#i was actually working on a follow-up from my previous fic
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thebiscuitlabryinth · 10 months ago
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There is an intimacy to sharing a body with someone. That's an obvious conclusion to make, but to experience it is something else entirely.
Shadow Milk may be adept at controlling people, but he has never possessed anyone before, not like this. He has never had any need to in the first place, because before his unjust imprisonment, he'd had his own body. Even if there hypothetically could have been a need, he much preferred the detachment his puppet strings allowed him. There was a superiority to having full control of a situation while being completely untouched by it, and that aside, inhabiting some insignificant Cookie's body as a concept was irritating, an insult to his own skill and strength.
Unfortunately, the circumstances have now changed. It is a compromise he is willing to accept though, because he'd take anything over staying sealed, and because he isn't sharing a body with just anyone.
No, it is Pure Vanilla Cookie, who is nowhere near as brilliant as Shadow Milk himself, but nowhere near as insignficant as the rest of Cookiekind either. No, he's special, and he has Shadow Milk's Soul Jam, so it is ultimately a matter of efficiency, to latch onto him.
Still, he had expected it to feel odd. Shadow Milk hasn't had a physical body in a long, long time so on principle, he figured becoming grounded and solid again would already be a strange feeling, let alone in a body that wasn't his original one.
But when he settles into Pure Vanilla's dough for the first time, Shadow Milk is forced to reassess his assumptions, because while it isn't familiar, it feels right. Like it is already his, and was always meant to be.
Thinking on it now, it is obvious that it would. Pure Vanilla isn't just anybody – he is the current holder of his Soul Jam, and no matter how undeserving that may be, that must make them compatible with one another. Even now, Shadow Milk can feel the core of his stolen power, so close yet just far out of reach.
That, of course, is the drawback of this little plan. Pure Vanilla is awfully paranoid – though Shadow Milk will admit, he is flattered with how often he crosses his mind – so he doesn't get many opportunities to seize control, and the ones he does get, he has to achingly hold back from jumping at.
Shadow Milk may be a jester, but he's no fool. He understands dramatic tension and build-up better than anyone else, and something like this is only worthy of being a heartstopping cliffhanger reveal, right on the cusp of the show's climax! To be able to do that, he has to play the waiting game for a little bit. It's aggravating, especially since he had planned to be free as a bird by now, but it isn't the worse. More fun than growing stale in a tree, at least.
And Shadow Milk really is fascinated by the intimacy of sharing this body. The inherent closeness, the blurring of lines and the warmth. Pure Vanilla's thoughts run like a river, sometimes churning furiously and other times meandering slow like honey, and he fishes them up effortlessly to marvel at how soft and ridiculous he is.
Pure Vanilla is not aware of Shadow Milk's presence. Well, that isn't quite true, because he obviously has suspicions, with how he mumbles questions and warnings to his reflection with a wary, anxious tone. How could he not, when Shadow Milk entertains himself with whispers and visions and taunts that are intangible enough to be classed as hallucination?
But he doesn't know about Shadow Milk's presence for certain, which means he can't fish Shadow Milk's thoughts out in return. It doesn't seem like they spill over naturally either. Shadow Milk wishes they did, wishes some of his more fun thoughts seeped into Pure Vanilla's brain like syrup, just to see how he would startle and panic.
Ah well. There were other ways to fluster him. It was easy, actually, as long as you knew what to say, and Shadow Milk is a master with words.
Shadow Milk taps their finger lazily against the staff while Pure Vanilla is busy, focused on his conversation with White Lily and those itty-bitty Cookies – and they really are itty-bitty, barely out the Oven, especially not compared to him. It's an easily overlooked movement, but that is exactly why Shadow Milk does it, finding it exciting to slowly push at those boundaries.
Moving the body without full control makes it feel less like his own hand, and more like his hand is laying on the top of Pure Vanilla's and moving it in tandem. It is almost similar to puppeting, if it wasn't for the added sensation of their hands merging together with the movement, warm and cold and heavy with the presence of another person. It feels thrilling, and it feels like two opposite magnets forced together, and it feels like coming home.
Shadow Milk knows it will feel even better when he is in full control. The freedom is exciting on its own, but Pure Vanilla will probably kick up a little fuss too. To press him into surrender under his presence, to surround and suffocate him so thoroughly that he lives in his very dough, that their minds and spirits have no choice but to intertwine – that is the sort of romanticism lovesick maidens would crumble for, truly, to be possessed in all senses of the word, and Shadow Milk is going to offer it all to Pure Vanilla on a silver platter. He should be thankful, he really should!
As for him, to possess Pure Vanilla in every meaningful way possible just feels natural. Again, Shadow Milk finds himself considering how Pure Vanilla really is his, and it is just as true as before. It has been true since the moment Pure Vanilla recieved his Soul Jam, and the moment Shadow Milk first laid eyes on him, which are incidentally one and the same.
It's so unfair, really. That he has to wait even longer when he could take over completely at the slightest push of effort.
Pure Vanilla, seemingly finished with his little conversation, begins to stroll off on his own. He pauses on a bridge, looking over the edge into the clear waters below, and Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to wink at him, Pure Vanilla's mouth twitching into an echo of a smirk, just to tease.
Pure Vanilla jolts, and blinks furiously back, shaking his head. Shadow Milk retreats from the surface to soak himself in the rushing of Pure Vanilla's thoughts.
I didn't– did I? No, no, no, I must be seeing things. The water's surface is quite far away, and the current must have disrupted my reflection–
Shadow Milk hums, pleased with himself, and it translates to an ominous chill down Pure Vanilla's spine.
Shadow Milk still wants his own body again, eventually. It isn't exactly feasible to share one long-term, because even though he is confident in his own abilities, there will always be a non-zero chance of Pure Vanilla stealing control at a vital moment.
For now, though, it's fun. A novelty he hasn't grown tired of yet.
It's only fair, anyway, since Pure Vanilla has his Soul Jam. If anything, it's his right.
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moonsgemini · 4 months ago
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cherry wine - firefighter!rafe pt. 2
* ✼ ⋆ ËšïœĄđ–Šč â‹†ïœĄÂ°âœ© ੈ✩‧₊˚àŒșâ˜†àŒ»*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✼ ⋆ ËšïœĄđ–Šč â‹†ïœĄÂ°âœ© ₊˚ ⋅
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summary: Rafe’s job gets in the way of your first date, but you’re not mad about it.
warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, sexy rafe, SMUT, fingering, fem rec oral, fem!reader, inaccurate descriptions of firefighter duties, alcohol, cursing
an: I have no idea how a fire fighters schedule works so I made it up bc it’s fiction. oh & do we like the long fics?? oh & it’s my birthday yay to 24
part one
* ✼ ⋆ ËšïœĄđ–Šč â‹†ïœĄÂ°âœ© ੈ✩‧₊˚àŒșâ˜†àŒ»*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✼ ⋆ ËšïœĄđ–Šč â‹†ïœĄÂ°âœ© ₊˚ ⋅
The night at the bar Rafe made sure you were sober to drive. He had you drink lots of water and even ordered you a plate of fries. His mind wandering off when you would lick the salt off your fingers. He was gone for you from the start and he didn’t mind one bit.
After walking you to your car he asked for your number and promised to see you the next day. Leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and permanent butterflies. The whole drive home you belted out the lyrics to your favorite pop music, feeling like a high school girl with a crush.
Rafe drove him in silence with a grin on his face. When he got home and texted you that he had a great time and couldn’t wait to see you again that grin never vanished. It only widened when you replied reciprocating the same feelings.
The next day came and a couple hours before picking you up Rafe got called into the station. Instead of texting he called you wanting to make sure you knew he wasn’t flaking. You believed him of course. Yet you couldn’t help the natural feeling of disappointment that flowed through your bones.
That feeling was soothed when he texted you late that night that he had finally gotten back to the station. Along with that he sent a picture of the station dog Max on his lap. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered at the sight of his veiny big hand that was resting in the golden retrievers fur. In return you sent back a picture of your steaming mug of tea and a horror movie playing on the tv in the back.
It sparked a conversation about movies which led to you and Rafe talking non stop the following week. Besides the times you were teaching and he was out training or helping people.
Rafe promised you a proper date that upcoming Friday. Making sure to let you know that he would do anything to make it work out this time. You reassured him it was okay if something came up again. That made his heart burst, it wasn’t often that someone was willing to work with his hectic schedule.
-
The outfit you had planned for the previous weekend still sat on your vanity chair waiting to be worn. And hopefully waiting to be taken off. You had finished your hair and makeup all done to perfection. As it neared closer to the time he was picking you up your anxiety spiked. He hadn’t called to reschedule so it was really happening.
Rafe had gotten worked up all week with the pictures you’d occasionally send of what you were doing. The one that really got him was when you had gotten out of the shower and sent him a picture of you in a fuzzy robe with wet hair and your skin glistening. Most likely due to a skincare routine you had mentioned to him.
Rafe thought you looked like a goddess, he wished he could have gotten down on his knees and untied that robe with his teeth before worshiping you. His kind had been in the gutter all week.
He was making sure this date was going to go perfect. He bought a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor and worn his best date outfit. As he rang the doorbell to your small cottage he started to get a bit nervous. He hadn’t put this much effort into a date since high school. Even then how much effort could a teenage boy put in. He didn’t actually remember the last time he went on a date.
Rafe’s runaway thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door. Standing in front of him in a short black skirt and black top. A jacket hanging over your arm and your glossy lips turning up into a smile. The boots you were accentuatedïżŒ your legs making them look even longer. Rafe wanted to lick every inch of you. Especially after the smell of your perfume hit him, he wanted to kiss your neck.
“Hi,” You said with a teasing tone.
He didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything, “You look beautiful.” He made it a point to look her up and down.
She laughed as heat creeped up her neck, “Thank you Rafe.”
He loved how you said his name, “These are for you.” He handed you the flowers.
“Come in while I put them in water,” You nodded towards the inside of the house, “They’re beautiful Rafe. You really do know how to treat me good.”
He closed the door behind him as you began filling a vase with water, “Oh this is nothing.”
“If there’s more than this I might start to like you a little too much,” You joked hoping the weight of those words don’t send him running. You didn’t mean to say something so forward so soon. Literally on the first date, but you decided to stick by your words. You didn’t want to hide that you liked him.
“Perfect, because I already like you a little too much.”
You froze with the kitchen towel in your hands as you dries them. As you looked at him his smile was sincere, no hint of teasing or lying. You finished drying your hands as you laughed softly. The crush you had on Rafe was growing by the minute.
“Ready?” You asked.
He nodded opening the front door for you. He even opened the passenger door of his truck for you. Of course you knew these were bare minimum things but you couldn’t help how giddy it made you feel. Especially when it was him doing it for you.
-
Everything couldn’t have been going more perfect. Rafe was almost grateful he had to postpone the date because in the week the two of you talked he learned a lot. With the knowledge of you he had he planned the perfect date.
He took you to a record shop that you hadn’t been to before. You had told him about your extensive collection you had started building in high school. He even remembered a few of the bands you liked when he came across them. Of course he insisted on buying you a couple which you repeatedly told him not to. Obviously he didn’t listen and bought you them.
Next door was the Italian restaurant Rafe had been raving about all week. Promising you it’d be the best pasta of your life.
But as you looked over the menu, a ghost of a grin hasn’t left your mouth all evening, his phone started ringing. Rafe took his phone out of his pocket beginning to apologize for not silencing it. He was going to ignore the call but the name across the screen had his brows furrowing in worry.
“Everything okay?”
He looked up briefly, “Uh yeah it’s my captain. I’m so sorry I need to answer this.” You nodded understanding as he gave you a regretful smile as he slid out the booth to take the call. You continued to look over the cocktail menu.
Rafe sighed as he sat down across from you again, “Everything okay?” You asked
He shook his head, “I hate to do this but I got called in. I wasn’t supposed to work today but there’s a hug pile up downtown where there’s a big concert and they need all the help they can get.”
You tried not to show the disappointment you felt because it was his job after all. Rafe could still see how your eyes lost a bit of their shine and your smile wasn’t as bright anymore. He really hated this. In his career so far he had never been called in so much. But now when he meets the hottest woman he’s ever seen work is taking over his life. He was not about to have you slip through his fingers.
“Oh yeah I understand. You can just drop m-“ You began saying before he interrupted.
“Come with me.”
“Huh?”
He shook his head with a laugh, “Not to the wreck to the station. Wait for me there.”
He didn’t even wait for you to reply because for one he needed to leave now or Captain Matthews would chew his head off. And two if you decided you didn’t want to and wanted nothing to do with him anymore he’s take you home, but the sound of your laugh as he pulled you through the restaurant was enough of an answer. Your hands stayed locked together until you got back into his truck.
The station wasn’t too far from where you already were so the drive was short. Rafe rushed out to open your door and grab your hand once again. As you trailed behind him you saw a few of the guys from career day and some new faces as they all stood by an engine in the garage. A couple were checking equipment and a few others were already getting on the truck.
“Sorry to interrupt your date but we need your help here Cameron,” An older guy said as the two of you approached. You assumed this was his captain.
You smiled, “Duty calls right?”
He laughed, “It sure does.”
“I’ll be right out,” Rafe said leading you into the station. He walked you into a room that was like a big living room with couches and a tv. Max was laying on the couch and when he saw Rafe he immediately got up and walked over to the pair.
“This is Max. Say hi Maxie bug,” He pet the dogs head who then sniffed your leg. You bent down petting his fluffy head.
“Hi Maxie.”
“Make yourself at home and feel free to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back hopefully in a couple hours. If you get bored and uber home I won’t be offended I promise,” Rafe said placing a hand on your shoulder.
You nodded, “Got it. Be safe and good luck.”
He leaned in with a grin and kissed your cheek gingerly. Even that small touch had your head spinning. You and Max watched as he jogged back outside and only a couple minutes later you heard the truck leave.
-
It had been almost two hours now and Rafe was still out. You had watched a fe episodes of your favorite sitcom and played with Max a bit. You even explored the station finding the kitchen and a few of the rooms used for sleeping where you stole a blanket from to lay over yourself on the couch. The only issue you were having was that you were starving.
Since you two had to leave dinner you hadn’t eaten since lunch and that meesley turkey sandwich was not cutting it.
That’s when you wandered into the kitchen and that habit of wanting to take care of people kicked in. You looked through to see what the guys had almost expecting to find the bare minimum. You were so wrong. The fridge and pantry were filled with groceries. You thought these guys must really eat a lot.
You started brain storming and decided on making lasagna and garlic bread. You figured they’d all be hungry when they got back and you were also starving. As the garlic bread finished in the oven and the lasagna cooled down you heard the rumbling of the fire truck. Perfect timing. You hoped you didn’t overstep but he did say make yourself at home. You even baked some chocolate chip cookie dough they had in the fridge. Even also tossing a salad to have on the side.
As Rafe opened the door that led to the station the smell of garlic bread and fresh baked cookies hit him. He thought he must be hallucinating until he walked into the kitchen and saw you getting plates out from the cupboard. A few of the guys walked in behind Rafe.
“Hey we’re back,” Rafe said stepping towards you, “Did you make dinner?”
You nodded a bit of embarrassment creeping up your spine, “Yeah hope you guys don’t mind. I was hungry and I figured you were too so I made food for you all.”
Josh stepped forward looking at the pan of lasagna, “Rafe keep her please, this looks amazing.”
“Seriously thank you this looks so good,” Captiain Matthews said as he stepped in.
“No problem please help yourselves,” You motioned towards the counter of food.
Rafe couldn’t look away from you. The way you stood so comfortably in the station kitchen talking to his coworkers. He walked closer towards you as the guys served themselves.
“You are just too sweet huh?” He teased.
“Well we missed our italian dinner so I made it myself,” You shrugged with a grin.
“That just means next time I’m cooking for you,” He said. The thought of there being a next time brough butterflies to your stomach.
“I’ll hold you to it,” You nodded.
Rafe grabbed a plate and began to serve you food. Handing over the plate before serving himself. All the guys thanked you as Rafe led you to the living room area. He also grabbed a bottle from one of the tall cabinets along with two glasses.
“Now I know this isn’t what I promised you but next time will be better,” He promised as he opened the bottle of wine.
“There’s no complaints from me about this date,” You shrugged, “Since when are you allowed to have alcohol in here?”
He smirked, “Well miss I’m technically off the clock again and this is from the christmas party we had a few months ago. Cherry wine?”
Your eyes lit up, “It’s like you know me already, I love cherry wine.”
-
After your stomachs were full of good food and a bit of wine that made your head feel a bit floaty you both settled on the couch. This was the best date you’d ever been on. Rafe was sweet and flirty never hiding his desire for you. Not even in a sexual way but in a way where he constantly asked questions about everything wanting to know more about you. He talked about his life as well which only made you like him more. Hearing about his troubled privileged childhood that led him to where he is now. It was admirable to hear him talk about it with no shame since it made him who he is.
As it got later Rafe drove you home. You were disappointed the night was ending but it was nearing one in the morning and you still had lesson plans to create.
He walked you up to your door with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.
“I had a really great time with you tonight. I’m sorry again for the interruption.”
You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it Rafe. I still had a great time.”
“The guys are going to want you around all the time now,” He laughed.
“Oops,” You shrugged with a smirk.
He stepped closer, “Be careful now I might get jealous.”
“Maybe I’ll keep going then,” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I know it’s late but uh do you want to come in?”
Rafe didn’t hesitate, “Yeah sure.”
You unlocked your door leading him in, “I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like or something else.” You asked as you set your things down on the entryway table.
“hmmm something else?” He asks as he steps closer to you.
You look through your cupboards, “I have tea, coffee, some random-“ your words caught in your throat as you turned around to look at him only to find Rafe behind you.
“That all sounds good but I think I want something sweet,” He said as he inched closer. Your hands rested behind you against the counter. Eyes wide with anticipation and curiosity as to what his next move would be.
“Like sweat tea?” You asked knowing exactly what he means but not wanting to jump to conclusions.
His smirk turned into a lopsided grin. He rubbed his hand over his mustache and shook his head stepping closer, “No that cherry wine was pretty sweet right?”
You nodded in agreement not taking your eyes off him.
“I think I want a bit more of that,” He was now practically caging you in against the counter. You felt like you were suffocating in him in the best way possible.
“Oh I don-“ He interrupted you by leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. It shut you up immediately and then he broke the rest of the distance and pressed his lips to yours. You reciprocated moved your hands from the counter to pull at the blonde hair at the back of his head. His hands went to your hips pulling you closer to him then sliding up to your waist.
His thumbs going under your shirt the skin on skin contact made you shiver in the best way. Your mouths moved in sync as the kiss deepened.
Rafe could taste the sweetness but he wasn’t sure if it was the cherry wine or just you. He knew he was addicted to you now. He loved the way your hands felt in his hair and on his biceps and shoulders. He slotted his leg in between yours making you feel even closer to him. The small noises you were making made him sigh into the kiss.
He pulled away before kissing you a few more times and murmuring, “So sweet.”
You whined and tugged at his shirt to pull him back in. He smirked and gave you what you wanted. He’d give you anything you wanted.
This time you pulled away feeling a bit bold and the feeling of his thigh pressing against the place where you needed him the most helped you say, “You wanna see my room?”
He laughed softly kissing your nose, “You inviting me to your room?”
You scoffed a laugh, “Nooo I’m asking if you want to see my room. There’s a difference.”
“I’d love to see your room.” He said with a smirk.
You rolled your eyes playfully and shoved him. Grabbing his hand and leading him down the hallway to your room. You turned on the lamp on your nightstand which illuminated the room with a soft glow. Rafe had decidedly that he loved seeing you in that light. You looked like a real like angel.
“So this is it,” You said motioning to your surroundings.
He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “Oh I really like you sweetheart. Come here,” He motioned with his fingers for you to come closer. A motion that had your mind in the gutter.
“Why do you say that?” You question as you walk forward to where he stood at the end of your bed.
“Because you’re all cute and sweet like you didn’t almost make me come just by making out.”
“Rafe!” You said with a surprised laugh.
He shrugged, “What? It’s the truth.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck still feeling bold. There was something about how unabashedly he admitted his feelings towards you that had you feeling confident. It felt good to be wanted. It felt good to be wanted by Rafe.
“You’re ridiculous,” You said as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His eyes moving down to your still swollen lips.
“Mhmm,” He hummed and nodded. He leaned in just like he did earlier in the kitchen. Kissing the air out of your lungs. His hands moved all over you gripping and holding anything he could.
His hand slipped down your back and over your butt, giving a squeeze as he past it, down to the end of your skirt, His fingers trailed up the back of your thigh and up your skirt. Hands gripping your ass under your skirt. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips which allowed him more access into your mouth.
There was a small part of your brain that hadn’t quite turned off yet. Rafe’s lips began to trail down to your neck leaving open mouthed kisses that had you arching into him. The feeling of his mustache against your smooth skin had you shivering.That’s when that part of your brain decided to speak up.
“Oh Rafe,” You said breathily eyes fluttering shut, “are you sure, it’s late and don’t you have work?” Rafe groaned as he kissed the spot behind your ear. He couldn’t help but get more turned on at the sound of her caring about him, but work and sleep were far from his mind. Right now he just wanted to bury his head between your thighs and have you moaning and withering underneath him.
“Baby I could care less about that right now,” He walked you back until you were sat on the bed. The bed wasn’t very tall so when he stood in between your legs you had to look up at him. The way he towered over you had your flimsy underwear feeling soaked. You had never been so turned on by a man.
Rafe reached forward to cup your jaw. Thumb stroking your cheek gently. Now that part of your brain was completely silent. All you could think about was him.
“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled almost to himself.
A soft smile appeared on your face and he practically groaned again. Your doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent smile had his cock hardening even more if that’s possible. He bit his lip and watched as your eyes moved to his mouth. He knew you wanted him as bad as he wanted you and that made this all the more exciting.
He slowly trailed his thumb to his mouth, pulling at her bottom lip teasingly. Almost like a habit your mouth opened slightly. He took this as a sign to gently push it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it sucking and licking.
“Fuck,” He muttered as he felt your warm tongue. Where had you been all his life. He was never going to let you go. He pulled it out and leaned down kissing you again.
“You’re so hot,” He mumbled as he got on his knees in front of you. He removed your boots that you were still wearing and kissed up both legs. The intimacy of it all had your chest rising rapidly. The anticipation of just how good you know this man is going to treat you was enough to make your toes curl.
“I’ve been thinking about these thighs since I first picked you up,” He said as he kissed your inner thighs. He had placed your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping the outside of them. You sighed as your body ignited in pleasure.
You let out a small yelp as he pulled your center closer to his face causing you to fall back, “And fuuuck I’ve been thinking about pushing this little skirt up all night.” He hummed in appreciation as he pushed the black material up. Your feet now resting on the end of the bed. Your barely clothed pussy on display. Leaning back on your elbows you watched with hazy eyes as Rafe admired you.
He looked up at you through hooded eyes and a smirk, “Can I please taste you?” He knew you wouldn’t say no but he wanted to be a gentleman anyways.
“Please,” You whispered slightly bucking your hips up.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lace covered clit. The black lacy panties you had on barely doing anything to cover your slick cunt. He took a mental picture for the next time he was in the shower.
You moaned softly as he continued to kiss over panties, eventually pulling them to the side. He murmured curse words as he lifted his thumb to run through your folds. Gently slipping the tip of it inside you to gather your wetness. He trailed it up to your clot beginning to rub soft circles. The motion had your head falling back with a sigh.
Rafe turned his head and peppered kisses on your inner thigh. He pressed down a little harder as he watched you get wetter. After a few strokes he tentatively dipped his head down and licked your clit.
That was enough for him to know this is what he wanted to taste forever. He roughly pulled off the lacey matterial throwing it somewhere in the room.
He groaned as he fully dived in. Licking, sucking, and kissing just where you needed him to. He listened to your moans and soft whines to see what you liked the most. He was so painfully hard but he didn’t even care. Rafe just wanted you to come.
“Oh god Rafe,” You moaned as his tongue dipped into you. Your hands gripped his hair tugging when something felt extra good.
He moaned and the sound sent even more pleasure through you, “You taste so fucking good.”
“Rafe I’m close,” You panted, “you’re so good don’t stop please.”
He shook his head with his mouth still on you, “Never baby, you’re gonna have to pry me away from this pussy.”
The dirty words sending you even closer to the edge. You had never been talked to like this and you loved it. You liked how he ravaged you and actually paid attention to what you liked.
You felt his finger nudge your entrance before he slipped it in. Your walls tightening around his thick finger. You arched you back as he reached one hand up to press flat against your stomach to lay you down more. Then he added a second finger and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips. It felt so good the way he moved them in and out. Fingers curled up hitting that spot you so desperately needed.
The lewd sounds of his fingers fucking you and his mouth on your clit filled the room. Along with your loud moans and his occasional groans. The roughness of his mustache felt so good on the sensitive bud.
“Rafey I’m-I’m gonna,”
“Mhmmm let go for me pretty girl,” He encouraged as his fingers moved faster and mouthed hungrily at your clit.
You became a shaking moaning mess as he continues his ministrations. Your orgasm taking over your body. His hand gripped your thigh roughly as he kept going until your high was over. Once your back was flar on the mattress he slowly pulled out and pressed one last kiss on your puffy clit.
He made his way up your body kissing your stomach over your shirt and then you exposed cleavage. He kissed you fully and you could feel his mustache damp with your arousal. You could also taste yourself on his tongue which had you moaning again. Rafe lifted you to be farther up the bed so he can comfortably lay on top.
“You taste so fucking good I already wanna do it again,” He said smirking as he pulled away.
You smiled in a daze, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” As you reached your hand down to the front of his pants. Your hand cupped him through the material and he groaned, eyes rolling back in pleasure.
“Fuck I really really want to do more but I actually do have work in a couple hours,” He groaned. He wishes he could just call off and spend the whole night rolling around in bed with you.
You looked at him with slight disappointment but understanding, “You sure?”
He leaned down and bit your neck playfully, “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be easily convinced.”
You giggled, “I understand Rafe.”
“I’m seeing you again though. I never lied about that. Especially after you let me have a taste of you,” He groaned dramatically, “So fucking delicious I’m addicted.”
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seokgyuu · 3 months ago
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After your flawless job-interview, Seokmin hires you as the newest addition to his company. Just that, once you start, it seems like you’re not who you previously portrayed to be. Instead, he finds himself faced with mini-skirts, push-up bras and gawking co-workers, not to mention your absolute lack of work ethic. Obviously, he needs to fire you! Just that, when he tries to
 you simply don’t let him.
Pairing: Boss!Seokmin x Employee!F!Reader
Genre: Porn with the smallest bits of plot, workplace “romance”, Smut MDNI!
Warnings: Morally gray characters, Seokmin is obviously reader’s boss and shouldn’t be fucking her, power imbalance, reader gets objectified a lot, but she enjoys it, reader is
 acting very dumb (on purpose), Smut warnings under the cut!
Word Count: 3.7k
A/N: Hi everyone!! welcome to this little work of
 filth! Making my return with a Seokmin fic just felt right (also I just could not stop thinking about this). Please let me know what you think with a reply or a reblog, it would mean the world to me!! also a big thanks to @shadowkoo for making this AMAZING banner and to @bitchlessdino for beta-ing!!
tagging: @okiedokrie, @inkchwe, @shinysobi, @gyuhanniescarat, @haologram, @beomcoups @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics (just some of my fellow dk enjoyers)
Smut Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, praise (good girl, etc.), degradation (whore, etc.), unprotected sex, titjob, breeding, usage of the word “Sir” in a sexual context, tell me if i missed anything!
His phone rings. The Harry Potter title music is playing, letting him know it’s his sister calling. He can’t pick up, or well, no, he can, considering his hands are free, but he probably shouldn’t.
Having talks with his employees about having to let them go is Seokmin’s least favorite thing about being the boss. He never wants anyone to feel like they weren’t good enough or couldn’t live up to any expectations, but sometimes
 sometimes it was inevitable.
Like with you.
When you had first walked into your interview, you impressed him with your sharp tongue and your witty humor. Your resume looked perfect for the job, and your previous experience was exactly what he needed. He hired you the following week and deemed his decision a good one - until you showed up for your first day.
See, before anything else, Seokmin is simply just a man. A man with eyes and needs and desires.
The mini skirt barely covered your backside, showed off your legs and those perfect thighs you had hidden from sight before. Your dress shirt would have been fine for the office if only it wasn’t
 half open. Or at least open enough to see your breasts almost falling out of your push-up bra.
He knew back then that he should say something. Tell you that this wasn’t appropriate to wear to work. But he didn’t. For the same reason, his mostly male staff began coming into work more punctually, more eagerly and stayed for even longer hours.
It was a mistake, he thinks now, not to say anything to you on your first day. Or any other day after that.
A mistake or the single best decision he had ever made.
Truth be told, he’d never called you into his office to discuss his decision to let you go if it was only about the clothes (or lack thereof) you wore to work. No, he was fine with the clothes, more than fine, actually, if you took just one look at the amount of tissues discarded in his office’s trash can.
But
 you lacked certain skills he had thought you’d easily have, considering your previous jobs. You struggled doing, in his opinion, the most basic tasks, and more or less let the others do the work for you. The work he paid you to do. Instead, you sat at your desk all day and played Solitaire or scrolled on Instagram.
The two of you almost never interacted, mainly because he was scared to say the wrong thing or stare too long at your breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway. When it did happen that he had to talk to you, it mostly went with him going back to his office with a raging boner and a guilty conscience.
One time, he brought back some prints from the copy room, only to find out you had been the one to print them. When he asked around the room and you were the one to raise your hand and get up from your chair he almost choked on his spit. You made your way over him, your tight dress hugging every single one of your curves, the slit in the side showing off where your stockings began, the neckline down far enough for him to see the lacy material of your bra once again.
“Thank you, Mr. Lee, Sir,” you smiled at him, your fingers touching his when you reached for the pile of papers. He felt like you shot him and as a result, he shot a huge load of cum into one of his tissues when he was back in his office.
Then, he met you at the coffee maker one time, witnessing you eat a fucking banana in one god damned bite. He couldn’t believe his eyes when you basically deepthroated the fruit all while looking directly into his eyes. He popped a boner right then and there.
All in all, it was safe to say the woman he had met in the interview was gone and he had absolutely no clue why or how he had let you fool him that day you met.
A part of him was angry at himself for letting it get this far, but he couldn’t deny that with every glimpse of your exposed ass and tits, with every encounter like the prints or the banana, he decided to give you one last chance to prove yourself. So far he had given you about 151 chances and you’d screwed up all of them.
Which is how he ended up calling you into his office.
Which is how you ended up sitting in front of his desk on one of the comfortable dark red armchairs, your legs crossed, yet another mini-skirt rising up far enough for Seokmin to at least imagine he can smell you. The shirt you were wearing was tight and cropped and your blazer was lazily hung over the back of the armchair.
“So, Y/N,” he began, shifting on his seat and trying very hard not to look at your tits, “do you have any idea why I called you in here?”
You shook your head no.
“No, sir, I don’t. Did I do something wrong?”
Sir. Oh good lord, Seokmin had to swallow down the pathetic moan he feels creeping up his throat.
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I have noticed that you’ve been handing your work off to Chan a lot. Soonyoung as well, and while I understand you’re the newest employee, you have been here for almost five months now, Y/N, and I did expect you to already, you know, do at least a certain amount of work by yourself.”
Your eyes widened the more he spoke, your pout prominent once he finished.
“I’m sorry, Sir, truly! They always offered to help me and I just- I just didn’t want to disappoint them,” your voice strained, almost sounding like you were about to start crying. Seokmin felt his heart speed up.
“I understand that. But still - it must make sense to you that-,”
You jumping up from your chair made him stop mid sentence. He watched how you stalked over to him, your big eyes staring him down with something he couldn’t pinpoint even if he tried.
“It does make sense, Sir, and I want to apologize. I can do better, please don’t fire me.”
Seokmin was frozen in his chair, his seated figure looking up at you, almost panicking when he realized how close you were. If he raised his hand now, he could touch your thigh, could let it slip higher, could-
“Please, Mr. Lee, I’d do anything to keep this job.”
Which is how we get to
 now.
His phone is still ringing on the desk, but he’s still nowhere near answering it. He is too focused on your mouth around his rock-hard cock, on the way you look up at him with watery eyes, on the way your hand is fondling his aching balls.
You dropping to your knees might have been the single most hottest thing he has ever seen before. Or well, maybe this right now tops it. Your tongue is flat against his shaft, dragging it along his veins, licking up all the precum that doesn’t directly land in your mouth. You suck on his tip, tease his slit, and moan when you take him all the way.
And Seokmin? He thinks he might have just entered heaven. His hands are itching to touch you, to push you down and fuck up, to lose control, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you with his mouth dropped, with his heart going at triple speed in his chest.
This is wrong. So, so wrong! He shouldn’t let you suck his cock as a way to keep your job, for god’s sake!
Once his tip crashes against the back of your throat, his mind goes blank, and all the thoughts from before disappear. They make room for new thoughts instead, thoughts that finally allow him to do what he wanted to from the second you had walked in on your first day.
The groan he lets out causes you to drip into your panties. And the way his hands now find the back of your head almost makes you come. Your eyes roll back for a second, before you bring them back to look at your boss.
Your extremely hot, perfect boss who took so fucking long to bring you into his office. Who could not take a hint at-fucking-all.
He begins to thrust up into your throat, letting out moans you wish you could record and replay as many times as you wished. His cock is big, just as big as you had hoped it to be. He’s veiny and perfect and his angry red tip is going to become your favorite thing to suck on. He tastes salty and sweet and bitter at the same time, melts on your tongue, and gets you to clench around absolutely nothing.
“Fuck,” he cries out when he picks up his speed, nails digging into your scalp as he continues his hard and fast thrusts, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening dangerously. You need him, want him and almost demand him to come down your throat. To give you everything he has to offer. You press your tongue harder against his shaft, cheeks hollowed out, and you can feel his orgasm nearing with every passing second.
“I’m gonna- fu-fuck, I’m gonna c-come!” His cry is almost taking you over the edge too.
Seokmin sees red and white at the same time, opens his eyes, and stares down at you with his pupils blown and his cock finally emptying his seed inside your awaiting mouth. It almost breaks him, seeing how you swallow all of his cum like a pro, never breaking eye contact.
Breathless, Seokmin slowly gets down from his high, watching how you lick up his cock, your eyes twinkling with mischief, giving his tip a small kiss before finally leaning back, batting your eyelashes.
“So tasty, Mr. Lee. Now, should I get back to work?”
· · ─────── ·𖄞· ─────── · ·
It kind of becomes a thing. At the beginning, Seokmin calls you into his office and you suck his cock, make him come, go back to work. All while still wearing your skimpy outfits to work and doing the minimum requirements to not be a complete waste of Seokmin’s money. Even though he figures with a cold shiver running down his spine, it seems like he’s paying you for something totally different now.
You’re enjoying this to the fullest, having a right out blast. Not just because you get to have Seokmin fuck your throat every other day, no, but because of how he looks at you. When you met him that first day at the interview, you already knew you wanted him. Knew he was going to be your next little project. So far you had never failed, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now.
Working at the company for five months hadn’t exactly been your plan, though. Five months until he finally called you into his office. Five months of you choosing the most outrageous outfits, knowing every single man in that office wanted a taste of you, but only wanting one of them to actually act on it.
“Holy fucking hell, yeah, just- just like that,” he’s leaning against the wall behind his desk, you back on your knees, his cock hitting the soft inside of your cheek over and over again. He’s holding onto your hair with one hand while the other is pressed against the wall next to him. You lick and suck and fuck his cock against your cheek, drool running down your chin. You’re painfully wet, throbbing, and needing him to finally put his cock in you.
By now (3 weeks after your little blowjob-job started) you know his tells, can sense when he’s about to come. So, when you hear that first little noise, you let go of his cock with a plop and get up. Seokmin’s eyes open and he looks at you, visibly confused.
“Wha-,” he begins, but you just take a step forward and crush your lips against his, your hands grabbing his face.
For the first few seconds, Seokmin doesn’t really grasp the situation. You’re kissing him. He begins to melt, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist and when you lead him back, suddenly seated on his desk, his mind goes blank. You want him to fuck you. Want his cock to go inside that probably sweet tasting pussy of yours. He moans into your mouth.
“Take me, Mr. Lee, please, need your cock in me, need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, biting his earlobe after and sighing in relief when he immediately moves to get your panties off of you.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot.” He kisses you again, wild and uncontrolled, your panties now landing on the floor. You part your legs and grab his cock, bringing it to your awaiting entrance. There is no stopping the moan that escapes you once his tip slips in, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip harshly. He licks over your teeth, feels his mind fog up, no thoughts just you, you, you.
Then, he’s fully inside of you. Twitches, groans, kisses you harder. And fucks you like a god-damned beast.
The pace he sets is brutal and you’re lucky it’s after hours so no one is at the office anymore. They for sure would have heard the way the desk is bouncing against the floor with every thrust as well as your high pitched moans, and Seokmin’s low growls.
He fucks you like he owns you and you live for it. His cock drags along your walls, fills you like he was made for you, hits your sweet spot over and over again as if he’d done this thousand times before.
“Fuck, yes!” You basically scream, your body falling backward, only his strong hands holding you up as he speeds up once more.
“God, shit, how are you so tight, baby?” He moves to kiss your neck, licks over the salty skin, revels in your taste, in the way you shiver under his touch. You wanna scream and cry and mark his body with your mouth and nails - and so you begin to pull on the hem of his shirt, which he gladly helps you to take off completely.
He’s built like a god. Wide shoulders, bulked up arms, abs like they were painted on. You let your nails drag over his torso, finally sliding them to his strong, muscular back. When he pushes into you even more, his lips not getting enough of your own, you dig into his flesh and hear him hiss. Still, he doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes even harder. Fucks you til you scream his name while experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life, milking his cock of all he had, cum filling your pussy to the brim.
After that it spirals.
He fucks you every chance he gets. He is addicted to you and your pussy. Whenever he needs you, he gets to have you.
He bends you over his desk during work hours, drilling into your pussy like a mad man while pressing his hand over your mouth to make sure no one notices. He comes inside you and stuffs it all back in there with his fingers, pulls your panties back up and sends you out to continue your work day as before.
When lunch time comes around, you meet him in the building’s cafeteria and he drags you to the nearest supply closet to fuck your mouth and then your cunt, telling you what a good little slut you are and how well you always take him.
He sends you pictures of his hard cock after work, begging you to come to his place and bounce on him - but you never do. It’s a game for both of you. No fucking outside of work, no dates or anything like that. He gets to keep fucking you and you get to keep your job - easy as that.
Just that
 you’re not really bad at your job. Seokmin is slow to figure that one out, you realize.
When your seventh month at the company begins, he is so focused on getting his cock inside of you, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped handing off your assignments to your colleagues. You’ve actually grown quite fond of this job and the team - and Seokmin for that matter. Not that you want to admit that to him, or confess that you’ve been playing this part of the dumb girl with the slutty outfits simply to get his attention.
“I love when you get to the office with no panties on, gods, you’re a dirty little whore.” Seokmin’s hands are on your ass while you bounce on his cock. He’s sitting on his desk chair, admiring the view of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock. His dirty words make your pussy flutter around him and you whimper, your hands braced on his shoulders.
“Mhmm, only a whore for you, Mr. Lee,” you moan, biting down on your lip. There is no chance you’ll ever grow tired of seeing the way he looks at you when you fuck. His hooded eyes, his red lips dropped open. His cheeks flushed and his hair a mess.
You enjoy being on top, enjoy watching him watch you, setting your own pace until he can’t hold back any longer and wraps his arm around your waist, pushing you down so he can fuck into you at his desired speed.
“That’s right, you’re my whore, your pussy belongs only to me.” He squeezes your ass cheeks and moans when you clench around him again, thrusting his hips up once. You can tell he’s about to lose control, about to hold you down and fuck you senseless. There is nothing quite as hot as Seokmin losing his composure.
Just two days ago, you teased him by being flirty with Soonyoung all day. Seokmin had not thought of himself as possessive, but somehow when it came to you

Safe to say, he fucked you against his office door two minutes after your last encounter with Soonyoung, simply shoving up your skirt and ripping off your panties, his cock deeply buried inside of you the next second. He fucked you so hard you couldn’t properly walk even the day after.
“Yes, Mr. Lee, my pussy belongs to you, I am yours, Sir.”
You bounce on his cock quicker now, throwing your head back when his hands move to your breasts, taking them both into his hands and cradling them. His fingers press onto your nipples, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and teasing you. With every touch of his, you feel yourself nearing your high.
“You’re so beautiful, always so good for me, isn’t that right?” He breathes out, licking his lips as his eyes are glued to the way your tits look between his hands.
He fucked them a few days ago, your tits. Had you kneeling between his legs, squeezing them together as he fucked his cock between them with the lube he now stored in his bottom drawer. They had felt amazing around him, but nothing compared to your cunt, to its warmth, to its tightness.
“Oh- oh! I’m- I’m gonna come, Mr. Lee! Please, can I come?!” Your orgasm is so close, is ready to crash down on you and when Seokmin moaned out a yes, you let it happen. Waves and waves of pleasure erupt in your body and make you fall forward against his chest, his hips now beginning to thrust up, his moans turning more and more desperate.
“Good girl, such a good girl, fuck- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up with my cum, breed you like my own personal whore, hm?”
Your nails dig into his skin desperately as he fucks you fast and hard, his right arm now around your waist, pressing you down while he uses you for his pleasure, crying out your name when he comes - white hot cum landing inside your spent pussy, painting it the colours of his affection for you.
Seokmin fucks both of you through your orgasms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your lips passionately when his hips still. You kiss him back, arms wrapping around his neck, your high still present in your bones.
“You’re perfect,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips and you smile, kissing him again, fingers brushing through his hair.
For a while, you make-out just like that, him still safely buried inside of you, some bits of your combined releases dripping down onto his chair.
Only when Seokmin’s phone rings do the two of you part. You give his cheek a small kiss before climbing off his lap and looking for your underwear, all while you put your dress back into its place. Your boss watches you, wishes he could just do this all over again instead of answering his phone. Reluctantly, he takes the call and watches how you wave at him, panties back on and clothes and shoes back where they belong. He waves back, greeting the business partner on the other line.
And when you leave his office and close the door behind you, when none of your co-workers even pay you any mind, you realize that maybe you like to keep it this way for just a little while longer.
693 notes · View notes
shadesoflsk · 10 months ago
Text
THE OLD WAY
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pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader
summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.
warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.
word count: 4k
author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)
MY MASTERLIST
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City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.
That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.
With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.
Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day. 
But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.
Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance. 
So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day. 
“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came. 
You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever. 
He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception. 
He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him. 
However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.
And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was. 
For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright
 Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.
Oh.
Oh

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch. 
He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.
However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you? 
On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind. 
He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.
He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was. 
Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.
“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.
“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?” 
“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”
He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it. 
“Mhm
 I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty. 
The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.
“You think so?” 
“Absolutely.”
Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.
“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”
Leon didn’t think he would get this far. 
“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.
“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!” 
Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s. 
“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.
“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.
-
Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.
Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water. 
“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants. 
“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks. 
And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.
When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have. 
“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body. 
“Maybe
” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love. 
For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body. 
A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.
With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.
For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.
He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.
Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.
Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.
“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”
And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.
“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”
His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.
“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for. 
“Mhm
 please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you. 
Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.
And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already. 
As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.
Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul. 
He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper. 
“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you. 
A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.
You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.
Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.
At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release. 
“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling. 
At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment. 
For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control. 
You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection. 
“Leon
 I can’t
.” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy. 
“You can
” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”
He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck. 
“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.
In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air. 
“Fuck
” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you. 
“My pretty wife
” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.
He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.
“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly. 
“Mhm
yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know. 
The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra. 
And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy. 
“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us
”
And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.
“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.
“You know what I mean
” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”
Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.
“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you. 
“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.” 
Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb. 
It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body. 
He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to. 
“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum
” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest.  “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.” 
He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.
“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you. 
His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.
“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”
Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.
And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.
“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.
The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste. 
You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs. 
After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach. 
Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.
“Hey
” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle. 
“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”
“Yeah
” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.
With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles. 
“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright. 
“More than okay.” 
He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.
“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.
“Nothing
” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that
 I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”
“Shut up, Leon.”
You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.
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💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.
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asahicore · 1 year ago
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bad news first - sjy (m)
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this work contains smut - minors please do not interact pairing. jake x fem!reader synopsis. From the moment you'd met at eight to the day he moved to South Korea at fourteen, you and Jake were inseparable. But after years of being apart, you've come to terms with the fact that at twenty, you and Jake just aren't what you used to be. That is until you get a text from him, and all of a sudden, he's back by your side, doing his year abroad at the university you study at, and all your feelings for him float back up to the surface. genre. college au, childhood friends to ???? to lovers, painful mutual pining, one bed trope..... a sprinkle of angst (my hand slipped) but mostly fluff i promise and smut (mdni!!!), also i made sunghoon really weird in this and idkw, this is set in scotland.. edinburgh uni rep!! word count. 23k author's note. everybody say happy belated birthday to @zreamy.. happy belated birthday zo!!! being 22 years and 6 days old is cooler than just 22 years old anyway.. hope you like it bestie... if you dont... well theres a building on campus thats 17 stories high sooo.. enjoy! i hope everyone else enjoys too, since this is a bday fic for zo she couldnt beta read so i had to raw dog this so if its terrible.. not my fault! lmk what u think!! i also made a playlist for this, do listen along!!
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“Alright kids, good news or bad news first?”
You looked at your teacher, then at the boy next to you, then back at your teacher. “Bad news first,” you said in unison.
You were only eight, but you were both wise enough to know that hearing good news second would assuage the blow of whatever these bad news were. Miss Dawson sighed as she crouched in front of you. “The bad news is your bus driver is on strike and won’t be coming. The good news is that your parents have been informed and are coming to pick you up soon.”
Following her instructions, you headed to the gymnasium and sat there silently among the other kids. Not many kids in your class rode the bus home, and the ones who did seemed to have drivers not on strike, so it was just the two of you. You were used to that, though - over January and February, you had made a sort of silent pact to stand and wait for the bus together. You sometimes shared snacks, but you never spoke. For some reason, you felt at ease with this boy, even though you didn’t know much about him. You had heard he had moved to Brisbane just at the start of this year, all the way from South Korea. You were pretty sure his name was Jake.
You handed him one of your Twix bars. Then he spoke. “I thought a strike was when you did really well in bowling.”
“Same,” you replied, mouth full of chocolate and caramel. “I’m not sure why that would keep the bus driver from picking us up.”
Jake looked at you with wide eyes, distress clear in them. “Do you think he went bowling instead of picking us up?”
This made you frown. “That’d be really rude.”
“It would. I always make sure to go bowling on the weekends, ‘cause if I missed school that’d be rude to Miss Dawson.”
You nodded your head in fervent agreement. “For sure.”
That weekend, his mum called your mum to ask if you wanted to go to the bowling alley with them. From then on, for the next six years, you were stuck together by glue. 
--
Twelve years later, Jake’s name appearing on your phone screen has become such a rare sight, you don’t believe it right away. It takes you a few seconds of intense squinting at the letters to actually realise your eyes aren’t deceiving you.
jake.sim15 hey y/n!! you go to edinburgh uni right?
You type and delete three different responses before settling for a simple yeah, I am! what’s up?, hoping you sounded nonchalant even though you very much felt chalant. You thought that whatever you sent wouldn’t be as weird as taking forever to answer such a straightforward question. 
As you wait for Jake’s reply, you scroll through your previous shared messages, noting with sadness that for three years in a row, the only instances you’d texted were to wish each other a happy birthday or when he reacted with a fire emoji to Stories of your dog, Milo. Before that, your last conversation was to congratulate each other about getting into your top choice universities and to discuss plans for your respective futures.
Futures that used to include each other, you think. His reply appears at the bottom of your screen before melancholy can fill your heart.
jake.sim15 i applied to go there for my year abroad next year annnnd i got in !! heh
You shoot up straight from your seat on the lounge chaise you’d been sunbathing on, a loud “Oh my God!” involuntarily escaping your mouth. 
“What? What happened? Is everything okay?” Chaewon asks frantically, rushing over to your side. “Oh,” she says when she sees your phone. “It’s a text
 from a boy?” 
This makes Yunjin, previously unbothered by your panic, rise from her seat and take off her sunglasses. “A boy? Show me,” she demands, snatching your phone from your hands before you can protest. Upon seeing the texts on your screen, she lets out a loud gasp. “It’s not just any boy! It’s the one and only Jake Sim himself.”
“Give that back!” you plead, hand reaching for your phone, but Yunjin is already walking away.
“And he’s coming to Edi this September, apparently. He says he’s sorry for not saying anything earlier, but he was waiting for an answer up until now.” She scoffs. “Leave it to our uni to tell someone they’re in less than two months before term starts. Oh, you’re the first person he’s told, Y/N! After his parents. How cute,” she coos, protesting when you snatch your phone back from her. “Hey! I was reading that.”
“Those are my texts, Yunjin. I’m the one who’s meant to read them.”
She shrugs. “You would’ve told us anyway.”
“What are you going to reply?” Chaewon asks. With the both of them hovering over your shoulders and watching as you type a response, a sort of stage fright comes over you, making you send what might be the most unoriginal reply known to man.
“Awesome? Seriously, Y/N?” Yunjin reads, disproportionately disgusted with you.
“That’s a lot of exclamation marks. It almost makes it look like you don’t mean it,” Chaewon says.
“I do mean it!”
“Well, he seems to like it. A smiling-with-teeth emoji is a good sign, right?” she asks in an attempt to make you feel better.
“He has automatic caps off. That man is run-through,” Yunjin says, shaking her head as she walks back to her sunbed.
“You were excited about him texting me just a second ago,” you reproach.
“Yeah, before I found out he was a whore.”
“Yunjin, you know we don't slut-shame here!” Chaewon exclaims. Before Yunjin can say anything even worse in response, your phone starts ringing, and Jake’s name appears on your screen. “He’s calling you?” Chaewon gasps, making Yunjin sit up with a start for the second time in less than five minutes.
“This man is insane,” she remarks with all the seriousness in the world.
You run away from your friends, finding refuge in the outside kitchen area out of earshot. They don’t need to hear your conversation with Jake. You love them, but they can be weirdly unsupportive in moments like these.
“Hey, Jake,” you greet, hoping he doesn’t notice the breathlessness in your voice. It was because you had just ran, of course - you didn’t want him to think you were so nervous about talking to him after such a long time, you could barely breathe. Because you weren’t. At all.
“Hey, Y/N!” he replies, and the excitement in his voice makes your heart melt. “I hope it’s not weird that I called, I just thought it’d be nicer than texting, is that okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s nice to hear your voice,” you say before you can really think about it, and cringe at your own words. Years without talking and the world’s worst line is the first thing you say to Jake. Thankfully, before you start excruciating yourself, a chuckle pours out of Jake’s throat and blesses your ears.
“It’s nice to hear your voice, too. What are you up to?” 
“Oh, I’m on vacation with my friends. One of them has a rich aunt who owns a villa in southern Italy, so we’re just chilling by the pool right now.” 
“You always wanted to go to Italy! That sounds so nice,” he says. Your breath catches gently in your throat - he remembers, you note.
“Yeah, it really is. What about you, how are you spending the summer?”
Jake tells you about the local bookstore owned by a grandpa that’s always had a soft spot for him and that gave him a part-time job for the summer. “I’m trying to save up as much money as I can before I leave. If I treat you to a meal, will you show me around the city?” he asks, and you can hear the grin in his voice. It makes you realise how much you’ve actually missed him.
“You don’t need to treat me to a meal, I’ll show you around anyway.” 
Still, he insists, and you find yourself giving in quickly - because it’s Jake or because free food is on the table, you’re not sure. Probably both. 
You and Jake get to talking, but fitting years and years of catching up into one conversation is an impossible task, and before you know it, when you check your phone, you’ve been talking for over an hour. Yunjin is angrily waving at you, pointing at her stomach to indicate hunger like a caveman who’s just learned how to communicate. You apologise to Jake, telling him you have to go, and plan to meet during fresher’s week before you hang up.
A few hours later, you get a text from him saying it was nice talking to you and jokingly asking whether Yunjin was satisfied with lunch. It’s innocuous, but it opens a gate for more texting, which leads to long, rambling voice messages, which leads to late-night phone calls that remind you of when you were fifteen and still kept in touch. When August fades into September, you feel like you’ve got your best friend back. 
You remember why you were so in love with him at fourteen.
--
You see Jake before he sees you.  
Among the throngs of people, you manage to spot the dark, messy flop of hair on his head weighed down by a nice pair of wireless headphones. After a thirteen-hour flight from Seoul, a four-hour layover in Frankfurt and a final, two-hour flight to Edinburgh, he looks rightfully exhausted, using what looks like the last of his energy to spot the exit and the airport bus stop. Even wearing a simple denim jacket, white tee and grey sweatpants, he’s so gorgeous you forget what you came here for, until he almost walks right past you without seeing you. You put yourself in his path and hold your hand-written banner up, making yourself as obvious as you can as you call out his name. 
When he sees you, he stops dead in his tracks for a second, someone almost running into him before he remembers the crowd behind him. His tired features break out into a bright smile that has your heartbeat speeding up so much, you think it might run out of your chest. 
He had told you not to come, that it would be late for you and he didn’t want to bother you, but you had managed to get the information of his arrival before he forbade you from picking him up so you did it anyway, wanting to surprise him. After years of being apart, rather than waiting another day, you wanted to see him as soon as possible.
Jake briskly makes his way to you, dropping his bags next to him on the floor as he engulfs you in a hug, warm and tight as if he’s trying to make up for all those years. You hug him back as if someone would appear out of thin air and take him away from you again.
“This was the longest day of my life, I’m so happy to see you,” he says when he pulls away, and you’re so happy you can’t even say anything back, resorting to giggling and lightly swatting non-existent dust off of his shoulders. 
As you wait for the bus, he tells you about every trivial thing that happened to him on his trip, from how expensive a sandwich is at the airport to the German kid sitting in front of him that kept turning around to stare at him on his second flight.
“How did you know he was German?” you ask, amused.
Jake pauses. “Just vibes.”
Conversation on the bus is slightly disjointed as you jump from topic to topic with random pauses here and there before one of you finds something to talk about - but it’s okay, you hadn’t expected for the two of you to be as easy as before. It’s more awe at seeing each other after such a long time than awkwardness. Even though you’d caught up over summer, there was a world of difference between speaking on the phone and actually sitting next to him. You notice things like the shine of his hair, the creases that form on the sides of his lips when he smiles, or, unfortunately for you, the veins that run along his forearms and hands - things you hadn’t noticed previously thanks to the sometimes questionable quality of the front camera of his phone. Once in a while, your thigh brushes against his, and it reminds you that he’s really here. Even that he’s real, at all. 
In a tragic turn of events, Jake lives in the student accommodation you used to live in in first year, and coming back to it two years later is slightly traumatising. His three-person flat is in a different building as your old one, and you marvel at how it somehow still smells the same - like dusty, decade-old carpeting and the permanent stench of students’ dubitable cooking. He’s the first one to move in, which makes the place slightly eerie, but it means that you’re not bothering anyone by unpacking Jake’s stuff and cooking Shin Ramyun the previous tenants had left behind at 11pm. 
Your late dinner was meant for you to take a small break, watch a couple episodes of Friends which Jake had been shocked to learn you’d never watched, and you had been shocked to learn he was a die-hard fan of (since one year ago), then get back to unpacking. But the ramen sends an already exhausted Jake into a food coma so intense, he falls asleep on your shoulder five minutes into the second episode. 
You let him sleep as long as he needs, turning the volume down on his laptop and stifling your chuckles as much as you can. You feel like a cat has fallen asleep in your lap - you are now obliged by law to stay still until Jake wakes up. It’s not until an hour later that Jake’s uncomfortable sleeping position forces him awake, lifting his head off of your shoulder with a grunt. He looks around himself, at his room that’s not quite familiar to him yet, then at you, eyes still scrunched with sleepiness as a grin blooms onto his lips.
“Sorry,” clearing his throat of its grogginess. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost one a.m,” you reply, and his eyes go wide.
“You should’ve woken me up! Does your shoulder hurt?” he asks, much more alarmed than he should be, and it makes you laugh.
“It’s all good. But now that you’re awake, I should probably head home.” 
“I’ll get you an Uber,” he says, already pulling out his phone. 
“It’s fine, Jake, my place is a ten-minute walk from here. I live just up the road.”
Jake’s fingers on his phone pause as he looks up at you. “Then I’ll walk you home.” He lifts a finger in warning when he sees you start to protest. “And don’t fight me on this. You did so much today, it’s the least I can do.”
As much as you love the idea of spending more time with Jake, even if it’s just ten minutes, you still don’t want to bother him when you know how tired he is. “It’s really safe around here. I can just text you when I’m home, if you’re worried about me getting kidnapped or something,” you say, taking his jacket from his hands and placing it back on his desk chair.
He grabs it back, putting it on before you can take it from him again, and rummages through one of his suitcases for a black, woolly scarf. Neither of you speaks as he wraps it tight around your neck, even though the early September weather isn’t cold enough to warrant it. His hands stop briefly on the scarf and a small smile spreads on his lips. You hope he doesn’t hear your sharp intake of breath when your eyes meet. “It’s not about that,” he says simply, voice low and unlike you’ve ever heard it before. You don’t think his voice had quite finished cracking when he’d moved away back then. 
Suddenly, he steps away, grabs his keys, and heads for the door. “Let’s go!” he says, voice back to its usual cheery tone. You don’t find it in you to question him, so you just follow him out, welcoming the night breeze that cools down your burning cheeks with open arms. 
The walk to your place is mostly done in comfortable silence, but it still goes by too quickly for your liking. You keep your hands in your pockets to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like reaching out for Jake’s hand that swishes back-and-forth as he walks. Instead, you bury your nose in his scarf and relish in the unfamiliar but comforting smell that his cologne has left behind on the fabric. You hug goodbye when you reach your flat, and you have to remind yourself to let go. He insists on you keeping the scarf. “My mum packed me, like, three, so you can have that one.” 
“Your mum still pack your things for you, does she?” you ask, tone playful.
“No-” he says, voice slightly whiny, before he realises you’re just teasing him. “Whatever,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You hope the streetlights aren’t bright enough for him to notice the flustered look on your face. The both of you stand there awkwardly for a second, before he lets out another chuckle. “Right. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you beam.
“Okay,” he says, but still doesn’t make a move to leave. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be off then.” He gives you one last smile then turns around, burying his hands in his pockets, and you watch as he walks away.
“Get home safe,” you call out after a few seconds. 
He pivots on his heels, and, with a wave of his hand, says, “I will! Go inside.”
“Good night!”
“Night, Y/N!”
When you walk into your living room, Yunjin is sitting on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, gaze trained on the wall opposite her, one lamp lighting the otherwise completely dark room. She looks like a detective in one of those bad cop shows.
“Gosh, what’s all this for?”
“You’re back awfully late,” she says, neither looking at you nor answering your question.
“Yeah, I was with Jake,” you shrug, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. She abruptly gets up from her seat, following you into the other room and staying close behind you.
“And?” she demands, mouth way too close to your ear and making you start.
“And what?” you ask. 
“What do you mean and what?!” she says, clearly agitated. “I want to know everything!”
“There’s nothing to say, really. He seemed happy I picked him up from the airport, then I helped him unpack. He lives in Riego, by the way.”
“Ew.”
“I know, it was awful going back there.”
The two of you stare at each other as you drink your water. “Well?” she asks.
“What?”
“Is that it?”
You fill your glass again to take it into your bedroom. “I don’t know, we just ate and watched Friends.”
“You hate shows with laughing tracks,” she states like it’s an accusation.
“It wasn’t actually that bad,” you reply, shrugging.
She tuts. “Love will do ugly, ugly things to a person.”
“You’ve been in a loving relationship for the past two years.”
“This isn’t about me. Can we talk about how you’re still in love with the same loser from when you were ten?”
“I was fourteen, and don’t call Jake a loser when you haven’t even met him.” You ignore the roll of her eyes. “And I’m not. Not anymore. I’m just happy to have my friend back.” Yunjin gives you a look. “Okay, maybe I’m still a little bit in love with him. But it’s so little, it’s barely there.” Her expression is unchangingly unimpressed and you can’t help but throw in the towel. “Alright, fine. I still love him, what about it?”
“You’re pathetic.”
“I know that, no need to remind me.”
“Are you gonna do something about it?”
“My patheticness? I’ve tried, didn’t really work.”
“No, idiot, about Jake. You should go and get him! It’d be so sexy if you got together as 20-somethings after knowing each other since you were babies.”
“We were eight when we met. And I don’t know if sexy is the word I’d use here.”
“Anything is sexy if you try hard enough,” she says, and you have to laugh. “Anyways, you should confess your undying love and tell him you’ve felt that way since you met.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Guys might not show it, but they probably get all hot for stuff like that. Boosts their ego and shit.”
“Yunjin, I just got my friend back, I’m not gonna risk it. Plus, who knows, I might not actually be in love with him. It might just be my emotions acting up, like, seeing someone I used to like after a while. We’ve both changed so much, once I get to know him more now, I might not even feel the way I used to.”
“Notice how you’ve used the word might twice in ten seconds? You’re just trying to find excuses.”
You groan. “This is why I hate English Lit people.”
“You do English Lit.”
“I know, and I’m the only nice person that does it.” In your head, you add and Jake, but saying it out loud would only make this conversation worse for you.
“What’s that scarf, by the way? Did he give you that?”
You look down at the scarf like it’s a piece of incriminating evidence. “Can you stop grilling me, please? It’s late.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
You sighed deeply. “Fine. Yes, he gave me-”
“It’s not even that cold outside!” she exclaimed in an outrage. “Don’t tell me he also walked you home?”
You pause. “He did.”
She gasped. “He walked you home because he’s in love with you.”
“He walked me home because he’s a good friend that looks after me.”
“He walked you home because he realised how hot you’ve gotten and he wants some of that.”
All you can do is sigh. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
“If you weren’t such a coward, you wouldn’t be going to bed alone.”
“Whatever!” you say, shutting the door behind you, shaking that preposterous conversation out of your head. When you get into bed, it takes you at least half-an-hour before you can settle down, but you know your constant tossing and turning isn’t due to your inability to find a comfortable enough position to sleep in. Between your evening with Jake and Yunjin’s pestering, thoughts run wild and incoherent through your head. 
You want to tell her every little thing that happened with Jake tonight, but you’re afraid it might do you more harm than good. She is most definitely the type of friend who will take the smallest action a guy did for you or the most meaningless thing he might have said and turn it into a sign that he has the hots for you, which usually does wonders for your confidence, but right now, you don’t need that kind of delusion. Did seeing your childhood best friend you used to secretly harbour feelings for make you feel some type of way? Of course, but that doesn’t mean you still love him after all this time, after six years of being apart, the majority of those years spent with no contact. It wasn’t like you parted ways with resentment, or anything of that sort, far from it; rather, you drifted apart naturally, as two teenagers with over 7000 kilometres between them would. At first, you’d call frequently and even write each other letters - but as you became more preoccupied with school, friends, and extracurriculars, your phones gradually rang less and your mailboxes became gradually emptier. You don’t even remember who sent the last, unanswered letter. 
Tonight isn’t the first time you replay the moment Jake announced that he would go away, but it’s the first time it’s a bittersweet memory. It used to only be bitter - but now that you’ve reconnected, you can look back at it with fondness, wishing you could tell fourteen-year-old you the hurt would only last so long. 
It hadn’t started unusually.
“So, bad news first, right?”
In your six years of friendship with Jake, this had been the first time you’d really been wary of what he would say next. The look on his face told you that this bad news wouldn’t be as easy to shake off as usual. Your definition of bad news was things like I got grounded so I can’t hang out, I forgot we had a test tomorrow so I can’t hang out, my allergies are acting up again so I can’t hang out.
“I’m moving to Korea next month.”
I’m on another continent, so I can’t hang out.
You remember the words not quite making sense at the time. “Oh? How long are you staying there?” you said, taking a bite of your strawberry ice cream which Jake had insisted on paying for, even though you knew he didn’t get much allowance.
“Forever.”
You stopped chewing, and the ice cream melted uncomfortably in your mouth. You don’t know how long you stayed there, frozen as you stared at your best friend in disbelief. It wasn’t until he lightly shoved your shoulder, only meeting your eyes for a split second, that you remembered to swallow and to say something.
“Forever as in
 You won’t live here anymore? At all?”
Jake shook his head. He kept his eyes trained on the vanilla-chocolate ice cream sandwich he’d left in its wrapper. In the blazing hot Brisbane summer, it had probably fully melted two minutes ago. “At all.”
“Oh,” was all you found yourself able to say. For some reason, you hoped that continuing to eat your ice cream would stop you from crying, but to no avail. Hot, salty tears quickly started raining down your cheeks, mixing with the sweetness of your ice cream when they reached your lips. 
“It’s my dad’s work. Same reason why I moved here when we were kids in the first place. They wanted him here then, they want him back there now. We just have to follow,” Jake explained, sounding just as upset as you felt.
“Right.”
“Are you mad at me?” Jake asked, worry clear in his voice, and finally turned to face you. At the sight of you crying, he let out a small oh, tears of his own pooling in his eyes.
You frowned. “Of course not. I’m never mad at you, you know that. I just
 You’re my best friend, Jakey. It’s gonna be so lame around here without you.”
“It’ll be lame there without you, too.”
You attempted a smile. “Well, of course. But at least you’ll get to make new friends, see new places. You’ll be in a whole other country, I’m sure you’ll have fun there. I’m gonna be stuck in boring old Brisbane for the foreseeable future.”
“Do you know how offended our friends would be if they heard you speaking right now?” he asked, nudging your shoulder with his.
You sniffled and let out a chuckle. “They’re all great, but
 I don’t like them nearly as much as I like you,” you said, staring down at your hands, hoping he wouldn’t realise exactly what you meant by that statement.
A weight was lifted off of your shoulders when Jake answered. “I like you the most too, Y/N.” You tried not to think too much about whether he’d meant it platonically or romantically - none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was the feeling of his arms around you, his warmth enveloping your whole body, his familiar scent that you already missed. 
You felt him take a deep breath against you before he pulled away. He sniffled and did his best to put on a smile. “Right, enough of that. I’m not leaving until next month, so don’t think you’re rid of me just yet,” he joked, and it helped alleviate the weight on your heart, even if just a little. “You said you had something to tell me? Good news after bad news, and all that.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot about that.”
You thought for a second. Today was the day you had planned to confess your feelings to Jake - you’d only told him you had good news to share. But what was the point now that he was leaving? If he felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if he didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.
Jake tilted his head, waiting for you to speak. In a split second, you made yourself forget your disappointment over having built the courage to tell him how you felt only for it all to fall through, and resolved to make the most of Jake’s last month here. You wiped your tears and mirrored his small smile as best you could. “Um, it wasn’t anything much. My mum made those cowboy cookies you like.”
Jake’s head fell back as he groaned in anticipation. “If she wasn’t happily married with three kids, I’d marry your mum. Let’s go right now.”
You laughed. “There’d be a bit of an age gap there.”
“We’d make it work,” Jake joked, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you walked towards your house. He beamed down at you, his bright, boyish smile that you loved to bits, and you beamed up at him as you grabbed the hand that hung off your shoulder in your own.
You walked as happily as you could. “Do you even speak Korean?” you suddenly asked.
Jake halted abruptly in his steps, a gravely offended look on his face. When you looked back at him in confusion, he rolled his eyes and started walking again, pulling you with him. “It’s literally my mother tongue, Y/N. I speak it every day at home.”
“Oh, right.”
At the time, you thought nothing could come between you and Jake. Not anyone, not anything, neither distance nor time. But they did. A week after he’d left, a boy from your class you’d talked to maybe once or twice asked you out on a date. You weren’t sure why, but you said yes. Then you said yes to being his girlfriend, even though you didn’t like him all that much, and you even said yes to reducing your texting with Jake because it made him jealous. When you’d broken up with him and wanted to catch up with Jake and apologise for your absence, you’d found that his new school in Seoul was a lot more demanding than yours in Brisbane, and he had to spend most of his evenings in academies if he wanted to get into a nice university. It’s when you learned that he’d be staying in South Korea for college that you decided to leave Australia too. Brisbane was a lot less fun without him there - why bother staying? You couldn’t go to him because of the language barrier and the cost of university there. If you were to essentially uproot your life, might as well go somewhere you could get a scholarship and understand the people around you. 
It seemed insane that someone you had thought would be by your side for the rest of your life, someone that was part of your most cherished memories, had been reduced to someone you casually texted once in a while. It seems even more insane that now that you’re finally done essentially grieving your friendship with Jake, he stands in front of you again, six inches taller but still donning those puppy-like eyes and smile of his.
For your sake, you just hoped you wouldn’t be as in love with him at twenty as you were at fourteen.
--
The next day, you show Jake around campus, which wouldn’t normally take more than ten minutes, but takes double that time because of the sheer amount of people there. Between the Societies Fair taking up most of the square, the tour guides leading freshers, walking slowly and taking in their new campus, and the pizza and drinks stands, freshers’ week always turns campus into what feels like the busiest place on Earth. You try not to let it hit a nerve for Jake’s sake, who’s clearly ecstatic at all the activity, but you like this place a lot more when it’s quieter. You walk through the Fair, laughing as Jake marvels at all the different clubs and societies at the Uni. 
“Gardening Society? Dungeons & Dragons Society? Wine society?” he exclaims, astonishment growing with every passing stand.
“And this is only the first day. They also have a Taylor Swift Society.” He grabs a flyer from about every society, even though you know he’ll join between two to zero of them. 
When you walk out, there’s a girl handing out samples of shampoo and conditioner, and you let her give you one, more out of politeness than anything. 
“These are so useless,” you start, and Jake chuckles, unaware of the incoming rant. “I had that job of distributing them last year, and we would get a tip if we gave them all out. So naturally I put a bunch in my bag, but then I had to use them for like two weeks.” You sigh. “First of all, my hair did not like it. And second, the ratio is so off. There’s way more conditioner than shampoo when it should be the other way around, so you have to condition your hair even though it’s not properly clean. So stupid.”
“Sounds terrible,” Jake says, laughing. “Is that why you’re not doing it this year?”
“Oh
 Not really. I dated the guy that takes care of this promo stuff, so it would’ve been kinda awkward
” you trail, immediately wishing you could backtrack on conversation. Talking about your ex with Jake wasn’t on your to-do list for today. Or ever.
“You dated your boss?”
“The manager, yeah, I guess. He was only 24, though, don’t worry.”
“I’m more worried about the power imbalance than the age gap there.”
You shrug, looking down at your shoes. “It’s not like he was that high up.”
“So, what happened? Why did you break up?”
“Well, he acted like our four-year age difference meant he could treat me like a little kid. It was nice being taken care of at first but then I realised how condescending he was and dumped him.”
“How long were you together?”
You pause. “Two weeks,” you admit abashedly, making Jake chuckle. “At least he didn’t waste my time and showed his red flags early on.”
“Any boyfriends since?” he asks, and you wonder whether you’re making up the unsure tone of his voice. As if he’s curious, but doesn’t want to show it too much. You hope you’re not making it up.
“A few, but they never last very long with me,” you say, a meek smile on your lips. “Furthest I got was three months.”
“And why didn’t it work out with three-months-guy?”
“He started comparing me to his mum a bit too often.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, I ran out of there without looking back.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you’ve got high standards. I would hate to see you date just any loser.”
You want to say, High standards or issues?, but you don’t want to make it weird, so you play it cool instead. “I would never. I have a mental checklist with everything a guy needs to have for me to date him.”
“A checklist? I have to hear about this.”
You sigh, debating whether you should tell him about it. Would he notice it’s based on him? Would he notice the only person that could tick practically every box was none other than him? Jake gently elbows your side, goading you on. When you look at him, he’s got a shit-eating grin playing on his lips, and you give in. You look off into the distance as you start listing your requirements. “Well, there’s all your basics like funny, taller than me but not too much, ‘cause I don’t want neck cramps, smart, takes uni seriously, has plans for his future, easy to talk to, not emotionally stunted and can actually have a vulnerable conversation. It’s also a bonus if he has a nice face.”
“How much of a bonus?”
You think for a second. “It’s more a dealbreaker than a bonus, actually. Nice smile is a must, definitely.”
“Okay. Got any more specifics?”
“I do have some particular ones. It’s nice if he’s a reader, but it’s terrible if it makes him think he’s better than everyone or if he tries to sound smarter than me. I like it if he has experience, I don’t want to have to teach him everything. But obviously I don’t want him to still be in love with his ex. Guys and their first loves, I swear
 I also don’t really like picky eaters.” You look over at Jake and take a double-take. He’s typing away on his phone, but because of his privacy screen protector, you can’t see anything. You huff. “I also don’t like it if he has those protective screens on his phone. What’s on there that’s so important that I can’t take a peek? What are you even doing?”
The sweet sound of Jake’s giggles erases any trace of annoyance that you felt seconds ago. He turns his screen towards you, showing the list of mostly ticked boxes that he’s written up. “See? I check most of these,” he says with a proud smile. “Guess your standards aren’t that high.” You don’t tell him that your standards are high, he’s just that amazing. 
You do your best to look only amused at this even though inside, you’re all but freaking out. “Which are you missing?”
“Well, I clearly own a privacy screen. And I don’t have much experience. Not nearly as much as you, by the sounds of it,” he admits, somewhat sheepish. “But other than that, I’m practically the perfect man for you.” He looks down at you with a smile so bright, it makes you wish you had brought sunglasses. It takes everything in you not to scream right then and there. Yes, Jake, you are the perfect man for me, but I wish you wouldn’t say it like it was a joke.
You let out a stiff chuckle, and, rather than saying something stupid and possibly damaging, shift the conversation to him. “What do you mean by not much experience? Have you not dated anyone?”
Jake sighs. “Nope, not anyone. I went on a few dates, you know, went through a few talking stages and all that, but it never went much further. There was always something
” He glances at you then. “Missing.”
“I know that feeling,” you say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, a breathy sound.
“I don’t have a checklist to pinpoint what it is, though.”
You smile. “You should try, it might help.”
“I just
 I guess I’m like you in that I also have high standards. But it made me not even want to give anyone a chance, especially since I knew it wouldn’t end up anywhere.”
“Don’t tell me no one has ever managed to reach the great Jake Sim’s standards?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.
Jake smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course someone has. She’s the whole reason I have standards in the first place. It’s not my standards I compare people to, it’s her.”
Jealousy has never made you feel as sad as it is right now. “And
 it didn’t work out between you?”
Jake looks at you, eyes searching for something in yours but seemingly not finding it, and so he turns his gaze away. You don’t know why you feel so disappointed. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “She didn’t feel the same way.”
Whoever this girl is, you can’t believe how stupid she is for passing up the opportunity to have Jake Sim. “That’s
 It sucks, I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t think spitting on this girl would make him feel any better, so you keep those thoughts to yourself.
“It’s okay,” he says with a small smile. “It was a while ago already.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re quite over it, though,” you say, and you’re surprised but glad to see his smile widen.
“That’s true.” His eyes meet yours again. “I don’t think I’ll be over her anytime soon, either.” You have to look away to shield the pain that flashes through your eyes from him.
Pretending you don’t have feelings for your best friend and that you’re okay with him being in love with someone else is like riding a bike: even after years of not doing it, it only takes a few minutes for you to be able to do it perfectly again. Muscle memory, if you will. So you sigh dramatically and throw your arm around Jake’s shoulder, slightly pulling him down to your level. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have so much fun this year, you’ll completely forget about her. Promise. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. Yeah?” 
He smiles down at you. You want nothing more but that glint of melancholy in his eyes to be gone. “Yeah.”
--
Jake is only half-glad to see you haven’t changed much from your childhood and early teenage years. You’re still just as pretty, just as warm; it’s still as comfortable to be around you. You’re also still as dense.
Then and now, he did everything he could to make his feelings for you very, very obvious. Either you’re completely oblivious, or the idea of dating him is so horrifying to you, you understand but pretend you don’t. He really hopes it’s the former. 
He arrived in Edinburgh just a bit over a week ago, and you’ve seen each other almost every day. Out of those times, there isn’t a single one where he hasn’t tried to send something your way - something that says, hey, what if we stopped being friends and dated instead? Wouldn’t that be cool? Can’t you see how desperately I love you?, but you never latch on. The ball’s in your court, and he wants you to throw it back, but it’s been feeling more like a boomerang that always hits him right in the face when it circles back than a game of catch.
But he’s reminding himself not to be too greedy. Even if it’s just as friends, at least he has you back, so he’s satisfied with that. For now.
His first class of the year is on the following Tuesday morning, a ninety-minute seminar specifically made for exchange students called Discover Scotland. (He has Mondays free, resulting in a three-day weekend, which you and your 9am Monday tutorial are very envious of.) As interesting as the English Lit courses he’s taking seem, it’s this one he’s most looking forward to - except for the one class he shares with you, of course. Not even because of the seminars themselves, which will be about all sorts of topics on Scottish culture and history, but because of the coursework, as crazy as that sounds. It consists of a singular project, not due until the very last day of the semester, in which he has to travel to at least three different places in the country, research its background and provide a detailed account of his experience there. It can take any form: a written report, an in-class presentation, a podcast, anything. He could even film a TikTok if he wanted. Jake knew that being part of the Arts & Crafts club for two years in a row back in Seoul wasn’t for nothing - his scrapbooking skills would finally have their time to shine. 
That afternoon, he practically snatches you as you come out of your lecture, giving you little time to say bye to your friends, and makes you take him to the biggest stationary store you know in the city. If he wants to ace this project, he will need supplies. Many, many supplies. And it’s more fun shopping if you’re with him. You seem happy following him around the store, and when he asks you if you want to come on his trips with him, he can pretend it’s because you seem so excited about his project and not because he had thought of you accompanying him as soon as he heard about it.
As you stand in line at the till, you tell him that if he wants to start his project now, you could go to the beach together. You raise your eyebrows at him when he snaps your head towards you. “There’s a beach here?!”
“Did you not look at a map before coming here?” you ask, amused.
“I guess I didn’t
” he says, distraught at the new information. It only lasts a second, though. “Okay, let’s go now.”
“Now?” you echo, and he nods. “But-” you start, but are interrupted by your thoughts. “I guess there’s no reason not to. The weather’s nice and it’s not like I have any uni work yet. Let’s go,” you agree, looking up at him with a smile. You’re so pretty he almost forgets to look away, until the employee calls Next in a bored drawl. 
An hour later, you’re at the beach, barefoot on the sand and ice cream in hand. Strawberry for you and vanilla for him, he notes with a smile. Really not much has changed, he thinks. From the sand, to the water, to the promenade along the beach, Portobello is worlds away from the beaches back home in Australia, or those of Jeju Island. But it’s still nice, and because you’re with him, it’s even better. You’ve been walking around for an hour, splashing each other with water and mercilessly ruining sandcastles left behind before he realises you technically came here for his project. He writes down things he doesn’t want to forget on his phone and snaps a few pictures, sneaking a few of you when you’re not looking. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are with your hair blowing in the wind and the way the chill bites at your cheeks, but he keeps it a secret between him and his Notes app. 
Even though he lives two stops further down, he gets off from the bus with you, containing his excitement as best he can when you invite him up for a cup of tea. “Depends. What tea do you have?” he asks, trying and failing to play it cool. He’s just grateful he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you.
You roll your eyes playfully as you unlock the front door to your building. “I can make you hot chocolate, Mister Tea-Is-For-Old-People.”
He chuckles. “Actually, I’ll have you know I started drinking tea at uni.” When you turn around to look at him, a surprised look on your face, he nods proudly. “Mh-hm. I got addicted to caffeine very quickly into first year so I started drinking black tea for the sake of my heart,” he explains.
“God,” you say breathily, sounding mildly horrified. “A caffeine addiction sounds intense.”
“It was, yeah,” he says, laughing as he follows you into your flat. 
Yunjin and Chaewon are sitting at the living room table, watching an episode of what he thinks is Gossip Girl, and they greet him as normally as these two can, but he wonders what the knowing look they exchange is all about. He’d met them the previous weekend when you had all gone for drinks together, along with Jay, Yunjin’s boyfriend, and they had all but grilled him on his relationship with you. He hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to your friends feeling protective of you, and truthfully, he was just happy to get to talk about you. But now, he was wondering if you had told them anything about him that made them so curious about him. If you did, he hoped it was something positive.
He stands awkwardly in the kitchen, chatting with you as you boil the water and get cups out, but he can feel their gazes burning the back of his head. Clearly, whatever conversation he’s having with you, he’s also having it with them. “How do you take your tea?” you ask.
“Um, three sugars and lots of milk, please,” he says, smiling innocently when you slowly turn to look at him, a mix of disapproval, disgust, and offence on your face. 
You sigh deeply. “I mean, I’ll do it, but I’m not sure that’s even tea anymore.”
“You’re one to talk, Miss Caramel Frappuccino,” he says, recycling your bad joke from earlier.
“At least I don’t claim to be drinking coffee when I order a frap,” you argue. “And this is how you battled your coffee addiction? You’ll be getting another kind of heart problem, Jakey.” He doesn’t know if you even notice your use of his old nickname - the first time you’ve used it since he’s been here - but you don’t make a big deal of it, so he doesn’t either. Not outwardly, at least. Mentally, he’s running laps around your small kitchen.
Jake laughs it off. “I thought I came here for tea, not a health check-up,” he says, smile growing wider at the sight of yours. 
“Right, sorry,” you say, giggling. “I’ll make your tea just how you like it,” you add in a sweet voice. Jake knows you’re just doing it as a joke, but it still manages to make butterflies erupt in his stomach. 
His tea tastes even sweeter that day.
--
A few days after your impromptu trip to the beach, you’re waiting for Jake outside of his class. He heard of this donut shop he “absolutely needs to visit” and is dragging you along with him - well, “dragging” is a big word considering you’d follow him anywhere. You got here a few minutes early, not needing much of a reason to leave the library, so you scroll through your feed until Jake calls out your name. You’re only mildly surprised to see Jay leaving the classroom behind him.
“Y/N! Can you believe that Jay and I are in the same class?” he says excitedly as the two boys walk toward you. You feel like a dog owner being greeted by their over-enthusiastic dog after a long day (about three hours) of being apart.
“I can believe it, actually. You two do the same degree.”
You exchange quick greetings with Jay before the three of you start heading out. As you walk, Jake throws his arm around your shoulders so casually, it almost throws you off balance. Physical contact always came easy to him, but there’s something about him doing it next to someone else that catches you off guard. It reminds you of walking somewhere with Jay and Yunjin as they discretely held hands. It makes you feel like it’s not the three of you, but Jay with the two of you. Like you and Jake come as a pair rather than as two individuals. 
All of that from a simple arm around your shoulders.
Jake asking you in a very unsubtle whisper whether Jay can come with brings you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Yeah, of course,” you say, smiling. It’s not a bad idea to have Jay along: hanging out with someone else might snap you out of your delusion.
Most of the walk to the shop is done in laughter as Jake and Jay realise how much random stuff they have in common, from their peanut allergies to the embarrassing Harry Potter phase they had as fifteen-year-olds. Grassmarket is really busy on Friday afternoons, and there’s a bit of a queue of other donut-enjoyers in front of the boutique, but you don’t mind. The sun is shining down gently on the square and it gives you time to choose your donut out of the ten or so flavours available. In the end, you go for white chocolate and raspberry, while Jake chooses Biscoff and Jay, tiramisu. 
“My friend Sunghoon would love this,” he says after taking a hearty bite. “He goes crazy over tiramisu. Like a cat with catnip.”
Jake chuckles, mouth full of Biscoff. “That’s funny, I also have a friend named Sunghoon who loves tiramisu back in Seoul.”
Jay punches Jake’s shoulder, eyes wide in amusement and shock. “Bro, that’s crazy. You have to be lying at this point,” he says, but Jake shakes his head fervently. 
“I promise I’m not. I’ve even saved his number with the tiramisu emoji.”
“There’s a tiramisu emoji?” Jay asks, already over questioning the existence of Jake’s Sunghoon.
The conversation circles back to the courses you’re all taking this semester, and Jake tells Jay about Discover Scotland and the trips he’s planned so far. “Well, if you really want to discover Scotland as a student, you need to go on a night out in Glasgow,” Jay says. Going by the look on Jake’s face, Jay’s idea seems to have struck a chord in him.
“Y/N?”
You nod, finishing your mouthful of donut before speaking. “Yeah, Glasgow’s really fun. We should go,” you say, laughing when the two boys high-five in victory. Between the train, the drinks and the club entry, going out isn’t a cheap ordeal, and getting to and fro also takes a while - even so, the smile on Jake’s face makes it worth it. 
He wipes some raspberry jam from the corner of your mouth, shooting you a wink, and you want to disintegrate right then and there, become one with the bench you’re sitting on and never have to face him again. The conversation resumes as Jay tells Jake about all the best places to go out in Glasgow, but you don’t hear a word - the feeling of Jake’s thumb so close to your lips takes away your ability for coherent thought.
“It’s decided, then. We’re going out tomorrow night,” Jay loudly announces. “Let me gather the troops.”
That’s how you find yourself in line for the club the next day, already tipsy from pre-drinking on the train and at the pub. It’s still warm enough for you and the girls to wear as little clothing as you want, but Jake insisted on giving you his flannel jacket anyway. If not for the warmth it brings, you’re glad to have his scent enveloping you.
The five of you work exceptionally well together. You, Chaewon and Yunjin have been a given since you met in first year, and Jay and Yunjin went so well together that he was but a natural addition to your little group. Jake’s only been here for over a week, but it’s like he’s always been around, and you couldn’t be happier about it. Him and Jay hit it off immediately, and although the girls needed some time to warm up to him (it’s not everyday that you meet your friend’s ex-best-friend she’s practically always been in love with; you understand why they might’ve been wary at first), they now tease him just as relentlessly as they do Jay. He takes it like a champ.
For a little while, you watch your friends speaking over each other, bickering over nothing, a smile on your face. Two pints of cider and some of Jay’s fancy vodka have made you more grateful than ever for them - if you drink too much in the club, you’ll be hugging them and crying about how much you love them. You’re not sure what that might look like around Jake, so you decide to keep yourself in check for the night. 
It takes about thirty minutes before you manage to get into the club. It’s not coat check season yet, so you head straight to the bar. “Sunghoon said he’d meet us here,” Jay says, lifting his head to spot his friend in the sea of drunk students. “Oh yeah, there he is! Hoon, hey!” 
You hear a loud “Jongseong!” being shouted from somewhere in the crowd, but you’re not sure who Jay is waving at until a boy whose face is mostly eyebrows is standing - well, standing as best as he can, with the copious amount of alcohol he’s obviously already consumed - in front of you. He gives Jay a hug and the three of you a nod of his head, a lopsided smile on his face. When he turns to Jake, his eyebrows lift first, then his face breaks into a wide grin.
“Jake, my man!” he shouts, taking a stunned Jake’s hand and bringing him into a hug. 
“Sunghoon? What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, chuckling and frowning in confusion. 
“I’m just partying, man! Same as you!”
“No, I mean here in Scotland, you dumbass!”
“You two know each other?” Jay asks, looking back and forth between his two friends.
“Jake’s my man!” Sunghoon exclaims, unhelpful and stumbling as he throws an arm around his man’s shoulders. Jake shoots you a distressed look but you just laugh at him.
“This is Tiramisu Sunghoon I told you about,” Jake says, helping Sunghoon stand up straight.
“God, what I would do for a tiramisu right now,” Sunghoon says, looking at Yunjin like she might relate. She chuckles awkwardly.
“I have no idea what he’s doing in Scotland, though. Hoon, I thought you were going to NYU for your exchange?”
Sunghoon pauses to think for a second, looking like he’s never heard of NYU in his life. “Oh, that! Yeah, I did an online orientation thing and
 it did not go well. Let’s just say there’s someone in New York City who wants me dead,” he says conspiratorially. You all stare at him but he gives no further explanation. On your right, you hear Yunjin whisper what the fuck under her breath. “So I transferred here instead!”
“I didn’t know you were an exchange student,” Jay says, still looking just as confused.
“Yeah, man! But anyways, let’s not talk about uni right now. I’m on a bender, day three, baby! Do not talk to me tomorrow,” he says, chuckling until the smile suddenly drops from his face. “I mean that.” You look around yourself, glad to find everyone is just as baffled as you. “Let’s party!” Sunghoon cheers, intoxicated grin back on his lips. Jake and Jay follow, but you and the girls stay back for a second, taking in everything that has just happened.
“That. Is the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” Chaewon blurts, staring blankly at the spot Sunghoon stood in a second ago.
“Yeah, he also seems to be a raging alcoholic. And he’s what, twenty-one?” Yunjin says, a scowl on her face. 
“I could fix him.”
“Okay, let’s go,” you say, grabbing your friends by their wrists before either of them can say something worse.
Feeling generous, Sunghoon buys shots for all six of you, and you quickly down them before heading to the dancefloor. On your way there, a group of sober-looking girls hand Chaewon a giant, still almost full jug of red liquid, something that costs at least twelve pounds here. They say they’re leaving and don’t need it anymore, smiling as you profusely and astonishedly thank them. You look at your friends, mentally weighing the risk and drugging possibility this might present, but shrug and pass the jug around after taking hearty sips anyway. It tastes so much like fizzy cherries that you wonder if it even contains any alcohol, but sure enough, twenty minutes later, the three of you are spinning around on the dancefloor, screaming the lyrics to your favourite pop songs at the top of your lungs. Jake at a club is a completely foreign sight to you, and you can’t stop laughing at all the silly moves he pulls. 
You’re shaking your whole body to a Nicki song from the early 2010s when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. Before you can turn around and slap whoever this random man is that thinks he can touch you, a familiar voice whispers it’s just me in your ear, and you simultaneously relax and tense up knowing that Jake is standing right behind you. “There’s a creep staring at you,” he explains, lips and breath gently tickling your ear as he speaks. You look around the room and quickly notice a man standing in a corner, drink in one hand and the other in his pocket, unmoving as he eyes you with a smirk so slimy it makes your stomach turn. To avoid his gaze, you turn around, but you’re not sure the sight you’re met with is much better for you.
Jake peers down at you, eyes slightly glossed over and cheeks flushed from the alcohol, jaw locked in annoyance. He glances at the guy in the corner, who you assume is still staring when you feel Jake’s hands brush along your sides until they reach your waist. His gaze returns to your face as he brings you a step closer to him. Reflexively, you wrap your arms around his neck. 
“Is this okay?” he mouths. All you can do is meekly nod. You watch as his eyes deliberately scan your face, going down and down. Time stills when they reach your lips and stay there. It’s like someone has put the booming music of the club on mute, and the only thing you can hear is your heart loudly beating in your ears. You suddenly feel very sober.
You swear Jake’s face is slowly inching its way towards yours when you’re abruptly taken away. Yunjin has grabbed you by the forearm, leading you and Chaewon to the bathroom as she chants “Bathroom break! Bathroom break!”, clearly unaware of the moment she’s just interrupted.
Because of the queue for the girls’ bathroom and Chaewon’s decision to console this random girl who was in the middle of a breakdown, it’s not until half-an-hour later that you emerge back into the crowd. You spot the boys at a table, two empty shots each in front of them and all three with a beer in hand. They will not be happy checking their bank accounts tomorrow morning. 
“Y/N! You’re back!” Jake calls out happily when he spots you, and you can tell right away that he’s much drunker than when you left him. His whole face is flush, his eyes don’t open quite all the way, and a lopsided smile won’t leave his lips - even like this, he’s so pretty that you want to grab his hand and take him somewhere it’s just the two of you. 
Chaewon gets drinks for the three of you and then you’re dancing again. It’s already one am at this point, and the remaining two hours until the club closes, fueled with alcohol and good music, go by in a flash. Before you know it, the DJ is playing All of Me by John Legend and the lights have been turned on, clear signs that you’re overstaying your welcome. The few people that have made it to closing time stumble out of the club and into the street, heading for either the nearest subway stop or the next party of the night. Since there are no trains at this time, your group walks to the close-by bus station, listening to Jake and Sunghoon grumble about how the clubs in Seoul don’t close until at least five or six and how trains run all night there. 
The bus is already at the station when you get there, and the driver doesn’t seem too pleased about having six mildly drunk kids get on his bus, but he’s probably used to questionable people taking public transport at this time of the day anyway. Physically, Sunghoon is sitting across from you, but mentally, he’s off somewhere far, far from this bus. With his head against the window and mouth wide open, saliva pooling at the corner of his lips, he looks like he’s any second away from obnoxiously snoring. Jay and Yunjin are sitting somewhere you can’t see them, probably eating each other’s faces; she once told you they had their “most mind-blowing sex” when both a little drunk, and much to your dismay, you haven’t been able to get that piece of information out of your head since. Chaewon is on the phone to her long-distance bestie Sakura, for whom it’s a nice eleven in the morning right now. 
This means that you and Jake are left alone, both of you still tipsy and not tired enough to fall asleep. You drop your head on Jake’s shoulder, and not only does he let you, he also takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and placing them atop his thigh. Clumsily, because he now has to use his left hand, Jake slips his phone out of his back pocket and shows you the photos he took all evening. As the night progresses, they get blurrier and blurrier, so much so that towards the end, you can’t tell what he was even trying to capture, and you laugh at how inappropriate some of these would be to submit in a university project. 
When he softly says your name, you don’t raise your head, simply humming to let him know you’re listening. You close your eyes, cherishing the way your name sounds on his lips. It’s his tone, tentative and vulnerable as he tells you there’s something he’s been wanting to ask you, that makes you look up at him. He, however, won’t meet your eyes, and settles his gaze on the window, even though it’s so dark outside you can’t make out a thing.
“How come you never replied to my letter? I know it’s been ages, but
 I still find myself wondering about it.” The question is softly asked and you know he by no means wants to hurt you, but it still feels like a punch to the throat. You hadn’t remembered who it was that had sent the last letter, while he’d been wondering all these years why his words had been left unanswered. 
He seems set on not looking at you, so you rest your head back on his shoulder. Your hand is still in his. “I’m not sure, Jakey. I’m sorry,” you say, aware it’s not a satisfying answer. You’ve thought about why you and Jake had stopped talking for hours on end; you’ve discussed it with your friends and your mum, looked at it from all sorts of angles, tried to come up with real reasons other than time pulling you apart. But now that Jake himself is asking you about it, the words don’t come easy. You’ve theorised that you were afraid putting effort into sustaining your friendship would only hurt you in the end, because it was just that - a friendship. You could fool yourself into thinking you were okay only being friends with him when he was with you, that putting your feelings aside was worth it since you could at least spend time with him. But now that he was away, you didn’t have that anymore - it just hurt. So what was the point? And how could you phrase all this without betraying your feelings for him?
“Our letters were so sparse anyway back then, even our texts and calls were getting less and less frequent
 And whenever I had a new boyfriend, I’d get into the same argument about being too close to you over and over again, even though you were literally on another continent.” 
“You know, I always felt sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“Those boyfriends of yours. I felt like you waited for me to leave before you started dating-”
“It wasn’t like that!” you exclaim, lifting your head again. Finally, he meets your eyes, gaze softening upon seeing your affronted expression. “It wasn’t like that,” you repeat, relaxing your tone. “If anything, they were the ones that waited for you to be gone. I'm sorry I let their jealousy get to me.”
Jake smiles, the tenderness in his gaze making your whole body turn to jelly. He squeezes your hands. “It’s okay. I just
 I felt like I was always in the way of your relationships, even after I left.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry about that. They should’ve had more trust in me.”
He pauses, gaze dropping down to your intertwined hands. “I would’ve been jealous.” When his eyes find yours again, there’s something in them that you quite can’t place. It creates a ball of nerves that pull at your stomach. “If I were dating you, and you had a guy friend you were as close with as we were back then, I’d be jealous. You know, I’d assume he had feelings for you. And that you might have feelings for him, too.”
Because I did, you think. I did, and I still do. You try to communicate that thought to Jake, but telepathy works especially bad when one has as much alcohol coursing through their veins as you do right now. So instead, you say the opposite of what you’re thinking, turning away from Jake to avoid his gaze. You watch the dribble of saliva trickle from Sunghoon’s lips. “That’s not a great view of male-female friendship.” 
Jake’s retort comes immediately. “But we were different, right?”
His words echo through your head until they make even less sense than they did initially. Different from what? From who? You’re not sure - but you like the idea of you and Jake being different, special. You especially like the idea of Jake thinking so. So you look at him and smile. “Right.” 
Slowly, his grin fades and turns into a worried expression. “Y/N?”
“Mm?”
“We’re still different now, aren’t we?”
You want to wrap him in your arms so tightly neither of you can breathe. You settle for running a hand through his hair and pinching his cheek. “Course we are.” Your whole being relaxes when his face breaks into a smile again. 
--
The next morning, you wake up to Yunjin plopping down on your bed unceremoniously, shaking you awake, and asking you if you want anything from Snax CafĂ©. On one hand, you’re grateful that she thought of you and that in thirty minutes’ time, you’ll have the greasiest sausage wrap and hash browns known to man in your hand; on the other, you’d like to think that she knows you well enough to know to order your regular from there without asking. But that’s probably the hangover talking.
You stumble out of bed, thanking last night’s you for having remembered to take headache medicine before crashing. Even if your stomach is very upset with the copious amount of alcohol it needs to rid your body of, and your throat is begging for water, at least your head doesn’t feel like it’s been split into two. As Yunjin barges into Chaewon’s room just as she had done yours, you head for the kitchen to get yourself a tall glass of revitalising tap water. You’re only mildly surprised to find Sunghoon passed out on your living room couch - it takes you a few seconds to remember that the three of you took pity on him when you learned he lived over an hour’s walk from the station, so you let him spend the night on your uncomfortable, cold leather sofa. While you down your glass in three gulps, you hear Yunjin shaking Sunghoon awake and asking him loudly if he wanted something from Snax.
“Fuck, I’d kill for a Snax right now,” he groggily says before he’s even opened his eyes. When he does, they dart around the room until they land on Yunjin, who's crouching in front of him. He looks like he thought her question was asked in a dream and not in real life. He also looks like he's not quite sure where he is, or who Yunjin is. It isn’t until Jay comes wobbling out of Yunjin’s bed to the couch opposite Sunghoon that the memories seem to piece back together in his head. The three of you watch him like he’s an unstable mental patient and you’re his doctors. 
“No need for that, I’m ordering it on Deliveroo.” He nods his head and goes back to sleep for the time being. 
Just as you’re about to text Jake, your phone rings with a call from him. His raspy morning voice as he asks you whether you slept well makes you want to put your head in an oven heated at 200 degrees Celsius. However, you resist the urge, and answer him with a smile, then ask him the same question.
“I slept pretty well too. I’d have slept in longer but one of my flatmates decided to have a Sunday fucking brunch and his friends are so loud. Can I come over?”
You’re very aware of the other people in the room, especially of Chaewon who has just walked in and is eyeing you suspiciously as if to say, Why are you smiling so hard at ten in the morning? You know the girls would jump at any opportunity to tease you about Jake, and with the added presence of Sunghoon in the room, you can’t have that. So you stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat and answer as nonchalantly as you can. It also gives you the chance to reflect on why Jake Sim asking you whether he can come over makes you want to giggle like a giddy schoolgirl so much.
(Maybe it’s because when it comes to him, you’re still the giddy schoolgirl you used to be.)
“Yeah, of course. I was going to ask you if you wanted anything from Snax, actually.”
“Snax? What’s that?”
“Oh my God, Jake, am I about to introduce you to Snax right now?”
Twenty minutes later, the six of you are sitting around your small living room table, all varying amounts of tired, dehydrated and famished as you dig into your breakfast. Given your current levels of energy, it’s fairly quiet; plus, the food hits such a spot that it’s hard to talk and eat at the same time. Jake eats like he’s never had a breakfast wrap and hash brown in his life. It’s an endearing sight if you’ve ever seen one. 
You spend the afternoon together, watching movies curled up in your bed, and you try desperately not to think about the implications of that - except that’s hard to do when Jake is right next to you, legs and arms ever-so-slightly brushing against yours, his warmth so close yet so out of reach. You purposefully let him pick movies you’ve already seen so that you don’t have to focus on anything but your own thoughts and the faint but dizzying scent of his body wash. The both of you had an innumerable amount of sleepovers as kids, so this shouldn’t feel weird, but it decidedly does, probably because you’re much more aware of him now in a way you weren’t before.  
As hard as you try to figure out what exactly he meant by “different,” you draw a blank. The only way you’ll understand is if you ask him, and you’re far too scared to do that. You don’t want to seem so hung upon a singular word he used when he was tipsy. It might be slightly dramatic, but you felt like some sort of balance had been restored since Jake was back in your life - the problem was it made you scared to do anything that might threaten this newfound equilibrium. It at least seems like different means a good thing to him, and that’s enough for you. 
You look over to him when the second movie comes to an end. He’s sleeping peacefully, lashes caressing the skin under his eyes and cheeks looking rounder than usual. It’d be so easy to reach a finger out and trace the line descending from the top of his forehead to his chin, gliding along the bump of his nose and feeling the plumpness of his rosy lips, but you settle for drawing that line with your eyes instead.  
You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep with him next to you and your heart beating so loudly in your ears, but you find yourself waking up a few hours later, the sun already starting to set. Jake is already awake, scrolling on his phone, one arm casually behind his head as if being in your bed is as comfortable to him as being in his own. When he sees you’ve woken up, his honey-coated smile washes warmly over you, and he makes a joke about how he keeps on falling asleep when he’s with you. “I feel that at ease, I guess,” he says, and you hope you’re not making up the small blush that spreads over his cheeks. 
--
Semesters are always a short and intense affair, but this one passes by even quicker with Jake by your side. Before you know it, it’s midterms already, and you and Jake have travelled enough for him to complete his project and make another one just for the hell of it. He had scoured the internet for the cheapest train tickets and most noteworthy sites, planning trips that lasted anywhere between three hours and a day for the two of you. All you needed to do was follow and trust him, which was the easiest thing anyone could’ve asked of you. 
You’ve gone back to Glasgow, during the day, this time, as well as St. Andrews and Aberdeen. You’ve practically visited every loch and castle in a one-hour train ride radius of Edinburgh, and Jake has more lined up for the second part of the semester. He’s even said that your trips should continue being a thing next term, and you couldn’t have agreed faster. With every new destination, every train ride spent looking out a window or laughing about everything and anything, any odd Scottish food you try for the first time, you somehow fall for him a bit deeper. You didn’t know your love for him could bloom any more than it already had - but Jake is the gift that keeps on giving, and, unwillingly or not, he always finds new ways to make your heart speed that much faster.
Attentionate, affectionate, sweet Jake who always makes sure you’re comfortable wherever you go, always gives you his jacket or tucks your hair behind your ear to prevent it from falling in your face. Who, as time passed, grew more touchy, would hold your hand, ruffle your hair, pinch your cheek, which was simultaneously devastating and elating. Who, you could tell, started to linger more, both in his touch and in his gaze. Questions of does he love me back or am I seeing what I want to see? nearly drove you mad. 
--
“I feel like at this point the only way she’ll understand that I like her is if I kill myself and write in my suicide note that it’s her fault for not loving me back.”
Jake has been pacing back and forth in Jay’s living room for approximately twenty minutes, with no end in sight. At least he’ll have gotten most of his ten thousand steps of the day in.
Jay sighs heavily. “Okay, I really don’t think you need to go that far.”
“Sounds romantic to me,” Sunghoon says, mouth full of salted caramel popcorn.
“I hope you never get a girlfriend,” Jay retorts, looking at his deranged friend with a scowl. He turns back to his (slightly more) normal friend and gives him a sympathetic smile. 
“I mean, I told her we were different. Different. That we weren’t like regular friends. I tell her she’s pretty every chance I get. I give her my jacket all the time, even though this country is fucking cold. I’ve even given her a t-shirt of mine, sprayed with my perfume and everything. And don’t get me wrong, I do it ‘cause I love doing that for her-”
“Simp,” Sunghoon snickers.
“But what the hell else can I do? Like, she has to be ignoring it on purpose at this point.” 
“You could always, you know
 tell her?”
Jake scoffs, fixing his friend with a derisive look. “Wow. What a great idea, Jay, I never thought of that one before!”
A popcorn lands right on Jay’s cheek. “You’re so clueless, man,” Sunghoon says, a shit-eating smirk on his lips. As if he knows any better.
Jay looks back-and-forth between his friends, an expression on his face like he’s been disparaged. “Sorry, I didn’t know being straightforward and honest was such a bad thing. It would just make things a lot clearer for the both of you.”
“But
 I’m scared,” Jake says. 
“Man up!” Sunghoon suddenly yells, punching the sofa next to him, making his friends jump. “How can she ever figure it out if you don’t tell her?”
“You were on my side just a second ago, man, what are you doing?” Jake asks, confusion written all over his face. Sunghoon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, retreating into silence as he stuffs his mouth with another handful of popcorn.
“Just ignore him,” Jay says. “But for once, he did say something that makes a modicum of sense. You think you’re being really obvious, but you might not actually be. Which could be a good sign, you know. I heard girls were super aware of a guy liking them if they weren’t into him, but being totally oblivious if they did like him.”
“Where did you hear that?” Jake asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“...Instagram Reels,” Jay reluctantly admits, frowning at Sunghoon who bursts into laughter. 
Jake holds the bridge of his nose between two fingers like his head aches. “You’re both so useless, I’m never coming to you with my problems ever again.”
“I’ll pretend I’m not offended by that.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, anyway,” Sunghoon says. He’s smiling but Jake genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“But seriously, if you think you’ve done everything, then just do one last thing that’s so obvious she can’t misinterpret it,” Jay says.
“Like what?”
“Like kissing her, or some-”
“Kissing her?!” Jake echoes.
“That’s wild, man,” Sunghoon uselessly butts in.
“It’s just an example, calm yourselves,” Jay says. “Or, again, just straight up tell her how you feel. It’s what I did with Yunjin, and it worked.”
“You and Yunjin are dating?” Sunghoon asks, bewildered.
Jay shakes his head at him. “Where the hell have you been, bro? We were literally cuddling on the couch the other day.”
“I just thought you were really good friends, or something.”
Jake groans, holding his head in his hands. Sunghoon was of no help whatsoever, and Jay was so on point that it annoyed him. Confessing was the only solution - but Jake was so afraid of being rejected and losing your friendship that he had barely entertained the thought. But he had found the courage to do it once, and even though his planned confession had fallen through back then, he could get himself together and do it again. 
It was the day he had told you he was moving to Korea, which he himself had learned that morning. Originally, he’d texted you because he had news to share - good news. Or at least, he hoped they were good. He hoped the soft, lingering looks you gave him weren’t a figment of his imagination but rather the confirmation he needed that you liked him back. He hoped that like him, you cared too much about your friendship to make the first move into something else; that by confessing first, you’d be relieved of that responsibility; that his wish to hold your hand and kiss your forehead wasn’t one-sided. 
He decided not to prepare anything - just a couple sentences that he’d rehearsed over and over in his head. Declarations of love, bouquets of flowers, chocolate and couple keychains, all that could wait until after you’d said yes to being his girlfriend. He didn’t want to win you over just once, he wanted to show you every day how much he loved you. Fourteen-year-old Jake was absolutely head over heels for you; so imagine his disappointment when, as he was getting ready to meet with you, his parents called him downstairs, a tone to their voice Jake wasn’t familiar with, but that couldn’t mean anything good. 
“Your dad’s job is sending us back to Seoul next month,” his mom announced, not beating around the bush. He felt everything quite literally crumbling down around him. His friends in Brisbane, his school, his hobbies, but above all, you. He’d lose it all. And what was the point now in telling you how he felt? If you felt the same way, it would only make his departure that much harder, and if you didn’t, it would ruin your last moments together. It just wasn’t worth it.
What he had planned to be good news turned into the most awful ones. The thought of it happening all over again makes twenty-year-old Jake shudder. But he wouldn’t let himself be trapped by time again - sure, in seven months, the academic year would be over, and he would go back to Korea. But that didn’t mean that those seven months should be spent in agony, or the following ones either, for that matter. You would make it work. What was long-distance to someone who loved someone else as much as Jake loved you?
But he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He has to start by really resolving to do this, and in the off-chance that it actually goes in his favour, he’d start worrying about long distance then.
First, he has a trip to plan.
--
You should’ve known that a trip to the Scottish Highlands in the middle of November was a risky choice in terms of weather. The day started off nicely enough - no sign of rain when you woke up or as you watched the sunrise through the train window. Clouds turned the sky a bright white at first, then increasingly greyer and greyer. You feel the first drops of rain after lunch as you walk around a small village. By four pm, it’s pitch black and storming like you’ve rarely seen before. You head into a pub to grab a drink as you wait for the rain to subside, but subside it does not. You end up ordering fish and chips, one each, although one serving is enough to feed three. Even after taking your time eating, the bad weather does not let up. The last train, which is meant to be at eight pm, has been cancelled. Luckily, there’s an inn right across the road from the pub; you have no choice but to spend the night. 
The inn receptionist is sitting so low on her chair, you can barely see her over the desk until you’re standing right over it. Her face is hidden by a book and it’s only when you say hiya that she seems to realise you’re there. You had never heard of the book or of its author, but you recognized the cover design as that of those romance novels with repetitive plots and weirdly misogynistic love interests your mum and every other middle-aged woman was obsessed with.
Her smile widens as she looks between you and Jake. “Hi there. One room for the lovely couple?”
“Oh, we’re not-”
“Yes, please,” Jake interrupts, smiling down at her, then at you. “It’ll be cheaper if we share a room.”
“Our only room with two single beds is already taken, I’m afraid. One double bed okay for you two?”
You feel like you’re about to faint, so you’re glad Jake is there to answer. “Yeah, of course.” How the idea of sharing one bed with you is so okay to him, you’re not sure - granted, you’ve done it before, but this feels different. For all intents and purposes, this is a hotel room you’re staying in. And you’re staying in it with Jake. 
You try to calm your breathing as the receptionist guides you to your room, chatting casually with Jake on the way there. As she unlocks the door for you, she informs you that check-out must be done before eleven in the morning tomorrow, then bids you good night and leaves you to it, still wearing that smile you swear has mischievousness to it. The door clicks shut behind you, and it’s just Jake and you again, together in this small room until tomorrow morning. Your chances of survival are very, very low. 
Your room is a humble one, consisting of a desk, a cupboard, two armchairs, a small, separate bathroom and the infamous bed. Every surface seems to be covered with wood, from the ceiling, to the walls, to the old-fashioned furniture. Only the floor is a soft, beige carpet. Especially with the darkness outside, it makes for a gloomy room until you turn on the lamp by the entrance; it casts a warm, golden light in the room, one that would make you feel at ease if it wasn’t for Jake’s presence next to you. The implications of being essentially trapped in a barely-lit room with him are heavy on your mind, especially when he looks this gorgeous with his hair still damp from the rain and the soft lights playing on his face. 
His voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Right. Do you, um, do you wanna shower first?” he asks, setting his bag on one of the armchairs.
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” There has never been such an awkward tension between the two of you, but you know you’re not doing anything to ease it. You hope a shower will help you get out of your head and make you relax.
You feel the tension leave your muscles under the hot water, but your stomach is still in knots. You’ve never been this nervous around Jake before; back when you were fourteen and again in these past few months, you’d gotten so used to dealing with your unspoken feelings for him that you could almost forget about them when you were with him. They’d come back to you when you were alone and dwelling on the moments you’d spent together, on his words and actions you desperately tried not to read too much into but always ended up doing anyway. But right now, they’ve floated to the surface, becoming as obvious to you as a stain on your skin you can’t rub away. You’re scared Jake will notice it, and, in the worst case scenario you often thought about, would run away and never speak to you again. 
At least the raging storm outside would make that a bit harder.
When you step out of the shower, you curse yourself for not having worn more comfortable clothes on this trip. You definitely can’t wear these jeans and button-up sweater to lounge around. Thankfully, the inn provides two long bathrobes that you could wear over underwear and your tank top, but you wonder where on the scale of inappropriate this would be to wear with Jake in the room. He’s seen you in short pyjama shorts before, but this, like everything else that would usually be normal between the two of you, feels weird today. 
You wrap the bathrobe around yourself, tying it in place around your waist, and decide that it’d only be weird if you made it weird. And if Jake found the sight of your bare legs weird, then he was the weird one.
The scene you’re met with as you walk into the room makes you want to retreat into the bathroom immediately. Jake is lying on the bed with his upper half against the headboard, one leg extended and the other one bent, resting his head against one palm, using his free hand to scroll through his phone. His t-shirt has ridden up slightly, putting the waistband of his Calvin Kleins into view. Worst of all, when he sees you, his face breaks into a grin. 
Your stomach twists when he gives you a once-over, letting his gaze linger on your legs. “Did you bring a bathrobe with you or was it included?” he asks with an annoyingly handsome smirk.
You roll your eyes. “Yes, I bring a bathrobe with me wherever I go,” you say sarcastically. “Now shut up and go shower, you stink.” Reverting to insults is always the solution when you’re internally freaking out.
“Yes, ma’am.” 
He takes so long in the shower that by the time he comes out, you’ve dozed off in bed. As if you were a child, he wakes you up with a boop to the nose, crouching next to the bed and smiling at you. His wet hair falls on his head like that of a movie star in a shower scene, which you find extremely unfair, and his cheeks are red from the warmth of the water. 
“It’s still early. Do you wanna go grab another drink?”
“In our bathrobes?” you say, laughing. “Nah, I don’t really feel like drinking anyway.” Read: I’m not sure what I’ll do with alcohol in me.
“Okay, no worries. Um, I think I saw they had board games in the lobby?”
Your ears perk up at this. “Ooh, what kind of board games?”
Putting jeans on underneath his bathrobe, Jake slips away for a minute and comes back with Monopoly, Uno, and a deck of cards. “They didn’t have much for two players,” he says, dumping everything on the bed. 
You already knew that anything would become fun if you did it with Jake, but you definitely didn’t expect to spend almost five hours just playing Monopoly and card games with him. Neither of you stays put for very long, always switching from sitting criss-cross to laying on your stomach, making fun of the other’s bathrobe even though you’re wearing the exact same thing. You make each other laugh as you make up your own nonsense rules and disregard the laws of your games, attacking the other ruthlessly for a couple extra points or coins. Jake even makes you go get snacks from a corner store that’s miraculously still open because you lose the first round of Uno. 
After some time, Jake lets out a loud yawn, which in turn makes you yawn too. He checks his phone to find that it’s close to midnight already. “Time for bed?” he asks, and your nervousness that had finally dissipated as you played came rushing back. 
You nod. “Yeah, sounds good.”
The two of you clean up before brushing your teeth. Even that, with Jake by your side, becomes a silly affair as he pulls faces in the mirror and nudges your hip with his. You stay behind to use the toilet, and when you come back out, Jake’s already in bed, bathrobe tossed on one of the armchairs. This means that Jake is just casually in a t-shirt and boxers, waiting for you to join him in bed. Luckily, his back is turned to you, so you quickly take off your own bathrobe and slide under the sheets, careful to keep your distance from him. The sheets are cold underneath you, and you know it’ll take a while before your body heat warms them up - although you feel very hot and bothered because of the man lying next to you. 
“Gosh, I’m really sleepy all of a sudden,” he says, words distorted by a yawn. You only hum in response, and he reaches for the lamp to turn it off. Just like that, you’re in complete darkness, and Jake’s body is mere inches from your own. 
It’s eerily quiet for a while, and when you’ve managed to slow your heartbeat and regularise your breathing, you start trying to fall asleep. You toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position until Jake’s low, sleepy voice breaks the silence. “Can’t sleep?” he asks, and you freeze.
You sigh. “No. I’m sorry for keeping you up,” you say guiltily.
“It’s okay. I can’t really sleep either. It’s a bit cold in here.”
You pause. “Right. Yeah, it is,” you say, even though you feel like you’re sweating buckets. 
The room plunges into silence again, long enough for you to think Jake has fallen asleep. You feel something cold against your foot, only realising as it slides up your calf that it’s his foot. “Jake!” you whisper-yell, withdrawing your leg as he bursts into giggles that warm your heart. “Your feet are so cold,” you say in-between chuckles.
“I’m cold all over,” he whines. “Have they not turned the heating on yet? It’s already mid-November.”
“People are used to the cold here.”
“Well I’m not. Can we cuddle?” he suddenly asks, and he must somehow feel the way you freeze in place because he stammers out a justification straight away. “For, I mean, just for warmth, you know. I don’t think I’ll sleep otherwise.”
His foot finds yours again and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, fine,” you say with a sigh as if you were doing only half-heartedly for his sake. As if this was some big sacrifice you were making, and not something you’d daydreamed about one too many times before. 
Your heart is beating a thousand miles a second when you scooch closer to Jake, his hands finding your waist as easily as if they’d been there a hundred times before. He pulls you in much closer than you had expected, holding you tightly against his chest, one arm for you to use as a pillow and one hand resting on your lower back. You try to calm your respiration so that he can’t hear how short of breath you are, but based on his own breathing, he seems to be out in five minutes. It takes you longer to fall asleep, every shift of his body sending shivers down your spine, but you manage to relax after some time, letting his warmth envelop you as you drift off to sleep.
--
The feeling of waking up with you in his arms is so unreal, Jake thinks he might still be dreaming.
He looks down at your peaceful sleeping face and can’t stop the smile that spreads on his lips. Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but this is a sight he particularly wants to commit to memory. He watches fondly as the bright sun rays of the early morning hit your face, making you scrunch your eyebrows and bury your face deeper against him. You grunt softly, and when he feels you shifting and stretching your legs, he pretends to fall asleep so you don’t catch him staring. It seems like you’ve raised your head, chin tilted towards him - if he’s lucky, you’re watching him “sleep” just like he did seconds ago.
He contains a smile at the joke that forms itself in his brain before shooting his eyes open, catching you off guard during what you thought was a private, secret moment. 
“Shit!” you yelp, practically jumping off of him and rolling onto the other side of the bed. He bursts into laughter, proud that his little prank was effective. Before you can scold him, he makes his way to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing your back against his chest. He thinks he feels your body tense; but then you bring your hand over his, swiping your thumb back and forth against his skin, and you relax in his hold. “You’re so annoying,” you complain, but your voice is tender, almost weak.
He buries his face in your hair, trying not to be too loud when he inhales there. “Sorry,” he says, the smile evident in his voice. “The opportunity was right there. Caught you staring, huh?”
“You’re such an idiot.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Jake is more than happy to enjoy this moment in silence, but there’s something burning the tip of his tongue. It’s been there for a while now, but he thinks he’s finally found the right moment. “Y/N?”
“Mm?”
“There’s something I couldn’t tell you last night, but I feel oddly okay saying it right now. Are you listening?” 
“I am, yeah,” you say gently, voice so soft it caresses his skin and draws goosebumps from it.
His chest expands and falls with a deep, shaky breath. With your back right against it, he’s scared you’ll hear that his heart is beating faster than it should. “Bad news first?” he says with a nervous chuckle.
“Uh-oh.”
“There’s no roundabout way to say this, so here goes, I guess.” He takes another breath. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” You tense in his embrace, and he waits for you to say something, anything before he continues.
“Oh,” is all you say. He hopes it’s a good oh - even if it isn’t, he doesn’t let it deter him.
“Yeah. I really debated telling you this
 I know you might not feel the same way. But I also know that if I don’t say anything and make the same mistake twice, I’ll beat myself up over it for the rest of my life.”
“The same mistake?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder.
He gazes down at you tenderly, pushing hair away from your face with a gentle hand. “I already felt that way back when we lived in Australia. I was about to tell you but when I learned that I was moving, I didn’t wanna risk ruining the little time we had left together.”
The look on your face both breaks his heart and patches it up again. “Jakey
” you say, voice just a whisper. You turn around to face him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. The fact that you’re not saying much is making his stomach twist in agonising stress, but he takes it as a good sign that you’re still holding him tight and not running away.
“I think I’d be the luckiest guy on Earth if you felt the same way,” he says, hopefulness clear in his voice. 
And then he finally hears the words he’s been dying to hear all these years. “Of course, I feel the same way, Jake,” you say, eyes meeting his. “This isn’t bad news at all, it’s like, the best possible news ever.”
It takes him a few seconds, but when your words sink in, a bright smile graces his features. He feels tears coming up - tears of relief that you feel the same way, of sadness that it took the both of you so long to get here, of happiness that something new might start - he’s not sure. Perhaps everything at once.
“Of course?” he echoes, smiling wildly. “It wasn’t obvious to me.”
“Oh, gosh,” you murmur, burying yourself into him once more. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
He tightened his hold around you, bringing you to him as close as physically possible. “Me neither.”
The feeling of you tangling your bare legs with his and bunching up the fabric of his t-shirt in your fist awakens something in him - he had been in his head, thanking the heavens that you loved him back, reeling from his belated confession, but he was now very aware of his body. And of yours. He was reminded of Jay telling him to kiss you - although he hadn’t needed to go there to reveal his feelings to you, it was still a possibility. It was even more so now that he knew you felt the same way. 
He tries to be subtle as he brushes a hand up your back to the nape of your neck, gently grazing his fingernails against the skin there. He has to suppress a self-satisfied smirk when he feels you squirm under his touch, lifting your head to fix him with a scolding look. Your stern expression fades as soon as his eyes fall on your lips, however, and you quickly mirror his gaze. His lips part, and he feels his whole body shake as he takes a deep breath in. Who knew that you’d share your first kiss on a random Sunday morning in the fuckass middle of nowhere in Scotland?
Maybe you take pity on him, or you recognise the effort put into being the one to make the first move, or, as he’d like to think, you just really want to kiss him - either way, you’re the one who closes the gap and presses your lips to his.
Your lips. So soft, so delicate against his, absolutely perfect. It’s a simple, tentative touch, but he’s craved it for so long that it makes his head spin. He frowns, despite himself instantly needing more than this feather-like feeling of your lips brushing against each other. His mind tells him to calm down and take it slow, but his body takes over, urging him to grab the nape of your neck a little harder, to hold you a little closer to him, to kiss you a little stronger. Thankfully, you let him do all of this and more, hands finding purchase in his hair and returning his intensity tenfold. 
He doesn’t know what’s better - the fact that you’re kissing him or the kiss itself. The way your lips move against his is intoxicating; it wraps itself around its mind and leaves no room for thoughts that aren’t of you. You seem to want him as desperately as he wants you, to have waited for him as long as he did for you, and this is what drives him crazy. You press your body against his and he sees stars; you let out a moan against his lips and he kisses you deeper, ready to do anything to hear that melody again. 
Unfortunately, the only melody he gets to hear is that of his phone alarm, informing you that it’s quarter to eleven and that you have fifteen minutes to leave. Check-out at eleven am had sounded nice yesterday; now, he would stay in this dingy inn his whole life if it meant he got to keep kissing you. 
The both of you reluctantly break apart, bursting into giddy laughter when your eyes meet. As said before, Jake always thinks you’re pretty, but with your pupils blown and your lips plump from kissing, this might just be the prettiest he’s ever seen you. 
“You know, I like you a lot, but I’d like you even more if you could stop time,” you say.
He looks down at you with a smile, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen on your face. “Sure, I’ll learn how to control time for you.”
“Thanks, Jakey.” You peck his lips, lingering, and he closes his eyes to savour your sweetness. 
“Anything for you, baby.” His eyes widen at the nickname slip, but you erupt into giggles.
“Baby?”
“Would you look at the time, we really got to go,” he says, detangling his limbs from yours. He pauses for a second. “Baby,” he repeats, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before bouncing from the bed.
You get ready together, and the mundane tasks of stripping sheets from a bed and packing bags become the funnest things he’s ever done. You’re all over each other, attacking the other with kisses and hugs; Jake doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this happy. 
And this is only the beginning.
--
There’s a glint in the receptionist’s eyes when you check out of your room, as if she knew something you and Jake had been oblivious to all along. It’s the only one in town, so you go back to the little pub for a full breakfast with eggs, hash browns, haggis, and sausages. You get coffee so strong you think you might not sleep for the next four days, while Jake drinks tea that is equal parts sugar, milk, and actual tea.
From the moment you leave the pub to the moment you arrive at your doorstep, Jake’s hands barely leave yours. When they have to, like when you’re searching for the perfect seat on the train or when the controller checks your tickets, they’re back together within a minute, like two magnets that can’t stay apart for too long. The rain has long subsided, leaving place to a bright blue sky and wet blades of grass that shine in the sun. 
Now that your mutual feelings don’t need to be kept secret, you tell each other about everything you had to go through, like you pretending your good news was your mum having baked the cookies Jake liked and him seeing your new boyfriends every two months on your close friends story. He tells you about all the hints he’s dropped, causing you to facepalm over and over again. It feels like two friends catching each other to speed on all the latest gossip, except the topic of that gossip is you.
The juxtaposition of your familiarity with Jake with the novelty of behaving like a couple, of not having to hold back with your touches or gazes or words, is nothing if not jarring. But you have a feeling you’ll get used to it in no time. 
As you unlock the front door to your building, you don’t ask him if he’s coming up - to you, it’s a given that you’ll be spending the rest of today and every day after that together. So when he doesn’t follow you, staying still on the threshold, you turn around with a questioning look on your face. 
“There’s something I need to do this afternoon,” he says, taking both of your hands in his.
“Can’t I come with?” you say. Jake wavers for a second, but sadly, he stays firm in his decision.
“Sorry, baby, it’s a surprise. I’ll be back at seven with takeout?”
You can’t possibly be mad at him when he calls you baby and offers food in the same breath. “Only if you bring takeout.”
“You only love me because I feed you, don’t you?” he asks, a smile on his face.
“Yup,” you reply. You’re standing on a step, so you bend down to kiss him - you intend for it to be a peck, but when your lips touch, you’re unable to pull away. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, in the warmth that takes over your body and makes your brain all fuzzy. 
A loud, affronted gasp from behind you makes you jump from Jake, and when you turn around, Chaewon and Yunjin are standing in the stairwell, staring at you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. 
“So this was a sexcapade?” is, much to your horror, the first thing Yunjin says.
Thanks to Chaewon, neither you nor Jake have the time to dwell on this sentence as she comes running down the stairs and pounces on you. You don’t know how a woman so small can have such force, but her hug is so tight you can barely breathe, let alone hug her back properly. “I knew you could do it!” she exclaims. When she pulls away, she seems so moved, it looks like she’s about to cry. “You finally popped your Jake cherry,” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for Jake to hear. A bark of laughter escapes his throat.
“Okay, thanks, guys,” you say, escaping this awkward situation and going up the stairs. “I’ll see you later, Jake!” you yell over your shoulder. The girls seem to be on their way out, and you’re more than happy leaving him to deal with them on his own. God knows you’ll get the worst of it when they come back. 
As soon as you get to your flat, you make a beeline for your bedroom, plopping on the bed. You’re the same person, and this is the same room. But something within you feels entirely different, like a scar that you had been carrying around had, without you even noticing, healed so well you could barely see it anymore. You lifted your hands in the air, looked at the back of them, then at your palms. They were the same old hands that had been with you your whole life, and you were almost shocked that there wasn’t something utterly different about them after having held Jake’s hand for so long. Just to be sure, you sniffed your right hand, but it didn’t smell any different, either. But you still felt Jake’s hand on yours, like headphones you’d been wearing for hours and still felt on your ears after taking them off.
Yunjin and Chaewon are back from their shopping half-an-hour later; they got you a chocolate fudge cake from Tesco to congratulate you. “You guys are acting like this is my birthday
” you say, eyeing the cake greedily as Chaewon cuts it into three equal parts (even though it says serves eight on the packaging). 
“This is more important than your birthday, Y/N,” Yunjin states as she pours oat milk into three cups of Earl Grey tea. “This is, like, the moment of a lifetime.”
“Are you saying a girl’s importance depends on her having a boyfriend?”
“Yes, Y/N, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Especially when said boyfriend is the guy she’s been pining after for all of her teenage and adult life.”
You sigh. “Well, he hasn’t exactly popped the boyfriend and girlfriend question yet.” They both turn to look at you, an annoyed look on their faces. You stand up straight, uncomfortable under their gazes. “What?”
“Usually, I’m all for clarity on this issue,” Chaewon starts. “But isn’t it pretty obvious here?”
“You’re still gonna have to tell us everything in minute detail, but Jake’s already told us what happened. He had no qualms referring to you as his girlfriend, so I really don’t think this is something you need to worry about. What you should worry about is when and where you’re going to hop on that dick.”
Chaewon bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit. “Gosh, Yunjin, you really do have a way with words.”
“I know. This is what having a Jane Austen hyperfixation at fifteen will do to you.”
Following Yunjin’s orders, you tell them about the events of the previous day and this morning over tea and cake. They ooh and ah and gasp in all the right places, ask you very specific questions and even make you draw a picture of the room you stayed in. You’ve talked to them about Jake so many times that there’s only so much to say now - but still, you talk for hours on end, deviating off-topic so often you end up talking about something else entirely. 
You’re in bed reading for your Middle English Literature class when the doorbell rings. It’s seven on the dot, so it can be no one else other than Jake. It’s been mere hours, but you’ve missed him enough to last you for weeks. 
He brought takeaway from the Indian place you’d raved about a hundred times but hadn’t brought him to yet. Somehow, your heart grows even fonder as you watch his reaction to the food, the raise of his eyebrows, the widening of his eyes, the excited shimmy of his shoulders. When you ask him about his afternoon, a wide smile breaks out onto his face, like a lightbulb illuminating a room. Without a word, he scurries to your room, bringing back some sort of book with him. He hands it to you  with a shy smile and curious eyes, eagerly anticipating your reaction. The cover reads Y/N and Jake in his clumsy but endearing handwriting, with the date of his arrival in Edinburgh and an em-dash scribbled underneath. “I haven’t booked my flight home yet, so I’ll add the second date later,” he explains. 
When you flick through it, you’re met with photographs of you and Jake on all of the trips you’ve done so far, as well as the various adventures you got up to in the city. There’s even one of you sleeping in the library at two am during midterms when you had forgotten about one of your essays, due at midday. Jake had come with coffee and words of encouragement, and now he could brag that the high mark you got was thanks to him. It’s not only photos - it’s also ticket stubs, receipts, stickers, and even a dried flower you had found pretty on your trip to St. Andrews. He’s also written quite a lot, from diary-like entries about what you got up to that day or songs that reminded him of you. 
“You misspelt right here,” you say, pointing to a sentence that reads This is the cafĂ© write next to the hotel where the last Harry Potter book is said to have been written!!! under a photo of you drinking a massive cup of hot chocolate. The more you look at the typo, the more it makes you laugh, until you have tears brimming in your eyes.
Thanks to Yunjin’s messiness, pens and pencils are strewn over your coffee table. Jake, flushed red in embarrassment at the small mistake, snatches a pencil and aggressively erases write, spelling it correctly the second time around. “This is the level of today’s English Lit undergrads,” he murmurs under his breath. His frown disappears when he looks at you and he laughs along.
You continue looking through the album until you land on a page titled Why I love Y/N. From top to bottom, left to right, it’s filled with Jake’s tiny handwriting. You can tell he put effort into making it neat. There’s a singular photograph of you, one that dates from the first days after Jake’s arrival when you were walking around in the Meadows, the park right next to campus. The sun shone down on you and you smiled brightly at Jake behind the camera.  
You’re not a quarter through reading when tears swell in your eyes, rendering your vision blurry. You wipe them away before they can fall and stain the page. Jake has detailed every last thing he loves about you. It can hardly get cornier than this, but the fact that he wrote this about you makes your heart so full, you’re afraid it might explode in your chest. It ranges from basic things like the way she makes me laugh or her pretty face when she falls asleep in the train (or anywhere, for that matter) to more you-specific things like the strict pastel colour-coding she uses for her notes and her perseverance when eating spicy food even though she can’t take it. He mentions things about you that you didn’t even know, and that feeling of being known in-and-out, of being really seen by someone else only brings more tears to your eyes. Your favourite line comes at the end - the way she makes any place feel like home. A proper sob pushes past your lips at this, and Jake, who had been watching you with an anxious smile, rests a palm on your knee and inches closer to you.
“Why are you crying, is- Did I write something bad?”
You shake your head fervently. “No, no, Jakey, this is
 It’s perfect. I’m just
” you trail, letting out a half-sob, half-chuckle. You look at him with a smile before pulling him into a tight hug. “I love it so much. I love you so much.”
You can feel Jake relax against you. “I love you too, baby. I’m glad you like it.”
You pull away after a small while, and turn the next page over. It’s a picture of you over breakfast this morning, with words WE’RE DATING!!!! written underneath it, and those simple words make you so happy, your cheeks ache from smiling. But every page after that is empty. Jake scratches the back of his neck. “I, um, I thought we could fill the rest out together. I debated just doing it myself and giving it to you at the end of the year, but I thought it’d be more fun doing it together.”
“It would. This is such an amazing idea,” you say, flicking back through the pages.
“I thought of it because of that project I had. When I started working on it, all the photos I wanted to include were of you, but I wasn’t sure how much my professor would appreciate that
 So I decided to make one more personal. One for us,” he says shyly, shrugging like it’s no big deal.
“Thank you so much, Jakey.”
He smiles. “It’s no worries.”
“Did you do it all this afternoon?”
“I had started it before, but I added it most of today, yeah. Which, by the way, awful timing. I wanted nothing more than to spend today with you.”
Your heart leaps. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to hearing such words from Jake’s mouth.
Sometime later, you’re laying in bed with Jake between your legs, watching the most recent animated Spiderman movie. With the tips of your fingers, you draw random patterns on his forearm, and if it wasn’t for his occasional chuckles, you’d think he had fallen asleep. You chat for a bit after the movie, but you find that after such an emotionally-packed day, you’re ready to call it a night fairly early. But when the lights are off and it’s just you lying against Jake’s chest, his fingernails grazing your scalp and his familiar, comforting scent clouding your judgement, all thoughts of an early night are thrown out of the window.
You shouldn’t feel so nervous - you had fallen asleep in his arms last night, and it had gone well. Really well. 
“This is different from yesterday, isn’t it?” Jake suddenly says, breaking the heavy silence with a low voice. It’s like he read your mind.
“Yeah,” you whisper against his skin.
No other words are needed. You brush the tip of your nose along his neck until you reach his jawline, pressing soft kisses there and delighting in the increasing shakiness of his breath. The feeling of your lips meeting is so intense, so all-encompassing, that you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle anything more.
This is still new territory, but you’re both so eager to discover it that it makes for a messy kiss, lips moving against each other ravenously, tongues beckoning moans from the other. It’s a kiss that somehow leaves you breathless and breathes oxygen back into your lungs at once. 
In a matter of seconds, Jake has flipped you on your back and is hovering over you, one hand holding him up and one hand free to roam your body. He slips it underneath your t-shirt, brushes it along the side of your waist, his touch leaving behind a trail of fire blazing on your skin. It’s so distracting, you can’t even kiss him back properly anymore. Jake doesn’t seem to mind. At first, when he starts pressing hot kisses to your jawline and your neck, you think he’s giving you a respite - but when he gently sinks his teeth into the skin there, leaving marks that will later remind you tonight wasn’t a dream, chuckling as you squirm and whine under him, you understand that this is anything but a respite. 
You curse your earlier decision of not wearing a bra, because it gives you no preparation whatsoever to the sensation of Jake brushing his thumb against one of your nipples. With a loud gasp, your back arches off of the bed, which only aids Jake in raising your t-shirt up over your breasts. 
He takes a minute to admire the sight of you panting and half-naked underneath him. It makes you feel shy, and you want to do something so that he stops looking and starts doing, but his gaze holds you in place. His pupils are blown with lust, eyes raking over your body and taking everything in. You have a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that it’s you he’s looking at with those eyes. 
His soft lips attach themselves to your nipple while his fingers continue their work on the other one. You’ve never felt this sensitive, never felt this on edge, like you might fall apart at any second even with so little simulation. Your core throbs, impatiently waiting to be tended to, but you’re already trembling so hard from Jake’s attention to your breasts that you don’t know what will happen to you once he actually touches you down there.
“You doing okay, baby?” he asks, the rasp in his voice making you want him impossibly more. You grip his hair and he looks up at you, a tender smile on his lips. You nod your head yes and he laughs. “Yeah? You want more?” You pause at his question. You do want more, but is it worth your sanity?
It takes you a second to decide that it’s worth that and more. You nod again. 
Jake seems to have sensed your hesitation. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I am. It’s just a lot.”
His expression of worry softens into a smile. “I’ll take it slow for you, love. It’s a lot for me, too.” He leans in to press soft kisses to your cheek, and some of the tension in your body diffuses. Whatever happens, Jake will be there to take care of you. “But it feels good, right?” he asks, lips moving against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
“So good, Jakey,” you reply shakily.
“Good.”
You can tell that Jake really does want to take it slow - his movements are more deliberate, gentler. But eagerness, both yours and his, soon takes over, and a minute later, he’s trailing kisses down your body until he reaches your lower stomach. Your breath quickens as he hooks fingers underneath your leggings and underwear, sliding both garments down your legs and leaving you bare to him. You think the feeling of his lips on the fleshy parts of your inner thighs is what might actually do you in, make you lose your sense of reality forever - but then his tongue darts out against your clit, a barely-there touch, and your whole body flatlines. 
Your reaction eggs Jake on, who, more confident now, takes the sensitive bud in his lips and alternates between sucking and licking motions. A knot ties itself embarrassingly quickly in your stomach, a knot that tightens and tightens as Jake flattens his tongue against you, licking up your juices from your entrance to your clit; a knot that threatens to come loose when he slides a long finger inside of you. You can’t take more than thirty seconds of this.
“Jakey,” you say, voice practically a moan. Your brain is fuzzy and it takes a distressing amount of time to form a simple sentence. “Can you come here?”
“Is something wrong, baby?” he asks breathily, sliding his finger out of you and coming back up so that his face is right above yours. 
“No, just
 I want you.”
Any trace of worry on Jake’s features dissipates as he cocks an eyebrow, one corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Is that so?”
This kind of boldness would usually have you rolling your eyes, but here, it only makes your core throb more violently. It’s almost humiliating how much you want this man. It’s definitely humiliating, how easy it is to swallow your pride and play into his game. “Yes, please,” you say, eyes pleading with him.
He smiles almost giddily before burying his face against the side of yours. “My baby’s so polite,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Take this off, then,” you say, grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt. 
“So she says please and gives orders,” he jokes, quickly obliging anyway. 
Not once in your time apart had Jake posted any sort of beach trip or pool photos, so this was the first time you saw his bare chest. God, was it one for the history books. You trace the defined lines of his muscles with a finger and wonder how he had managed to get even more perfect. He lets you marvel at him for it, clearly proud that you’re gawking so shamelessly, but your mind drifts back to more urgent matters when he presses himself into you, his clothed cock, hard and hot, brushing against your folds. “Fuck,” you sigh, bucking your hips into his to feel him over and over again.
It’s so much, but it’s not enough; Jake instantly gets your message when you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling him to you and kissing him feverishly. Your lips don’t part as he slides his boxers off, and you drink up the nectar that are his moans as you take him in your hand, pumping him a few times.
“Condom?” he asks, but you shake your head.
“I’m on the pill. And even so
 I usually always use a condom, but I don’t want to now. Not with you.”
Jake closes his eyes as he takes a deep, stabilising breath. “I feel totally normal about that. Not crazy at all.”
You giggle, and he opens his eyes, a wide smile gracing his lips before he bends down to kiss you. “You ready for the night of your life?” he asks against your lips. “It’s gonna last five minutes, tops,” he says, making you laugh again. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t do anything about it. I think I could’ve cum just from eating you out.”
“That would’ve been hot.”
“Really? We’ll make it a challenge for next time, then.”
When Jake plunges into you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He fills you up, slow inch by slow inch, until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. You both need some time getting used to the feeling - Jake drops his head in the crook of your neck and lets out a sound between a grunt and a moan, something you’ve never heard from him before. You grab onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you try to tether yourself to him. You hold him so tight that he has no choice but to let his body rest on top of yours, his arms coming to circle your waist and bring you even closer. 
His movements start out halting, the pleasure so overwhelming that it makes it hard for him to move steadily. In time, he falls into a torturously slow rhythm, but it’s the perfect kind of torture, the kind that has tears brimming in your eyes. It’s so hard to take, and yet you want more. You’re brought closer to the edge with every thrust of his dick into you, especially as he picks up the pace and lifts your hips to meet his. The new angle has his tip brushing against that spot deep inside you that makes it hard to breathe. 
You can tell he’s just as close as you when he loses that steady rhythm he had found, his motions growing more desperate, harsher, quicker. Conscious of your roommates, you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as your orgasm washes over you, your whole body on fire, so sensitive that the few more seconds Jake needs to come undone himself drive both your body and your mind into overstimulation. Even the feeling of him pulling out, drops of hot liquid dripping out of your entrance, is too much and makes you let out a small, tired whine. 
Jake peppers your face with kisses as he holds your waist tightly, brushing his thumb back-and-forth on your warm skin, sticky with sweat. “You did so well, baby. So good for me.” You think you might be ready for a second round if he keeps talking to you like that. “I love you so much.”
You sigh deeply, as if you were just told disconcerting news. “Okay.”
“Okay?!” he echoes, looking up at you with an outraged expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, I love you too, I just- I’m not used to this yet! You can’t just tell me you love and expect me to be normal. You have to warn me first.”
“Can I just warn you now that I’m going to tell you I love you every time I get the chance?”
You sigh. “I guess.” 
“Can I tell you now?” he asks, and you hum. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Jake tuts. “I highly doubt it, but whatever makes you happy.”
You hold Jake close to you, one arm around his shoulders and the other hand playing with his hair as you come down from your high. You think he might’ve fallen asleep, and you’re close to drifting off yourself when he speaks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. Not just the sex, although that has been on my mind for a while now,” he says, making you laugh, “but all of this. Being together, getting to be in your arms like this, kissing you whenever I want. Calling you my girlfriend.”
“Me too, Jakey. I waited so long I didn’t think it would ever happen.”
Jake chuckles. “How stupid were we not to have noticed we felt the same way?”
“Very stupid. I think we felt so sorry for ourselves that we were stuck in one-sided love, that we didn’t even realise the other was going through the exact same thing. But at least we’re now.”
“At least we’re here now.” You and Jake yawn at the exact same time, making you burst into giggles, giddy with sleep and love.
“Let’s sleep, baby,” you say.
Jake hums, burying himself deeper against your body. “Sleep well, my love. I’ll be here.”
--
After years of pining after each other, you and Jake find it a bit hard to keep your relationship to yourselves, or your hands off of each other.
At the beginning, all of your friends had been happy for you, but that quickly went away when your and Jake’s honeymoon phase never died down and the PDA just kept on going. If the glue you were stuck with previously was metaphorical, this one was pretty close to being real. Superglue kept you together, your moments together rarely spent without some sort of physical touch. Yunjin fake-gagged so often, you were afraid she might actually vomit one of these days. It took Sunghoon two weeks longer than everyone else to clock you and Jake had started dating.
This meant that in private, there was truly no holding back. Jake back-hugged you any chance he got, to the point you started to think he was more koala than human - although that’d imply he saw you as a tree. Make-out sessions were a particular favourite of yours - how could they not be when your boyfriend’s lips seemed to have been carved by God himself, soft and plump to the heavens, like they were made to be kissed. Really, you were just honouring God’s will when you kissed Jake.  
The goodbye that comes at the end of the year is not an easy one, and the month spent at home before you fly to Korea seems to never end. But you get there eventually, and as nice as it is to catch up with Jake’s parents after so long, you feign sleepiness after lunch as an excuse to get some time alone with your boyfriend. Ironically, this “time alone” is spent so intensely that you do end up falling asleep afterwards. 
You have to admit, you really did a number on your boyfriend this time - what can a girl do when she missed her boyfriend this much? Jake is still passed out when you wake up from your nap, so you slip out as discreetly as you can from his embrace and get out of bed. You head for the closet first and swipe the comfiest looking sweater of his that you find there so you can stay warm as you look around his room. A pang of melancholia hits your chest - most of the pictures and objects on his walls and shelves are parts of his life you weren’t around to witness. Friends you don’t recognize, places you’ve never heard of, phases you’d never known he’d gone through. But then you see the frame on his desk, a faded photo of the two of you at ten years of age, eating ice cream on the bench outside of your house. Milo is sitting at your feet. Jake’s family hadn’t adopted Layla yet. You realise that even if there’s whole parts of your life you didn’t get to share with each other, nothing could touch your memories, or your future.
You want to go back in time and tell fourteen-year-old you that no matter how painful it might seem at the moment, it will all be worth it for the sight of Jake Sim slowly drifting into wakefulness, patting the bed next to him, and noticing you’re missing with furrowed eyebrows. When he opens his eyes and they settle on you, a sleepy smile will grace his dazzling features, and he’ll say, “Come back to bed.”
You’ll be even more in love at twenty than at fourteen.
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blackreaderfics · 6 months ago
Text
Princess Treatment | Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
↳ Pairing : TitansDC!Jason Todd x shy!Reader
↳ Rating :  E
↳ Summary : After losing a bet, Jason is at your beck and call for the rest of the year. Pt. 2 of Wildcard
↳ W.C : ~5k
↳ Tags + Warnings: references to the previous fic, banter, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, grinding, shyish!reader x tsundereish!jason, reader wears glasses, jason is still a kind of dickhead but less of the dick and more of the giving head, once again side characters are there (rachel, rose, gar, conner, and dickkory)  
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“Y’know if you wanted DoorDash, there’s a little something called ‘the App Store’. Just thought you might like to know.” 
You glanced up from the book you were reading on your bed and, sure enough, there was a certain messy-haired boy glowering back at you, hand stuffed in one pocket with the other cradling a plastic bag full of your Bat Burger order.
He unceremoniously plopped the bag on the desk by your bed.
“And why would I do that, when I have you?” You said simply trying to emulate Rose’s confident way of speech.
You sat up, closing your book to examine the plastic bag. It had been a week since you, Rachel, and Rose had all agreed on the terms of your agreement. The boys—Jason, Conner, and Gar had all lost a bet over Game Night, and as one does, had to bear the consequences of being the girls’ gophers, or as Rose liked to call it “errand bitches”, for the rest of the year.
Thanks to Game Night, Jason was your gopher. That night had been the first night you’d spoken at length to Jason other than greetings or pleasantries. While Rachel and Rose had readily accepted their new positions of power, it was almost daunting for you to tell the King of Back-Sass himself what to do.
You started small at first, asking him for simple things like opening jars or reaching high places. It wasn’t until Conner and Gar had seen how sparingly you were ordering him around that they started to complain. 
“If they see Jason barely doing anything, then they’re not gonna listen to us Y/N. And then the whole integrity of the bet gets thrown off. What’s gonna be the point of making bets in the first place if we don’t follow through?” Rachel hissed at you between sparring trainings.
It was agreed that any time you were near Dick (or any other older Titan for that matter) that the agreement was off. If Dick had caught any whiff of the bet, he’d probably ban Game Night—or worse, lecture them on how divisions on the basis of gender would erode teamwork on the field and blah blah blah.
From then on, you agreed to give Jason more orders. Or at least, the illusion of keeping him busy so Rachel and Rose would get off your back. Making Jason your personal UberEats seemed to do the trick. And it actually worked for a few days until
 it didn’t. 
You opened the bag and wrinkled your nose at the half-eaten Bat Burger and a handful of fries. You didn’t get mad, you rarely ever did, but this was certainly annoying. 
“Jason,” You said giving him a withering look.
“What? You should be glad I saved you some. Besides, princess,” He said sarcastically, "You can’t just be eating anything. I’m testing for poison.” He reached into the bag and snatched a single fry. He took a bite and chewed for a moment thoughtfully. “Yep, all clear. Anything else you need?”
Jason was clearly testing your patience, pushing your buttons and the limits of your authority. At this rate, the few days he actually listened to you seemed too good to be true.
“No, just—I don’t need anything.” You cursed yourself for stammering and felt yourself fluster seeing his smug face. “Can you please just leave?” You got up from the bed to shoo him away.
“You’re not really good at this are you?” He snorted, dodging your lunge at him to leave the room. 
“That’s not how this works.” You took a breath to compose yourself and adjusted your glasses from falling off your nose. “We have an agreement that you follow my orders. And I just ordered you to do something, so you can go now.”
“Yea, I understand that perfectly fine.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head as if in pity. “It’s just
 you’re not good at it.” He laughed again. 
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to be good at it if that’s what was agreed.” He was implying you were meek, and maybe that was true, but that wasn’t even the whole point of the agreement. Leave it to Jason to be difficult about something as simple as this.
“I get that but, at least make it believable. You know, ‘cuz then maybe I’d actually be inclined to play along.”
You shot him a weirded out look under his scrutiny. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll leave.” You made a move for the door but Jason quickly stepped in the way. Annoying.
“I’m serious, I swear. Why do you think we all listen to Dick?”
“We listen to Dick. You’re the one that doesn’t.”
He grinned. “Ok, fair enough. But, why do you all listen to Dick?”
“I don’t know, maybe because he’s a good leader?” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “What’s your point, Jason? You’re starting to sound like him.”
“Ok first, I’m disgusted you’d even say that. And second, my point is Dick doesn’t say ‘can you please leave?’ He doesn’t ask. He either tells you or makes you.”
You stared blankly at him, but he seemed eager to make a point. “You want me to act like Dick? That way you’ll listen to me?”
“Well, no ‘cuz that wouldn’t really work, remember?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. He was all too happy to get on your nerves now. “What I’m saying is you need to Make. Me. Listen.” He leaned in a little bit, letting his voice lower as he emphasized the words.
How're you a virgin when you're takin' my cock this good, hm?
“Ugh.” You shuddered, his voice by your ear involuntarily taking you back to that night you both seemed to pretend never happened. You pushed him away, having grown tired of his smug face. When you stepped towards the door again, he rushed over and closed it shut. “Oh for God’s sake.”
You tried to step around him to no avail. 
“Move.” You glowered.
Jason's eyebrows raised slightly, almost impressed. “Acceptable.” He stepped aside to let you pass. 
As you walked through the hallway, you could hear Jason’s soft footsteps behind you.
You whipped around. “Stop following me.”
“I’m not ‘following you’, there’s only one hallway. If anything you’re in my way.” He shrugged. The look on his face bore no emotion but you swore you could see amusement twinkle in his eye.
Just ahead, Dick was walking in your direction sipping on a steaming mug of coffee. 
“Y/N, Jason! Glad to see you two getting along.”
Your frustration dissipated at the sight of the chipper man. On the field, he was as serious as can be, but off the field, he was as intimidating as a substitute teacher. 
You and Dick’s eyes both followed after Jason, who hadn’t bothered to stop and say hello. The elder brother only shook his head with a good-natured sigh and returned his attention back to you.
“I’ve noticed you warming up to everyone lately. With the other girls, I mean. You, Rose, and Rachel really seem to be a good team, especially during our practices. Even Jason is playing nice with the others. He can be a bit abrasive sometimes but these days, I can see he’s making progress with teamwork too.”
“Thanks uh- I guess it’s all thanks to you. Game Nights really helped us to get closer.” 
“Glad to hear it.” He patted you on the shoulder and turned the corner to the computer room.
When you walked into the living room, you heard everyone exhale in relief. 
“What?” You looked around quizzically. Game Night Crew had gathered again on the couches, this time—thankfully—fully clothed.
“We thought you were Grayson,” Rose called from the couch. “He almost caught us the first time.”
Caught? Doing what?
You weren’t entirely prepared for what you saw but Rose and Rachel were concentrating hard on painting Conner and Gar’s nails.
“Are you completely sure this is vegan?”
“Yes, now hold still.” Rose admonished Gar, applying another coat with professional precision.
Rachel looked up from her handiwork with Conner’s hand. She wordlessly tossed a look from you to Jason who was currently looking more interested in whatever was in the fridge than at the group in the living room. Her face clearly read, make him do something now. You sent her back a look that read, fine.
You cleared your throat. “Jason.” You tried to muster up as much authority as you could. Knowing what you knew now, you knew he wouldn’t budge at the slightest tremor of your voice.
“Hn.” Was his only response, but at least you knew you caught his attention. When he turned, you locked eyes on his. “Come here, ple—I mean. Come here.”
You watched him crack a smile. He closed the refrigerator door and ambled over. So far so good.
He didn’t seem to register anyone else in the room. He only tilted his head, waiting for the next direction.
“Sit down.”
He paused as if contemplating whether or not to answer to an instruction one gave a dog thinly veiled as an order. Even so, he sat. Well, that was easy enough, you thought to yourself. It was almost comical to see him be so obedient.
“Give me your hand.” You primed.
You could see his hesitation as you reached for the nearest nail polish bottle, but it was erased as soon as you met his gaze again. 
“That’s
 not my color.”
“Of course.” You picked up a burgundy red. “How could I forget?”
He sneered at your teasing but still allowed your light hold under the palm of his hand.
“Why does he get a choice and we don’t?” Gar pouted, looking longingly at a green bottle of nail polish
“I kinda like the black.” Conner shrugged and gave his other unpolished hand to Rachel.
“You can never go wrong with black.” Rachel agreed.
Jason grimaced as he watched the polish coat his nail. It was wholly apparent that under any other circumstance, he would’ve never allowed you to do this, but you were thankful that he liked to keep whatever honor he had to words. Under the agreement and as long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen.
ౚৎ
The next week Dick had decided that based on the success of Game Night with team morale, an outing would be another great chance for the younger members of the team to get closer. That’s why you were now sitting at the beach and squinting the sun out of your eyes. 
You had volunteered to watch everyone’s stuff while they explored the bordering pier. Jason had practically disappeared the moment his flip-flops hit the sand.
It was nice to be out just to be out, not in the field on a mission. Titan’s tower felt like one giant bubble and it was easy to forget that there was life outside being a hero. 
You settled into people-watching as you waited for the rest of the group to return. There was a group of teens playing volleyball by the net, a family of three showing their toddler how to make a sandcastle, and couples—lots of couples. 
“You not gonna go to the pier?”
You were in the middle of gazing wistfully at a couple that was sharing their ice cream when you felt a shadow over you.
“I’m watching everyone’s stuff until they get back.” You squinted up at him. Even with your hat on, it was an incredibly bright summer day.
Jason plopped down on the beach towel next to you. He was wearing swim trunks and an unbuttoned linen shirt which didn’t do much to hide the lean cuts of muscle on his abdomen. Judging by his damp curls, he had just returned from a swim in the ocean.
“I can watch,” He jutted his chin in the direction of the pier. “You should go.”
“Maybe in a little bit.” You dug your feet into the sand, feeling the warmth tingle your toes. You didn’t feel like leaving your spot just yet.
He reached behind you for his towel and bent a bit over to muss his hair dry. You were close enough to feel the tiny droplets of water tickle your skin.
“Do you have to do that right next to me?” You said, not incredibly annoyed though—the water felt cool. It was enough to make you want to go for a swim to cool down too.
“Sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly, peeking up at you from beneath the towel. His hair, now much drier and fluffed, made him look somewhat like a puppy. Cute.
You gave him a small smile before returning your attention to the ebbing and receding of the ocean tide.
“Got a lot on your mind?” 
You quickly broke your stare from the water to see that Jason was still looking at up you, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. It was the look he gave you that always made you think he didn’t quite get you. A fascinated look that made you feel like you were another species under his gaze.
“I was just thinking it’s nice to take a break and be normal for a change.”
“Normal?”
“Like,” you gestured vaguely around the beach. “Everyone here. No missions, no bad guys. Normal.”
“Yea, hanging out?” he snorted, “We do that all the time.”
Jason had been a cape since before you’d even met Dick and the rest of the group. You were still getting used to your new way of life. He was either being willfully obtuse or he really just didn’t understand you at all. You and Jason were opposites after all. Your quiet and shy often clashed with his bold and boisterous.
“I don’t mean just hanging out, I mean other stuff too.”
The couple you had seen earlier caught your eye again. They were now sitting on a beach towel further ahead of where you were. They looked like they were in their own world, nudging each other playfully in laughter. If you hadn’t joined the Titans what would you be doing now?
He followed your line of sight, gazing silently at the couple for a moment before flickering his eyes away to the water.
“We could do other stuff.”  
You expected him to be smirking at you like he usually did when he teased or made a joke, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. When you glanced at him you could see a faint flush on his cheeks. Probably from the heat.
You shook your head, realizing what you implied and trying now to take it back. “I didn’t mean with you, I mean with regular people.”
“What? Like it makes a difference?”
“Well, yea fundamentally. Gar can turn into animals, Rachel has a demon trapped inside her, Rose can’t die, Conner is Superboy. You’re...”
He frowned at your pause. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
You let out a laugh, happy that you’d annoyed him for a change.
“Well, by your logic,” he began, pointedly ignoring your laughter, “then we’re the most normal Titans here.”
He had a point. You didn’t have any special powers either but Dick had taken you in just the same.
“If you want to be a regular person for a day, I guess, now’s as good a time as any.” He shrugged noncommittally as he rose from his spot on the sand. Jason took your wrist and gently pulled you on your feet. “C’mon, before they get here.”
You furrowed your brow, worried about your unguarded post but you were relieved that Game Night crew were already on their way back.
You heard them before you could fully spot them. Conner and Gar had been happily chatting away at the head of the group. Rachel and Rose were holding prizes from the boardwalk games. Dick and Kory, being the ones that drove you here, rounded out the back of the small crowd. Kory seemed to have found delight in the terrestrial delicacy, cotton candy.
After having guided you through the throngs of pedestrians to the main attractions, he released his hold on your wrist and gestured around theatrically as he spoke, "Now we’re just two regular people at the boardwalk. There’s the very normal Ferris Wheel, normal Whack-a-Mole, normal churros gotta love those—”
“I get it,” you laughed cutting him off before he could rattle on everything within visible range around you.
"Nah, I don't think you do, but you're lucky you have me to show you. Watch this."
You shot him a skeptical look and followed after to a target shot game booth. Arrays of red targets were displayed in rows while giant stuffed animals hung along the back wall.
"Which one you want?" He pulled out a few bills to hand the attendant and passed you a few of the colorful balls for you to play a round too.
You pointed at a giant brown teddy bear hanging by its ears.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
One by one the targets fell in succession. He held the last ball in his hand and after a moment of thought, lobbed it lightly askew and letting it fall short of any target.
He gave you a smug smile and collected the teddy bear before handing it off to you.
"You call that normal?" You said incredulously, but still accepting the bear in your arms.
"What? I missed that last one."
"Sure." Jason was nothing if not terrifyingly accurate.
You played a few more games, amassing a trove of arcade treasures for each other, both of you trying your best not to be too good at the games. As you ventured down the boardwalk, you couldn't help but find your eyes linger on the young couples that surrounded you.
"When you said 'other stuff' earlier, you meant like dating stuff, right?" He said innocently between bites of funnel cake. You had decided to rest and were currently sitting down in a shaded food court, stuffed animals in tow.
You contemplated denying it but saw no reason to keep it from him. This revelation being objectively less embarrassing than the time you revealed you were still a virgin during a round of “Never Have I Ever.”
Taking your silence as an answer, he continued. "Well, since we're still doing normal shit we could try that."
You tried not to gape at him. “T-then we’d just be faking it. It wouldn’t be real...”
“So? How would you know real from fake if you've never dated anyone before?"
“Where did you get that from? I never said I didn’t date anyone before.”
“W-well I just assumed since—"
“I’ve been on dates, Jason. I’ve just never had sex.” You retorted.
“Well, Technically. We kinda, y’know..."
You don't know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N
You pursed your lips, mind flashing to his moans, him begging you to put your mouth on him, the sloppy makeout session with him after he'd punished his cock down your throat. That’s the whole reason you guys were even talking this much now. The bet. 
This is the first time you addressed that sexcapade since it happened and it's just been this weird tension ever since. It was the elephant-sized weirdness in the room, whenever you guys were around each other. You wondered faintly if Rachel and Rose were having the same issues after that night too.
"But if you don’t want to
"
"Fine."
"I-Oh,” He stammered as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Ok...um what do you want me to do?" He rubbed the back of his neck, this time the tips of his ears tinged a faint pink.
“I don’t know." You felt yourself blush, "Act like you like me.”
He blinked back his surprise, bemused. “And what would that entail exactly?”
“You know what it entails.” You scoffed, exasperated.
“Not really no. I wouldn’t know something like that.” He recovered the annoying twinkle he usually carried in his eyes.
“I’d rather not do this if you’re going to make fun of me.”
“I’m joking. You mean act like your boyfriend and whatnot. I got it.”
In one swift motion, he leaned in closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. The powdered sugar was still sweet on his tongue but as quickly as it started, you could already feel him pulling away.
"W-why did you do that? At least warn me first.”
"'Cuz that’s not what boyfriends do.
“Are you the boyfriend expert now?”
“I happen to be,” He smirked. "You got a little something." He swiped his thumb at what was most likely some leftover sugar at the corner of your mouth and brought it to his lips to taste.
ౚৎ
The ride back home was not totally uncomfortable, but it was still awkward. Jason appeared to be unfazed, joking and laughing with the boys like nothing happened. You tried your best to match his nonchalance, but given the curious looks Rachel kept throwing the both of you, you'd failed.
Jason confused you. One moment it seemed like he liked you, and the next he would act like he barely knew you. You hated it. And to avoid the sting of another unrequited crush, you didn't ask anything of him for a few days, Game Night Bet be damned.
You had been reading a book on one of those rare free-schedule days when a light knock came at your door. When you opened it, Jason was on the other side holding a brown paper bag. You eyed the Bat Burger bag first, and then the boy holding it warily.
“I didn't order anything."
With all the missions and trouble in the city, everyone gradually stopped doing the bet thing anyway.
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I owe you. For last time."
“Oh. um. Ok, I guess.” You took the bag from him and set it down at your desk. You figured that would be the end of the conversation but he remained at your doorway appearing to look like he wanted to say something else. You paused, waiting for him to speak and when he didn't, you moved to close the door again.
“W-wait! I
 I’m giving you a warning this time.”
Warning?
Then it finally clicked.
“Is
 that ok?”
There was a slight worry in his gaze as if he was unsure you'd say yes. You felt something in your stomach flip, words got caught in your throat and you could only give him a small nod.
Upon your approval he stepped in closer, eyes dropping languidly from yours down to your lips. He carefully slid your glasses off his face, folding them neatly on the desk. You felt his hands pull you in by the hip to press your body against him. This time when he kissed you, it wasn't the same as when you were at the beach. It was slower, deliberate. Like he had been building up to this very moment.
You closed the door behind you as the kisses became more wanton and his hands began to roam grasping at your waist and hips, kneading handfuls of your ass beneath your skirt. You loved how he felt pressed against you, sturdy and strong. It wasn't long before you stumbled backward onto the bed and found yourself under him.
"What? Am I too loud?" His brow furrowed in worry when he felt your kisses subside. "I’ll be quieter."
"No, it's not that," you laughed a bit. He did have a habit of making tiny moans through kisses. But you gave him an extra peck on the lips for reassurance. "It’s just...You’re doing this because you want to right?"
“Not even gonna lie, I wanted to do this since the day you showed up.” His smile was bashful, like he just admitted a secret.
The guy you've liked since you joined the Titans had been thinking about you the same way? You thought back to the times you interacted. Jason's attention to you always came in the form of teasing but the weirdness after Game Night and the beach only served to confuse you more.
“Well, you did a shit job of showing it.” You pouted, adjusting your position beneath him to slide your shirt off.
“That’s only ‘cuz I thought you hated me." He sat up a bit to take his own shirt off before returning to plant kisses across your body.
“Ok, hate is a strong word.”
“You’re not denying it.” You could feel him smiling against your skin.
“More like minor dislike. But that’s only because I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I’m sorry." He murmured kissing your jaw, then down your neck. "I think pretty girls make my brain stop working. But I can make it up to you." He slid a hand underneath your unclasped bra and thumbed over the nipple. You let out a small gasp of air. “D'you want me to?”
You nodded, meeting his eyes. 
“Use your words.”
“I want you to-oh fuck." Before you could even finish your sentence, his mouth had replaced his hand on your breast. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as he sucked and made warm licks at one breast, making sure to keep the other occupied with his hand.
In any other circumstance, he would never have missed the chance to tease you about your new choice of vocabulary, but he had a different kind of teasing in mind. He had removed his mouth from your breast and was now kissing up your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over your panties.
“You’re so fucking wet."
He pulled down your panties and worked one finger and then two until his fingers were squelching in and out of your pussy. You'd masturbated before—maybe even masturbated to the fantasy of him fingering you too—but it was nothing like this. His hands were much bigger and roughened by years of combat on and off the field. It was better than you could’ve imagined yourself
“Can I taste it?” He asked, voice hoarse with need. Like if you’d denied him, you might as well have denied a desperately thirsty man water.
Before you could even reply, he replaced his fingers with his mouth. He laved at your entrance, relishing in your whimpering his name and your tangling your fingers through his hair. Jason might've loved a good blowjob, but he practically worshiped pussy. Every suck and kiss of your folds was accompanied by his pretty moans.
It was at this point where you felt yourself hurtling towards climax, but before you could get your much-needed release, you felt the warmth from his mouth leave you.
“Please...your mouth,” was all you could say upon regaining lucidity.
“What'd I say about saying please?” He rubbed a knuckle against your mound; You tried desperately to grind on it.
"J-jason," You whined, squirming under him in impatience. He seemed to enjoy watching you writhe to the same degree he loved to annoy you.
Make. Me. Listen.
Technically the bet was still in effect. As long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen, right? You sat up, pushing him onto his back to straddle him. His eyes widened, flashing equal parts in anticipation and welcomed confusion as he ran his hands along your thighs and you could feel his length underneath you. You would take care of that later, but for now, you had your own needs to fulfill.
Jason attempted to meet your lips again, but you only pushed him back to the bed again.
"I
 want to cum," You declared simply, trying your best to be confident.
"Yea?" He grinned. "I can help you with that. You gonna sit on my face or do you need to ask for permission?"
"No, just—it’s embarrassing," You said almost breaking character. Almost.
He rolled his eyes. "If y'wanna cum, you're gonna need to come closer."
You crawled over him, tentatively hovering above his face scared to accidentally crush him. Once you got into position, he pressed you down resuming his kisses and licks, moaning as he lapped from underneath you.
"Oh fu—I'm gonna cum," you whimpered unconsciously fisting his hair as you ground against him, using his face shamelessly to ride out your orgasm.
When you sat back on his lap, you felt something under some wetness under you. Had he cum just from eating you out?
"Be honest.” Jason was now catching breath, face glistening with your juices, with a dumb smile playing on his pink and swollen lips.
The pure sight of him—messy and pussy drunk—was enough to make you want to sit on his face again.
“You really did wanna fuck me so bad at Game Night.”
"You’re so full of it." You shook your head, humored. Leave it to Jason to crack a joke post-coital. Not that he wasn't incorrect.
“I'm so flattered you hump your pillow at night and think of me. Since you were riding me like one."
"Are you forgetting that you’re the one that lost the bet? I still have a good two months on you."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" He whispered absently rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.
"Yes, it should. I can make your life hell."
"Oh really?" His eyes flickered from your lips and back up to your face. That seemed like a risk he was willing to take. From your seat on his lap, you could feel him growing hard again beneath you.
"Yes, really. I was going easy on you."
"You do realize you can’t make me do anything I wouldn’t want to do myself.”
"What about the DoorDash?"
"Well, I ate some of it."
"And the nail polish?"
"I happen to like that color."
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, it seemed he had an answer for everything and his smile was growing wider to match every smartass retort.
"Just get over here." You missed the feel of his lips on yours already.
Finding no answer for that, he could only let out a laugh, "Yes, ma’am."
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© blackreaderfics // dividers by cafekitsune & poison-aesthetics
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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 18 days ago
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Just for the Taste
Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3k
Summary: Growing increasingly frustrated with the pace things are going at between her and Michael, his girlfriend takes matters into her own hands, quite literally.
Author's note: Day nine of Smuffmas - stockings and sex toys. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
She had met Michael in her first month at Oxford university. It was a Saturday night and, unlike the vast majority of people living in her college, she had opted to stay in instead of hitting the town to spend her student loan in one of the many pubs. She had a tutorial on Monday and was determined to impress the computer scientist who would be leading it. Her entire weekend revolved around getting ahead with the required reading in order to have a full understanding of the previous week’s lecture topics. She wanted to be able to talk about them at length, and share her ideas in a comprehensive manner.
Her stomach had dropped as she had reached into her backpack, feeling that her Discrete Mathematics textbook was missing. She cursed under her breath, realising she had left it on the table in the Bodleian Old Library. It closed at 4pm on Saturdays, so she’d have to wait until it opened tomorrow to go and fetch it back.
A lack of a textbook wasn’t enough to deter her though. On average, of students that applied to the Computer Science course at Oxford, only 17% were interviewed, and only 5% were successful. She was acutely aware of how fortunate she was, but also how hard she’d worked to get here, and wasn’t about to let that lapse.
A thorough Google search yielded nothing useful, all of the PDFs she managed to unearth were outdated editions and would have been of no use to her. She decided to go door knocking – the time will pass anyway, she figured, and there might be someone in their room that had a copy of the textbook that she could borrow. A long shot, but it was either that or lose an evening of studying, and she wasn’t prepared to do that.
Unfortunately for her, the Computer Science course wasn’t an especially sociable one – the difficulty of the subject matter and competitive nature of the field it eventually lead into wasn’t a breeding ground for fast friendships, and with only 44 people on the course who were all more than happy to keep to themselves, she had no idea where any of them were actually staying. There had to be at least one in her college though.
The first three doors she knocked on yielded no response, the fourth was answered by a flustered, barely dressed girl, who stared at her in wide eyed bewilderment as a male voice from within the room called out “tell them to go away!”
Her skin ablaze with embarrassment, she descended the stairs and was fully prepared to give up after receiving no response from another two doors, before the one in the far corner creaked open, causing her to turn to face the noise. A bespectacled pair of blue eyes peered out at her, narrowed in suspicion.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
She glanced at her watch – just after 9.30pm. “Yeah, it’s not late
”
“What are you doing?” he asked her. His voice was quiet, but laced with derision. “Are you pissed?”
She shook her head, slowly approaching his door as she clasped her hands in front of her. His stare was piercing and intense, yet his posture was so rigid she got the sense that he’d likely slam the door on her if she moved too quickly.
“I haven’t been drinking,” she said apologetically, “just need to borrow a textbook. You’re not on my course so I doubt you could help me anyway.”
“What are you reading?” he asked, his posture softening slightly, though he didn’t open the door any wider.
“Computer Science.”
“Hmm. I’m reading Maths, so–”
Her eyes lit up, a surge of hope making her heart soar. “I need a copy of Discrete Mathematics,” she said excitedly, “I don’t suppose you have one?”
“Not a physical copy
”
She visibly deflated, her heart sinking in disappointment as her shoulders sagged. “Nevermind then. Thanks anyway.”
“I’ve got a PDF,” he said, opening the door wider as she turned to leave.
She stopped in her tracks, her gaze drifting to where his fingers clutched the USB drive that was clasped to the belt loop of his tan coloured cargo trousers with a carabiner clip. “From what year?” she asked quietly, as her eyes lifted back up to his.
“2005.”
She grinned. That was exactly the year she needed. “You’re an absolute lifesaver,” she told him, her voice breathy with relief.
“I think the file might be too big for me to send over email though,” he admitted.
“Could you not just lend me the flash drive? I can give it straight back tomorrow morning.”
He pursed his lips, eyeing her from head to toe. “How do I know you will? This is a one gigabyte USB drive, it’s valuable. You might steal it.”
She grinned, until she realised he was being serious. “I live in the room directly above yours,” she told him, gesturing upwards towards the ceiling, “so you’ll know where to find me.” She gave him her name, as she fiddled with the clasp of her watch, removing it from her wrist and holding it out to him. “Here, insurance, so you know I’m not trying to steal from you.”
The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across his lips as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Alright, fine,” he relented, taking her watch from her and slipping it into his pocket. He unclipped the USB drive and handed it to her. “I’m Michael, by the way.”
“Thanks, Michael,” she said with a coy smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She made her way back upstairs to her room and spent the rest of the night studying then, true to her word, on her way to the library the following morning, she knocked on Michael’s door to give him back his USB drive.
“I’m glad to see you’re a woman of your word,” Michael said playfully, as she clipped the drive back onto his carabiner, his cheeks flushing at her close proximity.
She held out her wrist and, silently, he clasped her watch back around it. Her skin tingled as his fingers brushed across it, their eyes meeting as their breaths simultaneously caught in their throats.
From that moment on, her and Michael were inseparable. The attraction was instantaneous, deepened by a shared love of mathematics and a refusal to toe the line when it came to the unspoken social hierarchy in place at the university.
Michael was a virgin, and so they took things slowly. She had had a long term boyfriend before going away to university, so she had had sex, but wasn’t overwhelmingly experienced. The split between her and her ex had been amicable; both going away to study in entirely different cities, they had wanted to give each other the opportunity to focus on their respective courses, rather than the pressures of maintaining a long distance relationship.
Things often turned hot and heavy between her and Michael. As their kisses grew feverish, his hips grinding of their own accord against hers, she could feel he was hard, knew that he wanted her, but was often left disappointed when he would hurry to the bathroom for a cold shower before anything truly interesting could happen between them. She cared for him, so she was happy to wait, though the sexual frustration was beginning to take its toll on her.
She had never been more grateful for the bullet vibrator she had brought with her to university, though it was costing her a small fortune in batteries – it had never had so much use before.
Three months into their relationship, she was beginning to get desperate. They had arranged to watch a film in Michael’s room that evening, so she decided to make it more than obvious that she was eager to take things a step further.
She pulled on lace topped hold up stockings and a black, lacy lingerie set, covering it with the red woolen jumper that Michael had left in her room the last time he was there. It fell to her mid thigh, so it wasn't immediately obvious that she had no other clothing on underneath.
They had fallen into the comfortable habit of leaving their doors unlocked when they were expecting each other to come over, so that they wouldn’t have to knock. She let herself straight into his room, finding Michael hunched over at his desk, fiddling with a Blockbuster DVD case to open it, so he could insert the disc into the CD drive of his laptop.
“What we watching then?” she asked, letting her rucksack drop from her shoulder onto the floor as she perched on the edge of his bed.
“Revenge of the Sith,” he answered, turning in his seat to look at her, “it’s a Star Wars film. I thought, erm
”
He trailed off, his lips parting slightly as he pushed his glasses up his nose. She followed his line of sight, seeing that the hem of his jumper had ridden up as she’d sat on the bed, revealing the lacy tops of her stockings. She smiled, knowing her outfit was having the desired effect, before looking back at him.
“You thought what?” she asked innocently, settling back properly on the bed as she moved a pillow behind her to lean against. She didn’t bother to pull the jumper back down, wanting to leave no room for doubt as to what her intentions were.
Michael swallowed thickly, before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, let’s just watch the film.”
As the film played, she could hardly concentrate, the closeness of Michael next to her, the heat of his body so close to hers was a distraction. Their fingers were entwined upon the sheets between them, a gesture of closeness and intimacy, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.
Slowly, she moved his hand onto her thigh, leaving their fingers interwoven there for a few moments while she gauged his reaction. His eyes flitted to hers and he offered her a tight smile before he returned his attention back to his laptop screen. He made no attempt to move his hand away, so she left it there.
Gradually, she disentangled her fingers from his, pulling her hand away until only his remained on top of her thigh. His thumb absentmindedly began to stroke at the lace of her stocking, tracing the swirling pattern of the material as he continued to watch the film.
She had no idea what was occurring on the screen; the light sabers, the red and black face of Darth Maul, it was all just a blur of colour to her as her pulse raced beneath Michael’s touch. His hand moved higher, fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her inner thigh. It took all of her restraint not to just grab his hand and place it where she needed him most, knowing that she shouldn’t rush him. At a maddeningly slow pace his fingers inched their way up, her core throbbing with desire and the crotch of her knickers growing damp with arousal the closer he got. As his fingertips reached the hem of her underwear, so close to pushing underneath, the credits of the film began to roll and Michael moved his hand away, climbing off of the bed towards the desk where the laptop sat.
She wanted to scream in frustration, every nerve ending in her body felt ablaze, desperate to feel something, anything and he was painfully oblivious to all of it.
Not in the mood to answer his questions about what she had thought about what they had just watched – she hadn’t been paying attention anyway – she stood up, tugging the jumper down and slipping the shoes back on.
“Night then,” she called over her shoulder, not giving him a chance to respond as she hurried out of his room and back up the stairs towards her own.
She knew she was being rude and incredibly unfair to Michael, and that they would likely have to discuss at some point how his apprehension towards physical intimacy was affecting her, but right now she was a pent up mess of hormones and arousal and she needed release.
Slamming the door closed the moment she stepped into her room, she flopped down onto the bed, roughly tugging her underwear down her legs and tossing it to one side. She reached into the bedside table drawer, feeling around until her fingers wrapped around the familiar shape of her bullet vibrator.
Thank god, she thought, switching it on and bringing it between her legs, sighing in relief as she pressed it against her swollen clit and her eyes fluttered closed. Her breaths grew heavier as she moved the toy in tight circles to aid the gentle rumble against her sensitive bundle of nerves.
She froze as the door swung to, her eyes snapping open to see Michael standing there.
“Hey, you left your bag, so I– oh, shit, sorry!”
“Wait!” she pleaded, turning the toy off and chucking it down onto the bed as she moved into a sitting position. “Don’t go.”
He let her rucksack drop to the floor beside his feet, closing the door behind him and resting his back against it. His eyes were glued to the floor, his cheeks ablaze as he struggled to find the words. “Were you
were you
um
”
“Yeah, yeah, I was,” she admitted shamefully, feeling her skin grow warm with humiliation.
“Is that why you left so quickly? Because you wanted to
”
He looked so dejected, so sad, so hurt, it made her want to burst into tears. She’d have done anything to take away the furrow of his brow, the disappointed look in his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, hating herself for the answer.
“Do you not want to with me then?” he asked, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear it.
“Of course I do,” she insisted, “that’s why I was doing
what I was doing.”
“I don’t understand,” he admitted, finally looking up to meet her eye, his back still pressed against the door as she sat on the bed.
She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, unable to keep the frustration from her voice as she tried to explain. “I want you, Michael, but I appreciate that you’re a virgin and I don’t want to push you before you’re ready. I have needs though, I’m sorry
”
“You shouldn’t have to apologise for that,” he reassured her, pushing away from the door and slowly approaching the bed, “I am ready, I just never realised you wanted to, you never said.”
“I’ve been dropping hints left and right, did you not see what I was wearing tonight?”
“Yeah, my jumper,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck, “just assumed you hadn’t done any washing for a while.”
She groaned, fighting the urge to laugh – for an intelligent guy, he could be so incredibly dense. “I want to fuck you! Is that clear enough?”
Michael nodded, his gaze falling upon the toy that lay discarded beside her. “I don’t know what I’m doing though. I’ve always just been able to do maths in my head, never needed a calculator before, but I know they help people. Maybe that–” he pointed towards the vibrator, “could be my calculator, could help me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Show me how to fuck you.”
The bluntness took her breath away, but the intensity of his stare left no room for argument. “Alright,” she nodded, picking the toy up once more.
Michael stepped clumsily out of his shoes, then moved to the foot of the bed, kneeling upon it. “Go on then, show me.”
She could feel nervous excitement fluttering in her belly as she laid back, allowing her legs to fall open, giving him an unobstructed view of her most intimate area, before she pressed the bullet back against herself and switched it on.
Michael inhaled sharply, his hands coming to rest upon the knees of her bent legs, holding them open as he watched her intently. “What does it feel like?”
“It
it feels good,” she whispered breathlessly, slowly circling the toy against her bud, “there’s pressure, but it feels nice.” 
She gazed up at him as she panted and moaned softly, seeing the way his pupils dilated subtly. His hands moved to his belt, tugging it open, causing her to bite her lip, a mixture of arousal, curiosity and disbelief all fought for dominance in her pleasure-addled mind as she watched him unzip his trousers and free his hardened length. It was long, thick and slightly curved, the tip weeping with arousal.
“Can I?” he asked, gently grasping her wrist to coax her hand away from herself. 
She nodded, allowing him to move her arm to her side, the toy still buzzing in her hand. She gasped as he replaced the toy with the flushed head of his cock, rubbing it in circular motions, allowing it to notch against her clitoral hood.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice strained, and she simply nodded, desperately fighting the urge to buck her hips from the exquisite pressure he was applying.
“Shouldn’t
shouldn’t your first time be special?” she uttered, voice thick with desire.
“We’re not fucking, we’re learning,” he said softly, his gaze never moving from between her thighs as he continued to stroke himself through her slick folds, “and besides, it being with you automatically makes it special.”
Her heart fluttered at his words, they would have been romantic were it not for the lewdness of what they were doing.
“Now,” he said, pulling back slightly and grabbing her wrist again, “show me what else you do with this toy.”
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deathbxnny · 8 months ago
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Alrighty cool, thank you for clearing that up (and in such a timely manner too)!
So, lemme cook here... with some Angst + Hurt/Comfort >:D
Arlecchino with a Fem!S/O who's the "Mother" to the children of the House. She was among the survivors of the previous Knave's regime over the House of Hearth. With her and Arle having had perhaps a kind of mutual crush that was only truly pursued after Arle killed "mother".
Basically, the scenario for the request is when Arlecchino' and her's S/O are taking care of one of the kids of the House after they're badly injured after a mission, and... needles to say... they don't make it. And during when Arle and S/O are visiting the kid's grave to pay their respect's, S/O begins to muse "you'd think I'd be used to having to bury children, after..." before starting to break down.
(Part two) (Part Three) (Part four) (Part five)
Ooooh, I love your brain, Anon!! Thank you so much for this great request!! I have to admit that whilst writing this, I actually liked the idea of making this super angsty and kind of bitter (like most of my fics lmao-) so I hope you like it despite the lack of comfort anyway-
Content: Heavy angst, vague mentions of past child abuse, murder, death, reader is Female and referred to as "Mother/wife", mentions of heavy injuries and blood, controlling behavior from/ooc Arlecchino?, kind of bitter ending, children dying, grief Reader has she/her pronouns ((Not proofread!!!))
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Buried angels and that odd wish to live. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)
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In a way, you often wondered why the young ones often wished to live when they knew that their end was nearing. Their eyes would widen, breaths becoming sharper and shorter, mouths closing and opening in panic before they'd whisper those words you had heard so many times. Their deaths always followed closely after, eyes dimming, their soul finally disappearing with the blown out candles, the sweet scent mingling with the smell of blood and burnt flesh. In the light of the moon filtering through an open window, you'd see the grim reaper staring at you in mirrors and your crimson stained palms, a thoughtful look on her face, one asking a simple question she might forever ask you.
"What did you expect?"
And you'd reply by looking away from your own image, away from the guilt and self-doubt and into the eyes of the woman who made all these children utter that odd wish in the first place.
Your hands shook, held up high as you peered into the crime of a mother who couldn't save her child, raised as though pleading for the forgivness of a god that was mightier than the one you worked for. One that was less cruel, despite the heart everyone claimed she had. And yet, they were enveloped by a towel instead, that wiped away the sins and hurt, even if just for a moment. "There is... nothing we could have done to save her, Mother." Lyney whispered quietly to you, perhaps afraid of being too loud and disturbing someone who couldn't even ever bother to hear him anymore. He tried to be reassuring, but it did little when you just couldn't look away from your wife.
Arlecchino. The Knave. A highly ranked harbinger, whose heart always belonged to you from the start, although with great difficulties that took you years to overcome.
The first time she made you stain your hands with blood was when she killed the woman that raised you two, the first and only woman you ever called "Mother." Although the gentleness and nurturing part of her title was just a simple facade, it still shaped you both greately. You had sworn to do better, to become a better mother to all the children you both took in after marriage and Arlecchino... she seemed to have trned against that title. She believed that being a "father" was more fitting. The right way to raise the children of the Hearth family. Cold and detached, yet firm and guiding.
It made you opposites at times. Painfully different opposites. You became a secret haven of safety for the children, a place they can hide away in, whenever their "Father's" wrath came after them. And you've fought so hard to be this gentle. You killed, murdered, slaughtered your way out of fate. You dragged yourself out of hell, you bled, you cried endless tears. You wanted to prove that you could do better and you ultimately did now... or so you thought. You began doubting it years ago, and it's what made you find their wish to live so odd. Was it an instinct, or did they actually view their life's with you two as desirable, something to live for, when all they did in the end was suffer?
"Mother." Lyney said again, this time a little louder, this time enough to make you glance up at him. His face was a blurry shadow, the light falling over his shoulders and illuminating his head like a halo, as he pushed the towel rather hastily into a nearby laundry basket. You'd never get the stains out, and so it would most likely be thrown away, perhaps burried with the young girl. "Let's... get you cleaned up, okay? I... we will take care of the rest." The change in his wording made you press your lips together. It wasn't anyone's job to do this except your own, and for a moment, you imagined yourself curling up next to the child that died crying and begging for you to save it.
You stood up only barely on shaking knees, trembling hand reaching out to close the small girls eyes, and you could feel the cold tears and skin stinging your palm. "It is alright, Lyney. Your father and I will take care of her ourselves..." You looked over your shoulder at the woman who had yet to move or say anything ever since she silently entered the room a while ago. You could see the cold glint of her eyes in the dark, her face otherwise covered by the shadows as she sat calmy and collected in her chair. She knew it was over the moment the girl was brought in by a couple of Fatui agents, th failure of her mission being crystal clear by the deep wounds and burns on her body. She never stood a chance. She wasn't experienced enough, not skilled enough. But the weak get eaten, as the Knave would often say.
Lyney gave you a hesitant look, his mouth opening to protest before he stilled at his Father crossing his legs expectantly. He understood the silent order. "... Ofcourse, Mother. Call my name if there is anything I can do for you." He said, a hand on his chest as he bowed before quickly taking his leave. When the door creaked open, you could have sworn to see the flickers of Lynette and Freminet staring back at you solemnly before they disappeared in the presence of their brother. You stared at the closed door for an unknown while, nearly zoning out, until you let out a shaky sigh. "Make her grave beautiful, perhaps with a blue ribbon attached to it. She loved those." You muttered, the exhaustion finally hitting you full force and making you feel faint. Your body felt heavy, feet dragging across the floor as you also made your exit, the only awknowledgement you received being in the form of the woman leaning her head against her palm idly whilst she closed those cursed eyes of hers.
---
There wasn't much of a funeral for the child.
A couple Fatui agents simply made a hole in the ground like they did with all the others and then lowered the small casket into it, before tossing dirt back in until it disappeared and only the stone with her was left as proof that the child ever even existed. It was a routine at this point, one everyone was used to. Everyone but you. Perhaps the years had made you soft. Perhaps the love and gentleness you gave these children had made you weak. But here you were, standing under the rain and staring at the grave for hours now, unmoving. The water had drenched through your clothes, ran down your face, made you shiver from the cold, despite feeling too numb to fully realise that. Arlecchino stood at your side, an umbrella laying in the wet dirt by her heeled feet from when you pushed it out of her hands and away from you defiantly.
The silence was deafening, filled with the constant tapping of water against your clothes, the metal on the Knave's uniform, and the stone of the sea of graves around you. "How many..." You whispered weakly, trying to form words through incoherent thoughts and the lack of sleep you've had lately. "... do I have to see die before it's enough?" Arlecchino said nothing, and you were nearly convinced that she didn't hear you if it wasn't for her hand twitching.
You let out a disbelieving laugh, a hand covering your face, trying to ease the pain that plagued you deeply. "You'd think that I'd be used to burying children by now... but I... it hurts me." You didn't want to break. In fact, you had never broken before. But as you stood there amongst the many angels that you burried, the many angels that had all once stained your hands red, you began to wonder why you ever even agreed to this. You weren't like your wife. You couldn't be a "Father". You just didn't want to be one.
You buried your face into your hands, imagining the suffocating feeling of their final wish being the same as the pain of strangulation. They reached for the skies and reached for freedom they could only brush shortly with their fingertips before they were covered in dirt to never see what they desperately yearned for again.
"We always took pride in having become something better, different than her... and yet look at us, Peruere! We just became exact copies of her instead! Oh, the shame!" You whispered through strained sobs, voice distorted as you crumbled to the ground in guilt. You had been defeated, and yet Arlecchino still stood so tall, her eyes staring at your shivering and trembling form. She didn't say a word, or perhaps she didn't know what to say. "How many children will you make me stain my hands for?" You asked finally, but the silence told you all.
Peruere loved the children you raised together. But Arlecchino, the Knave, had an objective, a mission. Eat or be eaten, a reality that even hurt her deep down. And yet the curse she had since birth prevented her from feeling it any further than a passing acknowledgement.
"... Stand up, (Y/N). We need to get home... our children await us." She simply responded after your heavy breaths became shallow, and you simply laid there limply at the foot of the grave. But her voice conveyed a certain gentleness she only ever extends to you. It was like the warmth of a summer rain, refreshing and light as it rippled through your heart. With swollen eyes, you watched her reach an ungloved hand out to you, her gaze expectant and yet so unreadable. You felt like a child that powered itself out after a tantrum, the exhaustion and defeat crippling your soul, when you finally just took her hand after what felt like a long moment of consideration.
She hummed a gentle praise against your ear as you slumped against her, face pressed to her shoulder whilst you trembled now from the cold that nipped at your skin through your drenched clothes. Arlecchino wrapped an arm around you, her pensive and yet still so stern gaze drifting through the graveyard filled with those buried angels, as you often called them. Perhaps it was a moment of calm reflection, that made her grab onto your face and wipe away a tear.
"You are nothing like her." And yet, the Knave didn't deny that she might have fallen to her fate herself. Just not you. Never you. "These tears, this hurt you speak of, they are all proof of it. You shed tears for them, for us. Only a good mother could do such a thing." The words she spoke had a deep meaning, one only you two understood, and that made your heart flutter. You looked away, trying your best not to burst into tears again at the tragedy of the situation, but it was so hard when Arlecchino got like this. She only rarely showcased such blatant affection, such blatant declaration of her deep yet rather complicated love for you as her wife. "Please... Let's go home..." You simply whispered, which made her nod in approval.
You gazed up at the skies as you walked away, sunlight beginning to filter through the thick clouds and making you frown bitterly as it warmed your face. Arlecchino's hand meanwhile rested against your back, her watchful eyes gliding across the endless meadows you passed by, and for a moment, she could hear her children laughing, squealing and frolicking through the tall grass. They chased each other in a game of tag, running as fast as they could away from the two of you, over a hill and into what the Knave imagined to be their freedom far from her cold and stern ways. She cracked a bitter smile, one of acceptance as she glanced down at your tired, silently crying and trembling form.
Arlecchino was perhaps wrong after all. Maybe in the end the children did need a loving, nurturing mother instead.
What a shame, that it was too late to go back now.
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Alright, so this took me all day to write, and I'm not sure if it's good, because I'm still very sick... but I still hope you liked this, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!!<33
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mayrose713 · 19 days ago
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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 14
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Series Masterlist | Previous | Next
ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI
Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed
I'm still writing I promise. My great grandma is okay so I'm not going back to where I grew up for now. I am having to work everyday until Christmas at the moment but managed to finish this chapter today after I had taken some time getting my thoughts for another story out. Sometimes starting on another fic that I have in my head helps me with my writers block for my original fics so look forward to a new one eventually after I have finished this.
Enjoy this long waited chapter
Chapter 14
“Alright baby girl.” Chan holds Y/n’s hand as they walk down the street of shops. “Let’s get you some swimsuits.”
Seungmin grabs the door of one of the shops and holds it open for the two as they walk in. The omega looks around seeing it’s specifically a swimsuit shop and immediately becomes a bit overwhelmed at all the options. Of course most of them are bikinis which she frowns at being unsure about showing off so much skin. 
“You okay?” Seungmin grabs her other hand, having smelled her scent sour a little.
“Yeah.” She whispers with a small nod still looking around her.
“Baby.” Seungmin frowns and steps directly in front of her so she would look at him. “You get whatever suits you are comfortable with.”
“It is why we’re the ones taking you.” Chan squeezes her hand. “We’re the two that won't try and convince you to get a bikini if you don’t wanna.”
“Thank you.” She whispers again smiling at both of them before letting go of their hands to start looking around the store.
She starts off looking at some of the one pieces as well as tankinis and grabs a few of them to try on. She also grabs a few pairs of some female swim trunks. 
“I’m gonna try these on.” Y/n walks away from them to the dressing room and they follow to sit in the waiting area outside of the rooms.
Chan sighs as they sit down in the chairs. “She doesn’t like this.”
“Shopping in general or for swimsuits?” Seungmin asks.
“I think for swimsuits.” The alpha looks at his younger mate. “Felix said she doesn’t really know how to swim meaning she probably didn’t go to the beach or pool much.”
“I can understand if she’s uncomfortable showing so much skin around us.” Seungmin thinks about it but shakes his head. “But Hyunjin said she went skinny dipping with Lix last night.”
Chan looks at the beta a bit shocked but then thinks about it for a second. “It makes sense actually.”
“How?” Seungmin furrows his brows. 
“Lixie is the most omega-like beta any of us has ever met.” Chan sighs. “She’s the most comfortable with him because of it, has been since the moment we met her. It was him she asked to sit in the bathroom with her during her bath after her dry heat. I honestly think if our pack didn’t have any alphas she would have wanted him to claim her first.”
“Well he was the first of the rest of us to do so.” Seungmin gives a small smile and Chan looks shocked again as he didn’t know about this. “Lix and I shared a room last night. I noticed the new bite mark on his neck. And I confirmed it when I saw Y/n this morning.”
“I’m just glad they have each other.” The alpha sits back in the chair. “I don’t know if you had noticed but Lixie hadn’t seem quite like himself before we found Y/n”
“I did.” Seungmin mumbles. “I think we all noticed.” He glances back towards the dressing rooms to see if there's any sign of the omega coming back out again and sighs when there isn’t. “He’s really perked up with her around. Jisung too.”
“All of you have.” Chan looks at him lovingly and reaches over, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know you and Hyunjin were against her at first but the moment her dry heat kicked in you stepped up more than I ever would have thought. I haven’t seen you like that with anyone other than Lixie and Ji.”
Before the beta could say anything else Y/n walks out of one of the rooms, placing most of the swimsuits on the rack of put backs but holds a few as she joins them. “I’m done.”
“Great.” Chan stands up taking the items from the girl. “I’ll take these and check them out then we can go get ice cream or something. Why don’t you two look up what's nearby.”
After Chan walks away Seungmin gently grabs her chin to look at him. “What’s wrong pup?”
“Nothing.” She tries to brush him off but he doesn’t let her.
“I’m not going to ask again, Y/n.” He gets stern. 
The omega looks down sad and he pulls her to his chest as she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”
“What's wrong Y/n?”
“A lot.” She whispers into his shoulder causing him to turn his head a bit to hear her better. “I’ve just had a feeling since this morning that somethings gonna happen. Something bad.”
“It’s probably just your anxiety, baby.” He whispers back to her, rubbing her back. “You’re in a new place, doing things that you aren’t used to so you’re on edge.”
“Maybe.” She sighs into his neck taking in his scent. 
“What else is bothering you?” Seungmin asks and he feels her huff against him for how he’s so observant. “It isn’t just today, yesterday too, after we had gotten to the house. You seemed so happy and excited at first but it changed after Min and Lixie went to the store.”
“It’s stupid.” She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let her. “Minnie.”
“Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He reassures her. “Tell me.”
Y/n sighs again. “Innie told me that everyone shared rooms while here which you all think helps the pack bonding and strengthens your relationship. But
”
“We get here and place you in your own room.” He sighs. “You feel excluded.”
She nods her head and feels him tighten his hold on her. “I get that at home I had mostly been sleeping in my room but the night before we left I slept in Minho’s bed with him and Jisung and I really enjoyed it.”
“So when Innie told you we all shared, you were looking forward to it.” He lays his head against hers. 
“Yeah.” 
“Why didn’t you ask if you could sleep with two of us?” He hates her feeling like this. “Or ask one of us to sleep in your room with you? I would have. And you know Lix would in a heartbeat.”
“I don’t know.” She grabs the back of his shirt. 
“You were scared we would deny you? Especially after putting you in your own room.” Seungmin quickly realizes and his heart breaks. “Baby, I promise you we would never.”
“I know, I’m trying to get used to that.” She pulls away to look up at him.
“You’re just so used to it that your brain isn’t letting you.” He pokes her head a little, making her give a small smile. “But we’ll fix that. Starting with me sleeping in your room tonight.”
“You don’t have to Minnie.”
“I want to.”
After checking out, Chan notices his mates embracing, causing him to smile. But he quickly realizes that something is wrong based on how Seungmin is holding Y/n and gets worried. 
“What happened?” He asks once he walks over to them and they both turn to look at their alpha as he tries to assess the situation. 
The beta looks at Y/n for a second before turning Chan. “Everything’s okay, just some anxiety.”
Chan looks at both of them for a moment and accepts that answer and rubs both of their arms. “Okay. Do you want to continue and go get something sweet or head back to the house?”
“No, we can go wherever.” The omega doesn’t want to ruin their date. “Minnie helped.”
“You sure?” He checks to make sure there wasn’t any doubt and that she’s okay. When he doesn’t see sign of any and she nods he takes her hand. “Alright, let's go find what's around that has something sweet to eat.”
“I’m sure the ice cream and pastry shop is still here from last time.” Seungmin takes his phone out of his pocket to double check. “Yup, it’s still there.”
“Then let’s go.” 
Chan leads the two along behind him, still holding the shopping bag as they walk out of the store and head towards the little dessert shop. The smell of fresh baked goods hits them the moment they walk in making Y/n eyes widen at the amount of options to choose from.
“Well we know you like chocolate since you enjoyed Felix’s brownies.” Seungmin grabbed her hand. “Do you want ice cream or do you want a pastry?”
“Or both?” The alpha chimes in.
“I think just ice cream.” She mumbles and they bring her over to the glass of all the ice cream flavors. 
The amount of flavors to choose from overwhelms her as she looks at all of it, shocked to see so many. Y/n’s been used to only chocolate or vanilla. 
“What flavor are you thinking?” Seungmin squeezes her hand. 
“Just chocolate.” 
The two males glance at each other in concern by her mood. 
Chan looks around and the little parlor is pretty much empty. 
“Why don’t you grab us a table and we’ll order.” He smiles at her and she tenses up. “It’s okay baby, there’s practically no one in here and we can see everything so you aren’t exactly alone. We won’t let anything happen.” 
She nods before letting go of their hands and goes to grab a table while they wait for the worker to finish the persons in front of them order before it’s their turn. 
“What’s going on Minnie?” Chan finally asks the beta after Y/n is out of hearing range, wrapping an arm around the younger to bring him into his side. 
Seungmin's sighs before look up at the older male. “She feels she’s being excluded being in her own room. And didn’t want to ask to sleep with any of us last night or have any of us with her because she was scared of being denied.” 
“We would never deny her like that.” 
“I know.” Seungmin reassures. “And I think deep down she does too. She's just so used to it that she still fears it.”
“Eventually she’ll no longer be afraid.”
The two ordered once it was their turn. Y/n sits at a table nearby watching the two when she notices someone walking past the shop outside. She didn’t fully get to see them but she could have sworn it was her cousin. She tries not to freak out as she had always gotten along with her cousins fairly well and just assumes that maybe he has a tournament on the island this week. 
“One chocolate ice cream.” Chan sets the cup in front of her, making her turn back to them and smile as they too sit down at the table. 
She scoops up a small bite on her spoon before licking it and her eyes widen. “Oh my god, this is so good.” 
The two males smile and give a small chuckle at her. 
⋆âș₊⋆ ☟ ⋆âș₊⋆
“Lix has already fallen asleep between Changbin and Hyunjin in one of the beds so I don’t have to worry about him sleeping alone.” Seungmin walks into the omega’s temporary room seeing her on her phone. “I’m all yours tonight.” 
“Wanna watch a movie?” She puts her phone down and he grabs the remote off the dresser below the tv. 
“What movie were you thinking?” He joins her on the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them wanting her to move closer when she’s ready. 
“You pick.”
He gives her a bit of an evil smirk before searching for a horror movie deciding on The Conjuring and turns it on. He smiles more as she scoots closer to him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders so she can rest her head on his chest and protect her when she gets scared. 
He’s shocked when halfway through the movie instead of jumping at the jump scares or hiding farther into his chest during some of the scary parts, she’s laughing or just relaxed against him. 
“Are you not scared?” Seungmin looks down at her and she gazes up at him shaking her head. 
“No, not really a scary movie.” He gaps at her, making her laugh. “I’ve seen a lot of horror movies, Minnie, this doesn’t scare me.” 
“Of course you wouldn’t be scared of horror movies.” The beta laughs pulling her closer to him. “Ruining my plans of trying to have you cuddle up to me scared.”
“I’m still cuddled up to you.” She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I’m just not scared.”
Seungmin gazes down at his omega for a moment before leaning down, kissing her forehead then they both turn back to the movie. Once the credits roll he realizes that Y/n has fallen asleep and can’t help but to laugh that she’s even able to fall asleep during a horror movie. 
“She asleep?” Chan asks, causing Seungmin to look up at the doorway to see the two oldest alphas. 
“Yeah, fell asleep a bit ago.” 
They both turn to look at the tv to see what they were watching as it goes back to the choosing menu. 
“Did you seriously make her watch The Conjuring?” Chan gives the beta a bit of a disappointing look. 
“Hey, she wasn’t even scared, in fact she laughed during it.” 
“And she fell asleep during it?” Minho looks at Y/n with a smile. “That’s my girl.” 
“Only we would end up with an omega who isn’t scared during horror movies like Minho.” Seungmin jokes. 
“You’re just grouchy that your plan backfired on you.” Minho winks at him before walking away.
Chan shakes his head with a sigh before looking at the two once again. “Night Minnie.”
“Night hyung.” 
______________________________________________________________
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navybrat817 · 1 year ago
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Where Did the Time Go?
Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❀ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.
But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.
“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.
But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?
“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”
“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”
“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”
“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”
You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.
Until you weren’t.
Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”
“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”
“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not
” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.
You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”
The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”
You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”
The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.
“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”
The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”
“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.
“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”
Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.
“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”
There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.
“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.
“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”
Not even close.
“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”
Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?
You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”
Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”
“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”
Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never
?”
“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”
Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.
Where the hell did he get that impression?
“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”
Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.
“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.
“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”
“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”
What is he talking about?
“I don’t understand,” you said.
“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”
“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”
And can we come back from it?
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That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❀
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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moonbaby26 · 2 months ago
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Title: The Gift
*Crossposted to AO3 Here*
Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Viola/Violet (mentioned)
Warnings/Notes: My belated Doffy birthday oneshot 😅! Reader is female coded, but no explicit gender/pronouns are referenced (unless I missed one). Language. Age difference. Dubious consent. Male ejaculation, and some actual fluff this time?
Synopsis: Being such a vain and self-centric man, one would expect elaborate public birthday celebrations for Dressrosa’s king. But as the newest member of Doflamingo’s crew, you’re surprised to find that this isn’t the case. And you don’t think that’s right. So you resolve to give him a very personal gift anyway, to quite unforeseen (at least to you) results.
Fic Masterlist
———————————
Doflamingo didn’t celebrate his birthday any longer.
This tidbit of information about your new master was dropped so casually one afternoon as you and Baby 5 worked together to clean blood and viscera off of the stonework. 
The two of you were together in some dark room the Donquixote captain didn’t want the normal palace maids to venture into. A special interrogation space you now dumped another bucket of soapy water over.
It wasn’t your place to ask any questions though. You had only lived in Dressrosa for the last six months. 
You were the payment Doflamingo had taken when your previous owner couldn’t cough up enough for a weapons debt in time.
Yes, your last master had likely ended up in a room much like this one. Because you’d never seen that abusive old man ever again. 
But you were a logia user. And that qualification had seemed good enough for Doflamingo to allow you this new chance within his own ranks instead.
So you did not complain. And you did not step out of line. You only followed orders just as faithfully as all these pirates that had lived with him years before you had. 
But you still wondered.
You wondered why it bothered you that no one was supposed to acknowledge the day their leader had been born.
The one day that should really be his.
You were still so skeptical of this, that you even paid more attention to the goings on in town over the next week. Looking for any hint of even the most subtle celebration plans or decorations for the people’s king.
But there were none.
And within the palace, Giolla was who you most often were assigned to and shadowed. When you realized even she showed no interest in making artwork for the king’s upcoming cumpleaños as they called it here, that was when you finally knew they must be serious.
His birthday had been removed from all outward recognition, both within his own kingdom and private “family”.
It was such an odd notion, for how extravagant of a man Doflamingo seemed to be.
But you supposed you didn’t really know him either. In the entire six months you’d lived within his home, you didn’t think you’d had more than a few words directed at you from his grinning lips. And they had only ever been emotionless commands.
Ones you dutifully followed.
And you were okay with this arrangement. Because you had been purchased fairly. Your life preserved in exchange for being little more than a warm blooded machine. Simply another tool among all his others.
Yet you still kept thinking about him and this erasure of his birth. It felt so wrong to you.
Somehow even more wrong than the toys you sometimes heard crying in the underground port after midnight, or the blood you and Baby 5 cleaned up again and again from those equally hidden dungeons.
You lay awake in your room for hours actually, on the night before his birthday, until an idea finally came to you.
You had a need to do something about your feelings. You were very thankful to have a roof over your head after all. You were thankful to have a reliable supply of food, and you were thankful to be in the aura of this warlord’s protection in the violent New World.
It was a compulsion by that point really, to repay him in even some small way.
So you sat up in your bed and got to work then and there, inspired just the way you supposed Giolla always spoke of being. 
Your hands hardened as you summoned your power, yet also becoming fully transparent all at once while your fingers still moved nimbly.
You were a human made of glass.
Clear and flawless as your creation began to ebb from your own fingertips.
You could shape and alter it as easily as if it were molten. But you didn’t need heat to do this. Everything was still a part of you as you shaped one flower petal after another.
It became a large rose in full bloom. No stem, but the base of the flower was as wide as both of your palms put together soon enough. The candlelight’s glow in your room played through those rippling surfaces, casting prismatic reflections in every direction as you smiled.
But it still wasn’t special enough then. It wasn’t personal enough as you felt it needed a second element. 
Which wasn’t easy. It took you multiple attempts actually as you tried to shape a bird nestled within this blooming rose. 
A flamingo of course. But the neck was so slender, it kept drooping before you could harden it properly. And if you made it too hard, you were afraid it would hold tension and fracture before long.
So you compromised.
You let that flamingo rest its head, smoothing it with your still clear fingertips as you curved the neck down for the bird to lay its beak against its wing.
As if it were asleep. An elegant flamingo, content and peaceful in the bloom of a rose. The final glass was pristine in its clarity of course, with all the facets you’d created catching the light in such a way that it fully sparkled while you cupped it in your hands with admiration.
You loved it.
And the next day when you went into Doflamingo’s empty office as part of your regular task of filing his completed contracts for him, you left this gift on his desk while you took that stack of paperwork in exchange.
Yet you put no note with your gift. You didn’t even leave it in the center of his desk like a focal point, as you would never be that brazen or prideful.
No, you simply left it to the side. It could be little more than an ornate paper weight for all it mattered. He could discard it if he chose to.
And that would be alright. A gift was the receiver’s to do with as they wished after all.
But at least you now knew he would have a present. He would not be ignored on his own day.
And that thought made you very happy.
But hours passed easily within his palace. Neither Giolla, nor Trebol had any further special instructions for you that day. So by the time the sun had set again, you were alone once more in your bed.
Reading by candlelight as you often did. The palace library was available to any of the Donquixote crew, and its contents occupied you well in any downtime you found.
The story for tonight was interesting too, but not so different than those you’d read before. Just another handsome protagonist, and his rather oblivious lover to be.
It was quite predictable, but still enough to make you giggle once the two characters finally found themselves alone.
You knew exactly where this was going.
And you had been turning those pages just a bit faster in that anticipation before your small transponder snail suddenly awakened to startle you.
Of course you still answered immediately, expecting a late night order. Perhaps a request to join your fellow lower ranks in the underground harbor. Sometimes the pirates there got rowdy, trying to back out of prior agreements. But you were much less destructive than Trebol when restraining them.
“Yes?” You had answered in your calm way, ready for almost anything.
“Come to my office. Now.”
Anything but that as the young master’s impatient tone filled your ears instead.
“Yes, sir.” You said anyway.
The snail clicked, disconnecting from his side first as you dropped your book and practically leapt from the bed.
No one kept Doflamingo waiting.
So much so that you didn’t bother with shoes, or even changing.
You were barefoot, just in a nightgown that fluttered to your knees as you pulled a jacket on over it and hurried out and down the hall.
Your master’s office was on a higher floor. Always like ascending to where you would never truly belong as your feet took the staircase two steps at a time.
But there was no one else in the dark palace corridors. Nothing to speak of panic or a rallying of the troops at all to protect the island.
Yet as you pulled down on the golden door handles to open those carved double doors that led to his workspace, you had still expected to see more of the Donquixote crew.
Never once had you been here alone with him.
Until tonight.
“Close the doors.” He ordered.
And you still did so with no hesitation, then walking towards Doflamingo’s desk with your hands clasped subserviently in front of you below your waist.
You didn’t even ask for an explanation. You simply looked at him, awaiting further instruction.
But his large chair was pulled farther from his desk than normal. He was slouched back in it with his shirt fully open and oddly wrinkled.
One of his long legs was crossed over the other. But his foot was moving slightly, bouncing a little like letting out tension the rest of his body would not yet portray.
“Did you make this?” Doflamingo asked in such an odd tone, yet immediate and to the point as one of his fingers tapped the desk.
Your eyes finally broke away from him to look down at that glass rose you’d created with the flamingo still resting peacefully within the spread petals.
He had moved it dead center on his desk now.
“Yes, sir.” You answered simply, your voice still soft.
But that was when his posture changed.
“Why?” He asked you as he straightened up in his chair.
And you felt your hands tighten against one another. Yet, you were simple. You didn’t think ahead, or plan and strategize. Everything was only what it was and nothing more.
You always told the truth.
“I wanted to give you a gift. I’m thankful to be allowed to stay here, young master.”
And you saw his facial muscles contort slightly. 
Like he didn’t know what expression to make.
“But today? You chose today to do this
” He sounded strangely unsure. Irritated too, as only one of his large hands easily scooped up that glass artwork that had taken both your palms to carefully hold.
“Yes.” You again answered honestly. “I wanted you to have something even if we aren’t allowed to celebrate.”
His brow furrowed. But you did not see any bulging vein. He wasn’t fully angry, not yet. He didn’t seem to know what to do. 
And perhaps that was the root of this frustration.
“How old are you?” Doflamingo asked suddenly.
“Twenty.” 
He muttered a curse under his breath at this seemingly unpleasant answer. And you saw his leg shift, that movement of his foot getting a little faster.
“Well
hoy tengo cuarenta años. Es demasiado.” He finally told you in return, switching briefly to the native language of this island as he frowned. Like he couldn’t admit this number out loud, to you or himself otherwise.
And his fingers were still moving over your gift, tracing all those edges while he held it.
“I’ve waited hours today
wondering what to do about this.” He said again then. “I even brought Violet in here earlier to try and alleviate it...” And he gestured unabashedly at the messy state of his clothing that you had noticed on first arrival.
But only then as his arm moved did you see the smear of dark lipstick against his rib cage beneath that open shirt.
And that was the very first thing that finally brought a tinge of heat to your face.
“It’s
just a gift, young master.”
“It isn’t.” He corrected you so surely that you lowered your head like a scolded pup.
And you heard the resulting growl which came from that too.
“You’re too damn innocent.” He lamented. “And I’m twice your fucking age now.”
Said as if this was somehow all your fault.
His crossed legs shifted again too, like he was struggling with himself. “You don’t even have a man in town, do you? You just sit alone in your room all the time
doing what exactly?”
“I read.” You felt that coil of embarrassment in your stomach now rising to meet the heat still creeping downward from your face.
But he scoffed, a much crueler noise. “And think about me as you do? Clearly you must.” He held the glass rose up higher then, almost as if it were indisputable evidence in this sudden trial against you.
He was starting to sound genuinely angry now.
“I’m sorry, young master.” You tried.
“You can’t do these things and expect no consequence.” Doflamingo chided you harshly, as if you really were a fool.
A fool that he owned.
“Come here.” He commanded you in that renewed authority as he set your gift back to the center of his desk.
You followed the gesture of his fingers without question. He didn’t even have to use his strings as you walked around his desk to stand before his chair.
“You can’t show me affection and think nothing would come of it
” He warned only briefly. 
And it felt too dangerous to try and apologize further. You were silent as your eyes watched only those red lenses of his sunglasses. 
You did know enough not to dare look away from him now.
“I’m not going to fuck you. But you are going to let me get this feeling out.” He said darkly. “So just be quiet and we’ll be done soon enough. Then you can go back to your paper fantasies instead.”
There was not even an implication of wanting your permission in his mocking words either. He was telling you what was about to happen just before those long legs abruptly uncrossed and you were pulled between them.
And you still gasped as the clothed erection he’d been hiding this entire time now pressed up hard against your bottom in his lap.
He didn’t even give you time to process. He was already thrusting that sharp bulge against your nightgown within moments.
His large hands fisted within that same thin fabric beneath your jacket as he groaned quietly.
You felt him inhale deeply next, taking in your scent as he curved his spine enough to lean down into your smaller frame.
It was like being encapsulated, a monstrous snake constricting itself around a small prey when the smallest flick of wet met the side of your face simultaneously.
Just the very tip of his tongue, only a tiny taste of you before before those large hands tightened on your hips.
Doflamingo pulled you harder against his own, bruising your skin beneath your clothes you were sure while his pace quickened even further.
“You smell so good.” He practically hissed against you. “You’re so soft too
”
His long fingers easily squeezed into your thighs as well, even as he didn’t release your hips.
And you must still be in some sort of shock really. Because somehow you didn’t feel afraid. 
You just let him do it. 
It was his birthday. He was your master.
And you were what he wanted, in this moment at least.
He never lifted your nightgown though. He never opened his pants.
But you could feel his body heat, and his desperation. A shame that outweighed any you should have had.
It was his loneliness. It was his need.
And it was mercy towards you.
Your master was giving you his rarest gift in return.
He could have taken your virginity here and now. He could have shattered you with his haki on only a whim, logia user or not.
Doflamingo was fully in control of you, and honestly just enough in control of himself that he did not truly harm you.
His breath only quickened as time seemed to draw to a standstill for you. It felt both like forever, and not long enough at all.
And still you didn’t feel wronged. 
The humiliation was only his instead, whenever you finally felt him stiffen further, grunting before he shuddered and that new heat blossomed against the underside of your thighs.
You were still sitting tightly on his bulge, and the wetness of his release wicked through those meager layers of fabric so easily.
He’d fully cum on himself within his pants. The king of Dressrosa had done this in a private moment with you, then hugging his arms around your waist as he rested briefly, recovering from that surprisingly heavy orgasm.
“Happy birthday to me
” Doflamingo chuckled despite himself, still sounding a bit overwhelmed in this instance while he gradually came down.
“Happy birthday, young master.” You answered tentatively, almost in a whisper.
But he allowed it now. He even squeezed you a little more. And it didn’t feel fully sexual then. He wanted something to hold onto.
He wanted comfort.
“Thank you.” The Heavenly Demon said to you, the young one who was surely only another of his many pets.
But he meant it.
And maybe by his next cumpleaños he would be able to do more. Maybe by then you would be ready to be more than just the one he wanted both to consume and to hold tonight.
Maybe you’d been the oblivious lover to be all along. 
Regardless, whatever happened now, you wouldn’t be laughing at those characters in the books any longer.
If you’d even be reading them much at all. Because you might have someone else needing all of your free time now.
Someone far more sensitive than he’d ever let on as he kept you in his lap while he reached for your artwork again, moving it back closer to the edge of the desk so it better caught the light from the small chandelier above.
You watched your master smile, his body relaxing fully before he bent down enough again to rest his chin on your shoulder.
This was just another flamingo, resting his head with his newest flower.
——————————
End.
Thank you for reading! đŸŽ‚đŸŠ©
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seeingivy · 7 months ago
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ryomen sukuna x f!reader
**part of my best friend's older brother fic
previous part linked here
--
things change slightly in the weeks that follow. 
according to your mom, who called you very upset on a tuesday afternoon, your dad had apparently decided to stay in town until the end of the month – and on very strict orders from sukuna and possibly any shred of self-preservation that you had in you – you weren’t going to be going back until he was gone for good. 
messages from sammy were few and infrequent, except for whenever she got drunk – something she very clearly got from your mom. always the same message, deeply apologetic and regretful, and it somehow was very slowly melting whatever it was that happened at the funeral. 
or it was just one of those things. 
she was your sister – she was blunt, a little harsh at times, but well meaning. or at least trying to be. but she was still your sister and for some reason, you were just going to get over it, in the real way, without thinking twice. 
but you do realize that it was too naive to think that years of butting heads and stepping on each other’s toes wasn’t going to go away just because you had decided to be friends and sang kumbaya while buying lingerie. 
that much should have been obvious though, since sukuna and yuuji had done their version of that years prior, and yet still had the meltdown they did a few months ago. it was always one of those complicated things you figured – growing up in the same house, being competition, stuck in admiration or hatred. 
the family business, one that sukuna and yuuji both refused to ever be a part of, has fallen at the seams. and while sukuna has no intention of ever working there – much to satoru’s delight – he’s fixing the mess of the finances that were left behind for all of the employees and the stipends that he were going to help his mom. 
meaning he has to go back to town. the town that you refuse to return to for the time being. and he won’t let you accompany him.   
and it’s in the week that he disappears that you wonder if you’re starting to be too codependent. if it’s normal for you to miss someone this amount, to worry about him so much, to the point where he occupies your every thought. 
he tries to call when he can. sometimes they’re a few in between because you know that he’s spending time with his mom, that he doesn’t like being home, that whatever it all is – it’s stressful and he hates it. 
your mom sends you a picture of him once in a while. sometimes you stare at it for a little too long. 
“hi sweet girl. how are you?” 
his voice sounds tired over the phone, the smallest hint of a rasp tinged in with the strained tone. 
“i’m okay, ryo. how are you?” 
sukuna can feel his heart sink at the nickname. at the fact that you use nicknames, terms of endearment, and he hasn’t heard them in days. 
“good, good. are you getting ready for bed?” sukuna asks. 
“yeah.” 
there’s a quiet beat. maybe you should have been more descriptive than that. that was a little flat. 
“is that fucking gel cat strawberry in the spot next to you?” 
you smile. 
“it’s a jelly cat. and yes, it is.” 
“enjoy it while it lasts. i’m going to throw it out the window when i get back.” 
“you’re so rude.” 
he laughs over the line and you can’t help but sigh before immediately regretting it. 
you wonder if he sleeps well. or if he laughs often with the moms or if he’s just run in different directions trying to make sure they’re all okay. 
“oh don’t break my heart, now. you miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 
you can tell by the tone in the voice that he’s trying to coddle you. you almost want to give in just to hear him sweet talk you down. 
“yeah. gets real scary here without you.” you joke
“is that right?” 
“not actually. but you know like right before you go to sleep and the house creaks? i panic for one second and then decide that i should send a prayer out to the universe so i don’t die before falling asleep.” 
“always one for the dramatics.” 
“i know. i’m sure it always creaks but i’ve always shared a room – either with sammy or with mai across the way who was always blasting music. and you snore, so i never even not–” 
“i don’t snore.” 
“yes, you do.” 
“no, i don’t.” 
“i will admit. while it does take me some time to fall asleep, i’ve never slept so soundly with you gone. it’s so serene.” 
you know for a fact that sukuna’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 
“wow, sweetheart. i should just do you a favor and stay here longer then.” 
“every night i wake up in a panic without you! i’ll never sleep again!” you joke. 
sukuna laughs. 
“that sounds about right. but really
i
i’ll be back soon, okay? i don’t like being away for so long.” he murmurs quietly. 
you frown. 
“don’t feel bad. you know you have to be there.” 
“i don’t feel bad. well, maybe i do a little but i mainly just fucking miss you.” he mumbles. 
you smile. 
“sap.” 
you pause. 
“i miss you too, you know?” 
“i was waiting for that. give me a little more.” he responds. 
you smile. mainly at the fact that he expresses what he wants so openly. or that he misses it just as much as you do. 
“i miss you a lot. it feels so weird to sleep in our bed without you that i fall asleep on the fold out couch.” 
sukuna scoffs. 
“you mean you fall asleep watching tv and don’t move because i’m not there to pick you up?” 
“yeah, more like that.” 
sukuna laughs. 
“sleep in the guest.” 
“ew. it smells like yuuji and megumi’s cologne. and while they smell great, i don’t like smelling like them when i wake up.” 
“does our bed smell like me?” he asks. 
“yeah but i prefer the real thing so i sleep on the couch. i refuse to elaborate.” 
sukuna gets it. 
“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m almost done and then
then i’m running back to you, alright?” he whispers. 
“okay. i do have something planned this weekend for your birthday, but don’t stress about it. it won’t be anything big.” 
sukuna pauses. 
he forgot that his birthday was coming around. 
he would be lying if he was saying that he wasn’t looking forward to it. he supposes that he was your opposite in that way. since no matter what it was, the circumstances good or bad, your birthday had been soured so bad that nothing could make it good – not even him. 
he didn’t blame you. or even take it personally.  
but he couldn’t relate. because he knew you – and it wasn’t arrogant of him to assume that you were going to go all out, no matter the circumstances. not only did you have a bad habit of leaving tabs or notes that were very clearly labeled gift ideas out in the open, but he knew that you would do something special for him, that he’d get to chart in all of the cherished memories that he had with you. 
it would be another sour patch of his that you’d sew right over, with careful and steady hands. but with every milestone that he thought of now, it was bittersweet. 
first birthday with you. first birthday without his dad – not that it really meant much in the first place. 
“no parties.” sukuna clarifies. 
“no, it’ll actually be just you and me. and i think you’ll like it, you–” 
“i’ll love it.” 
you smile. 
“i love you.” you state. 
he’s quiet on the other side of the line. 
“sukuna?” 
“i want to say it back but the moms are staring at me.” he mumbles quietly.
you smirk. 
“say it.” 
“no.” 
“you’re going to let me go to bed without an i love you?” 
“i’ll text it to you.” 
“ryomen sukuna. tell me you love me.” 
sukuna sighs. 
“i love you. call me if you can’t sleep, okay?” 
you can hear giggling in the background. and you’re sure he’s three different shades of pink. 
“i will.” 
--
not even an hour later, yuuji is standing on your doorstep – with a peachy smile and a bag slung over his shoulder. 
“yuuji? you–” 
“sleepover!” 
he walks past you and falls straight onto the couch, placing his bag next to him as he reaches for the remote. you quickly shut the door and take the spot next to him, watching as he starts shuffling through the movies, so cavalier about barging in so late and unannounced. 
“do you always show up to people’s apartment’s unprovoked with all your things?” 
yuuji smiles, reaching forward to flick your forehead. 
“no, just for you.” 
“figures.” 
you watch as he flits through all of the movies, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you return the gesture and lean your cheek against his. it takes two seconds for you to figure it out. 
“did he call you?” you ask. 
“he did. said some weird stuff about tables and carrying stuff. pretty sure he was just asking me to keep you company, which don’t mind if i do.” yuuji responds. 
you smile. of course. 
“i made one half joke about how i don’t like to sleep alone and he sent you running.” 
“isn’t that sweet? i can tell he’s been thinking about you a lot.” yuuji responds. 
you lean back, giving him a confused look. and you can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, but pretends otherwise. 
“what? it’s sweet! he asked me to come take care of you.” yuuji clarifies. 
“since when do you find him sweet? no lecture about how he thinks i can’t handle things on my own?” 
yuuji scoffs, before pressing on the princess diaries. 
“you can’t take care of anything on your own.” 
“what a vote of confidence.” you deadpan
yuuji sighs, as you watch the movie start, and both sink deeper into the couch. a telltale sign that you realize both sukuna and yuuji have – one that you deeply appreciate – is that they’re always careful with their words. 
the opposite of sammy really, of your dad too. they won’t talk until they know whatever they’re going to say is something they mean. 
“you can take care of things on your own. but i like that being with him means that you don’t have to sometimes. for both of you.” yuuji states. 
you smile. 
“i like that too. it’s a nice change.” you respond. 
“i’m really sorry, y/n.” 
“i know.” 
yuuji swallows hard, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie before he turns to your side, your limbs now a tangled mess of being criss-crossed as he leans forward. 
“really. i’ve been so shit to you when this is all i’ve ever wanted for you.” 
“it’s okay. this
this stuff is really complicated for you and
” 
yuuji shakes his head, before looking down at your joined hands, fingers interlocked together. 
“this isn’t any excuse but
but
” 
yuuji sighs. 
“when sukuna came back, i thought he was really different. i mean, he was really different. i don’t know what you noticed, but he came back softer. he always gave me my space and let me come to him and we were working back through all of our stuff together.” yuuji starts. 
you’re not sure if you noticed a difference after he came back. he always seemed the same as always – a little withholding, like he was keeping you at arms distance. though, that seems to make more sense to you now. 
“but he’s still the brother i grew up with. there’s still things that i’m sensitive to, that
that i can’t get over.” 
you feel a pang in your chest. 
“i get that. you know
i kind of get that with sammy sometimes.” 
yuuji frowns. 
“yeah?” he whispers. 
you can feel the bitter contempt in your chest lingering. 
“i don’t know. i thought things were going well but
sometimes it’s just the same things as before. she’s just
always brushing me off. so harsh with her words. sometimes i think about the funeral and i’m glad sukuna’s not here just so i can lock myself in here and be alone.” 
you shake your head. 
“it’s like she’s picking at a scab. it’s the one thing i don’t want her to do and it’s the one thing that always happens. and she’s the only person who has that power in the first place, who
who gets to be that sore spot. and i know that it’s just how it is and it’s complicated but
” 
“but you can’t.” yuuji finishes. 
you shrug. 
“you were my scab.” yuuji states. 
you curl your nose in disgust, looking up to find the same expression mirrored on his face before you both laugh. 
“real cute.” 
“i mean
my thing with sukuna was that he was always better than me in every respect. that
that everything he did was perfect, that
that he was born normal and i wasn’t.” 
you cringe. 
“you are normal, you..” 
yuuji smiles. 
“i know i am. i just mean in my head, i always figured things were so easy for him. school was easy, sports were easy. he liked girls – he’d never have to sit there and debate if he was ever going to meet someone who liked him and when if he did, he wouldn’t have to give up his entire family for it.” 
yuuji pauses. 
“you were my best friend. you are my best friend. you’re my thing that’s always been easy. we don’t really fight, spending time with you never gets old, and
and really, you’re the only person i’ve known will always be around.” 
you smile. 
“it just felt like another thing he was going to be better at than me. and it’s selfish, but it was something i didn’t want to share. and i don’t expect you to get it, but
” 
you scoff. 
“don’t expect me to get it? you’re forgetting that i was the one who had to learn how to share you first. and maybe i didn’t say it out loud, but
i had some evil monologues for megumi that i was cooking up in my head.” 
yuuji laughs, almost like he’s relieved. 
“really?” 
“trust me. there was an entire basis behind the petty comments that i was making. i should have been more open with it but
but i don’t hate you for feeling that way. if anything, it makes me kind of happy, i guess. it did feel like you forgot all about me once you guys started dating, but
it’s nice to know you feel that way still. about me. even if it was annoying.” 
you pause. 
“you and i are special. and i can’t speak for you, but
sukuna’s never going to be what you are for me. i love him, but you
you’re not someone who could ever be replaced.” you affirm. 
yuuji smiles. 
“and megumi isn’t what you are for me either. he’s the love of my life. but you’re always going to be my soulmate.” 
you smile, rolling over the word in your head. soulmate – you and yuuji were soulmates. and he leans forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. 
“now go on. tell me about him.” 
“what?” you ask. 
“i know you want to tell me about how happy you are. how it makes you feel. and i want to hear it. just refrain from talking about like how big his dick is or whatever and i’ll be fine.” 
you smile. 
“really? you mean it?” 
yuuji smiles back. 
“i’ve unfortunately heard the entire story of what that asshole was doing to you after the fact. it would make me really happy to hear how happy you are now.” 
you lean back on the couch and explain it all to him – french toast, bridgerton mugs (which he winces at when he remembers sammy broke them), emails, his coworkers, kisa, and everything in between. 
you don’t hear the apartment creak at night when you go to bed – instead it’s his labored breaths next to yours. 
--
sukuna makes it back early in the morning to find yuuji making breakfast in the kitchen and what he knows is you facedown still dead asleep in the mound of blankets on the couch. he gives yuuji a noncommittal wave before walking over to the couch and bending down at the side. 
sukuna can’t help but reach forward, brushing his back of his fingers against the softness of your cheek before tangling your hair away from your forehead. he can smell the remnants of the shampoo in your hair, your lips still a glossy pink from the balm you put on at night. 
“wake her up. give her a kiss.” yuuji whispers, now standing at his side. 
“are you crazy? she’s sleeping.” 
sukuna shakes his head, reaching forward to press a kiss to your hairline, before the two of them shuffle back to the kitchen. sukuna settles for a cup of coffee as he watches yuuji make the mix of french toast, the stillness hanging in the air between them. 
“dunno. if it were me and i went days without seeing megumi, i’d wake him up right away. why deprive myself of love and affection?” 
“you should deprive yourself more often. i’ve seen you two kiss far too many times. heard the words gumi bear way more than i’d like to.” 
yuuji snorts. 
“was she happy you came?” sukuna asks. 
“yeah. doubt she heard any of that creaking or anything she was telling you about since we were talking the entire time.” yuuji responds. 
it’s a small breath of relief – that sending yuuji was the right move – only to be coupled with guilt. 
sukuna hadn’t had time to check in on yuuji. 
“what did you talk about?” 
yuuji grins. 
“you.” 
yuuji looks over at him, grinning at him fully this time. 
“special edition bridgerton mugs? twilight themed emails? who knew you were so fucking corny? and that you watch bridgerton?” 
sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up, as he rolls his eyes. 
“she loves that shit. she made me watch it.” 
“no, she didn’t. she told me that you had watched it already and that your favorite season is the first one? not only are you a liar but you have god awful taste.” 
“let me guess. you like kate and anthony, like every other person on the fucking planet?” 
yuuji rolls his eyes. 
“everyone likes it for a reason. it’s perfect.” 
the two of them glare at each other, before giving up, and letting the same stillness take over. it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something lingering there – the two of them are stuck in their own heads about how they’re going to approach it, and more importantly, who is going to do it first. 
it’s yuuji. 
“the mugs thing is sweet. i’m sorry sammy broke them.” 
sukuna shrugs. 
“i’m bidding on ebay. no big deal.” 
yuuji notes that he responds to the second part of the statement and not the first. 
“i like that you do nice things for her. she really appreciates that you do.” yuuji repeats. 
 sukuna sighs. 
“did she say that?” 
yuuji smiles. 
“all that and more. she really loves you.” 
sukuna lets his eyes wander back to the couch, settling back into how foreign the apartment feels from being away for so long, and trying to let it all come back to him – how it was before he left things, how the two of you were. 
he’s scared he’ll do it wrong. 
“I’m really happy for you too. she’s exactly what you deserve.” yuuji states. 
it’s a weird sense of deja vu that sukuna gets – of the very first night. that loud bar, the mildew smell in the bathroom, and your tear streaked pink face. of the very first time that it occurred to him that there were people who had upset you, who had let you down, and that maybe he was the only person who was good enough for you – because he was the only one who intended to give you what you deserve. 
that he got to reap the goodness of the sweet love when he knew for a fact that he’d always be one to give it back to you, no matter how he was. that he was exactly what you deserved – maybe the only person who was because of how much he loved you. 
“what?” 
yuuji takes a beat. 
“were you expecting the opposite?” yuuji asks. 
“do you blame me?” 
yuuji shakes his head. 
“i am really happy for both of you. but i wouldn’t lie if i said i was more happy for you. i’ve known her a long time – and i’ve always wanted her to have someone who saw her for how special she is. and i always knew that it would happen, it was just a matter of time.” 
yuuji continues. 
“but i’m more happy for you. i had no idea that you had liked her for that long. i only now realize that the only person you could be that open with is her. and well
i don’t fucking know. shit sucked when we were kids. maybe for all of us, but for you the most. i know she loves hard. and i mean it, that’s what you deserve after everything.” 
there’s a lump in sukuna’s throat. he wants to tell yuuji everything – about why he left, about how him being around made it easy for him for a long time, how there was a time where he didn’t think he was going to live past twenty and now he’s reaching yet another birthday on the weekend. 
“i spent my entire life thinking i’d never get to be in love. and i’m not sure if that’s what you thought – but i know you weren’t ever thinking you’d get the girl of your dreams, and that on top of that, that it would be perfect. but really. it’s nothing more than what you deserve, sukuna.” 
but all he does is give him a nod. yuuji’s smart enough to parse what it means – that in the long rambling that he heard last night – he knows he has to learn how to read the silences, the quiet cues. 
“it means a lot to her that you came around.” sukuna starts. 
sukuna clears his throat. 
“and to me too.” he finishes. 
yuuji smiles. 
“and i suppose i should thank you. i always said she was like family to me, but it’ll be nice to tell people she’s actually my sister in the future.” yuuji responds, before squeezing his shoulder. 
sukuna smiles. 
“do you really let her call you ryomen?” yuuji asks. 
“yeah.” 
“thought you hated that name.” 
“i did.” 
there’s a reason that he went by sukuna. because every time that he slipped, he’d hear that godwful venomous voice, of his father telling him that he had given him such a special family name – and that sukuna had done nothing to deserve it. 
sukuna vividly remembers when he was a kid, when he used to beg everyone around him to call him sukuna, correcting them until they virtually forgot that his name was ryomen in the first pace. 
sukuna can feel the dryness in his throat, accompanied with a burning wetness in his eyes. yuuji makes no comment about it. 
“she just says it with so much love.” 
sukuna pauses, trying to will away that rising wave of emotion that was simmering in his chest, and put it away for the time being. 
“what did she get me for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 
yuuji nods. 
“she’s taking you on a weekend trip. a few cities over. she said there’s some cherry blossoms in season and that there’s a few museums that she wants you to see. figured it would be a nice rest for you given everything that’s been going on.” 
sukuna sighs, only because the wave comes back in full force. 
to be loved is to be known. 
clear cut proof that you had heard him loud and clear, when he had bared his soul to you. and not only that, but had known well enough that whatever was stewing in his head was getting dangerously close, maybe the closest it had been in years, to the edge – and that you had every intention to pull him back in the way he had pulled himself out in the first time. 
“is that good?” yuuji asks. 
“it’s perfect.” sukuna responds, before giving him one last nudge. 
sukuna decides that he won’t deprive himself. and instead leans forward, pressing his lips against yours – and pleasantly surprised when you smile right back at him in your sleep, his name honey on your lips, as he sinks into your arms. 
--
next part linked here
an: kind of filler again. sorry. apologies. also two more of this fic before it's done :O
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sallowsarchives · 5 months ago
Text
War of Hearts
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Part I | Part II | Part III
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.
Read on AO3
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"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."  
Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."
Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"
You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."
"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.
Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."
Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.
You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. 
The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.
The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.
You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.
Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.
Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”
Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.
After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.
Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.
You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can. 
As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.
His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.
Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”
You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.
"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."
Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”
You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin. 
Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.” 
His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.” 
Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.
He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance. 
Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”
The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.
You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.
As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.
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The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.
Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.
Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.
Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate. 
Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”
Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”
You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident. 
Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last. 
As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.
Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.
He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.” 
You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”
He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”
“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”
You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”
Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”
The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.
Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.
Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.
Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.
The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.
“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.
The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony. 
The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.
An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived
 And you’ve washed!” 
From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte. 
Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.
You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.
The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”
His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.
Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”
Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.
Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.
Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.
Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side. 
The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.
He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.
“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”
Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.
When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.
Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.
You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor. 
You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.
After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with. 
“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow.  “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”
He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back. 
The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.
You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.
The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.
You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness. 
The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.
You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.
Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.
“Gentlemen
 and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing
 unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.
With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny. 
He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.
Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable. 
Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.
He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.
The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.
As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence. 
You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.
His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”
"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."
Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.
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You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets. 
Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.
Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.
You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.
One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you. 
You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.
At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.
Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.
You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.
As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity. 
"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”
You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement. 
Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”
The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”
“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”
She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”
You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”
She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”
She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”
You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”
You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”
“So what brought you here tonight?”
“Oh, um
 I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”
Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?” 
She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”
You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur. 
“Actually, that would be him right there.”
Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise. 
“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”
The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.” 
You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.
Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.
“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”
You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”
Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”
For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”
Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”
The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.
“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.
You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below. 
As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. 
The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.
Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations. 
The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.
You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.
Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him. 
You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”
Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”
“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy
 ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk. 
“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”
You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”
Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point.  ïżœïżœïżœDon’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname. 
Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”
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Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you. 
The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.
The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.
Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.
Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.
He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.
“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.
Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.
You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.
"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. 
"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.
You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.” 
You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.
“You got it?” 
“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind
Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.
The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.
His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.
The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.
As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”
The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.
As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.
His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.
The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.
The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.
One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.
The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.
Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.
“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.
You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.
Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.
In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness. 
With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.
Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.
Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.
In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.
The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.
Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss. 
Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.
The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality. 
A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.
You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.
The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.
Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”
You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.
Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.
Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”
You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”
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You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony. 
“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”
Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”
“Great. I think we’re done here.”
The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.
Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.
In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh
,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. 
Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed. 
Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier
 I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”
His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.
You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.
“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over. 
Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh. 
He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”
You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings? 
“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”
Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say. 
He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just
 I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”
The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.
His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration. 
What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.
You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.
The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.
God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.
You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded. 
With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”
You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.
Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt. 
The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.
Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.
The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.
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A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!
Thanks again for reading!
Read Part Two Here
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bigtreefest · 26 days ago
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Through My Eyes
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Pairing: Husband! Jake Jensen x Wife! Reader (Newlyweds)
Summary: Despite everything going on around you, you’re Jake’s first priority
Word count: 2,167
Content/warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, kissing, misty eyes and sniffles, angst, newlyweds and such, Jake and his glasses and his hair and his beefy body and his everything, body image issues and exhaustion, use of pet names
A/N: um, I’m going through a bit of a rough time, but I started this fic even before that. It’s not my best, but I think it’s what I, and many others might need right now. Please enjoy and let me know what you think through a comment, ask, or reblog. Partially inspired by this.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
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Today was
 a lot. Too much, in fact. Like three separate days, hitting you all at once with the force of a train, and your body felt like a defenseless balloon against it. That was fitting, too, considering how bloated and lethargic you felt, hardly able to make your way home. So much had gone wrong today that you felt terrible mentally and most definitely physically, so yeah, you tried to muster up what strength you had left to drift home, not dissimilar to the way a half-deflated balloon meanders through the sky.
After you parked in the garage, you shuffled inside and directly to the couch, weaving through the labyrinth of boxes that were a product of you and Jake moving into your new, shared house. Luckily, the couch was one of the few spaces set up amongst the stacks of cardboard that surrounded. All you wanted to do was curl up in a blanket and hide from the world, but those were packed up, too. There were only throw pillows that had come out of a random box and a select few clothing items that you and Jake had unpacked already and hung in the walk-in closet of the master bedroom.
So before you heaved yourself onto the cushions, you tiptoed on the cool floors of the hallway on the way to the bedroom closet. Instantly, you shucked off your work clothes and left them in the corner. You grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks in a sparse dresser drawer and slipped them on before sifting through the dozen or so hangers of Jake’s until you came upon what you really wanted: your favorite hoodie of his. It was just oversized enough to reach your mid thigh, stretched and worn throughout the years to become unbelievably soft. And of course, you knew Jake had just worn it the previous night to bed since actual pajamas were somewhere buried deep in the mess and the two of you hadn’t picked out bedding for the new king bed yet.
It was perfect as you slipped it over your head, enveloping you in his comforting scent, and just the thought that this was the next best thing to him holding you, even though you really didn’t want anything to be around, seeing you in this state. The brief satisfaction was enough to get you back to the couch to cuddle up and prop yourself up in the pillows as you brought the hood over your head and nestled in.
It was like the action itself summoned your husband, because as soon as you got settled, the sound of the garage door opening echoed throughout the unfurnished house like the sunlight that bounced off the white walls, unblocked from the lack of blinds. From your little hideaway with your face pressed into the pile of throw pillows, you couldn’t see him, but you could hear his gentle footsteps and the jingle of his keys being tossed onto the kitchen counter.
“Love, I’m home. Where are you?”
You let out a groan from your spot on the couch and Jake’s body immediately followed the sound, coming to kneel on the area rug under the furniture.
His hand gently rubbed your back, the other warm palm resting on the side of your bare knee, coaxing you to turn over and look at him, but it didn’t work. You just stayed as curled in on yourself as you could be.
“You gonna turn over?”
You shook your head, your muffled voice emerging from the fabric.
“No. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Jake lightly chuckled, but couldn’t help the way worry traced his features. Were you injured? In pain?
“See you like what, Lovey? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
You sighed and shook your head again.
“No
.well, sort of.” You let out an exasperated groan. “Nothing specifically happened, but also everything happened and there’s just so much to do and I don’t wanna do it and I just feel so blah.”
Jake cocked his head to the side, and hummed sympathetically.
“Feeling blah, huh?
Another nod.
“How so?”
“I’m just so exhausted. Tired and bloated and it all just makes me feel horrible about myself. Why can’t I push through, why do I hate everything about this so much?”
Jake worried as he heard the way your voice began to shake. You finally turned over to look at him, a hand reaching out for his cheek as you sniffled.
“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t sign up for this. I’m so gross.”
Jake’s brow furrowed in light offense, hurt that you were doing so poorly that it caused that negative self-talk. He wanted you to know feelings were valid, but sometimes the pessimistic voices were too loud over the logical, loving ones without justification.
“First off, my sweet, wonderful wife, I signed up for every single day for the rest of my life to be by your side. If this is the worst you think you’ve got for me, I’d say we’re living pretty well.”
A soft smile at the kindness that filled every cell of this man’s body tweaked the corner of your lips.
“And secondly, you’re gross because why? You’re a little tired from trying to live a full life? A little bloated? I’m sure it’s not nearly bad as you think it is. Will you let me see?”
You huffed out a breath and nodded, reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt and lifting it to expose your bare belly to your husband. Since the material was up over your face, you couldn’t see him, but you could hear him blow out a low whistle before placing a kiss just below your belly button, giggling right after. You instantly threw your hands back down, trapping Jake under the soft fabric. He gently pulled his head out, hair in an adorable mess, causing the other side of your mouth to curve upward.
“What was that about, you goof?”
Jake was laughing now as he shrugged. “I can’t believe you fell for that. You look so good. Always have, always will to me. Perfection.”
Your cheeks grew warm in bashfulness as your hands, covered in the long sleeves of the hoodie, covered your face. Except, you were giggling, too, as Jake gently moved your arms and you were met with his smiling face.
“I’m serious. I’ll love you forever, no matter what. I know I can’t fix the day you had, but can I do something to make it better? Here, take my phone and order dinner. Whatever you want. And in the meantime, I wanna try a little something to help you relax. Does that sound good?”
You nodded and bit your lip, grabbing Jake’s phone out of his hand and opening the food delivery app. Distracted by the screen, you didn’t see him go for a grab on your hips, but suddenly, your body was flipped right-side-up to face him and you were scooted to the edge of of the couch with a squeal.
From his place between your legs, Jake looked up at you, your confusion met by a cheesy smirk.
“Go on, Love Dove. You do your job, I’ll do mine. Just be sure to check the delivery confirmation so I know how much time I have.”
His head dipped to the side and he began to kiss up your inner thigh from your knee. A shiver ran through you as his nose lightly brushed against the cotton of the panties you were wearing under his hoodie which had ridden up. Jake gently kissed over your clothed clit before you felt the faint pressure of his wet tongue tracing your slit, soaking the gusset more.
He looked up at you expectantly, voice lightly muffled by the way he was pushed up against you. “The quicker you put the order in, the quicker all we have to focus on is each other.”
You nodded, a whine spilling from your lips as you fought throwing your head back against the couch cushions.
To give you a light reprieve, Jake backed away, starting to kiss upwards from your other knee. It gave you just enough time to select the first decent-looking restaurant you could, pick a few dishes you knew you and Jake would like, and hit submit before throwing the phone to the side.
“Twenty minutes.”
Jake nodded, reaching for the sides of your panties as you lifted your hips to help him shimmy them down your legs. He groaned as your glistening heat was exposed to him, eager to dive right in.
As you looked down at him, his eyes flickered between you and the glimpse of heaven in front of him. He leaned forward, giving a gentle lick to your clit, delighted with the gasp that left your lips. And then Jake latched on, his eyes not leaving yours as you felt the strong muscle his tongue flicking back and forth paired with delicious suction. Your hands found his hair, bleached locks peeking out from between your fingers as your breath started getting heavy.
His lips kissed their way down the crease of one thigh and up the other, circling where he went next, his tongue licking a firm stripe up your slit before entering you. Another whine left your body as he warmed you up, your pelvis grinding upwards, seeking stimulation for your neglected nub.
Jake hummed, sensing what you needed, and moving back upwards, his facial hair scratching the sensitive skin as he did. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, biceps bulging, fingertips of one hand putting delightful pressure on your lower stomach, the other digging into the plush flesh of your hip as he willed himself closer to you.
His glasses began to fog up from the hot breath emerging from his nose against your mound, his eyes sparkling up at you as he suckled your clit. It was all so much, and all so good.
Your whines turned into little squeaks and wails, increasing in pitch as you neared your peak not just from your husband’s expertise in the way he strummed your body, but the way he took care of you, took action with only you in mind.
Your flat palms turned to fists in his hair, earning another groan that was enough to tip you over the edge, your legs shaking and eyes squeezing shut, just like your thighs around his head. Jake kept going, though, a finger entering your convulsing pussy that squeezed his thrusts tight. Jake’s other hand snaked up your side, pushing the sweatshirt with it to reveal a hardened nipple that he began to pinch and tweak. The combined sensation coaxed another orgasm from you and you keened.
Jake finally backed off a little, gently licking your dripping arousal from your entrance and his fingers, letting you down from your high. Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, eyes still closed and ears ringing to the point where you hadn’t heard Jake get up to grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen to clean you up and a pair of his boxers from the bedroom. You just winced slightly as he gingerly wiped between your legs and pressed a kiss to your dewy forehead before sliding the underwear on and taking a spot next to you on the couch.
On instinct you curled into him and Jake cradled your body in his arms.
“You feel better?”
You nodded, your head tucked into his neck.
“Yeah. Like jell-o. Thank you for that, Jakey.”
He smiled as he rubbed your back.
“Any time, Lovey Dovey.”
You pulled away, looking up at him, smiling at the sweet nickname, but in his gaze, you felt as if you saw something else.
“Do you want me t-“
He cut you off, “Absolutely not. I did that for you, not because I wanted anything else in return. If anything, it was a treat for me. And before you say you feel like you owe me, no you don’t. That’s what marriage is. We take care of each other.”
You smiled, simply nodding in understanding. “Okay.”
Jake pulled you in tighter again for an extra squeeze that made you laugh against his chest. You spoke up with your smushed cheek, a smirk rising.
“And then after dinner maybe we can watch a movie on the laptop and break in the jacuzzi tub?”
Jake leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, his nose nudging against yours lovingly as the doorbell rang and he began to stand up.
“That sounds wonderful. Whatever you want, Mrs. J.”
You beamed at him and watched as he grabbed the food and returned, the two of you settling by a cardboard box you’d been using as a makeshift dining table.
Your meal, and the rest of the night was filled with laughter, and lots and lots of love, like you knew your relationship would be from beginning to end.
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Bonus A/N: I hope you enjoyed this episode of sweet hubby Jake and his Love Dove. Thank you to my friends who helped me brainstorm nicknames for this sweet, sweet couple. And thank you to all of those who have been there for me. I love you.
Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi
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duskandstarlight · 1 month ago
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A Golden Opportunity: Part Four
Nessian [Modern AU]
Notes: Wow, long time no speak, no post, no write. But I'm back - maybe, who knows (hopefully). It turns out this little fic is the thing that made me want to write again and it's been so fun rediscovering my Nessian babies.
No idea if anyone is reading this anymore (@simpingfornestaarcheron tells me the Nessian fandom isn't as active on here anymore so I live with no expectations) but here's an update anyway - and it's also on A03! Big thanks to @noirshadow as always, for being my champion and for getting out her red pen for me despite being absolutely slammed at work.
Oh, and this is angsty AF I am sorry.
PS Sorry, this taglist is most likely HUGELY out of date but it's all I have. Shout if you are under a diff name / don't want to hear from me anymore - TY.
Part Four - Cassian
Cassian didn’t hear from Nesta for weeks. She didn’t turn up to brunches or family events where he was in attendance. And, of course, she didn’t text him. That conversation remained entirely untouched, like a lone tombstone; surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, some abandoned flowers brown and crumbling collected with a dirty ribbon at its feet.
If it had not been for the subtle nods to Nesta’s continued existence, Cassian might have thought she’d been entirely erased from the planet. But there were name drops from her sisters, mentions of meeting for coffee, of having her over for lunch. At dinner the previous week, Cassian had overheard Elain confiding to Feyre that Nesta had seemed out of sorts. And Cassian, who had been straining to overhear the conversation, had felt both pained and filled with some a stark sense of hope that if she’d at least let him go, at the very least, she might be mourning him, too. 
Maybe, he thought fatuously, she cared too much. Maybe, she was still mulling them over, weighing the pros and cons. 
Maybe, by some sort of miracle, she would come to the conclusion that he was worth it.
But that hope dwindled as the days continued to pass and Cassian still heard nothing from Nesta. At some point, he knew he needed to take her silence as a no. Knew he would need to follow through on his side of the bargain. Allow that line to be drawn beneath them, the flame snuffed out until there was nothing but ash.
As the weeks passed, Cassian’s spiky irritability fell into a flat sadness that physically ached. He continued to run every day despite his protesting knee. He continued to work himself until he just couldn’t anymore and tried not to think of her. 
But Nesta crept through the gaps in his mind anyway - snatches of her, always beautiful, always sardonically cruel in their torture. Jasmine and vanilla. The smell of her skin as he buried his nose into her neck. Wisps of golden-brown hair escaping from a braid. The glint in her eye, the upwards tilt of her chin as she accepted a challenge. 
The taste of her mouth, the sound of her sigh, her breath whispering across his cheek. 
A hint of a smile - then better, the sound of her laugh. A true one, just for him.
And on and on it went with no reprieve—
“Is that the amended timetable for next week?”
Anyone else might have jumped, but Cassian was used to Azriel’s ability to sneak up on him. 
The thought of Nesta vanished in a wisp, like smoke rising from an extinguished candle. And despite having spent the past few weeks trying to forget her, Cassian found himself irrationally disgruntled that Azriel had interrupted the vision.
Leaning back in the leather desk chair that resided in he and Azriel’s shared office, Cassian grunted in affirmation.
“Boxing needs to be at six thirty if you want me to take that class,” Azriel replied. “I’m in a meeting at the Sangravah site until four.”
Cassian made another noise in the back of his throat. Scribbled out the timetable with a little too much outward frustration and acknowledged, not for the first time, how tired he was. 
But regardless of the fact that his eyelids were actually burning due to a severe lack of sleep, the problem still remained that whenever Cassian tried to rest, his mind did the opposite. 
And then he was thinking of Nesta again. Of the way she stared dead ahead during their car ride, unable to face him as he laid his feelings bare - how he’d always felt right from the start.
Not that it had made any difference. 
And then there was his mum, too. 
She was always at the forefront of his mind at this time of year. The blurry shape of her, the edges of her fading into shadow, time slowly eating away at her frame until she threatened to disappear completely. 
Soon, all that would be left of her would be the cavernous space where she should have been. And Cassian knew that would haunt him too - worse, even, his mourning growing even more acute. 
For now, he was lucky enough to still hear the crackle of his mum’s laugh, feel her chapped palm warm against his as they walked hand-in-hand down the street. He could even scent the shampoo of her hair as she hugged him close, her hair tickling his nose. Could remember how, whilst his chin always met her bony shoulder, Cassian always felt like they fit just right. The two of them, together - always. 
But now it was just him, alone. 
Reaching for the red pen atop the surface of his desk, Cassian intended to tackle the timetable for good. But then his laptop pinged with a notification.
Lifting his eyes to the messaging app open on his browser, Cassian expected to find his one thirty pm client cancelling on him.
But what he saw had his fingers diving for the keyboard.
Nesta đŸ§™â€â™€ïž: Where are you?
Cassian felt his heart beat with such force that it lurched upwards, tearing through pericardium to lodge itself impossibly in his throat. 
His fingers moved before he could command them. Had hit enter before he could even read his response.
Cassian: Work. 
Cassian’s thoughts began to race, his anticipation a tempo to the rapidity of his pulse. Did she finally want to talk? Had she finally made a decision on them? Was she going to end it all without even looking him in the eye, a hastily typed dismissal to match the original message she’d sent to cancel their first date?
He couldn’t bear waiting, couldn’t bear that Nesta was not typing. But then, as the wait became a little too long, something crept along the back of his neck. A feeling. A premonition. An omen that something was off.
“What is it?” 
There was a rare frown that accompanied the usual chill to Azriel’s voice. 
But Cassian didn’t have time to tell his brother to kindly fuck off and stop reading the conversation over his shoulder. 
Instead, he was typing, his fingers moving at a speed he hadn’t known possible - terrified that if he was not fast enough, that she might disappear on him.  
He hammered his fingers into the keys, asking what he, somehow, knew to be true. What’s wrong?
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then came back. 
Cassian found he was holding his breath without realising. And when the answer finally came, his heart seemed to thud to a stop in his throat, as if it were too horrified to beat.
Nesta đŸ§™â€â™€ïž: I’m at Kaffe at the corner of Bone and Salt. Tomas is here.
Cassian’s office chair roared as it wheeled back across the hardwood floor - straight into the granite planes of Azriel’s stomach before rebounding back into Cassian’s knees. 
Not that Cassian registered it. He was already leaning back over the oak desk, firing off the question he needed an answer to. 
Cassian: Has he seen you?
No. The cursed three dots appeared again, but this time they didn’t take long to disappear as Nesta’s reply materialised on the screen. I don’t think so, he shouldn’t know I live near here. But I can’t leave. I’d have to walk straight past him.
Cassian: Stay there.
Blindly, Cassian reached for the jacket he’d slung over the back of his chair, for the mobile in his jeans’ pocket. 
When he turned towards the door, Azriel was already there, car keys in hand. 
“Kaffe?” he asked.
The downwards jerk of Cassian’s chin passed as a nod. “On the corner of Bone and Salt.”
“Let’s go,” Azriel said as Cassian’s mobile buzzed again in his hand.
Another notification from Nesta. And when Cassian read what she’d typed, he knew just how it sounded. Small and unsure and so unlike his Nesta that Cassian wanted to beat something—a very particular someone until they didn’t stand again. 
Nesta đŸ§™â€â™€ïž: Cassian? 
Cassian: I’m coming to get you. Don’t try and walk past him, ok? Promise me, Nesta. 
For a moment, nothing. Then:
Nesta đŸ§™â€â™€ïž: How long will you be?
Cassian: Fifteen minutes if the traffic is good. Can you wait that long?
Not that Cassian could change the shape of time to get there sooner. But what he meant was: can you survive? Can you keep it together until then? Because Cassian had witnessed Nesta scared around her ex and it made someone who was usually perfectly composed, wild and unpredictable. He had no idea what Nesta she’d be today. Whether she’d suddenly bolt, her fear overriding her ability to be inconspicuous and grabbing Tomas’s attention in the process. Or whether she’d freeze where she was, paralysed with fear, unable to move. 
The rear lights of Azriel’s Tesla flashed through the drizzle as they exited via the back entrance of the gym.
Cassian didn’t remember tugging on his seat belt or the soft chime of the infotainment system as Azriel brought the car to life. 
All he was focused on was the screen, his conversation with Nesta as she told him, Don’t let him see you.
That was something Cassian knew all too well. 
In the time Cassian had had the displeasure of knowing Tomas, the male had been consumed with the idea that he and Nesta were having an affair behind his back. On that count, he’d been wrong. But there was no denying to anyone who knew him that Cassian had taken one look at Nesta across the room at Feyre’s birthday party and known that his gravity had just shifted, his world tilting even further on its axis.
Cassian: He won’t.
Nesta đŸ§™â€â™€ïž: He won’t?
Cassian: He won’t. I’ll be there soon, ok?
After that, no answer came. Every second on the road was torture, but thankfully, despite the spitting rain darting patterns on the windshield, the traffic was on their side. Azriel streamlined along the road, smooth as butter and for a while, they remained in silence.
Until finally, Azriel asked, “What do you need?”
So, Cassian told him. Together they formed a plan. Together, they stepped out of the automatic doors and into the small parking lot at the rear of the coffee shop, ready to step into their assigned roles.
After all, he and Azriel had always been a team.
Yet, it all seemed to take too long - especially as Cassian waited uselessly in the alleyway out the back. Feet eating up the rain-soaked tarmac, pacing back and forth, past the foul smelling bins that lined the concrete wall and the employee entrance to the coffee shop opposite.
Too much time had passed when the back door finally opened with a loud clank. 
A girl stood in the entryway, the heavy industrial door propped open with an outstretched arm. She was wearing a coffee-stained apron, her hair haphazardly piled atop her head.
She looked unsure. “Are you Cassian?”
Together, they walked down the short echoey corridor, the vinyl floor squeaking too loudly beneath the wet soles of Cassian’s shoes.
“There’s a door through that closet,” the girl told him. She pointed through the doorway, into the darkness. “If you open it you’ll be at the back of the shop.” 
Cassian stepped over a mop and bucket, passing cleaning supplies and endless stock that lined the shelves: takeaway cups, stirrers, and sugar packets.
Then the door was there. The light from the shop on the other side shining through the cracks, beckoning him. 
It was like stepping into another world, out of a vacuum. Immediately, the quiet from the storeroom was swallowed up by the noise of the shop: the chatter, the moving bodies, the background music coming from the speakers on the walls. 
The mid-morning rush was a relief - a shop bustling with customers made it easier to be inconspicuous. After all, it was exactly that which allowed Azriel to slip away from the front counter and out the entrance, a baseball cap angled low to shield his face from view.
They’d meet at the car as planned - once Cassian had extricated Nesta from the shop.
Easing the door shut behind him, Cassian scanned his surroundings. It was no surprise that his eyes immediately snagged at the sight of Nesta’s golden head. She was not sitting too far from where he’d entered, her laptop balanced on the tabletop in front of her. 
The tension knotting her shoulders, her neck, her ramrod spine, were as clear as day. In fact, the utter stillness emanating from her could only be described as inanimate - that of a statue.
And Cassian knew what had caused it, had been prepared for it, but when he saw the evidence before him, it still struck hard. 
Ahead of Nesta, only by a few seats, was Tomas Mandray.
He was leaning back in his chair in the way Cassian had learnt to expect of Nesta’s ex-partner: taking up more space than he should for a male who was neither wide or tall. Slouching practically sideways in his chair, Tomas was scrolling mindlessly on his phone. One foot was stretched out so it was slap bang in the lone aisle that separated the two halves of the shop. The calf of his other leg rested atop it, the sole of his shoe sticking out so anyone wanting to get past him would have to ask for him to move - Nesta included.
Anger flared inside of Cassian, fresh and salt hot. It tasted like blood, smelt like it, looked like it, but Cassian made himself push back the colour red as he began to make his way down the aisle.
Nesta didn’t sense him coming. Nor did Cassian expect her to. He hadn’t messaged her since he’d first entered the car and it had been a decision he’d weighed up the entire rest of the ride.
But in the end, both he and Azriel had decided that if Nesta knew the intended plan and it went sideways, she might panic enough to do something rash.
It was a choice Cassian came to regret the moment he opened his mouth.
“Nesta.”
It didn’t matter that he’d had purposefully moulded her name into something soft: Nesta jumped a mile. Then, two things happened at once. The first was that her head turned so fast Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gotten whiplash. The second, was that the shock of seeing him sent the mobile in her hand flying.
Cassian didn’t have a moment to think, but his reflexes never failed him. His hand shot out to catch the phone at the same time that Nesta’s did. The mobile missed the table by a breath and tumbled into her lap where they trapped it, their fingers tangled. 
Nesta’s grip was so white Cassian could see the straining tendons. Breathing hard, he raised his eyes to meet hers only to find that they’d already snapped back to Tomas.
Cassian had seen that look of fixation in people plenty before. There was flight or fight but there was also freeze — and Nesta was definitely in the latter. He needed to get her attention for long enough that he could convince her to leave, but with her eyes so saucer-wide that he could see the whites of them, her pupils blown, skin bloodless, breathing shallow, Cassian knew it was going to be easier said than done. 
“Hey sweetheart.” The affectionate term came out in a low rumble that did nothing to penetrate Nesta’s steadfast attention. Cassian sank into a crouch beside her. Tried again, “Nesta.”
This time there was enough quiet command in his voice that her eyes finally dragged to look at him. It was fleeting. A scant acknowledgement that he was kneeling beside her, but it was all Cassian had to work with so he seized it. “Time to go.”
But it was too late. Nesta’s attention was already back on Tomas and she was drawing herself in, shrinking back into her chair until she looked so small and so unlike the Nesta Cassian had come to know, that his heart cracked on her behalf.
It physically ached, that fissure. Threatened to snatch Cassian’s breath as he teetered at the edge of it - a depthless cavern, jagged like a lifeline.
For years, Cassian had watched as Nesta glued herself back together. He’d seen it all. The grief of who she’d been, who she’d been forced to become when, on her knees, she realised the shattered pieces of her identity didn’t fit back together. Splinters were missing, core fragments of her personality had changed shape so monumentously that she finally realised they would never slot back into the past version of herself. 
And she’d weathered it. Mourned it, yes, but then Nesta had gritted her teeth and fought it. Discovered the new pieces of herself, acknowledged the changed, filled the gaps until she’d drawn together into someone who was stronger, more resilient yet intrinsically still Nesta. 
Cassian would not let that battle go to waste. Would not let a male with a small dick and an abusive temper ruin someone who, quite frankly, was the most amazing person he’d ever met.
Shifting his weight onto his better leg, Cassian ignored his throbbing knee and said, “We don’t need to walk past him. We can leave out the back—”
But Nesta was shaking her head. When she finally spoke, her confession was a hoarse whisper. “I can’t do it, Cassian.”
In all the time Nesta had known him, she’d barely ever called him by his name. He’d imagined her saying it like it was a habit, for sure. But he hadn’t thought it would come out with a confession, in a crackled, broken whisper. 
Gently coaxing Nesta’s phone from her vice-like grip, Cassian slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then, before her fingers could ball into fists he slowly threaded their fingers together. “Yes, you can. I know you can. I’ve seen you do it before.”
Cassian had dared to hope that the contact would pull her attention back to him, but it didn’t work.
So slowly, Cassian raised their hands, pressed them into his cheek.
For a fleeting second, he had her. Nesta’s eyes snapped to him - to the warmth of his skin. But then they darted away, back to Tomas who was now talking on his mobile.
Nesta's grip on him tightened at the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s voice, locking down so hard that Cassian knew if he were to look at their threaded fingers, they’d appear bled dry.
Hoping that Nesta was still listening, Cassian continued, “There’s a door out the back. It’s how I got in. He won’t see you but we should go now whilst he’s distracted.”
And then Cassian took the biggest risk of all. He lifted their hands to his mouth, pressed his lips to her fingers.
That’s what did it in the end— it was like a summoning. Nesta tore her eyes away from Tomas. It took effort, Cassian could tell because her eyes darted back and forth until finally they stayed with him. Long enough for her to confess her greatest fear around the tightness in her throat. “He might.”
“Not today.” 
Carefully, Cassian stood, ignoring the painful tweak in his knee as he did so. 
Tomas was still on his mobile. Somehow, he was leaning back even further in his chair, commanding the space. His voice was so loud and obnoxious that the woman at the table next to him shot him a glare.
Cassian didn’t care. Tomas was busy and that was how they wanted him.
“We’re going to get you out of here, but I need you to get up. You can do this, ok?”
There. A hesitation. A belief that dared to creep in through the cracks of Nesta’s fear and tell her that there might be hope.
After that, the adrenaline kicked in. Nesta fumbled for her bag, her belongings. By then her hands were shaking so badly that she nearly dropped her laptop, but Cassian swooped in, swept everything into her satchel and shouldered it. 
“This way,” he coaxed, summoning every ounce of restraint not to touch the small of her back in encouragement. He had a feeling if he did that all the adrenaline coursing through her veins would make her startle.
Somehow, they made it out. The moment Cassian closed the closet door behind them, shutting out the coffee shop, he could breathe a little easier. Didn’t worry so much when Nesta stumbled over a bucket, the sound ricocheting around the storeroom as she righted herself. 
The fresh air that hit them as they stepped outside was bracing. It snatched the breath from their lungs. But to Cassian it tasted like nothing but relief. He barely noticed the fine fuzz of rain that immediately coated his clothing, wet his face, his hair.
And clearly neither did Nesta. For the second the back door shut behind them, Nesta met his eyes. And then, without any adieu, she bent over double and vomited onto the tarmac.
The suddenness of it all was so unexpected and so violent that Cassian moved on instinct. He forgot that he was supposed to be keeping his distance. Forgot that he was trying not to spook her.
In hindsight, during the long night that followed, Cassian replayed the following scene over and over in his head trying to make sense of it. And each time, he came to the same conclusion. Nesta - whose body was hyper-vigilant beyond belief - clocked him leaping towards her out of the corner of her eye and catalogued him as a threat.
Nesta startled like an animal running for its life, jerking away from him before he could reach her.
But whilst Cassian had paced up and down the alleyway for a good five minutes before Azriel had sent the staff member to the back door, Nesta was unacquainted with her surroundings.
Bent over double as she was, she didn’t see the wall until it was too late. Straightening and twisting away from him at the same time, Nesta collided into the pebble dash with a crack.
“Shit,” Cassian panted, eyes wide, hands up as he hastily backed away from her. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I didn’t think—”
He abruptly stopped speaking as Nesta lurched forwards again, the movement jolting and ugly, and retched.
The acrid scent of bile mingled with the odour coming from the trash cans - old food and stale coffee and the wet mulch of cardboard intermingling with damp rain - the latter of which was coming down harder now. 
But now, neither of them noticed. 
All Cassian could think of was Nesta. He watched her straighten, her hands now clutching at her head as if that might physically hold in the shock of the collision. 
And all Cassian could do was stand there, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon but the rest of him frozen in place. His palms, which had flown up on instinct when she’d thrust away from him, were still facing her, as if she had him at gunpoint. 
He was too scared to move, too frightened that he’d do something else idiotically stupid and cause her more harm.
For a moment, they stared at one another wide-eyed. Cassian could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, trying to burst out of his skin. 
Nesta swiped at her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. When she dropped it from her bloodless face, her lips parted as if she were planning on speaking but then they shut again, her mouth a thin, brittle line.
He watched this happen again, then again. After the third attempt to speak, Cassian watched her give up. Watched her press the heel of her palm to the exact spot where her head had collided with the wall, her brows knitting in confusion, as if she didn’t understand where the pain had suddenly come from.
When her fingers came away, Cassian was alarmed to see that they were red.
It took everything he had not to step towards her, to see if she was ok. But he didn’t dare risk it after he’d terrified her so badly. 
Instead, his punishment for being so idiotically stupid was to watch this play out. To watch her lower her trembling hand so it hung limply at her side and watch a trickle of blood escape down her temple.
Nesta didn’t seem aware of it. Instead, she just continued to stare at him in disbelief.
Then, her expression rippled. A tremor, violent before it was trapped and smoothed out.
A beat passed. 
“Sorry,” she said hoarsely - finally, when she clearly thought herself composed. But her voice wavered as she spoke, and the sound of it seemed to be the breaking point.
Cassian balled his hands to stop himself from reaching out to her. Slowly, he took a discreet step backwards, granting her more space even though all he wanted to do was to pull her to him and swathe her in his arms.
But the action didn’t go unnoticed. If anything, it was the finger on the trigger, the foundational straw pulled out from beneath her.
There was a shaky, high-pitched rush of breath, a last attempt to keep the tears at bay - but it was too late. Nesta’s face crumpled and then words were toppling out between gasped sobs.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s here. He shouldn’t be here—”
“I know.” There was a crack in Cassian’s voice now, a maelstrom of emotions. The aching sadness of seeing her like this, the angry truth of it all, the stark, terrible reality. And then there was the fury of his contribution to it. Him, the male he had hoped she might come to trust, ruining it all. The sound of her head hitting the concrete. “Please. Let me take you home—“
“Is everything ok here?”
A voice interrupted Cassian, smooth as always and deliberately tempered down to be soft. 
Nesta startled anyway. She scrambled away but when she realised she was too close to the wall, she halted in her tracks, panting.
Cassian didn’t need to turn to see who it was, but when he did, his arm outstretched to tell his brother to stay put, he found Azriel in the mouth of the alleyway. 
In his left hand, the car keys dangled.
Azriel did not take a step forward. Instead, he kept his eyes on Cassian. Said, “Tomas is still in the coffee shop, but we should make a quick exit if we want to be safe. He looked like he was readying himself to leave and I’m not sure if his car is in the parking lot.”
Later, when Cassian was back at home he marvelled at how they managed to get Nesta into the car. He supposed the threat of her ex was enough to make someone who was currently very afraid of men shut herself into a car with two hulking ones.
Striding ahead, Cassian opened the rear door for Nesta before backing away. Heart in his mouth, he got into the passenger side, opposite Azriel at the wheel, keeping his gaze locked ahead, not wanting to spook her, not wanting her to second guess a thing. 
In fact, Cassian didn’t feel like he drew a breath. Not as the rear door shut, as fabric rustled, the seat belt pulled across a body, the click as Nesta buckled herself in.
Even as Azriel eased them onto the main road, the rain coming down harder now, Cassian starved his lungs of air.
But when the coffee shop disappeared from view, Cassian allowed a breath to slowly rush back in.
He turned to Azriel. “Head to the hospital—”
“No.”
The response was forthright and quick while at the same time having a quiet incorporeal quality to it - as if it caught in mid-air and retracted into itself before it established itself.
Turning in his seat, Cassian looked at Nesta.
She was staring vacantly out the window, her body moving with the car as it turned in the same way
a puppet followed the command of its strings. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“You’re bleeding, Nesta.”
Absently, Nesta raised a hand to her temple, stared at the red glistening on her fingertips. “It’s superficial.”
“You don’t know that.”
Nesta let her hand fall into her lap, discarded. “I do.”
The seconds that followed felt as if they were swallowed by the gaping maw of silence. Two simple words threatening the imagination as it conjured images Cassian didn’t want to see. A body being thrown around, bruises and fractured ribs, a broken nose and two black eyes. Fell down the stairs, tripped over my own feet. The crack of a nose being set back into place, hiding away to protect a monster. I can’t come tonight, I’ve got a book deadline to meet. I’ll see you when I'm done.
All of it unravelling behind Cassian eyes, in his head, overtaking his senses - everything. 
“Where should I drive to?”
Azriel’s voice cut through the images, abrupt, like a full stop thrown into the middle of a sentence. 
Cassian didn’t stop looking at Nesta. She was still staring fixedly out the window, but he could tell she wasn’t seeing anything at all. He watched her slip farther away, the distance growing and growing, a cavernous feeling, vast, empty.
He turned back in his seat. A plan was already unfolding in his mind. 
Cassian’s hand dipped into his pocket, his fingers closing around the cool metal of his mobile. 
“Mine.”
***
“I need a bowl of warm water.”
A snap punctuated the end of Mor’s request as she stretched the fingers of the disposable rubber glove she was fitting to her hand. 
The action came with the precision of someone who spent her days taking them on and off. Of the doctor who worked at the female health clinic in the less affluent districts and saw things she wished she didn’t.
There was no familiar warmth in his friend’s voice as she spoke. In fact, Mor didn’t even look at Cassian. Instead, she seated herself back atop the coffee table and began to rifle through the personally engraved medical bag he, Azriel and Rhys had gifted her for Winter Solstice last year.
Opposite her, curled up small in the corner of the couch was Nesta, pale in every sense of the word. Pale in pallor, pale in expression, pale in existence - as if she was fading from the room. 
The distance that Cassian had felt growing between Nesta and the world had quadrupled since their car journey home. Wraith-like, Nesta had followed him into his apartment and sat mechanically onto his couch without really seeming to take any of it in. Nor had she touched the mug of chai he’d left on the coffee table in front of her.
That absence, that space, had seemed to worsen since Mor had stepped through the door five minutes ago. 
And Cassian knew that bringing Mor into the equation was not something Nesta would take lightly. But he had been at a loss for what else to do. Nesta had refused to go to the hospital to be checked over and the only person Cassian knew could help - and who would be discreet - was his best friend. 
And Mor, despite her rare day off, had dropped whatever she had been doing and driven straight to him.
Ceramic clinked against the wood of the coffee table as Cassian set down the bowl beside where Mor was seated.
Mor straightened, a small pocket torch in hand. 
She clicked it on.
“Thanks. We’ll be a few minutes.”
It was a firm dismissal and Cassian didn’t dispute it. 
He had already turned to leave when Nesta spoke—
“He can stay.”
Slowly, Nesta slid her gaze away from the tears crying down the window pane, locked them onto Mor in a way that was both absent and wholly fixated at the same time.
Nesta’s eyes were the same slate colour of the sky — no hope of blue within them. 
Mor simply stared back, unfazed, undeterred - strong. “When I’ve performed the initial examination he can come back in. But not until then.”
“No.”
One word. Simple. Defiant despite the disembodied quality to it. The most emotion Nesta had displayed since he’d found her. 
It was enough to tell Cassian that his Nesta was still in there fighting - even if she looked like hell. 
Mor’s lips flattened into a grim line. “That’s my policy, I’m afraid—”
“Then change it.”
The aftermath of Nesta’s order crackled with static. Like a radio before it tuned into the right station. A gear grinding into fourth.
During the whole interaction, there had been no change to Nesta’s expression. It was as if her body had almost shut down, but as Mor searched it, really looked, her serious honey brown eyes scanning Nesta’s face, she seemed to see something in the depths Cassian couldn’t. For she straightened, looked from Nesta to Cassian with a grim sort of understanding, before shifting her attention back to Nesta.
Mor held up a gloved hand. 
“Follow my finger,” she instructed.
***
The snap of rubber and then the subsequent rustle as they nestled amongst the other discarded items in the waste paper basket signalled the end of the examination. 
“It’s a nasty bump but it looks worse than it is,” Mor told Nesta as she began to stow away items into the open medical bag. “No need for stitches and no major concussion from the looks of it. But you’ll have significant bruising, I’m afraid.”
Cassian shifted on his feet from where he stood by the dining table. He had strategically positioned himself by the dining table, which had allowed himself to observe Mor’s assessment of Nesta without crowding the scene. But now, he was unable to stop himself from voicing one of his concerns. “And the vomiting? Nesta was sick right after she hit her head.”
“And before.” Nesta’s reminder was scratchy and resigned, as if Cassian was fussing for nothing. She leant backwards farther into the couch, the cushions threatened to swallow her up. “I just need to sleep it off.” 
She tugged the blanket Cassian had draped over her knees higher over her body, towards her chin. Cassian wondered if she was consciously trying to create a barrier between her and everyone else in the room.
Cassian didn’t know what last time meant, but Mor didn’t press Nesta for more information as her head swivelled back to face her patient.
“The vomiting is most likely from the acute shock of—”
But Nesta wasn’t interested in hearing more. For the first time, her face showed a ripple of what she was feeling: irritation, her patience clearly as threadbare and worn as her body. “Can I sleep now?”
Seemingly unaffected by Nesta’s directness, Mor nodded. “It will do you good. But—” she held up a hand, as if anticipating resistance. “—you will need to be monitored every few hours just in case you do have a light concussion. Is there anyone who can stay with you?”
Nesta stiffened. “I live alone.”
“Emerie? Gwyn?”
Nesta’s gaze shifted past Mor’s shoulder, back to the window. There was a stretched out pause as if the hypnotic stream of water falling down the glass had taken Nesta out of his moment, this room. 
When she spoke, her voice seemed faint, like an echo. “Emerie’s on a business trip. Gwyn has her National Counselor Examination exam tomorrow.”
Mor looked to Cassian. “And you?”
“Done for the day.” Cassian lied, watching Nesta’s face closely in case it betrayed any further feeling. “Nesta can stay here.”
***
When Cassian emerged from the bedroom, Mor was waiting. Leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, her hip propping her up, she watched him discerningly as he quietly closed the door and came to join her.
A soft rattle sounded in Cassian’s ear as he flipped on the kettle switch. Turning his head, he found Mor shaking a small round bottle at him. “Found these painkillers in the bathroom cabinet. Give these to Nesta every four hours if she wants them - they’ll help with the headache until she’s feeling better.”
Cassian arched an eyebrow but didn’t bother to berate Mor for rifling through his cabinets. Mor sometimes had a tendency to rummage around his one-bed apartment as if she lived with him, helping herself to whatever she needed. Cassian didn’t really mind. Growing up, he’d never had a sibling. He’d always been a lone child.
Now, he was fortunate to have two brothers and a best friend who had eventually evolved into someone he considered to be a sister. 
He was never going to complain about her feeling comfortable in his home. 
So, instead he took the bottle from Mor and asked, “And the nausea?”
“If it’s the result of physical shock, it should disappear soon. Sleep will certainly help reduce the stress and adrenaline in her body. Emotional shock can take longer.”
Now, Mor’s eyes turned sharper as she moved to face him fully. Even as she feigned casual, planting her freshly manicured hands behind her on the counter and leant backwards. “Nesta has had quite the day.”
The kettle clicked off, steam rose from the beak and billowed outwards, spreading like fog. Cassian poured hot water over the tea bag, the familiar scent of green tea momentarily assaulting him. 
When he realised Mor was not going to continue without some sort of response, he made an acquiescent sound in the back of his throat.
“Not like Nesta to get into an accident like that,” Mor continued carefully. “She’s always so composed.”
At that, Cassian turned his head and simply looked at his friend, not speaking. Steam rose between them from his mug. It felt damp on Cassian’s face, but he didn’t blink. He knew what Mor was trying to get at. Had been well aware that when he’d called her over here that she’d know something was up. That, even as she was trod carefully, that this wouldn’t be a subject she’d let lie.
“Cassian,” Mor tried again, her voice low now, “does Nesta need to report someone for the bump on her head? I see it all the time at the clinic and the shock she’s in goes beyond physical.”
The gentle clunk as Cassian set down his mug was enough to disrupt Mor. “Not unless you want to report me.”
Mor grew very still. “What are you talking about?”
“She was scared and I startled her.” Cassian hadn’t planned to confess this - and he still would never betray Nesta by mentioning Tomas - but the guilt that had been rotting inside of him since the incident in the alleyway was now pouring out of him. He couldn’t stop it.The responsibility of causing her more harm when he had supposed to be rescuing her. 
Scrubbing the heel of his palm hard into his forehead as if that might rid the headache of the utter shit show that had been today, he continued, “It was so stupid of me, Mor. So stupid. She threw up and it was so sudden that my head just emptied of sense. Instinct overtook me. I moved towards her, to help or to comfort her, I don’t know and she bolted. Ran headfirst into a wall trying to get away from me.”
There was a careful look to Mor now. The frown that had been marring her forehead whilst he spoke evened back out. But Cassian knew her well enough to see the thoughts sliding behind her irises as she tried to connect the dots. “You didn’t scare her initially.”
“No.”
There was a brief pause whilst Mor processed the information. Then, she stepped towards him sombre-faced and slipped her hands around his waist. She hugged him tight. She smelt like she always did — of cinnamon and citrus, of home. 
“Don’t punish yourself too harshly. It was a mistake.”
Mor’s voice was muffled, almost swallowed by his jacket.
Clenching his jaw, Cassian rested his chin atop her head. “I made things worse.”
Pulling back to examine his face, Mor kept her arms looped around his waist. “But your intentions were good. You are good, Cassian.”
Cassian just clenched his jaw.
“Are you going to be ok?” Mor asked after a beat. When he didn’t reply, she gave him a final squeeze and, minding the mug of boiling water he still held in one hand, extracted herself. “Silly question, I suppose. Want me to stay?”
“No, I won’t be much company. Plus,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her subtly elevated outfit that sat just above casual and the undulating waves of her freshly-washed hair that Cassian knew had been painfully crafted in front of a mirror, “it looks like I’ve already interrupted your plans for today. Are we dating again?”
Rolling her eyes, Mor hefted her doctor’s bag off the counter and onto her shoulder. “Call me if you need me. I’ll be at home anyway.”
“Thanks.” Deciding not to press her for more details, Cassian trailed his friend to the door. “I think it goes without saying that I owe you.” 
But Mor just turned. Gripped Cassian’s shoulders until he met her eyes. “Friends don’t owe one another, Cass. Ring if you need me, ok?”
***
Despite the gravity of the day, time continued to pass - albeit slowly, torturously. 
Nesta slept and Cassian worked from the dining table in the living room, trying to work but ultimately failing, his eyes more often than not trained on the bedroom door. 
He’d pushed it ajar as soon as Mor had left, unable to stop worrying that something could happen to Nesta and he might miss it.
Cassian knew he was overreacting and if Nesta hadn’t been so scared of him earlier, so on edge, he might have worked from the armchair in the bedroom itself. 
But the dining table had to do. From his vantage point, Cassian could just make out the curled up figure beneath his duvet, the shadowy tangle of hair draped across his pillow.
And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been instructed to check in on Nesta every few hours. To ask her mundane questions like: What’s your name? Where are you? What day and year is it? Spell ‘world’ backwards? 
But each time, when it finally came to wake Nesta, Cassian found himself full of a sort of dread that felt akin to chunks being taken out of his chest every time she opened her eyes. 
It was not least because the depth of Nesta’s sleep was so vast and weighty that it made it hard to rouse her in a way that didn’t feel violent. But also because each time Cassian managed to haul Nesta out of it, she startled. 
The first time had been the worst. Cassian could have sworn that he’d scented her fear before she wrangled it under a forced sort of control that did nothing to hide the panic lingering beneath it. All the while, Cassian knelt beside her as unthreateningly as possible, trying not to loom, cursing the breadth and height of his frame.
Six hours on and Nesta’s reaction to him had thankfully weathered into an apprehensive wariness, as if her body and mind had anticipated what was happening in an attempt to save her from further stress. Opening her eyes, Nesta would tiredly answer whatever Cassian asked of her before she let sleep drag her back down again to its murky depths.
Nesta’s fatigue was not a tiredness Cassian recognised. Instead, he had come to understand that this was Sleep. An entity that yanked at you with taloned hands, snatching you back down so body and mind could restore itself. 
The buzz of an incoming call pulled Cassian’s attention away from the bedroom door. Quickly, he plucked the device from the table so the vibrations wouldn’t wake Nesta and took long strides down the hall.
Putting the door on latch, Cassian stepped into the hallway.
“Emerie,” he said.
Relief surged through Cassian as Emerie’s voice, complete with the soft curl of her Illyrian accent filtered down the speaker. “Why have I got the feeling that I’m not going to like the reason why I’ve got six missed calls from you and a text to ring you as soon as I can?”
“Because you’re right.” Cassian cleared his throat, readying him to elaborate, but Emerie got there first.
“Is it Tomas, Cassian?” 
Emerie’s voice was so gentle that Cassian suddenly felt as if he might choke.
He fought the sensation, swallowed. “There was a close encounter today,” he admitted, and he felt the noose around his neck loosen at the confession. He might not have been able to tell Mor, but Emerie knew everything - more than him - and he hoped that she would know how to best help Nesta - even if she was currently in another state on a business trip.
Emerie remained quiet as the day’s events poured out of Cassian. But when he finished and her silence continued - the faint sound of traffic in the background the only indication that she was still with him - he began to worry.
But then Emerie sighed. It sounded sad, the noise trailing out until it hung between them. Finally, Emerie said, “The tiredness is normal. When she left Tomas, she slept for days. The same happened after the court ruling.”
“That’s what Mor said but—”
“Mor?”
“I—” Cassian broke off with a sigh at the high-pitched and disbelieving tone of Emerie’s voice. Running his free hand exasperatedly over his face, before tugged at the knots in his hair, he said resignedly, “She wouldn’t go to the hospital. Mor was the only person I could think of who would be discreet.”
Emerie snorted. “And how’d that go down with Nesta?”
“I wouldn’t know. Badly, I suspect. She’s barely said a word since we got her in the car.”
A lull followed his words and Cassian gave Emerie the time she needed to ask what he knew she’d been wondering the moment he’d disclosed what had happened. “D’you think Tomas knew she was there?”
“Didn’t seem like it. Nesta didn’t seem to think so, either. He was only a few tables ahead of her and didn’t turn round the entire time.”
Emerie loosed a relieved breath. “Well, that’s something at least. Tomas is a manipulative, masochistic misogynist, but he’s stayed away since the restraining order. He doesn’t even live in town anymore.”
Cassian swallowed. He hadn’t known that, but he just said, “Right.”
“I can come and get Nes tomorrow. She can stay with me for a few days, but I don’t land until ten tomorrow morning—”
“I’m not trying to get rid of her—”
Emerie snorted, a faint playfulness ghosting back into her personality. “I know that, you oaf.”
But Cassian ignored her jest. “I just thought she’d be more comfortable with you. She startles every time I have wake her and she wouldn’t let me try Gwyn—”
“—because of her exam tomorrow,” Emerie finished. 
“Right,” Cassian said again.
There was a pause 
“You ok, Cass?”
“Besides making everything worse, you mean?”
Emerie barked a laugh. “I sincerely doubt that.”
“She was bleeding from the head, Emerie. She thought I was going to hit her—”
And I teach self defence for a living. Cassian wanted to finish. He, of all people, should have know better. He’d witnessed the way his mother suffered. Had watched it all.
“Well, Tomas did - hit her, I mean.” 
“She told me.”
There was a pause as the reality of it sank in all over again. Cassian had known Tomas had beaten Nesta, of course he had, but today had made the truth of it even more harrowing - something he hadn’t thought possible. 
When Emerie continued, her voice rang with the confidence that came with delivering an unvarnished truth, “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else, Cassian, trust me. I’ve seen Nesta after she’s had an encounter with Tomas. Everything becomes a threat, even things that don’t exist. Once, Gwyn took Nesta by surprise as she came out the bathroom and Nesta threw her mobile at Gwyn’s head.”
“I—” Cassian began but he broke off, not sure how to continue. Finally, he found his voice, “Will you tell Nesta you’ll be coming or shall I?”
“I’ll tell her, but I’d mention it as well when you can. Her memory gets patchy when she’s been through something like this - best to repeat it until you know it’s sunk in.”
“Ok.”
As if sensing Cassian’s discomfort, Emerie added candidly, “Look, what Nesta needs right now is not to be in an empty apartment - which you have covered. If she wants to stay with you when she wakes up rather than go back to her apartment - which I doubt is going to be a no, by the way - let her stay. And whatever you do, try not to scare her. No creeping up on her, ok?”
“Ok,” Cassian repeated. And then again, as if he reassuring himself. “Ok.”
“Good,” Emerie said. “See you tomorrow, Cass.” 
So, with a pep talk tight under his belt, Cassian hung up and returned to the apartment. 
Sat down in front of his laptop, not seeing, not doing and waited. 
***
When Nesta finally emerged from Cassian’s bedroom, it was late. Cassian was still sat at the table staring mindlessly at the rota on the screen, which remained unconquered.
At first, Nesta was so quiet he didn’t notice her. But then there was a movement in the corner of his eye, a whisper and sigh of fabric and then Cassian only saw her.
It was a cruel irony, Cassian thought, that he had been waiting for Nesta to emerge this entire time. But now she was standing in the doorway that connected his bedroom to the living room, her hair mussed and pillow creases imprinted into her cheek, Cassian found that he wasn’t prepared at all.
It took Cassian a moment to recover his voice. And when he did, it came across too rough, too abrasive from lack of use.
“Hey.” He caught his wince a fraction too late, but he cleared his throat gently in a bid to disguise it. “How are you feeling?”
Nesta swayed a little in response, throwing out a hand to right herself against the doorjamb just in time. Cassian did his best to remember Emerie’s parting instruction: slow, purposeful movements. 
Essentially, under no circumstance was he to jump across the room to Nesta’s aid only to startle her all over again.
What Cassian really wanted to do was walk over to her. Raise his fingers to her face, touch her skin, check she was actually there, blood pulsing slowly through her body, warming her skin, rather than a spectral manifestation.
Scrounging up every inch of his willpower, Cassian remained seated. Watched her instead and tried not just to conjure the illusion of calm but feel it too — a place of safety where Nesta could come back to herself. 
“I feel like I’ve been asleep a long time,” Nesta replied hoarsely - distantly. Evading his gaze, she cast a look to the dark windows, to the night sky and the grey blanket of clouds blotting out the stars. “Can I use—”
“The bathroom?” Cassian interjected smoothly. “Towards the front door on the left.”
Cassian tracked her every step as she made her way up the hall. Usually, Nesta floated in a way that was purposefully untouchable. But now, she seemed untethered and unstable, as if she didn’t have control of her body.
It was a while until Nesta emerged again. In that time, Cassian tried to suppress his worry by busying himself in the kitchen. 
The hot water was running when he finally heard the lock turn, the door creak open. 
Purposefully, Cassian did not turn. Instead, he carried on with what he was doing. Plunged his hands into the suds in the sink and began to wash the dishes, purposefully ensuring they clinked softly together so Nesta could guess his location. 
“What time is it?” 
Nesta’s voice emerged from somewhere behind him. Slowly, Cassian turned his head to glance over his shoulder and there she was, the kitchen counter safely between them, her skin as cool as the moonlight lancing through the window. 
“Just gone midnight.”
This elicited a blink and a tiny frown that Nesta kneaded with the crook of a finger before retracting it with a wince. “I didn’t realise I’d slept that long.”
She didn’t elaborate but Cassian read it for what it was: an apology for what she viewed as imposing. “It’s good. You clearly needed it.”
Unhurriedly, Cassian reached for a dishcloth to dry his hands. When he turned to look at Nesta properly, he was careful to modulate the speed of his movements. 
What he was not expecting, was for everything to shatter. But it did. The instant their gaze connected and Cassian saw the vacancy in her eyes, whatever he and Nesta had been trying to be, broke away, unravelling until it was nothing.
It felt like a hand was fisting at Cassian’s intestines, twisting tighter and tighter as they continued to look at one another.
And the more they looked, the more Cassian knew with devastating surety, that this was not their time.
Nesta didn’t need a love interest. What she needed was support. For the people around her not to terrify her so much that she ended up causing herself further harm. 
Cassian swallowed in a bid to rid himself of the lump in his throat. 
Between them, the silence stretched, almost mesmeric in its intensity. 
There was so much Cassian wanted to say, but he realised that what he really needed to do was to not say anything of consequence at all.
The only thing that mattered was that Nesta was going to be ok. That she was here and breathing. And hopefully, in time, she would heal again. 
And in the meantime, Cassian would be here if she needed him. 
It took everything in Cassian to feign casual. It felt like shards of glass had taken up residence in his throat, cutting every time as he spoke. “Want some chai?”
It was not what Nesta had been expecting him to say and Cassian had known that. The surprise of it dragged her back to him, the smallest of lights flickered faintly in the depths of her eyes, cracking through the trauma. “Chai?”
Cassian nodded to the saucepan atop the stove. “I made a fresh batch earlier. Thought you might want some when you woke up.”
Nesta’s eyes followed him as he slowly went through the motions of pouring two cups, using a sieve to catch the cinnamon sticks, the star anise, the cloves. 
When he was done, Cassian slid the mug across the counter to her, careful to keep his distance. 
Together, they drank. Neither of them broke the spell of silence between them, not until Nesta’s mug had been drained to the dregs. 
Then, Cassian dared to ask, “Are you hungry?”
An answering grimace. 
Cassian made the corner of his mouth tug up into a smile. “No appetite of a baby dinosaur today, then?”
No reaction — nothing. Nesta just watched him, the grimace fading away until her expression was yet again vacant. 
“You look like you could still use some sleep,” Cassian told her carefully. “Why don’t you go back to bed.”
The alarm that fissured through Nesta’s expression took Cassian by surprise. Her gaze snapped to his and every muscle in her body pulled taut. Suddenly, miraculously, and to his surprise, Nesta was fully present. “Where will you be?”
“The couch pulls out.”
The tension that had come so suddenly to Nesta’s shoulders unspooled slightly, but she didn’t say anything.
Cassian pretended he hadn’t detected her unease. Was she worried that he’d leave or that he’d be around the apartment whilst she slept? Did he make her uncomfortable? Did she think he’d insist on sleeping in his bed with her?
Not for the first time, Cassian felt horribly out of depth. But he tried to continue as normal, tried to  get her to engage with him. “Want something comfy to wear?”
Nesta fisted the sleeves of her jumper. 
“There are t-shirts in the second drawer down if you do,” Cassian continued. “Toiletries are in the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink or the one above it - a new toothbrush, toothpaste. Take what you need, ok?”
Later - eventually - when Cassian slept, there was no escaping the day. He relived it all - yet another awful nightmare. Nesta’s bloodless face, her vice-like grip on his fingers. The sound her body made as she struck the wall. Her wide, terrified eyes. The blood glistening on her fingers. 
When Cassian woke the next morning, he didn’t need a moment to remember why he was sleeping on the pull out couch. 
And he certainly didn’t need to remind himself that the secret hope he’d been harbouring, the foolish optimism that he and Nesta might still be something, had been thoroughly stamped out. 
Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @a-trifling-matter @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side
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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago
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[ christmas cookies ] j. hughes
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day three of malia’s christmas fic marathon
paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader
summary : (Y/N) and Jack make a bit of a mess in the kitchen when they bake Christmas cookies since they’re both home because of the snow
warning(s) : some sexual content and language, implied sex. mainly fluffy tho :)
author’s note : i KNOW this is very late according to the schedule i put out but it was my birthday weekend so i didn’t have much down time to write or post anything. i think day four is coming at some point during the day tomorrow so keep an eye out for that
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"Jack!" (Y/N) yells as she runs back into the bedroom. "Jack. Baby, it's snowing and I don't have to go to work." She happily jumps on her side of the bed and crawls up to her sleeping boyfriend. Jack lets out a groan when she lays herself on top of him. She's like a happy puppy.
Jack mumbles an "it's early" and doesn't open his eyes.
She frowns and sits up on his waist. "It's snowing," she tries again. "I think you promised me that you would bake cookies with me next time it snowed since we would both be home all day." When Jack doesn't move, she begins to jump up and down on her knees like she's riding him. "Jack Hughes, get your cute ass out of bed and make cookies with me!"
His hands fly to her waist and stops her. "(Y/N)," he slurs. "Keep doing that and I will not make cookies with you. I will be making babies with you."
"Sounds good to me either way," she teases. That gets Jack to open one of his eyes. (Y/N) smiles. "Tell you what. If you make cookies with me then we can come back to bed and we can do whatever you want to me. I can still walk so obviously we didn't do enough last night."
Jack to flies out of bed butt ass naked from the previous night. (Y/N) laughs and watches him put on a pair of sweatpants and one of his Devils t-shirts before practically sprinting to the kitchen. She follows him in one of his larger Devils t-shirts that has his number on the chest and a pair of tiny shorts underneath.
The messy hair while Jack runs around their kitchen to grab what he considered cookie ingredients. "Baby, you can barely cook broccoli," she comments as she walks toward him. "I don't think you know how to bake cookies."
Jack's head snaps up. "Hey, I'm still learning," he snaps. "Get over here and help me get cookie stuff together."
She laughs and helps him out. She pulls out bowls, spoons, and the baking pan that will need to be used to actually bake the cookies.
The kitchen island is filled with different dry and wet ingredients and utensils that will need to be used to make the cookies without making a complete mess out of their kitchen.
Honestly, the kitchen will still probably end up being a mess because that's the way the two of them work. They're a messy couple and all of their friends know it. It's why their friends refuse to make food with them. Something always happens and food ends up everywhere.
(Y/N) pulls a chocolate chip cookie recipe up on her phone while Jack puts on some music so it's not dead silent while they're baking. He settles on Christmas music since it is technically Christmas Eve. She smiles to herself.
Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist while she's leaning over the counter. She can feel his semi press against the top of her thigh right under her ass. "Jack, behave," she warns him. He definitely didn't take the warning seriously since she's smiling at how needy he is.
His love language is definitely physical touch, and she loves it.
The first step in baking cookies is mixing the dry ingredients together before incorporating the wet ingredients. In the biggest bowl, (Y/N) lets Jack measure and put in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. She works on the butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar in a mixing bowl.
While she begins to mix the eggs and vanilla in with the creamed butter and sugars, a white powder hits her in the face. She blinks until her eyes are clear and hears Jack laugh at her side.
"You're an ass," she tells him as she wipes the flour away from her eyes. Jack is leaning back against the counter as he laughs. "I didn't want to make a mess, Jack.
"You were an easy target," he tells her with a smile. "I couldn't help myself."
She blinks at him before she grabs a handful of flour and throws it in Jack's face. He coughs and wipes his own eyes. "That was deserved."
Jack looks at her. The white powder is all over his face and in his hair. She smiles, proud of her retaliation. She barely has time to react before Jack throws another handful of flour at her. He barely misses her face and she throws another handful at him.
They're both laughing and running around the kitchen throwing flour at each other. Jack catches her in his arms and she squeals.
He picks her up by her waist and spins her around until her waist is pressed against the counter. They're both covered in a layer of flour but she smiles up at him. Jack brushes some of the flour out of her hair and off her face.
“There’s my pretty girl,” he softly says.
His little name for her makes her heart jump in her chest. Her eyes meet his and she surges up to press her flour covered lips to his. Jack immediately kisses her back and presses her waist against the counter.
Her fingers are gripping his t-shirt. Her pinkies touch the skin on his waist and a jolt of electricity goes down to her core.
One kiss and she’s aching for him.
(Y/N) is the one to break the kiss and Jack chases her lips.
“Can we please put these together and in the oven so we can go shower?” (Y/N) asks when she pulls back from the kiss. She suddenly wants to get these cookies made so she can get back in bed with her boyfriend.
It’s insane that all Jack said was ‘there’s my pretty girl’ and she’s weak at the knees for him and kissing him while they’re both covered in flour.
Jack nods and they rush to finish making the dough so they can put the cookies in the oven. Jack starts doing the dishes while (Y/N) puts the baking sheet in the oven with the balls of dough on it.
As soon as the timer is set, she grabs his hand and they walk to their bathroom. “I was cleaning the dishes,” Jack protests.
“And now you’re going to clean yourself,” she retorts.
(Y/N) closes the bathroom door behind them. Jack’s eyes are on her as she turns the shower on.
She turns around to face her flour covered boyfriend. “Are you going to get naked or are you going to stand there and look pretty?” she asks.
“Oh I am so going to keep making messes in the kitchen if it means getting to shower with you,” he comments as he begins to undress. “You’re going to keep your promise and let me do what I want, right?”
“As soon as the cookies are done.”
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yourusername
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liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 1,982 others
yourusername someone decided to make a mess in the kitchen then distract me so we had to remake the cookies since they got burnt
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trevorzegras can’t trust a hughes in the kitchen
yourusername fr
lhughes_06 so rude trevor
_quinnhughes i hope the cookies were good
jackhughes eh. the chocolate chip ones were probably better
yourusername the world may never know
jackhughes not my fault you look so damn fine baking cookies. even when you were fully clothed, i was distracted
nicohischier jack calm DOWN
lhughes_06 that’s disgusting bro
jackhughes LOOK AWAY LUKE. NOT FOR CHILDREN’S EYES
dawson1417 lmaoooo
yourusername can you stop traumatizing your brother
colecaufield damn he hit you with the flour huh
tysmith_06 can he cook broccoli yet ?
yourusername nope
jackhughes what the fuck
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