Knight wasn't interested in whatever sob story the creature constructed. The goblin's head was in his mouth and the creature disappeared into the tight confines of his already full stomach.

He stood there, swaying on the spot with his hands soothing over taut flesh. Ah, he could really go for a nap. Unfortunately, he had to slosh to their next destination - there he could sit back and digest.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Knight's hopes were dashed. His dream of capturing and consuming a whole dragon seemed so out of reach if a few goblins had him second guessing his capacity (physically and mentally).

Stomach lurching and small noises of discomfort puncturing each step, Knight returned to Lady Kelvin's side.

Horrified did not begin to describe her expression.