#[[Sorry for the delay in responding to this ask - life got in the way]]

[cigarettesafterkenma]

"i like you" pt. 1.5 - kozume kenma x reader

"who knew you were such a heartbreaker"

kenma's realization

kenma — along with his childhood friend, kuroo — was currently on the train heading home. even though he was glued to his psp, he couldn't concentrate on his game one bit. sometimes he would even space out while looking at his phone, causing him to die over and over.

realizing how unusually quiet the train ride was — due to kenma not repeatedly tapping at his screen — kuroo turned to see the zoned out boy beside him. wanting to break the weird silence, he decided to lighten up the mood.

"who knew you were such a heartbreaker" the ravenette teased, glancing at the half-blonde boy who now paused his game

kenma looked at him and frowned, "i don't get it... why was she crying?"

kuroo sighs at his friends obliviousness. he realized kenma really didn't understand this sort of love thing. his gaze softened as he explained gently.

"kenma... she confessed to you like a gazillion times and you ignored every single one of them" kuroo exaggerated. kenma on the other hand still seemed a bit confused, causing kuroo to internally face palm — something that kenma usually did to him.

"but i didn't ignore her this time..." kenma replied back, a bit frustrated as he thought finally replying would have the opposite outcome. the scene of you crying replayed in his head, causing him to slowly sink in guilt. he blanked out again, becoming too occupied with his thoughts.

'did i make it seem like i was annoyed at her for confessing..? i didn't really mind... i just didn't know what to say or how to feel'

kenma uncounciously lowered his phone from his face. he couldn't get you out of his head because of what happened earlier. all he asked you was why you kept telling him you liked him. his mind rushed with thoughts.

'i don't stand out'

'i don't do anything special'

'i don't talk to others'

'why does she like me and why is she so persistent about having me respond to her feelings?' kenma asked himself. the more he thought about you, the more your face popped up in his mind — the way your messy hair and skirt flowed with the wind, the warm sunset glare, or how you still maintained eye contact with him despite how much your body shook. the more he thought back to all of your past confessions, the more he realized how much you cared about him.

"ehhhh?" kuroo grinned as he noticed kenma's ears turn pink. wanting to help his friend repair the damage he caused on a sweet underclassman — and potential partner — he spoked,

"kenma...", his tone became gentle as his grin changed to a soft smile. "you've got a girl crying over you and telling you her feelings multiple times... she must really like you. so why not talk to her tomorrow and i don't know... fix things". kuroo suggested while giving kenma a pat on the back.

kenma sighed, the grip on his phone became tighter and tighter. his chest felt like it was caving in — was it guilt? frustration? fear? or was it something warm? something he was all to unfamiliar with — he wanted to patch things up but just didn't have the courage or words to do so.

however — he knew he had to take something.

with that, he looked at kuroo and nodded.

"okay..."

—————————————————————

a/n: life is not feeling fun right now. so expect more delays im sorry :(

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 11.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 0.8k

—chapter content/warnings: not much!! something a lil more tame lol, prob one of the 0.5s that takes place right after the chapter beforehand, i promise there is no ill intention behind what's happening here - they're both equally torn about everything as san's good friends/colleagues

namjoon: you got a minute to meet up today? sorry for the last minute request but it's kinda urgent.

jongho: sure. i'm wrapping up. can meet you in the next 15 mins?

namjoon: i'll come to you.

jongho: alright then, boss.

Jongho continues typing away at his desk, responding to all the emails that came in today while he was off doing interviews for the new open faculty role in the electrical engineering department. He makes a mental note to submit his review sheet for the first round of interviewees and to review the applications for the next round tomorrow. He doesn't realize how quick 15 minutes flies by until Namjoon is swinging his door open mid-email. He continues to type away, but his eyes shift to Namjoon's figure as he fixes his blazer and takes a seat with a loud sigh.

"Long day?" Jongho cracks a small smile, typing up the last few details before sending it off and shifting his attention to Namjoon in front of him.

"Kinda." He nods towards his computer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt or delay you from leaving."

"All good. Didn't really have plans, anyway. What's up? You seem a little flustered."

"Well, catching Yunho, Iseul and San arguing in a conference room wasn't exactly on my agenda for today."

"What?" Jongho cocks his head back a bit in disbelief, brows tightly knitted together as he tries to make sense of what he just heard. San had been giving him a bit of the story here and there and knowing Iseul, he wasn't exactly surprised this is how things were playing out.

He's just not sure why Iseul thinks it's her business to air this all out.

"You tell me."

"As much as I would love to help, I honestly have no idea what's going on.”

"Jongho."

"What? You know how Iseul is. She somehow still thinks she has a grip on San even after they've divorced and gone through all of that. Can't stand her, if you ask me."

"You don't have to tell me twice. But, why? Why is this a thing right now?"

"Beats me." Jongho tries to brush it off even though he can see the look on Namjoon's face, his eyes trying to study him like a damn book. He hates being in the middle because as much as he loves and supports his bestfriend, he also has the utmost respect for Namjoon and knows the guy will always be on their side regardless.

"That's the first in a very long time that I've seen San react that way at the happy hour event."

"Okay, to be fair, the guy was getting super disrespectful. I think any of us would've reacted in one way or another."

"Right, I agree. But, I know there's a story behind it. I know his anger was fueled by something else." Jongho sees the way Namjoon is going about this. He's prying for the answers he already knows, but he needs the confirmation and Jongho can give him that. 

It's just a matter of when.

"What if it was just a bad day?"

"Okay, you know what?" Joon leans onto the arm rest of the chair and gives him a look. "I'm just gonna go headfirst with it." Jongho cocks a brow up. "Is there something going on with San and his rotation student? Y/N specifically." He sighs.

"I figured."

"No, you knew." Namjoon chuckles a bit.

"I don't know. I really can't tell you because I don't know anything." Jongho says he knows nothing when he knows everything.

"Jongho." Joon repeats.

"Joon, swear." He says, even though he tries to sit as still as possible. Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

It started gradually before it took off completely. Jongho knows about the last minute meetings San has had to take, Jongho has seen the subtle glances, the subtle actions, the mood changes when you're around. Jongho remembers seeing you slip out of his hotel room very early that morning during the NAS conference. Jongho remembers seeing the polaroid slightly tip out of the wallet case mid-breakfast and seeing a tiny slip of your face in his peripherals. San quickly adjusted the polaroid and continued on like nothing, wishing for the best with that one.

And he doesn't have to be told to know you've been over multiple times. All the calls that have gone curt and short, the distraction easily laced in San's voice on the other line. He remembers the faint trace of your perfume in his home, the little post-it notes you've left on San's office desk.

Good thing Namjoon can't read his mind right now.

Cause, yes.

"I can hear your thoughts."

Well, shit.

"I don't know what to say."

"I need you to tell me yes or no, that's all. I need to make sure I'm going about this correctly even though I heard a lot today alone." Jongho sighs and sees how torn Namjoon is. They both are. They obviously want what's best for San, and they both want him to be happy. He is deserving of good, genuine love. He is deserving of genuine happiness because he always rides for the people he loves, goes the extra mile for them. He acknowledges and learns from his mistakes, he apologizes when he knows he's at fault.

He's deserving of all good.

So, they both hate that it has to come to this because it's not even you that's the problem. It's the situation, and they both don't know how to approach it with enough sensitivity and care.

Even though it's good to San, it doesn't necessarily mean it could be good for San.

"Yes."

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[sunflowerlando]

Could you do Yuki with prompt 32 👀

My life got absolutely insane after I posted my follower special almost 2 months ago, so apologies on the delay!!! I'm finally getting around to finishing/posting the requests from here

Prompt 32. "Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.” Mature but nothing explicit. I started writing this when we found out Yuki was going to Red Bull so it's in the past on the timeline...

You were pissed.

Again.

You were absolutely going to strangle the Japanese driver this time.

You stalk through the paddock, passing familiar faces that looked at you with concern – the rage evident on your face and in your stride.

As you reach the VCARB hospitality area, you spot Isack and Yuki having a laugh with some of the mechanics around one of the tables outside.

“Tsunoda!” you practically yell as you walked up.

“Oh shit.” Isack says, “You’ve done it this time mon ami.”

“Can I speak with you, privately…” you ask, trying to keep your tone even. You do not want to chew out the driver in front of a group, and especially not out in the paddock where anyone with a VIP pass could overhear and/or take a video. An errant video was what had gotten you this heated in the first place.

“Ummm, I’d rather not.” Yuki responds, looking to Isack for help.

“Tough shit.” You say, pointing at the door. He gets up from his chair, looking sheepish as he follows you inside. You wind your way through the halls before going into an open meeting room and closing the door behind the two of you.

You try to take a few calming breaths, closing your eyes and visualizing things that make you happy before turning to him and pinning him with a biting look.

“Did we or did we not have a conversation at the last race about your media strategy and how you needed to lay low for a bit?” You ask.

“We did…” he responds.

“And what did you go out and do instead?” You groan. “You did exactly the opposite, Yuki! You went out clubbing and got papped in a compromising situation with THREE PEOPLE. I don’t give a shit what you do in private, but you were in public for god’s sake!”

“Does it help if I say I’m sorry?” He asks his brown eyes shining up at you from where he’s sitting.

“No, because I absolutely know you aren’t.” You retort.

“Okay, but I’m sorry it makes more work for you.” He says, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes again.

“I’m getting really tired of hearing your apologies and excuses.” You say looking at him again. He’s standing in front of you now, and he reaches a hand out to place it on your shoulder. “I am sorry. You’re upset and tense because of something I did. How can I make it right?”

“Start by not doing it again…”

“Right. No more public makeouts.”

“Just no more of any of the things we’ve already talked about 12 times. Stick to posting cute photos of you and food and cars.

“You think I’m cute?” he asks, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuki, that's not the point.” “It could be if you wanted…” he says, trailing his hand down from your shoulder and running his fingers gently over your arm.

“Yuki…” you say, a hint of warning in your tone. The air in the room seems to crackle as his eyes bore into yours and he drops his hand back to his side. There has always been this tension between the two of you for as long as you’ve worked with the team. You wouldn’t jeopardize your job by being caught with one of the drivers. It would be a PR nightmare and your job was to try to prevent those.

“I’m going to Red Bull.” He says.

“What?” you say, your breath stuttering.

“They’re moving me to Red Bull, so you won’t have to deal with my nonsense anymore.” He says with a shrug.

"Then maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.” You say and he looks at you quizzically.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you don’t know if he’s playing coy or the language gap is genuinely throwing him on this one.

“Fuck it,” you grumble before you smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a moment before his hands grip your waist and he’s kissing you back fervently.

“I knew you wanted me.” He says as you break apart for a moment to breathe. “Shut up, Yuki.” You say, still annoyed at him. One of his hands come up to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you back to him as his lips move over yours once again. He walks you backwards in the kiss so the back of your legs hit the meeting room table, and you sit back on it as he steps between your legs.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He murmurs before starting to kiss down your neck. His hands are roaming your sides and you let out a soft sigh. “Tell me you’ve wanted this too.” “I’ve wanted it… wanted you…” you respond, your hips rocking on the table to grind against his hardening arousal. “Good girl. You’re so pretty like this; all needy for me…” He says, tweaking one of your nipples through your shirt and bra.

“Yuki…” you moan loudly.

He pulls back from your neck and smirks at you before saying “Shhhh… you’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Then make me be quiet.” You challenge before his lips crash back into yours.

[spideysquake]

death of a bachelorette

drew starkey x costar!reader

masterlist | one | two | three

youruser

liked by y/ny/l/nfanpage, drewstarkey, and others

youruser drew took that photo on my phone while i was paying for his lunch, so please make a note of that

read all 12,573 comments

y/ny/l/nfanpage girl we need the coffee order now !!

⤷ youruser it depends on the day! i loooove a vanilla matcha latte but i also love an extra sweet caramel latte with oat milk but i also love a fruit tea with little bits of fruit.... i'm just a bevvy type girl in every way

⤷ y/ny/l/nfanpage oh the queen responds AND she has taste

huntershafer you're glowing and i love it

rachelzegler the joy on your face... i love you so much

drewstarkey and now you've gotten payback by posting it to your millions and millions of fans

⤷ youruser and i stole your hat... don't get mad

⤷ drewstarkey that's where my hat went?????

⤷ y/nanddrewupdates so is anyone else seeing this???

y/ny/l/nfanpage the fifth picture???? the ninth one??? youruser do you have something to share with the class

deathofabacheloretteupdates

liked by y/ny/l/nupdates, y/nanddrewupdates, and others

deathofabacheloretteupdates the cast of doab is slowly but surely getting announced... here are two of the couples rumored to be getting married throughout the movie

david corenswet as carey lewis, drew's character's brother

supriya ganesh (from the pitt) as talia sharma, carey's fiancee

olivia rodrigo as isa moore, y/n's character's little sister (i think they're supposed to be half sisters, obviously)

kit connor as gabriel hudson, isa's boyfriend turned fiance

you guys this movie is going to be INSANE i am going to see this in theaters seventeen times at the very least

read all 24 comments

user1 i see people asking questions about olivia and y/n being sisters bc they don't look alike... and i respond with WHO CARES THEY'RE BOTH HOT

⤷ y/ny/l/nupdates and god you are so real for this

user2 this casting is sooooo out of left field but who even cares, they're gonna eat

oliviarodrigoupdates ms liv in her scream queen era, well yes!

drewstarkey

liked by youruser, drewstarkeyupdates, and others

drewstarkey having fun, drinking coffee, filming things

read all 19,384 comments

drewstarkeyupdates hey bud where did that lipstick print come from

madelyncline you look like you're having so much fun... but not more fun than on outer banks (this is a threat)

liked by drewstarkey and youruser

youruser you are now in charge of the wine for all our dinner parties bc that red was exceptional

⤷ drewstarkey this is so much responsibility please give me a smaller job

⤷ youruser sorry honey, you're invited every time and you have to bring the wine

⤷ user3 she calls him honey???? my winter soldier persona was just activated

rachelzegler interesting how you're spending time with my bestie girl in the world and yet i have no invite in the mail

⤷ youruser next time babe !! we'll make it a whole thing

productionassistant1

liked by friend1, youruser, and others

productionassistant1 not to brag (because i did technically sign an nda) but i've been working! on a movie! with drew starkey! and y/n y/l/n!!!!!! it has been such a dream, they are literally the kindest and most talented people in the whole world and if this job ever ends, i will have a breakdown. i love you natalie morales, i love you drew starkey, i love you y/n y/l/n!!!!!

read all 13 comments

youruser you are the absolute sweetest!!! it's such a joy working with you every day

nataliemorales you are such a darling <3

drewstarkey will forever treasure the one exact time you spilled y/n's entire latte all over her... good times!

⤷ youruser you are a hater of gargantuan proportions and the world needs to know

⤷ drewstarkey give me my hat back and we can call a truce

⤷ productionassistant1 stop flirting in my comments <3

author's note: sorry for the delay my babies !! life got a little messy there, but i'm back !

i'm so excited to bring you more chapters of my bickering angels as they make their movie (and may be fall in love), i hope you guys love them as much as i do. if you have any requests or anything, please feel free to let me know <3 love you guys !!

xoxo, daisy

ps - as a writer outside of the tumblr game, i want to make this into a real screenplay sooooo bad... i already even know who i would kill and where i'd put the hot and steamy scenes !!

[josnhoes]

I trade you a funny cat photo if you write something platonic yandere on any fandom, knowing you on a DmC train I would like some Nero sister with a side of angst

Please

You didn't need to bribe me with kitty picture but I won't lie I welcome it. Sorry it was delayed I got like super high yesterday and couldn't focus to write.

Platonic Yandere Vergil with mentions of the other sparda boys also yandere

Content warning: yandere (platonic), reader nearly dies, mentions of violence

Reader is Nero's twin sister au, the twins and Nero run devil may cry as a family post dmc5 au

-------

This was supposed to be a bonding trip. Dante had been pressuring Vergil to take his kids out and bond. Granted, he suggested camping, but Vergil saw no point in that activity, so the trio took a job. It was the easiest job, one Vergil wouldn't have even looked at if he didn't need an excuse for the outing.

Vergil was a proud man, a man who struggled expressing himself freely. Human emotions were..difficult. yet here he was filled with them. The strongest being fear and rage.

The job was easy, it didn't make sense for anyone let alone decendants of Sparda of himself. Yet you were on the ground bleeding out. He forgot sometimes that you and Nero were only a quarter demon. That wounds he and Dante would easily heal from could effect you both. Nero would have still been armless if he hadn't unlocked his devil trigger.

Speaking of triggering why hadn't you? You were dying but your body refused to change to save itself..why? You were his kin his child this should be innate the sheer will power to survive...

But you were never like him, not in the way Nero was. You were like his mother. Your personality so close to her own it had pained him and brought out lost protective instincts. You were brave, kind, smart, fierce, a spiritual mirror of one he held so close. So he held you close even if he didn't show it.

The love he displayed for you was in rigorous training, and him refusing to let you take the truly dangerous jobs. It was suffocating, and you often asked Dante why he hated you.

Yet despite that he had grown complacent. Had too much faith in your strength and now you paid the price. Vergil slayed the demons lightning fast not even giving them a chance to react. He would have done this slowly, made them suffer for harming you, *his* child his daughter; but he didn't have time for that.

Meanwhile Nero was holding you, trying to keep you awake, his own heart nearly stopping as your eyes fluttered closed and open. His precious baby sister, the one whom he hadn't even wanted in this demon fighting life to begin with. He'd never let you take a job like this again. He'd lock you away if he had too and from the look on their father's face the idea was shared.

It was only due to the Yamato's portal ability and the way your brother and father practically forced Dante to stab you that you survived. Your first devil trigger and you weren't even conscious for it.

You woke up hours later sore and confused. Not only were you not dead, which you could have sworn was going to happen...but you were in what looked like Vergil's room. Your father was prickly about anyone going to his room. His den as he slipped up and called it on occasion. Yet here you were in his bed practically cocooned in a nest made of blankets, pillows, and a few of the stuffed animals from your own room.

As you became more aware you realized Vergil was watching you. So you tried to sit up only for your father to let out the most terrifying demonic growl. Instinctual you froze. Which seemed to please him.

"You should not be moving yet. Despite the wound being healed you should still be feeling the after effects." Vergil was fretting in his own way.

"If by after effects you mean the soreness and tiredness yeah I'm feeling it. Why am I in your room?"

"You were injured." Your father responded as if that answered everything.

"Yeah and? It's kinda part of the job."

"You will no longer be doing 'the job'. It is clear you are unable to do so." There was something about his tone that made your fury hesitate.

You tried to argue back that it was one time and Vergil growled reminding you (as if you need it) that you had nearly died. This argument would go one for days. Escalating as he took and hid your weapons, and Nero your traitorous twin sided with the enemy that was your father.

Even your uncle Dante sided with them to a lesser degree. "It's just a demon thing, they'll calm down as time passes. Show them a little grace we almost lost you." But you knew it was more then some temporary insanity when Vergil set up wards.

Wards that stopped you from leaving the building. No matter how hard you fought the wards escaping had eluded you. But you were never one to give up...

[redfacedpalindrome]

You said it perfectly in your mini essay, Charles not winning a wdc ever is the most nauseating feeling ever. I feel like my world collapses every time I think about it, even though I know I shouldn’t self project into him like this, I just need him to win one in order to feel fulfilled in life.

i am so sorry that it’s taken me so long to get to this ask! honestly, it’s because i really wanted to respond to this ask from a hopeful perspective and i just couldn’t grasp onto it for a bit.

bahrain didn’t help. bahrain was a brilliant fucking drive and everything went ‘right enough’ (except for the jesus fucking hards and safety car) and still, it seemed like it wasn’t enough.

watching the past four races has felt sisyphean, so i absolutely cannot imagine what DRIVING the last four races must have been like.

i also project onto charles a fair amount, and it’s something i’m trying to work on because genuinely the more i project onto charles the more i feel entirely irrational anger towards everyone else on the grid and i always wanted this blog to have relatively measured takes and not be anti- really anyone while still being a charles supporting blog.

i think a big part of why it feels so world ending to me is that charles can’t “try harder” to fix it. i fear no other sport relies on circumstances the way f1 often does- it requires a perfect storm. and ferrari is both generally incompetent and unlucky and that’s a BAD combo. if charles doesn’t have any autonomy to improve all on his own, it feels like nothing will ever get better.

and then i watched rory mcilroy win the master’s yesterday after ELEVEN years without a majors win. and obviously these are not 100% comparable scenarios but go with me here: we call charles il predestinato for a reason. we need to believe that the moment to be a champion will come, and when the chance comes he’ll take it.

i think one of the big reasons i am so afraid of charles never winning a championship that i talked about is that i don’t want the motorsport community to forget him. i want him to have a legacy. but legacy comes in a lot of different forms: rahul dravid, who once played for the indian national cricket team, never tasted a win for his country when he was actually on the team. he came back decades later to coach a world championship winning team, and when they DID lift the trophy i got to see it in my parents, my uncles, my aunts- it was like no time at all had passed. it was like rahul dravid had won it for them in the first place.

i believe in charles 100%, the WDC will find him. but even if it doesn’t, he already has a legacy. he will build more of a legacy. and even if he’s never a champion, i know i will never forget him. the lecfosi are never going to forget him. and things that happen beyond my lifespan in motorsport aren’t too high on my priority list.

the fulfillment question is a struggle. i think for now we have to be patient too- take the wins we’re given and wait. hopefully we will find fulfillment as well.

my god it’s another mini essay i was gonna joke that i’m catching strays but it’s just completely accurate. again, sorry for the delay! i hope that when charles wins a wdc 1) my blog will still be active and yours will too and 2) i get to respond to an ask that’s just incomprehensible joyful screaming!

[sky-swimmer]

Sup, Sky! Hope you're doing well! I was re-reading your fic again and catch some details that I have to infodump!

Both Hazels (current and future ones) put hers hands in Devs mouth to shut him up. Lol, somethings never change!

Dev came from a divorce arc while Hazel has parents with a huge love story. Like one so cutesy and so strong that cupid himself couldn't earase.

How miscomumnication is a big deal in the conflict at chapter 4 and pretty sure the pivotal reason for the plot goes. Hazel said she and Dev were wrong, but in a sense of the presure. The whole thing of being haunted with their future... except Dev interpreted this as Hazel being against them together period. And Dev freaks out because deep down he wouldn't mind and now is fighting against his feelings, but this Hazel interprets as him being against them being a couple too. While having her own feelings for him. Both os those things cutting in their insecurities. To Hazel the fear of have her life controled and controled by the future pluss her low self estimee. And for Dev is the fact that he is a big mess who'd destroy Hazel future chance of Hapiness. In the end, both wouldn't MIND!

Also kinda wild to think that Dev almost kill Peri. Like...man this is traumatic for everyone. Peri, Cosmo and Wanda, Dev himself. And HAZEL. She almost lost her faries, her family, thanks to Dev. She is WAY better than me because my girl can forgive!

Bonus! Songs that is Dezvel vibes. In the context of your fic especifically.

Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives - Is Dev vibes plus his love for Hazel plus denail plus devotion. A mess of feelings for this mess of boy lol.

Carry You by Ruele - Hazel 👏🏼my👏🏼 BELOVED!👏🏼 This songs is her and her compassion plus her own need of help. She encourage Dev, but at the same time needs this help from herself too. And she will got it! She deserve it! And Dev knows it too.

Pov by Ariana Grande - Just listen it. I- just listen.

Golden Hour by JVKE - Hazel light motif my beloved! This song is for your fic, period. Is how Dev sees Hazel. And I still can't belive you really role with it because of me 🥲 (also yearning)

When I look at you by Miley Cyrus - This song ends me. And for Devzel ends me more. Is how both of them got help from the other.

Hazel feels her panic decrease with Dev and his help and supportive nature (because he has! In Operation Birthday, Dev refuses to let Hazel with Vicky and came back to rescue her! He sees her sacrificial tendences and say nuh-uh!) and Dev feels conforted with the kind and forgiving nature of Hazel, and her faith that he van be a better person.

It's nice to have a friend by Taylor Swift - Could be a theme song for them. Is about ✨progression✨. Devzel is for me a slow burn. Is a long ride. But none less amazing.

A good day for you!

AAAAAAAUGH I'M CRASHING OUT, IM CRASHING OUTTTTT!!

IM SCREAMING, IM CRYING, I'VE DIED.

v Under cut for reply but also deep dive into Dev(zel) angst in my fanfic + HCs! (🚨 possible spoilers- but not really as it's all subtext)

OKAY FIRST OF ALL—FIC, I am SO SORRY 😭

This literally took me months to reply to and I feel so bad!! You’ve been so kind and patient and supportive, but I was genuinely stun-locked by this ask. Like. Fully sat there blinking at my screen because THIS??? WAS EVERYTHING.

You saw everything. Said everything. And I wanted to respond with the perfect words and instead just… mentally combusted for months straight while rereading. So yeah. I’m so sorry for the delay, but also THANK YOU for sending something so thoughtful and brilliant and just... genuinely kind. I cannot express how much this meant to me and how much it STILL means 😭💖

Okay okay let’s unpack:

First of all: “Both Hazels put their hands in Dev’s mouth to shut him up.” KJHFJKSDH you’re so right and I fully didn’t realize I’d mirrored that detail until you pointed it out. Dev’s been annoying her into physical silence since age 10 and will probably continue to do so until they're 80. Some things are eternal.

AND YES—Dev coming from a messy divorce-and-corporate-negligence arc while Hazel has these ultra-wholesome, romantic, lifepartners kind of parents?? I love you pointing out the contrast. I love how I didn't even need to write it in the story and that it just came through from their behavior to you. I love that you pulled it out. Dev literally doesn’t know what functional love looks like. Hazel does. And that gap between their backgrounds sets so much of the tone for how they misinterpret each other’s reactions and fears.

Which brings me to your ✨flawless✨ read on Chapter 4 miscommunication…

YOU GET IT. You fully, deeply, painfully GET IT. That entire argument hinges on them both projecting their worst fears onto each other:

Hazel says “we were wrong” and means the pressure, the loss of control, the haunting sense of inevitability—but Dev hears “you and I are NOT supposed to happen,” which hits like a knife to the chest.

Dev then panics and acts like he doesn’t want the future, which Hazel reads as “he thinks the idea of us is weird and gross”—which hits her exactly where she’s vulnerable. Always feeling like the odd one out, even to her best friend, apparently :(

And both of them are like “this sucks!!” while also completely missing the part where NEITHER of them actually wants to be apart :(

Hazel’s fear of being controlled by fate + her low self-esteem? Dev’s fear of ruining someone good because he doesn’t think he deserves happiness? PERFECTION. You’re inside their heads, rent-free, full analysis mode, and I’m LOVING it.

And then. AND THEN. You said: “Dev almost killed Peri.” and yepp. That’s a canon sentence. That’s a trauma payload packed into four words.

Dev lives with that guilt, even if he buries it deep. Peri trusted him. Hazel trusted him. And now he has to live knowing he nearly destroyed the people he relied on most.

And with Hazel, you’re right :( she’s better than most of us. Because she forgives him. Slowly. Uneasily. But she does. And that’s a HUGE part of who Hazel is: the empathy, the capacity for second chances, even when the person doesn’t think they deserve it.

The songs? ...I AM NOT OKAY!!!

Fic. Your brain is so powerful. Too powerful.

The idea that someone would associate SONGS with my fic?! I've reached ascension. I think this is one of the highest honors a fic writer could literally ever receive fkjnbfkjbgn.

I have a playlist of inspo songs for this story, and ones I relate it with, but like... most of the artists I follow are sapphic artist... Making sapphic songs. Like, idk the gays just know how to write yearning songs about being delulu and poorly convincing yourself you're not in love with someone 🎶😭?? It used to be fine as most of my previous ships were WLW, but Devzel snuck in on me. Point is, I'm an insulated music noob and I hadn't listened to the majority of these songs before--- and now I've added them all to my playlist!!!

To actually ADDRESS the songs you picked...???? I AM ENTERING MY ANALYSIS ERA:

To not only you assign Devzel songs, but assign them specifically to their emotional arcs in my ridiculous fanfiction???? I don’t know how to thank you for this??? I might frame this entire ask.

I'm re-listening to all of them as I write this so I can give you my thoughts!!!!

"Never Love An Anchor" [sorry this is huge, but I have a lot of feelings about this song 😭] — Okay, so this one?? THIS ONE??? It's actually one of the few songs I DID know about prior to this ask... and I am literally STILL SHAKING!! Not only was it already in my AMS playlist, but IT'S ONE OF MY FAV SONGS OF ALL TIME??? FNFJKGBNFKGBNKFKBNGFNBK. I literally squealed when I saw this as the first suggestion on your list. Full on gasping, slapping a hand over my mouth like a soap opera star. The themes in this song are exactly the core ideas I’ve been itching to explore!! Like.. the WHOLE reason I started writing it in the first place!! The impact of Dev’s upbringing on how he sees himself, and how it twists the way he approaches every relationship he cares about. How he’s simultaneously desperate for love and convinced he’s inherently unworthy of it. How he sabotages these relationships to “protect” himself from being rejected. We love unhealthy coping mechanisms 👑. (I feel like this was shown in the end of Bday Takeback!)

And yet how Hazel is like... the perfect person to counter all that. But she can't because she doesn't know how deep it goes... And Dev is too traumatized to admit or acknowledge it to himself, let alone tell anyone else about it. So there's this weird limbo space.

In regards to the theme of the song, I feel like we're still at preamble stage in my story. I felt like I hadn't even approached this topic yet-- as of chapter 8, I'm still just planting the seeds. The fact you're already getting it??!! Ugh I'm done for. I'm simply cooked, Fic. You've killed me. I'm so happy. SO, SO HAPPY.

Some of my fav song parts:

"There is love that doesn't have a place to rest, But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders."

and

"On some level, I think I always understood, That a ship could never really love an anchor."

The soft, destroyed way these lines are sung kills me. Like, a feeling of resolved hopelessness that transends the words themselves.

WHAT can I even say to the lyrics? All my analysis will spoil so much of where I want to take this and how I interperate things dkjnvdkjfvnd. If anyone made it this far in my rambling post, I'm sure they can come to a similar conclusion when attributing this song though!!

It does capture that tension perfectly, though. The love exists. It aches to be seen. But Dev, deep down, is too scared it will destroy everything good around him if he lets it rest anywhere.

It’s “I’ll stay away to protect you but please don’t move on without me” core. IM GOING TO THROW UP.

"Carry You" — HAZEL. HAZEL HAZEL HAZEL!! You saw her. That fierce compassion she shows Dev, but also the compassion she needs and doesn’t always know how to ask for!! Dev struggled a lot in this fic and she was there for him, but she is also struggling for her own reasons, her own uncertainty :( The way you wrote “she deserves it! and Dev knows it too”—I’m CRYING. You are her biggest champion and she deserves you. 😭😭😭😭 I hope Dev stepping up to help her in the more recent chapters made you proud of him 🥺

"pov" — AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD?!?!?? OH MY DHJBVFNDHNVJDSNVNDFJBNDFBGFGDGBJK!?!?!?!?!??!? WHAT THE HELL?!??! I am emotionally ruined. As I said, musically insulated- despite Ariana being super popular, I hadn't even heard of this song before. And listening to it for the first time with this context, I was like, foaming at the mouth. The LYRICS?!??!?!? "You know me better than I do, can't seem to keep nothing from you..." Like, not just that but pretty much every lyric skskkskskdjs the chorus?!?!? AUGHHHH??? AUGHHHHHHHH

It’s canonically Devzel-coded in my fic thanks to you. The “I wanna love me the way you love me” energy? Literally both of them in this fic. They see each other clearer than anyone, they care about each other and see their flaws and still adore each other. The idea of saying "Wow... I wish I saw myself the way you see me"??? Yes. (im unrecoverable)

"Golden Hour" — You did this. YOU DID THIS. You said “Hazel light motif” and I blacked out and and woke up with it fully hard-coded into the fic. AND I AM SO HAPPY FOR IT!! This, aside from the anchor song, is the only other song I knew about... and DFDKLFVFDMVKDFVL. A devastating blow--- because this IS literally the soundtrack of Dev watching Hazel. It’s soft. It’s cinematic. It’s yearning. Even if he's delusional as hell, you bet your dimmadollar time is slowing down for him when Hazel smiles at him with her "big, stupid sparkly eyes"... (And his heart explodes...) But that's like, totally normal for besties, right?? RIGHT?!?!? (I'm sorry, Dev 😩)

And your impact is forever, Fic!!!

"When I Look At You" — aHH!! My brain melted. That you suggested this BEFORE the chapters where they lean on each other most (needing help in the future confrontation & then the forest)!??!?! WHAT??? You literally catch every tiny subtext clue I leave and then predict almost perfectly what's upcoming and how the feelings will develop hvdjvbdf.

The song ended me too!! 😭 The idea that they both find stability in each other, even when everything else is chaos?? This is exactly what I wanted to portray. I am vibrating. Hazel calming down just by having Dev nearby. Dev being comforted by Hazel’s unshakable belief in him. When it comes down to it, if they see each other in trouble or hurting, all the fighting, teasing and defenses go out the window 🤧🤧

"It’s Nice To Have a Friend" — Another song I literally didn't even know existed?!?! From Taylor Swift, no less?!?! (how am I so clueless) Anyway! Such a perfect Devzel theme. The soft, simple, mundane lyrics about growing up alongside someone, that's exactly what Dev and Hazel are 🥺. The slow accumulation of tiny memories: "sidewalk chalk... winter gloves... video games... feels like home..."—that’s their foundation. And it's just too relevant for that most recent chapter ✋😭✋

They don’t need a grand event to explain why they fall for each other. They just need a shared pair of gloves in winter. Or... a mud fight in the woods. A held hand during a scary moment. A quiet laugh when everything else feels too big. 🥺🥺🥺

ANYWAY!!!

Fic, thank you for giving my brain this soundtrack to spiral to. You are INCREDIBLE and I feel so lucky to have you reading my fanfic.

Honestly?? Every time I post a chapter, I fully accept the weight of the cringe radiating off my existence. Like. I know I’m publicly obsessing over HCs and tiny lore bites and wildly overthinking cartoon characters, and it should make me want to hide under a rock. And sometimes it does. 😭

But when I get messages like yours—these thoughtful, insanely insightful comments—I actually... feel good about it?? WHAT??? I feel happy knowing you and a few others out there care enough about my ridiculous little indulgent ramblings to send something this kind and thoughtful.

Realistically, I probably should be (and definitely was) very embarrassed about posting this story. But the support I’ve gotten from those who stuck around, especially you with the comments and support you gave me, makes me feel like I don’t have to feel stupid for enjoying something so much. That other people like the same stuff, and that they can enjoy my contributions the same way I enjoy theirs 🥺

I say it every time, but seriously, I mean it every time, I’m still blown away whenever you interact with my work so thoughtfully. I have no idea how to properly repay you for all the encouragement you’ve given me, but if there’s ever anything I can do??? LET ME KNOW. I’m so, so grateful to you!!

Thank you thank you thank you. 😭💘💘💘

(And YES—wishing you an amazing day/week/month/year/eternity in return!!)

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 5 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Word Count: (for part 1) 29.2k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, mentions of a hospital stay, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy, severe emotional/verbal abuse from a parent, heavy sadness regarding deceased parents, cemetery visit

SMUT-18+ ONLY: unprotected sex, fingering, (f rec) oral, (f & m rec) road head, nipple play, spanking, slight choking, a bit of biting, tiny bit of cockwarming, possessiveness, edging, guided masterbation, overstimulation, hickies, use of colors, praise, a little degradation, sweet m!dom/bratty f!sub dynamics, heavy use of sir/doll pet names

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: i know i’ve said it so many times, but i truly am sorry for the delay on this chapter. i hope this story is worth the wait, & i hope the contents of this chapter (hehe) make up for it. 🤍

i also would like to thank my readers for always being so patient with me & understanding that this story takes a bit of time to create. endlessly grateful for all of you. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

! SMUT DIRECTLY UNDER THE CUT !

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

With his fingers still tucked inside of you, stilled almost completely, Jake shifts his body so his face is right above yours. His thigh, holding one of yours down to keep your legs open for him. He puts the pointer finger of his other hand to your mouth, holding it against your lips. 

You’re stunned silent, mind racing at the fact that Josh is right outside the fucking door.

“We’re just fine, Josh. We’ll be out soon, just getting a few things sorted out,” Jake responds, his eyes staying connected with yours, voice completely manipulated so as to not let on what’s happening behind his door.

He winks at you as he begins teasing you with his fingers, testing how quiet you can truly be as he curls them inside of you, slowly and intentionally. His thumb of the same hand draws circles around your clit, beckoning you to scream his name. 

“Jake,” you whisper, only to be met with his finger gently gliding into your mouth. You accept it without hesitation, practically biting down on it to conceal your pleasure as you’re about to succumb to him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, needing to feel even closer to him.

“We heard you guys yelling and then it just got eerily quiet, are you sure you’re okay?” Josh inquires. Your eyes, widening at the realization that Jake has not seized the curling of his fingers at Josh’s suspicions. He’s only increasing their speed inside of you. And it’s clear he isn’t planning on relenting any time soon. Josh’s voice floated through the door again. “Y/n? You’re still in there, right?”

“Tell him, y/n,” he leans down, whispering raspily against the shell of your ear. “Tell him you’re okay.” He continues through a dark chuckle, knowing damn well you’re not fully capable of answering. His fingers, inside of your aching center and your mouth, made you quite incapable of saying a damned thing.

He pulls his finger from your mouth, slowing his fingers inside your needy core to a delicious pace that has the pads of them brushing slowly against your most sacred spot. The changes in pace are only pulling you closer to your end, and he absolutely knows that by the way you're squeezing him tightly. 

“Y/n?” Josh asks once again. Panic sets in as Jake persists, teasing you to the point of near madness as breath is stolen from your lungs with every movement, making it nearly impossible to utter a single coherent word. 

“Better say something before he opens the door and sees you like this. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He steals a kiss from your parted lips, a grin on his lust blown features that you can’t help but imitate. 

“Ye-yeah, I’m totally fine, Josh.” The words manage to flow from your lips with ease, your voice only slightly shaky, but hopefully not enough to compel Josh to inquire about your state even more. 

Your hands find Jake’s long hair, running your hands through it, you reach his scalp to trace your nails over it. He shivers at your touch, his eyes darkening even further. His dick, hardening even more and twitching against your hip. 

Hm. He likes that.

“Okay. Well, take your time, guys. But,” he pauses for dramatic effect. You're about to go mad. “We have to finish this scene tonight, okay? The deadline in my class is approaching, and I know yours is, too.”

You’re thanking god when you start hearing Josh’s footsteps, their sound becoming more distant as he’s walking away from the other side of Jake’s door. 

“Good girl,” Jake mutters with rasp in his sex-ridden voice. “So good for me, doll.”

His words, mixed with the risk of almost being caught by his twin, his fingers continuing to work themselves inside of you, and feeling him rock fucking hard against you… 

It has you finally careening towards bliss. Your toes curl, your body buzzing with need. 

Jake’s lips instantly attach to yours, keeping you from your need to scream his name while he eagerly swallows your each and every muffled moan. You feel yourself let go, painting his fingers with all you have to give.

Stars. You’re seeing so many stars…

He keeps his mouth locked tight with yours until he feels your body begin to relax, your breathing slowing, your tense grip on his shoulders loosening before your hands become weightless as they fall to the bed. He’s languid in his movements, strong fingers easily riding it out with you as you finish against his hand.

You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls his hand from you, holding it up between your faces before he licks and laps at your release, flattening his tongue against his glistening fingers. 

But then, to your shock (and dismay), he winks at you before getting off the bed. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his pants, reaching down for the chainmail top that was hurriedly thrown on the floor next to the bed. 

He’s done?

“Jake wha–what are you doing?” You question, slowly sitting your weakened body up to a seated position on the bed, your head feeling fuzzy and light from the intense pleasure he’s just pulled from you.

“You heard him,” he says, putting his arms through the metal shirt, wincing at the cool metal as it touches his warm, sweaty skin. “We need to finish the scene tonight. And they’ll start to get suspicious if we stay in here all night.” 

“But Jake I–” 

Your thought is cut short by him tossing the bag full of Josh’s stage makeup on the bed, landing next to you. 

“I know,” he says, then taking his hair brush sitting on his dresser and diligently running it through his messy locks to smooth them out a little. He chuckles while looking in the mirror, seeing traces of your red lipstick smeared all over his mouth as he begins to wipe it away. “I’d keep you in here all night with me if I could, but alas, duty calls.”

With wobbly legs, you manage to stand up from your spot on the now rumpled bed. You understand why this needs to come to an end tonight, but it doesn’t mean you’re happy with it. You’ve hardly gotten to touch him, and you want so badly to show him just how much you need him, all of him.

And as though he can hear the thoughts whirling throughout your mind, you feel the warmth of his body against yours as he comes to stand near you. “This isn’t over,” he says, lifting his hand to gently brush his fingers along your cheek. “I’m not done with you yet. But at least now…” He pulls you into a soft, feather light kiss with his warm and swollen lips, breaking away almost as quickly as he began. “...now you know the profound feelings I hold for you.”

Even after everything the two of you have just shared together, you can’t help the shy blush warming your face at his words. And all it’s doing is making you want him more. 

“I want to touch you, Jake.” The words fall from your mouth almost as viscerally as your hand finds his hip, slowly falling towards his cock behind the black satin. 

He sucks in a deep breath, his eyes lazily falling closed at your touch as he leans in to kiss you once again.

“Soon, doll,” he utters, his lips still touching yours gently. “I told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

He turns to the mirror to wipe away the last remaining remnants of your little rendezvous from his face while you begin the grueling process of trying to cover up the many love marks he’s left on your exposed skin with the stage makeup, and your tattoo that he so wonderfully uncovered. 

“Sorry about that,” he huffs through a sly giggle, watching you struggle to conceal a particularly dark one right above your left breast. “I couldn’t resist covering your pretty skin with marks that remind you.”

“Remind me. . .?” You breathe in question.

He walks up to you, lifting your chin, clutching it between his pointer finger and thumb. Right as he’s let his lips touch yours, he sighs in resolution to his thought. A knowing smirk tugs at his lips, tempting you to lean forward and complete the action that he’s teasing you with.

“Remind you that my mouth can treat you so much better than anyone else’s,” he says, voice laced with want as he turns your face to look in his line of sight, showing you as he points to the same picture you’d eyed earlier of him and his brothers. 

You know exactly who he’s talking about. The blush overtakes your skin, just as he leaves you, walking with slow purpose to his bedroom door. You can’t help but watch his shoulders, paying attention to the muscles that flex under the skin of his back. He turns to you once more as his hand slides over the door handle.

“Remind you how good my mouth feels on that irresistible fucking body of yours,” his eyes slide up and down your body. He bites his lip and your skin feels as if he left trails of white hot heat on your flushed skin. “Do me a favor.”

“Anything,” you utter much too quickly. Fuck. He made you so damn weak. 

“Next time you touch yourself,” he starts, dark eyes burning into yours. “Think about me and those marks I left while you fell apart – while I made the prettiest sounds fall from your lips. Hm?”

You bite your lip as you nod your head in agreement, feeling the flutters in your body at the thought. 

“Oh, and promise me one more thing,” he mutters. 

“Of course,” you respond, your breath catching in your chest.

“Tell me all about it as soon as you finish.”

Somehow, his gaze darkens even more and the secret smile that stretches across his lips makes your heart race a million beats per minute. 

“Yes sir,” you whisper, the words completely out of your control. 

He liked that name. You can tell, with the curl of his lips as soon as it fell from your mouth. 

“Good girl.” 

You are barely breathing as he opens the door. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else, so you  turn to the mirror to begin covering up the marks you know for a damn well fact you’ll be uncovering later to keep your promise to him. 

“Hey.”

You jump, surprised he hasn’t left yet. 

“Yeah?” You turn to look over your shoulder to find his hungry eyes. 

“Feeling inspired for that scene?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod without hesitation. 

“Don’t have too much fun with him, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you reply eagerly, dumbfounded. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

He bites his lip as he leans his head back a little, appreciating you for a minute before he’s gone. 

And, at once, the room feels too big—much bigger than any other time you’ve been inside of it for costumes and makeup cover up. 

You aren’t sure if you should admit it, but Jake’s presence suddenly seems a necessity if you’re in the space…you’re longing to have him near as soon as he’s left you. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The weight of today is finally lifting off of your shoulders as you turn on the hot water to fill your bathtub.

All you’ve wanted to do today is come home and wash away your troubles in a nice, hot bath. But, your mom made that a mere pipe dream. She bombarded you with a list of things she needed you to do as soon as you walked in the apartment after a particularly long day of classes and work.

The laundry, the dishes, the clog in the kitchen sink that seems to keep coming back despite your endless efforts to get rid of it. Her bed sheets needed switched, her bedroom needed vacuuming, the refrigerator needed cleaned out. Not to mention the grocery run you need to make on an almost daily basis, for silly things that you don’t need. 

You find it rather odd how things seem to magically accumulate at home the way they do, the things that you have to do that she insists she can’t. The things you do every single day. 

It’s almost as though she’s adding to your chores on purpose for the intention to keep you busy.

As if you’re not fucking busy enough. 

You’re fucking tired. You’re tired of her creating things for you to do that prohibit you from doing your homework, filming, having your alone time that you desperately need in order to keep a semblance of your sanity. 

You feel as though you haven’t had the chance to breathe lately. Ever since she came home from the hospital, your workload has more than tripled. 

It’s not her fault. 

You know that. She’s sick. She can’t help it. It’s a proven fact that she’s not much longer for this world. 

But, once you found out that she hadn't been taking her medications like she’s supposed to, the medications that will keep her alive and breathing properly, you’re finding it hard to be as sympathetic as you once were. It’s not that you don’t care any longer. In fact, it’s because you do care that you’re so upset about it. It just makes you wonder what the reason is that she won’t help herself, why it feels like she’s doing it purposefully to keep you with her. 

It’s a spiraling, uncomfortable thought. And the truth of the matter is you don’t know her reasoning. And you won’t until you ask her. That is a feat for another day. 

Right now, your time to relax has finally come. 

Everything has been checked off her list and then some, including a (mediocre, according to her) salmon bake for dinner. 

She’s fed and she’s sleeping peacefully in her newly washed sheets in her freshly made bed. 

And now, it’s time for that much needed bath you’ve been longing for since the moment you opened your eyes this morning.

The heavy weight of your burdens begin to lift with every piece of clothing you remove from your worn body. You just don’t have the energy to wash your hair tonight, opting instead to throw it up in a claw clip to keep it from getting wet.

Though you’re usually intentional about not looking at your naked form in the bathroom mirror, you decide to give yourself a bit of grace tonight as you glance toward your reflection before you. And this time, instead of only seeing the endless number of things you don’t like, your eyes begin to follow the trail of marks left by Jake. The ones that serve as a lovely reminder of his mouth being all over you. 

You continue to stare at the marks that decorate your skin, noting how their shape perfectly mimics the shape of Jake's lips. Then, your mind begins swirling with why your skin is so beautifully blemished, and how fucking incredible it felt when he gave them to you— when he laid his claim on you. 

Fuck.

You want him—need him—so intensely. The craving your body has developed has only grown stronger by every minute that has passed since that night. The feeling of him, of his lips, his tongue, his fingers...and how he satisfied you in brand new ways with only those things.

And his hard, massive cock under the touch of your hand that you can’t stop imagining being tucked away inside of you. 

Inside your mouth, inside your…

Jesus. You’ve never wanted somebody so bad. 

But, imagining is all you can do tonight. 

You begin tracing your fingers over the fading purple marks, dragging them down their path. Traveling over your breasts, sucking in a deep breath when you graze your nipples, following them down the column of your chest, your tummy…

Then, you remember what you promised him you’d do. And right now feels like the perfect time for it. 

You can’t have him right now, but you can follow his orders. And for that, your imagination is all you need to ease the throbbing ache felt in your core. 

The tub is finally full, and the steam is flowing off the top of the water. You dim the overhead lights before taking your lighter and setting flame to your mint and eucalyptus candles you’ve placed on the edge of the tub. 

One foot in the water has you wincing from the heat, but it doesn’t take long before you’re used to it. Slowly, you step the other foot in, leaning down and fully immersing yourself in the water. Goosebumps instantly cover your now wet skin as you let yourself relax against the bottom of the tub. A deep sigh releases from your lungs before you breathe in the steam, your eyelids feeling far too heavy to keep all the way open. 

Out of memory, your hand begins tracing the path of the marks yet again, with a bit more intent this time as you’re remembering how soft and warm his lips felt against you.

Your fingers stop just as they reach your aching clit, the tiniest moan escaping your mouth. With a gentle glide of your middle finger, you trace long and slow circles around the sensitive bud. Even with the slightest touch, your mind reeling with the images of Jake between your legs burned in your memory, you’re already beginning to feel the fierce effect he has on you. 

With your eyes still closed, the only thing you can see is Jake. And that very image of him doing the incredible things he did to you the other night, along with your fingers quickening their pace against your pulsing clit, you feel the beginnings of a pleasure that only he can draw from you. Even if only the memory of him, he’s the only one that’s ever made you feel this way, the only one that has left you yearning in this way. 

You reach your other hand up your body to grab hold of your breast, massaging the flesh just as he did a few nights ago. It’s your hand, but you’re imagining that it’s his instead.

And that very imagination, aided by the now relentless circling of your fingers beneath the streaming water, your body begins to tremble and shake. Jake’s name falls from your lips in a nearly silent whisper as you succumb to the intense pleasure brought forth by a mere memory. 

You let yourself relax in the tub a bit, finally finding the strength to get out of the water as you’re fighting the urge to fall asleep against the ceramic surface. 

After lazily drying off, you wrap yourself up in your fluffy purple robe. After brushing your teeth and running your Wet Brush through the tangles in your hair, you’re at last ready to lay your tired body in your freshly washed linens. 

But, a sudden memory runs through your sleepy mind as soon as your head hits the pillow. A memory of Jake, of him telling you to let him know when you touch yourself to the thought of him, to tell him all about it once you finish. 

Fuck. 

You’re far too tired to fulfill his wish, though you want to so badly. The heaviness in your lids feel like fifty pound weights against your eyes. 

I’ll just tell him tomorrow, your very last thought as sleep finally overtakes you. 

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Tonight, your mom had gone to bed much earlier than normal and as if sensing it, Natalia had texted you asking if you wanted to hang out as soon as you’d sat down. And having felt suddenly super lonely, you’d agreed to it instantly. 

You felt a bit guilty leaving her, but you figured a few hours out of the house wouldn’t do any harm. And with her being asleep, odds are she’d never know you were gone in the first place. 

Some time out of the house is exactly what you’ve needed. You’ve been desperate to escape the walls of the apartment that have felt like they’ve been creeping closer and closer to closing in on you lately. 

She’d come and picked you up, but had let you know that Josh needed her help before you could do anything. 

“It’s Chi’s birthday in a few weeks, and it’s a tradition for Josh to take him to this place they’ve been going since they were kids,” she explained, driving worse than just about anyone you’d ever been a passenger to, through Ann Arbor’s poor streets. The streets, sure to be covered in the tracks of her tires. Goddamn.

At this point, you’re holding on for dear life. But, you just wondered something and you wanted to know the answer to it. So, you responded carefully, trying to not hurl. 

“I—I, uh, didn’t know—damn, Nat!” You gasped, right as she almost slmammed into the back of a car that she’d stopped behind at a stop light. 

“What?!” She asked, curls springing all around her face, caramel colored skin practically glowing under the street lights. As she scooted forward, going with the green light and pushing the person in front of her to go, too, you decided to say anything. “Come on, buddy! Move your slow ass! We’ve got places to be and a Josh to bother the hell out of!”

Deciding to not bother her with another thing, you decide to just let her focus on driving. You wanted to arrive alive, after all. Distracting her further may result in you not making it to your destination.

“What were you saying?” She asked again

“Don’t worry, Nat,” you shake your head, your voice surely communicating your rattled nerves. 

“Tell me when we get there,” she encouraged. “I wanna talk about whatever, but I can’t focus on anything other than the road when I’m driving.”

“You got it, dude,” you mutter, in complete silent agreement with her. Holy shit.

Thankfully, within minutes, she’d taken the last turn to get to the Kiszkas’ apartment in a back way you’d never gone before. A faster, learned way that you’re instantly noting in the back of your mind for the future.

And, suddenly, you were there. Parked next to Jake’s black Range Rover. Your tummy, somersaulting ridiculously at the thought that he could be home. You instinctively pull down the visor for the mirror, checking for any imperfections on your mostly bare face. Of course, you spot them immediately. Nothing you can do about it now, though you still ask Nat if you can borrow her lip gloss to add something to your face. 

Stop, y/n. You’re hanging out with your friend. Give her your full attention. 

The voice in your head sounded just like your mom correcting you, and it sort of pissed you off, but you took the bait. You tried so hard to ignore how your skin is vibrating as you walk your way through the parking lot to their apartment. 

“What were you sayin’ earlier?” She asks, as you take the elevator to reach their place. “When I almost crashed?”

You burst with a cough of laughter. “You noticed that?”

“Of course, babe,” she giggles. “I’m a horrendous driver. But I always get where I’m goin’ in one piece, so I just keep livin’ life on the edge.”

“I’m already one tap away from falling off the edge as it is,” you chuckle. “So if you could stray away from that when I am with you, that’d be super awesome.”

As you step out of the elevator, you’re still sharing a laugh over her crazy behavior. 

You’re waiting on Josh to answer the locked door after a text sent from Natalia and a rather abrasive knock. She’s probably the funniest, most bright person you’ve ever met. 

“I was just going to say,” you started, finally answering her and finishing your earlier thought. “When’s Malachi’s birthday?” 

“It’s exactly two weeks from today,” she answers, her brow wrinkling in curiosity. “Why? Wondering if we’re gonna have a party? We always do, don’t you worry. You’re invited for sure. The boys and I would have it no other way,” she winks, not winded at all from talking at the speed of lightning. 

“Oh, cool. Yeah, hopefully my Mom doesn’t need me,” you say, trying to play off your obligation to your mom. You did not want to feel torn between a party and the responsibility of your mom. But, that would just have to wait. “It’s funny, though, Chi and I actually share a birthday.”

“No way!” She exclaims, adjusting her headband to sit even more perfectly in her curls. “We’ll have to celebrate—.”

“Oh, no no,” you shake your head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Don’t need to,” she replies with a wink just as you hear the handle to the door turn. “But I want to. We all want to, guarantee it.”

You don’t get to argue with her as Josh is quickly ushering the two of you back to his room. But…you’re conflicted as you sit on his soft white bed, you want to celebrate with your friends… you just feel like you’re not worthy of it. 

Normally, you blamed the new feelings of inadequacy on your dad. Though, you’re slowly starting to realize they may come from your mom also—. No. You don’t even finish the thought when Josh grabs your full attention with two different jumpsuits, holding them out for Nat (and you, apparently) to judge. 

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“Oh come on now, Josh,” Natalia bumps Josh with her elbow. “Just tell me what you got him! I’m dying, I’m so curious.”

You’re sitting in Josh’s room, with Nat, as he patted down his white jumpsuit, adjusting the collar just right in his full-body mirror. His room, decked out in all white and gold fixtures, plants littering every surface, is the complete opposite his twin’s.

It’s fun being here, not having to worry about a thing. Just hanging with friends. Not wondering where the twin with the long hair is…if he’s home.

“You, Natty, are not dying,” Josh commented back, smoothing his mustache over his lips as he made a face in his tall mirror to try out his look. Seeming satisfied, he gives himself a smile, filled with all of his teeth. Then, turns to Nat, placing both hands on her shoulders. “You’re just dramatic,” he winks.

“Funny coming from the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” she rolls her eyes, shoving his hands off her shoulders. She comes to sit next to you on the bed as he fluffs his curly hair, front first then the sides of it. 

“Oh, you know Jake is just as dramatic as me,” he insists, turning around to her with his hands on his hips. “Just doesn’t show it the same way.”

“You are correct; you two are quite the set of twins,” she shakes her shoulders, as if reliving memories of their chaotic energy. “God bless.”

“You love us,” Josh blows a kiss her way before grabbing his phone from the dresser next to the door. He stands next to the light switch, waiting for you two. “Let’s go ladies. I’ve got a partner to treat to a lovely dinner tonight.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Nat begins. “I bet you’ll never guess who shares a birthday with my brother.” 

You snap your head her way, silently requesting for her to not say anything. It’s a lot of unwanted attention that you’re not sure you’re ready for. But, she either doesn’t catch on to your look of pleading, or, more likely, she just doesn’t care. 

“Who?” Josh asks, totally oblivious to your sudden discomfort as he’s holding up his hunter green suit in front of the sun coming in through the window. 

“Our very own y/n!” She exclaims, playfully shaking your shoulders. 

Josh lets out a very audible gasp, grinning practically ear to ear as he hangs the jumpsuit up on the back of his closet door. “A double celebration, how lovely!”

“You really don’t need to do anything for me” you insist, but given the look on Josh’s face, he’ll never allow for such a thing. 

He shakes his head, going back to the green jumpsuit to straighten out the few wrinkles in the canvas fabric. “It’s already settled, my dear. You’re part of this crazy clan now. And that means,” he pads across the floor to you, patting your back and leaving a quick kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll be celebrated just like the rest of us.”

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“It’s just perfect,” Josh remarks as the three of you descend down the stairs to the living room. “Like us meeting you was written across the stars.” 

Once you walk off the last step of the staircase, you see the twin you had decided to not worry about is in the kitchen, treating himself to a few Oreo cookies as his thumb mindlessly scrolls through his phone. 

“What was written across the stars?” He mockingly asks his twin, tuning in suddenly. He throws you a wink once he looks up to see the three of you. 

It absolutely catches you off guard.

You’re shocked that he’s acknowledging you; you would have assumed his mindless scrolling had his full attention. But, it suddenly seemed as though he had already been paying very close attention to your presence. The phone, seeming to be a cover. It was obvious, with him dramatically imitating Josh, that his attention was actually focused on the conversation happening feet away from him.

But now, you’re right in front of him. And the way his eyes are piercing into your own… damn. You feel every single flutter of your adoring heart at those whiskey eyes that never fail to make you weak in the knees.

“Chi and y/n both adore plants as much as I do, which is wonderful because that’s just what I had planned for his birthday party decor,” he says as he makes his way to the front door, reaching for his white high tops that are sitting in the corner of the foyer. 

“What does y/n liking plants have to do with anything?” Jake asks, unaware as he stuffs another Oreo in his mouth, chewing it rather sloppily with his mouth wide open. (Which should gross you out…but it doesn’t. How can he make obnoxious chewing look…good?)

“Because, Jacob.” From his arched eyebrows and increasingly short tone of voice, you can tell that Josh is beginning to get a bit irate at his twin's complete lack of observation. “Y/n and Malachi share a birthday. And that means we’ll be celebrating both of them at his party we already have planned the week before. Jesus, keep up.”

Nat and Josh weren’t aware of your upcoming birthday, meaning Jake was also unaware. And he looks just as surprised as you would’ve expected. 

“Wait, you and Malachi have the same birthday?” Jake asks, almost intelligibly with a mouth full of chocolate cookies. “Meaning it’s…soon?”

You nod, already dreading the attention it's attracting, fully aware that the birthday party will be far worse.

You had half-expected him to be angry about this, about you forgetting—or rather, avoiding—telling him. You wouldn't be surprised if he turned it into a pointless argument.

But, to your complete and utter shock, he smiles– a full grin, with bits of Oreo still stuck in his usually pearly white teeth. 

“That’s great!” He says, easing any worry you had about him being angry. “We’ll have to make it extra special for you,” he winks, causing your heart to flutter and a grin to grace your lips. 

“Oh, one more thing.” Josh says as he’s one foot out the door, now running quite late for his date with Chi. (To no one’s surprise.) “If you had to choose a favorite plant, or flower, what would it be?”

This is an easy one for you. One flower has remained the most significant your entire life, and for so many reasons. “White gerbera daisies, for sure,” you answer, recalling every little thing you love about them with a nostalgic, bittersweet fondness. “Why’d you ask?”

“Educational purposes,” he shouts, grinning at you before he blows a kiss to the room and hurries his way through the door. “Love to you all!”

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“What are you ladies up to on this hellish evening?” Jake asks as he saunters his way into the living room to join you and Natalia. 

“No plans, really. Just wanted to get this poor child out of her enclosure for a bit while she had the chance to escape,” Nat laughs, nudging your shoulder.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to hang here if you’d like,” Jake offers. “It’s Sammy boy’s night to man the office, so I’m free to host if you’d like to have a few drinks and watch a movie or two.”

He’s speaking to both you and Nat, but he’s looking directly at you as he offers. You’re trying so hard to conceal your smile and your blushing cheeks, but it’s not working. And it’s obvious that Jake has taken note of this, evidenced by the mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Smug ass.

“That sounds good to me. Y/n? Any objections?” Nat asks, though your focus remains ensnared by the intensity behind Jake’s stare.

“Fine with me,” you answer, turning your attention back to Nat who already knew your answer long before you voiced it. You swear she knows everything. This girl doesn’t miss a damn beat. 

Though you weren’t prepared to see him tonight, you’re glad for the chance to. You just wish you would’ve made yourself look a bit more presentable for the evening. You always feel the innate desire to look your absolute best when you’re around him. 

But, it seems as though he doesn’t mind what you’re wearing or your lack of makeup, given the number of times his eyes have trailed your body in the short time you’ve been standing here.

“What’s our Daniel doing this evening?” Jake asks Nat. “Should we call him over? Make it a proper gathering?”

“A proper gathering?” Nat quips, smiling ear to ear at what you’re sure is the mention of Danny. “Sounds more like a double date, Jacob.”

A warm hue envelops your cheeks when she says the word ‘date,’ and the way Jake averts his gaze from you as soon as she made the comment, he must be feeling the same tension you are.

You know she said it on purpose, too. Her desperate attempts at getting you and Jake to do something with your relationship have thus far proved useless. Yet, she continues to try. If not for anything else, she knows how badly you want it, and she’s doing all she can to put the bug in his ear to take things a step– a few steps– further.

Nat takes it upon herself to invite Danny over, and to neither your nor Jake’s shock, he was in his car before she even got off the phone with him. He’d commit murder for her if she asked, you have no doubt. She has him wrapped tight around her finger. As it should be. 

She’s a fucking catch. Gorgeous, smart, and one of the most loving people you’ve come across in the span of your existence. And Danny, being the absolute sweetheart and gentle giant that he is, would do just about anything for anyone. He’s more soft-spoken, whereas Natalia is born to make a statement everywhere she goes, making them the absolute perfect balance for each other. You’re left in awe when you think of their beautifully aligned romance.

They are the definition of the perfect couple. Both such beautiful humans who bring out the best in eachother. 

What you wouldn’t give…

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With Josh being absent tonight, the movie choice is truly up to everyone’s discretion this time. (Not that you’ve ever thought Josh had poor taste, being practically the same as yours.)

Though, it soon becomes clear that having a designated person pick the movie might be the best option, as no one can seem to agree on anything tonight.

“That one is a disgrace to the film world,” Jake huffs at Nat's suggestion to watch the first Twilight. “I vote we watch The Princess Bride.” He confidently offers, a bit more of a command rather than a recommendation. 

“I love that one!” You chime in, only to be met with Nat interjecting. 

“No,” she asserts, holding her freshly manicured hand up to your face. “I am not watching that damn movie again.”

“A New Hope is always a safe bet,” Danny tries while the rest of you grumble in unison at the ‘safe,” yet overdone notion. 

Only a few moments of this back and forth has you ready to rip your hair out. That is until you remember a staple of your childhood that you love, though it has always garnered mixed reactions. But, regardless of that fact, it’s unconventional enough that it may spark some inspiration from the rest of the crew. It’s worth a shot if it means you’ll be closer to finally agreeing on something.

“What about Labyrinth?” You propose, crossing your fingers that someone will agree to this one, or at least use it to broaden their suggestions. 

“Oh! That’s the one with Bowie, right?” Danny comments, walking out of the kitchen and cracking open his first can of Bud Light. “That’s a great one!”

“That sounds like a Josh idea,” scoffs Jake. “I thought we were rid of him for the night.”

“That,” Nat starts, following Danny’s lead in helping herself to a beer from the fridge, then walking back to the living room to sit next to Danny on the couch. “Sounds like the one we should watch. I haven’t seen it in years. I’m game.”

With a defeated, resigned chuckle and a roll of his eyes, Jake takes the remote and searches for the film on Netflix. “I suppose majority rules, then.”

“Jim Henson was a visionary,” you remark, strategically positioning yourself on the end of the couch to leave ample space between you and Nat, leaving plenty of room for Jake to sit next to you. “Labyrinth was decades ahead of its time—a true cinematic masterpiece.”

“If you insist, Josh,” Jake jokingly chides, clicking the Roku to officially start the movie. “Whatever you say.”

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The movie is nearly halfway over, and hardly a word has been said thus far. (Which is something you’re not used to with Josh normally being here.)

Things have been a bit awkward since Jake started the movie, in part due to him not sitting by you like you had intended. Instead, choosing to ignore the wide, open space right beside you, he opted to sit in his usual spot on the beige Nova Lounge, leaving you on the corner of the couch alone.

You’d hoped that he would’ve gotten the hint and sat next to you for the movie, but, no. He chose to sit in the chair across from you, making you look (and feel) like an utter idiot while you're seated alone, eyeing the perfect spot on the cushion next to you that he should be in.

So, you’ve decided to give him the cold shoulder. Anytime he’s tried to acknowledge you, you’ve acted like he’s not there. Every wink he’s tried to throw your way has been met with an indifferent shrug of your shoulders, every poor attempt to get your attention has left him snubbed.

Judging by the way he’s sighed and rolled his eyes each time you’ve ignored him, it’s clear that your distance is beginning to get under his skin. 

Good.

But then, as you’re trying to focus your attention on the film, you see out of the corner of your eye that he’s roughly pulling his phone from his pocket. Almost immediately, your phone vibrates. Then it vibrates again. And again.

Jesus. Chill the hell out.

You turn your sights toward him, watching as he’s aggressively typing away at his phone, presumably yet another text to you. He’s looking up at you every few taps of his thumbs to see if you’ve picked up your phone yet. 

Until he stops, glaring at you so hard his eyes are practically burning holes into your own. He’s silently demanding that you look at your phone. But, you’re not giving in. Not yet. Whatever it is, he can just tell you in person instead of playing whatever game this is. Not having the patience for it, you roll your eyes and continue watching David Bowie’s master performance. 

That is until Jake clears his throat rather forcefully, startling you to look back at him. And, as you suspected, he’s still eying you, clearly pissed that you’ve yet to check your phone. 

You’re altogether annoyed and turned on all at once when he mouths out, through gritted teeth, “Check your phone. Now.”

Something about it makes you want to respond with “yes, sir.” And that is the very effect this man has on you. 

As much as you’d love to keep this going, you can’t fight curiosity of whatever he deems is so important that you must check your phone. 

Jake: What’s wrong? Why are you ignoring me?

Jake: Tell me, y/n. Don’t do this. 

Jake: Why are you acting like this? 

Seriously, Jake?

You: No reason. I’m fine. 

There’s no use in telling him. You’re not in the mood to try and spell it out, and it’s not your fault that he hasn’t picked up on it. 

But then, he texts you again. 

Jake: You’re not being very good, are you?

…fuck. You’re almost sure you can hear a raspy giggle coming from as it’s probable that your face is saying exactly what you’re thinking.

That message lit a fire in the pit of your tummy. Just imagining his voice saying that to you…

You’ll act annoyed about it, but only for the sake of hiding what it’s actually doing to you. 

You: Excuse me??

He’s glaring at you again after reading your message, full smirk on his lips. Though you’re trying to hide what you’re feeling, you’re pretty sure he can see right through it.

You: I’m not doing anything wrong, Jake.

Before you can even finish writing your next message, you see the three bubbles pop up as he’s typing. And just before you can press send…

Jake: Bet you didn’t even do as I asked. 

…I absolutely did. 

You weren’t prepared in the least for him to bring that up. You instantly knew what he was referring to, how you promised him you’d touch yourself to the thought of him, and tell him… 

How the fuck do you respond to that?

He’s caught you so completely off guard, you’re at a loss for words. (And horny as hell.)

Just as you’re trying to think of something— anything— to say, avoiding any and all eye contact with him, you see the bubbles once again appearing above your keyboard. 

Jake: Don’t ignore me, doll. You didn’t do as I asked, did you? Didn’t get your pretty self off from the marks I left on you, huh?

Oh. 

Before you can register the text, he’s sending yet another one. 

Jake: It’s a damn shame if you didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. How pretty you sound when you cum, how you’d make yourself feel so good that you can’t stand it any longer. The mess you’d make, all over your pretty fingers.

Oh my god. 

Your eyes briefly meet his, watching you as you’re on the verge of falling apart. He bites his lip, smirking as you cross your legs after reading his text, knowing he’s responsible for the ever growing ache between them. 

And then, he starts typing again. 

Jesus. 

Jake: You certainly look wonderful tonight, darling. Good enough to eat. 

Jake: And I know you taste divine. 

The grip on your phone has suddenly loosened as it begins to slip from your hands. You make a desperate yet failed attempt at catching it before it slams loudly against the hardwood floor next to your feet. 

Nat and Danny both snap their heads in your direction, watching you clumsily try to pick your phone back up. “Dammit, y/n!” Nat shrieks, having been startled by the sudden noise. “Are you good?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. Just dropped it.”

Fuck. 

When Nat and Danny turn their attention back to the film, you look at Jake who’s not even trying to hide his laughter. 

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Nat and Danny's snores are almost in unison. The way they’ve got themselves tangled up together on the couch looks entirely uncomfortable, a bit of a pretzel situation. But, they must be at least a bit cozy given how easily they fell asleep. 

With the ending credits beginning and the time being much later than you’d initially planned on being out, well after midnight, you’ve decided it’s probably best to head home. 

There’s only one problem; Nat is absolutely passed the hell out. And you know better than to try and wake her. For one, it’s no easy feat as she’s one of the heaviest sleepers you know. And two, if you can manage to wake her, hell will be unleashed. You’re not exactly sure you want a cranky, sleepy Nat to drive you home. (Her driving is bad enough when she’s happy.) At least your life won’t be at risk for the drive home. So, that left only one option for getting there; Jake. Who, of course, agreed to do so with no problem. 

You’re torn. You want to be angry with him for being so awkward with you earlier, but your ability to maintain your facade is breaking. He’s got you completely worked up, your body on fire from the risky messages he kept sending you. (And it’s that very reason you’re kind of glad he has to take you home.)

But, you’re still pissed that he couldn’t just be affectionate with you like Danny and Nat were. It’s only Danny and Natalia, for christ’s sake. They already know of the fling going on between the two of you, so there’s not any valid reason to try and hide it from them.

It certainly wasn’t much of a double date with him sitting across the damn room from you, only texting you to have a conversation going. And as much as you enjoyed the texts, you wish he’d just shut the fuck up and do something already. 

“What’s the matter with you?” He asks after several moments of pure silence in his car. 

“Nothing,” you answer, keeping your face turned away from him as you stare blankly out of the passenger window. 

You’re beginning to wonder if he can sense the way your body is nearly vibrating as it’s battling with you to give into him, because you hear the faint sound of a snicker coming from the driver's seat.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing,” he says. “But sure. I’ll buy it.” 

What the fuck?

That’s all it takes as your head snaps in his direction, arms crossed firmly over your chest. “You can’t just send me shit like that and not do anything about it, Jake.” You’re desperately trying to sound mad, though your shaky voice is probably a good indication of your true current state of mind. “It’s kind of fucked up, actually.” 

He looks at you before his Rover comes to a screeching halt at the red light in front of you, nearly tossing you out of your seat with the force of his brakes. 

“Yeah?” His left eyebrow is cocked, his lips pursed and his hands have a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “And who the fuck says I wasn’t going to?” 

Oh.

Your arms slowly drop from your chest as your defenses begin to crumble. Your eyes widen, and your lips part involuntarily. You can’t control it much longer, and you never expected those words to come out of his mouth.

“There she is,” he says, patronizing you. “You never answered my question. So, did you?”

Words don’t feel feasible at the moment. If you open your mouth, you’re not sure you’ll be able to control what comes out of it. 

You simply nod your head to state that you did in fact follow part of his orders, (nodding a bit too eagerly) though you’re doing it nervously because you know you didn’t do everything he asked of you. 

“Well, I’m glad to see you can follow some direction,” he sneers while pressing his foot a little harder against the gas pedal. “But you certainly didn’t do everything I asked, isn’t that right?”

Shit. 

You feel like you can hardly breathe as the Rover is crawling through the intersection, letting his words hang in the air as you desperately search for a valid explanation as to why you didn’t tell him like you promised you would. You know damn well that telling him you forgot won’t suffice. 

The Rover slows a bit, and in your peripheral you can see his head turned towards you. You’re keeping your eyes fixed on the road, pretending as though you can’t tell he’s staring at you. 

But he’s making it so hard to ignore. 

“Isn’t that right?” He asserts his question yet again, growing impatient as he awaits your answer. Though you’re still not fully looking his way, you can see the grin he’s wearing on his lips, and it forces a matching one from you. 

“Sure didn’t,” you say, pompous and arrogant as you keep your attention in front of you instead of on him. 

He shakes his head, letting out a snide giggle. “Rather audacious tonight,” he says, his hand reaching to grip your thigh. Your whole body shivers at the sudden contact that you’ve been incessantly craving all night. 

He knows. He knows how bad you want him, and that very fact is the reason he’s keeping you going like this. 

“They’ve faded, haven’t they?” He continues, more matter of fact than question.  “Should we do something about that, hm?”

You’re getting sick of this back and forth as his driving has seemed to slow even more in the last few minutes. You can’t take it any longer, can’t stand to wait another moment to put your hands all over him.  

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you adjust the center console back as far as it’ll go, leaning over it and meeting his lips halfway. 

Finally getting to taste him again feels better than any dream or imagination. Fuck, you’d forgotton how good he tastes. You don’t even care that he’s still driving, both hands on the wheel, but kissing you as though he’s wanted it as bad as you have. He’s driving slow enough, almost to a complete stop. If there’s anyone behind you, they can just move the fuck out of the way. You’re not stopping. 

He pulls away just long enough to see that there’s a red light in front of him, finally coming to a complete stop. (Thank god.)

He smiles against your lips as he continues, his kisses becoming more aggressive and his fingers weaving tightly in your hair, nearly pulling at the locks. 

When he adjusts himself in his seat, you reach down for the top of his faded black jeans, successfully unbuttoning them with one hand and undoing the zipper with the same grace. 

“My turn,” you whisper against his lips.

“Be my guest, doll.” He scoots himself forward in his seat, giving you the best advantage. “Take your shirt off first, though. Let me see you.” 

Your impatience is weighing on you, so you pull your sweatshirt off by the collar and toss it somewhere in the backseat, suddenly remembering you had decided to forgo a bra tonight when the chill hits your bare breasts, perking your nipples. 

“Fuck, doll.” He grabs your left breast, tweaking your hardened bud before slapping the supple skin, sending flutters to your core and a moan from your throat. “No bra just for me, huh?”

“Shut up,” you growl, leaning forward again to finish what you started.  

He pulls your hair back in a ponytail, tugging tight at your roots to lift your face to him. “Better watch what you say,  doll.” He smirks, biting his lip, knowing how much you fucking loved that by the sounds your making. 

“Yes, sir.”  

“Fuck yes, baby,” he whispers, keeping is grip on your hair.  

He lifts up just enough that you can pull his pants and underwear down to his thighs, at last freeing what you’re craving. 

Jesus Christ. 

God, you knew he’d be big, solely based on how he felt against your palm the first time anything happened between the two of you. You thought you’d properly prepared yourself, but you were absolutely not prepared in the least. 

He’s rock fucking solid, sitting against his flexed stomach. He’s massive, the girth alone has you practically salivating. You’re almost intimidated by it. Almost. But, that makes you want it even fucking more. 

You look up to him, nearly in awe as he’s glowing in red from the stop light ahead of you. 

“Is it up to your standards?” He asks, cocky as fucking ever. 

The red glow suddenly turns to a green one, and when he doesn’t start driving right away, you look back up to him in question. 

“Not ‘til you get started, doll.” 

 Fucking hell. 

You decide to tease him a little, licking the tip lightly, fighting the urge to take all of him all at once. 

You giggle when you hear him suck in a deep breath, gripping your hair even tighter before reaching his hand down to slap your ass. You’ve decided to take full advantage of having to lean over the console, sticking your ass up high, which he seems to very much enjoy. 

You take him in your hand, fully wrapping your lips around the tip this time, swirling your tongue around before sucking and letting go with a pop. 

With a drawn out sigh, he finally lets his foot off the brake to slowly crawl through the now yellow light. He’s got one hand on the wheel, and the other planted firmly on your ass. 

“Perfect. Just like that,” he groans as you wrap your mouth as far down his shaft as you can, tasting the salty skin on your tongue, licking along every protruded vein. You hold him there until you begin to feel it in your gag reflex. You quickly pull back, feeling slightly embarrassed about it. That is, until he says the very thing you need to hear. “Don’t stop because of that. Let me hear it, sweet doll.”

Fuck.

You take him in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down a few times before lowering as far as you can, removing your hand from the bottom of the shaft, letting your mouth do all the work. 

And this time, when you feel it against the back of your throat, you don’t let go right away. The most beautiful moans come his mouth as you gag around his length, feeling it throughout your whole body, your core tingling with pure need. 

Instead of pulling away quickly, you slowly lift your head, sucking until you reach the tip. You swirl your tongue around it again as you lift away, tasting the precum as it begins to leak from him, strings of saliva still connecting you to him. 

You’re jolted forward with a hard crack to your ass again, moaning as you run your tongue along his tip. “Jesus, fuck—,” he blurts, his hand gliding up your back, griping your shoulder, fingers then weaving in the roots of your hair again as he guides your mouth back down to his pulsing cock.“So good, doll.”

You begin bobbing your head again, only this time, with his hand gripped tight in your hair, he begins moving your head up and down for you. You chose to give him the reins, letting him move you however he pleases. 

And it feels so fucking good. The ache in your pussy is nearly unbearable. A gutteral sound escapes his throat when your hand skims down to your still clothed core, in desperate search of any kind of relief. “Yeah, take care of that sweet cunt for me. I know she’s starved, isn’t she?” 

Fuck, Jake.

He moves your head slowly up and down the length of his throbbing shaft, then picks up speed as his breathing becomes more and more labored, pressing you down even further with every push. 

Your fingers are hastily circling around your clit, pulling you almost immediately to a release with only a few seconds of touching yourself. 

Your breathing picks up, faint moans from your throat, your arms shaking. “Goddamn, y/n. You fucking love this, huh? Nasty little thing, aren’t you?”

The words are strained as they come off his tongue, though you know he’s attempting to sound composed. But given the way his cock is twitching against your tongue, he’s nearing his end, too. You decide to take advantage of it, sucking harder each time he presses your head down.  

“F-fuck, stay right there for me, doll.” He pulls into the lot of your complex, quickly stopping in a parking spot and throwing the gear shift in park. The hand that has been tangled in your hair now rests on the headrest of the passenger's seat. “Gonna let me give it to you?”

You hum in confirmation, taking him as far as you can. You feel his warm cum shooting to the back of your throat, and you keep him there until he’s completely finished, swallowing everything he gives you. 

He sighs, mumbling a plethora of vulgarities. His voice is so breathy, the pitch higher than normal. He sounds fucking beautiful. 

You’ve hardly had a chance to sit up before he’s grabbing your face, pulling you in a deep kiss. “It’s my turn now,” he mutters, breathless while his lips brush against yours. “Get back there.” His finger dips into the waistband of your leggings, pulling and letting the band snap against your hip. “And take these off.”

He’s following close behind as you’re crawling over the console to the middle row, the seams of your leggings tearing as you rip them off your body. 

“Give them to me,” he demands, staring at your baby pink cotton thong, helping you situate your body just as he wants you so you’re sitting comfortably against the inside of the door. 

You carefully pull them all the way down your thighs while he gets down on his knees on the floorboard, his hungry, dark eyes locked on your exposed form. When you hand them to him, you’re equally shocked and turned on when he reaches up to the glove box, opening it with one hand and placing them safely inside. “My little souvenir,” he winks. 

He then begins teasing you, licking long and slow from your knee to the top of your inner thigh, his dark orbs fixed on yours as he does it. 

Keeping true to his promise, he sucks hard on your thigh, menacingly close to your pussy. When he’s happy with his mark, he seals it with a kiss, leaning up to leave his marks along your hips, your lower tummy, kissing each one as he finishes. 

“Mine,” he grumbles against your skin. “This perfect body is mine.”

Perfect body…god. You don’t know how he does it, but he makes you feel so beautiful, so sexy. Feelings you’ve never thought fathomable until he helped you feel them. 

You begin pleading with him to taste you, begging him. He doesn’t listen, his tongue reaching every part of you except where you need him. 

You can’t bear it any longer; you’re utterly fed up with waiting. You slide your fingers down your body, reaching for your core, carefully circling the pad over your middle finger over your throbbing clit. 

Jake leans himself back, gaining a better view of what you’re doing before him. “Certainly not very patient, are we?” He quietly hums, biting his botom lip as he keeps his gaze fixed on your wet, quivering pussy. “God, you’re gorgeous like this. Keep going. And don’t stop until I say so.” 

You become more eager, more fervent in your motions. It’s almost too much, your clit already quite sensitive from just a few moments ago, bordering overstimulation. 

But fuck. You can’t disappoint him, you want to adhere to his command. Him watching you, guiding you, is only serving to add to the pleasure. 

“There you go, doll. Rub it just how you like,” he mutters, leaning closer, teeth grazing the inside of your thigh before he softly bites the flesh. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh.

“Stop.” He takes hold of your wrist, pulling your shaking hand from your clit, glaring at you with a mocking sympathy when you whimper at the loss. “Yes what, my little doll?”

“Yes s-sir.” 

“Good girl.” You gasp when he nips at your thigh again, a little harder this time, soothing the sting with a kiss. He then lets go of your hand, letting you regain your control. “Now, bury your pretty finger inside to feel the mess you’re making.” 

You’d obey his every command at this point, bend to his every will without question. No one has ever held this kind of power over you. 

Your fingers glide through your folds, your middle proding your entrance before you thrust it inside to the knuckle. Your eyes roll back at the warm, wet feeling. Your thrusting becomes quicker, sloppier. You should feel embarrassment from the noises you're making, both your incessant whimpering and the wet sounds of your pleasure. But shame is the last thing on your mind. 

“Yeah, baby. You know what you like, huh?” His raspy, breathy voice is pulling you closer to a blissful end. 

But you’re finding yourself longing for his touch in place of yours. You so desperately want his fingers, his tongue, to bring you through. “Please, I’m–I’m so close…I need you.” 

He hums, sneering as he pulls your hand away again. He brings it close to his face, wrapping his tongue around your glistening finger. He laps away at your juices, closing his mouth around it, sucking until he’s caught every drop and pulling it out with a loud pop of his lips.

“Don’t worry, my doll.” His hands roughly grab at your hips, pulling you down the seat until your thighs are positioned over his shoulders. “I intend for you to cum on my tongue.” 

A moaned breath of relief leaves your lungs when his warm tongue grazes your swollen, pulsing clit. His brows knit, his breathing becoming heavier as he ravenously devours you. 

There’s no suppressing your sobs of pure ecstasy, and the louder you become, the more he gives you. 

His fingers of one hand dig into your hip, the other reaching up to your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple. 

Just as you’re beginning to fall apart, his lips pull your clit into his mouth, the tip of his tonuge drawing hard and long circles around it. With a wail of his name from your lips, every inch of your body begins to tingle and shiver, uncontrollably shaking. 

You feel like you’re floating, the only thing keeping you grounded being Jake’s hands holding you still. Every star in the universe falls before your vision, every nerve in your body flaming with a fire so intense and hot. 

He keeps his tongue against you, offering slow and soothing licks to ease you down gently from what he knows is the most vigorous orgasm you’ve yet to experience. And he’s responsible for not one, but two within a rather short period of time. 

 “I–I’ve never ha–,” you start, though you’re finding you’re a bit incapable of proper words right now. 

He softly giggles as he shushes you, helping you lift your legs off his shoulders, kissing every expanse of skin he can reach while doing so. 

He then helps you sit up, letting your back rest against the seat. Once you're comfortable, he leans in to kiss your lips, the taste of you still lingering on his mouth, his face still wet and sticky from your pleasure. 

But then, he stops. Suddenly, as if he never truly intended to do it in the first place. 

When he pulls away, the look on his face is one that can’t be sure about. The lampposts in the parking lot illuminate the worry present in his eyes, the sudden reservation he’s having about taking this any further. 

“Jake?” 

He looks to you, pecking your lips before leaning over to grab your clothes laying in the seat next to him. When he hands them to you, it all begins to become rather clear; he doesn’t want sex. He never wanted sex. 

You can’t force him to do something he obviously doesn’t want to do. You huff as you quickly take the clothes out of his hands, sure you’re putting everything on backwards with as fast as you’re covering yourself. 

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he calmly says as your frustrations (sexual frustrations) are very evident in your body language. “It’s just— not here, okay?”

You’re remembering where your panties are when you pull your leggings up your thighs, feeling like you have every right to ask for them back, but deciding to just let him have them. “If not here, then where, Jake? If you don’t want to just tell me—“

“Don’t you dare let yourself think that I don’t want to.” 

He shuts you up with a hard kiss against your lips. If he wants to do bad, then why is he…? Is it Stacy?

Before you can let your thoughts run rampant, you hear your phone vibrating from the front seat. You break away from him to grab it, already know who it is before looking at the screen. 

When you answer, you don’t even need to hold it up to your ear to hear your mom angrily yelling at you to get your ass home. “Sorry, mom. I’m outside, I’m coming,” you say before hanging up. 

“Looks like you got your wish,” you say as you open the door, being sure you have all of your things. When you close it, thinking that’s the last you’ll see of him tonight, you hear him opening the door on the other side and quickly prancing around the car to meet you. 

“It’ll happen, doll. Patience is not your virtue, is it?” He quips, the grin on his face telling you he’s thinking of your impatient spell from earlier. 

Goddamnit. You can only stay mad at those lips for so long. 

“Guess not,” you snide as he pulls you in for a hug. The softest, sweetest hug he’s ever given you. You can feel the beating of his heart quicken against your chest as you squeeze him a little tighter. As angry as you are, you just don’t want to let go, to let him go. 

It’s just not in the cards for tonight…again. You have to be okay with that. 

It doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, though. He told you it’ll happen. You have no choice but to take him for his word.

“Goodnight, doll,” he tells you as you break the hug, knowing if you don’t now, you may never.

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A couple days later sees you at home with your mom, busting your ass to get shit done that you wish you didn’t have to do, as per your usual evening routine. You still keep finding yourself very much longing for the times when your mother could do household chores as well… but anytime you think those thoughts, you immediately feel guilty for ever wishing that. The lists just seem to get longer and longer each day.

Your mom is sick. Very sick. But, it doesn’t stop her from grating on your last fucking nerve. Like she has been doing all evening.

“Is dinner almost ready?” Her voice carries across the entire apartment, marking at least the fifth time she’s asked in the last twenty or so minutes. Your patience is wearing more and more thin each time she shouts for you.

"Almost, mom," you call out, your voice surely conveying the irritation you're feeling. You just can't muster the energy to conceal your annoyance any longer. By now, she has to be aware of how it's fraying your nerves, and it's painfully evident that she couldn't care less.

It’s been like this for a while now, and today has been especially horrible. Her demands have been increasing lately, and her dependence on you has taken new form. Ever since she was in the hospital, and when you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole of events from that night, things have just been…different. 

And anytime you’ve been gone lately, she makes sure to lay the guilt on as strong as she possibly can. The guilt has every potential to eat away at you, but since the discovery of her not taking her medications, since you caught her in an enormous lie about who called the ambulance, (who is Dodger?) you’ve found it a little easier to not let it consume you the way it used to.

Still yet, you’re a people pleaser to your core, and she knows that. She’s been using that to her advantage, keenly aware of the effect it has on you.

And she doesn’t care. No, as long as you’re dropping everything for her, she doesn’t care how you feel about it. Even something as necessary as going to work has her questioning your loyalty to her. You’ve explained time and time again that you have to work, because she very obviously can’t. Doesn’t matter to her, though. Seems she’d rather go without than have you gone for any extended period of time. 

Nat isn't oblivious to the way your mom treats you, and she hasn't been shy about expressing her distaste over your situation. Yet, you feel completely ensnared in your circumstances. You can't simply walk away from your mom; she depends on you. She still needs you. The mere thought of leaving her catapultes you into a whirlwind of shame, and you doubt it would truly be any better for your mental wellbeing.

You're caught in a bind with no apparent way out. 

So, once again, here you are. In the same place you are nearly every night, preparing dinner for her while you listen to her endlessly complain about how long it’s taking you. 

She’s calling for you yet again while you’re putting the final touches on her plate of baked chicken and broccoli. A new recipe you decided to give a try, at Jake’s suggestion via text as you’d mulled over what to make for dinner to him that afternoon. 

With a deeply rooted sigh, calming your nerves before you approach her, you take her plate to her bedroom where she’s been all day. She’s in the very same spot she’s been in since she woke up this morning, in her fortress of nearly every pillow and blanket in the apartment that she’s created on her bed. Aside from a few trips to the bathroom, she’s hardly moved at all. According to the doctor, the best thing for her is to move, keep her blood flowing. But, she won’t do it. Not that you’re surprised in the least.

“What on earth took you so long?” She asks with an arrogant, fake smile. 

“Wanted to try something new tonight,” you counter, handing her the very warm paper plate that she’s nowrefusing to take. “Just took me a little bit to figure it out.”

“Nope,” she says, holding up her hand in refusal and shaking her head as she motions for you to place it on the bedside table. “Too hot.” 

Frustrated disbelief begins to overtake you for a moment, but you manage to find the strength to compose yourself. No sense in arguing and upsetting her. “Do you need anything else right now?” You ask while you set the plate down beside her ice water. “If not, I think I’ll go finish up some homework, if that’s okay.”

If that’s okay? Of fucking course it’s okay. But she’s made you feel that lately it’s not okay to take a few moments to yourself. Even for homework. 

“I’m fine for now,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on the television in front of her bed. “I’ll let you know, sweetie.”

Still not looking at you, and without even so much as a simple ‘thank you,’ you decide to just leave her room. She’s right, she’ll let you know when she needs something. She always does. 

“Love you, mom.” 

“Love ya,” she says, blankly and distant, as you’re nearly out the door.

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You had decided to put The Princess Diaries on tonight for some background noise to do your homework to. Though, you’re realizing that choice may have been a mistake. You can’t keep your eyes off of the screen. This movie brings you so much happy nostalgia. God, what you’d give to have those days back. The days you’d come home from school, pick out your favorite snack and sit on the blue couch with little yellow flowers stitched in the fabric, watching whatever movie your tiny heart desired. 

Those days were so much easier. Even when things were hard back then, and they most definitely were, it was never the end of the world. At least, it never felt like it. Certainly not like it does now. 

Nothing is the same anymore. Not a single thing. So much has changed, and so quickly, too. 

But right now, as you’re watching Mia discover that she’s the reigning princess of the beautiful Genovia, with Julie Andrews to help her grow into the woman she’s destined to be, you feel the same sense of wonder you’d feel when you’d watch this as a child. That child that still held so much innocence and curiosity in her little body. That child that still had both of her parents, and even though they didn’t always love each other, she still had them. 

You feel the single, warm tear fall down your cheek, landing on top of the closed lip smile you’re wearing. 

You’re sad, but it’s a happy sad. The kind of sad that pulls you right back to a simpler time, begging you to remember something you’ve started to forget.

You’re a bit startled when you feel your phone vibrating against your leg, taking your attention away from the big reveal of Mia’s royal makeover. 

Your heart jumps up into your throat when you see that it’s Jake calling you. You wait just a moment to hit the green button, letting it ring a few more times so it doesn’t seem as though you’re too eager to answer. But, you can’t allow yourself to wait much longer.

“Hi, Jake,” you finally answer, cringing at your voice and the sudden very high pitch you’ve acquired. God, the way he makes you feel.  

“Hey,” he says with a deep, stifled voice. “What are you up to tonight?”

He sounds…different. Solemn. This tone isn’t familiar to you. Not at all. You don’t recognize it.

“Are you okay?” You ask, feeling as though your question just might be more important than his. 

“Just fine, doll. Can I come pick you up soon?”

He still sounds off, and when you take your phone away from your ear to look at the time, you’re even more perplexed when you realize it’s nearly midnight. 

“Jake it’s pretty late, I don’t think I can leave my mo— “

“Yes you can,” he cuts you off before you can finish, knowing just what your next words would’ve been. “I need you right now. I’m on my way.”

He hangs up the phone before you can try and argue it. And as much as you feel like you shouldn’t leave her, you know that it truly is fine if you do. What he said before the call was cut off, that he needs you… You haven’t the slightest clue what that could possibly mean, but you don’t want to question it. He said he needs you, and that’s more than enough to convince you out of the apartment. 

He’s on his way, so you need to hurry and get ready as quickly as you can. Surely, you’re not going anywhere fancy in the middle of the night, so a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt seem appropriate enough for your attire. It's not cute, but it’s practical. 

Now, your mom.

She’s not exactly been the biggest fan of you being out of the apartment as of late, and it’s not lost to you that she won’t be happy with you leaving right now. 

But, when you peek through the cracked door of her bedroom, you see that she’s fast asleep. She’s usually a pretty heavy sleeper, and with the constant humming of her oxygen machine, it’s rare that any noise penetrates her slumber. 

There’s a good chance that she’ll never even know you were gone. You’ve decided it’s best to let her sleep; what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. 

Jake must’ve been driving awfully fast. It’s just over a twenty minute drive from his place to yours, and it’s only been about ten since your phone call. But, he’s just sent the text that he’s here. You don’t want to keep him waiting, so you grab your black puffer and head out the door without giving your mom much of a second thought. 

She’ll be fine.

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He’s silent as you climb into the passenger's seat. The only sounds being the thrumming engine of his Rover and Tom Petty’s voice over the speakers. 

“Learning to fly…” You acknowledge the tune as you buckle yourself in. “One of his best.”

“Yeah,” he quietly starts as he backs out of the parking spot. “Was my dads favorite.” 

There’s a heaviness in the car as he drives away to the unknown destination. A sad, sorrowful weight that you can almost see sitting atop his burdened shoulders.

It’s not often that he’s slumped over when he drives; this body language is one that you’ve not yet seen from him. Is it the song bringing back loaded memories? You know that feeling all too well. 

“Jake…are you alright?” You ask, timidly. But you can’t stand not knowing what’s wrong. Out of instinct, you place a hand on his knee and squeeze just enough so that he knows you’re here, in whatever way he needs you right now. 

“Just didn’t want to go alone,” he answers, keeping his eyes on the road but placing his hand over top of your own, weaving his fingers with yours.

Once the song ends, the very same one begins playing again, as though he’s got in on a continuous loop. There’s something going on, something that’s making him miss his parents a little more tonight. 

“Are you okay with a little road trip?” He asks, keeping his hand held tight to yours. “Frankenmuth is only about an hour away. I just need to be there, and my brothers are asleep and I–” 

“Of course I’m okay with it,” you say, assuring him when you begin to hear a slight crack in his voice, his emotions making it almost too difficult for him to speak. 

His grip on your hand lets up a little while he clears his throat. “Thank you, y/n.”

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You began to nod off a little on the drive up, but made sure to keep your hand on him, laying your head on the padded part of the center console when your eyelids started to become too heavy to keep open. 

You never fully fell asleep, just wanted to rest your eyes. So, that means you were able to feel each time Jake brushed your hair out of the way when it’d fall over your face every so often. Or when his hand found its place on your shoulder, his fingers gently playing with the fabric of your puffer coat.

Though you weren’t completely asleep, you pretended as though you were. You didn’t want him to stop, and you feared letting him know you were mostly awake would make him want to. 

The same song played the entire time, and you found an odd comfort in it. And it’s clear he found immense comfort in it, as well. He started out humming along, then after a while began quietly singing a few of the lyrics.

“Some say life will beat you down, break your heart, steal your crown…”

Just as you’re about to finally drift away, the car comes to a complete stop and he turns the ignition off. 

You lift your head, and through hazy eyes, you see the little wooden sign in front of you that says you’re at the Riverside Cemetery. 

“We’re here,” he says softly, helping you sit up all the way. 

He gets out of the car, quickly walking over to your side and opening your door before you have the chance to. He reaches to the back seat, grabbing a heavy bunch of flowers that were laying on top of a towel. 

It’s pitch black, no lighting at all in the entire place save for the flashlight on Jake’s phone. 

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the unstable grounds, going slowly to be sure you’re steady on your feet. It’s cold, but the wind is still and calm, making it bearable. 

The sounds of chirping from the early morning insects are all around you, the distant hooting of an owl can be heard somewhere beyond the graves. It smells like freshly collected dew against the grass and trees. There’s a quiet peace all around you, the cemetery carrying a sense of rest and remembrance. 

It’s beautiful, really. A beautiful, peaceful sorrow. 

You’re about halfway through the grounds when Jake stops in front of a headstone, the one that sits alone underneath a bare cherry blossom tree. 

Your heart aches as you read the names engraved on top of the black marble, tears almost instantly welling in the back of your throat. 

Kelly & Karen Kiszka. 

His parents. 

And if it wasn’t harrowing enough, you see their death date. At the stroke of midnight, right before he called you, it became the anniversary of their passing. He carefully lays the flowers on top of the grass, then kisses his hand before placing it over top of their carved names.

That’s why he needed to come here. And he needed someone with him, he needed you with him. 

He’s usually devoid of heavy emotions, but you hear faint sniffles coming from him as he kneels before the quiet tomb that holds both of his parents.

You kneel down next to him, letting him know that you’re still here with him while he silently mourns. While there aren’t many tears falling from his eyes, the few that cascade down his cheeks glisten in the moonlight as it illuminates his face. You feel it with him, you feel all of it. His grief radiates through to you, sitting atop your chest as though you knew them, too. He loved them. He loved them so much. 

There are so many things you want to say right now, yet the words are lost to you. Sometimes, words just aren’t necessary. Sometimes, a person's presence is more than enough. And right now, as Jake reaches for your hand, his fingers weaving with yours, you know that you needn’t utter a single word. He just needs you here.

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The sun is just beginning to peak over the distant horizon. You’ve been on the road back to Ann Arbor for about thirty minutes now, and though not much has been said, it feels nice. His presence is nice, and you can feel his gratitude for yours. 

You feel yourself becoming more and more drawn to him, to who he truly is beyond the gruff exterior he’s tried to conceal himself behind. 

As you’re starting to see it break, you’re realizing that he may have never been as cruel as you thought. The recent past with him feels incredibly faraway, especially in this very moment with him. He’s at last let himself be vulnerable with you, let himself be real. You can’t be certain, but you’ve a good feeling that doesn’t happen often with him. It’s just how he chooses to present himself, and you feel awfully grateful that he’s allowed you to see this version of him that he’s decided to keep mostly hidden. 

“Can I treat you to some breakfast?” He asks, merging left on the highway that’ll lead you home. “I just feel bad for having you out so late…or, early, I suppose.”

You giggle as you take him up on his offer, knowing that it means you’ll get a little extra time with him. “What’s even open at this hour?” You ask, noting the 5:02am time displayed on the screen of his stereo. 

“The Fleetwood Diner,” he answers. “Used to go there all the time with my grandpa. You’ll love it.” 

“Sounds wonderful,” you say with a smile, but it quickly fades as you come to a horrid realization; your mom. You’ve already been gone for far too long, and you know that her alarm is set to wake her around half past five. If you go to breakfast with Jake, she’ll wake up to an empty apartment. She’d be absolutely livid if she were to realize you’ve been gone all this time. “Shit, Jake. We may have to raincheck.” 

“Your mom, right?” He asks, knowing all too well the myriad of guilty feelings you had the last time you left her for an extended period of time. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say. 

“Don’t be,” he smiles, his hand gripping your knee. “I understand.”

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“Where the hell have you been?” She screams before you fully step inside the threshold. “I’ve been calling you and calling you! Why haven’t you answered me?” 

“I guess I didn’t hear my phone—” You reach in the pockets of your puffer, stumbling all over yourself as you’re trying to get inside, only to realize that you didn’t even grab your phone before you left. It’s still sitting right when you left it after Jake called you hours ago. “Shit. I forgot my phone, I’m sorry mom.” 

She’s pissed, visibly pissed. Her features are cold and hard, her lips tightly held together. This version of her…you’ve only seen a few times, and it’s not pleasant. It’s not who you’ve known your mom to be your whole life. That’s what you’ve thought, at least. 

“You think it’s okay to leave me, huh? What if something were to happen? What if I collapsed again and you weren’t here again to help me? Remember that, y/n? Remember how bad you felt that night?” Her voice is vibrating off the walls, penetrating you deeply. You flinch with every word she yells, feeling yourself crumble and wither away as her voice becomes louder, her tone becoming more and more demeaning. “You said you’d never do it again. But, you left.” She shrugs, letting her arms fall to her sides. “Left me here without even bothering to tell me.” She pauses, sardonically chuckling and shaking her head as she sits herself on the corner seat of the couch.“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t care about me. How do you like that? My own daughter, my very own flesh and blood. The one I gave birth to, couldn’t be bothered to care about me.” 

You’ve been accustomed to taking a lot from people. Taking their anger, their sadness, their grief. It’s part of who you are; you’re everyone’s favorite punching bag. 

But this…this isn’t something you’ll take lying down. Everything she’s just spit your way is wrong. For her to think for a second that you don’t care about her…when you’ve given her everything you have is just…

No. No more letting her take control of every facet of your life. She’s made it impossible to be your own fucking person at this point. No more shame, no more guilt trips.

No more. You’re fighting back this time.

“Are you fucking serious, mom?” Her face instantly drops, as though she wasn’t expecting much of a response from you at all, let alone this. “I do everything for you! Everything, mom! I hardly have a life because I’m here taking care of you!” You practically rip your coat off and toss it to the floor, not caring enough to put it in the coat closet. She’s stunned, staring at you with blank eyes. “And not once have I complained. I’m the only one that works, the only one who cooks, cleans, and you have the nerve to tell me I don’t care? I have begged you to take your medications and you fucking refuse. I can only do so much when you won’t do a damn thing!” 

You hate the words coming out of your mouth. They sting, they hurt. They taste like pure poison. But you’re done being taken advantage of. Normally you’d let her words slide under the table, move on and forget about them. But now, she’s accusing you of something that isn’t true. 

“That’s why you collapsed that night, isn’t it? Because you wouldn’t take your meds.”

She gasps as she jumps up from the couch, her body jolting away from the cushions as she rips her oxygen tube from her nose. She stomps towards you, hoping you’ll back down out of fear. 

But you’re not done. You’re not giving in. 

“The doctor tried to tell me and I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it until I saw it for myself, and I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. I defended you, mom. And you lied to me.” 

“I never lied to you,” she insists, her index finger inches away from your face. Her teeth are clamped, her face shiny with sweat. 

“Okay,” you say, holding your ground as she’s attempting to intimidate you, but you won’t let it work. “Then care to tell me who the hell Dodger is? Because I’m pretty sure Dodger is the one who called the ambu–” 

“You disgusting, ugly little bitch.” Drops of spit spray your face, making you take a step back out of utter shock. “You are the reason my husband left, you know that?” Her finger makes contact with your chest, poking you hard with her overgrown, red polished nail. “He left because he couldn’t stand having you as a daughter. He told me so! And you know what? I don’t blame him. Don’t blame him one bit. He was smart to leave. Wish I would’ve a long fucking time ago. He beat me to it!”

You almost lose your balance, her finger digging deeper into your chest. But as you take a step back, she pulls away, seeming to suddenly realize the pure venom she just spewed at you. The evident hatred that she’s harbored for you, that she’s apparently always harbored for you.

After everything you’ve done…

“Oh Jesus, y/n! I didn’t mean to say—” She grabs your hand, but you pull away from her as soon as she makes contact with you. “I don’t know what I was thinking…I just…Y/n, please forgive me.” She begins coughing, though, they sound fake. Like she’s trying to regain your sympathy. As much as you hate it, you still find the need to reach down for her oxygn tube and help her put it back on. She still needs it. Regardless of whether she’s faking this coughing fit, she still needs it. 

You’re in shock. Pure, hazy shock. You feel the silent tears falling from your eyes, silent only because you don’t feel like you’re crying. The tears are instinct; purely uncontrolled. No sobbing, just tears. Quiet, distant tears.

It felt as though this was a long time coming, like she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to say it. As you’re standing here, letting your thoughts amass in your suddenly aching head, you’re feeling no surprise over what’s just happened. 

You won’t even look at her as she’s pleading with you, begging that you’ll forget this whole thing. But her cries sound more and more muted as you stand here, feeling the ultimate betrayal from the person you thought you could trust the most. Feeling betrayal from both of your parents. Both of them who apparently have never loved you.

Shocking, but not surprising. 

“You okay for now?” You ask, monotone and barren of any emotion. “Because I–I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

You hear her begging for you to stay in the living room with her, but you’ve chosen to not listen as you begin walking towards your bedroom door. 

The pounding in your head is almost debilitating as you lie down on your bed. 

You just want to sleep. You don’t want to let your mind race, let your thoughts take control. Sleep will keep that from happening. Sleep will drown out the sounds of her crying for you in the living room. Sleep will take you away from it. From all of it. Even if only for a few hours, before your day is set to truly begin, sleep is what you need the most right now.

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Your head has been so spacy this morning. The drive to school felt almost robotic, hardly any thoughts passing through your mind as you drove down your favorite, hidden road with where trees seem to reach the clouds. Usually, your morning drives allow you some peace and serenity. That just wasn’t the case today. When you arrived on campus, it felt like the drive didn’t even happen altogether, like you just transported yourself to your designated employee parking spot. 

Your mind just feels empty, clouded. Like nothing is real, yet everything is all too real at the same time. You debated on skipping class and work today, staying home, locked away in your room to let yourself sleep it all away some more. 

But ultimately, you realized that being home is, truthfully, the last place you want to be today. And if anything is going to force you to feel something, it’s school and your beloved library. You can fill your vacant mind by keeping yourself busy with the things you feel you have some control over.

You’ll still have to run home before work to check on your mom, just like you do every single day. Though, she’s convinced you that it’s not enough. That nothing you do for her is ever enough. Never has been, according to her. 

Stop. Don’t think about it. 

You’re here pretty early, so there’s not much else to do besides sit alone in your old clunker of a car and wait for the coffee shop to open. You’re in desperate need of some caffeine. Perhaps an extra espresso shot is in the cards for you today. Whatever it takes to get through, to put on a happy face and pretend nothing is wrong.

As usual. 

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“There’s only a few more weeks of the semester, which means your projects will be due very soon,” Dr. Movack announces as soon as class begins, shutting the lecture hall doors as he speaks. “It’s crunch time, folks. Your work should be nearing completion, and if it’s not, you should reconsider where your priorities lie.” 

His booming voice is one that you’ll never get used to, the way his tone bounces off the walls, as if he’s holding a powerful microphone in his hands. Which, of course, he’s not. But he sure sounds that way. It intimidated you at the beginning, but now, you find a weird sense of comfort in it. And you actually think you’ll miss it once the semester is completed. 

While he’s giving his usual several announcements, your attention is taken away from him when you feel Jake’s warm hand meet your upper thigh. His fingers begin tracing along the inner seam of your leggings, and it’s sending a wave of goosebumps throughout your whole body. 

God, you needed this today. Needed some kind of affectionate touch, some reassurance. You needed him. And it’s almost as if he knew you needed him, too. 

Safe to say, you’re not really listening to Dr. Movack anymore. You’re far too consumed with Jake at the moment, and as much as you hate being distracted from your class work, he’s probably the best distraction you could ask for. 

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“You working tonight?” Jake asks as the two of you waltz through the courtyard through the center of campus. 

It’s still so wonderful to you, even though the blossoms aren't as lively as they were a few months ago. With the early winter beginning its rein, the cold and crisp wind flowing through the now lifeless blooms, it’s a different kind of beauty. Still beautiful, though. And it still calms you, still grounds you. 

“Yep,” you answer, emotionless. 

“Are you going home first?” He continues. 

That question sends a wave of nausea to your tummy. You don’t want to go home, risk more confrontation with your mom. Having to still take care of her even after what happened... The mere thought makes you feel physically sick. Faint, almost, at the memory of last night. And as though it just happened, the sting on your heart from her words suddenly reappears. 

Without thinking, you reach your hand up to your chest to hold your necklace from your dad that you’ve not taken off in days.

“Mhm.” 

He blows a bit of air through his nostrils, stopping where his feet land and grabbing your hand to stop with him. “Somethings wrong,” he says, taking his sunglasses off as he looks at you, his tone conveying his genuine sense of worry. “Did something happen?”

Of course he can tell. He can see right through you; he reads you better than any book. 

And he’s right. Something is very much wrong, and it’s causing your mind to be awfully distant. But you’re nervous to tell him what is wrong. Feels embarrassing to you, a bit shameful. What if she’s right? About everything?

You’d wondered it more than once after he left, if you were the reason he couldn’t bring himself to stick around. 

She wouldn't have said it had you not been so mouthy to begin with, had you not asked so many questions. (What's worse, they were questions you’re not entirely sure you want the answer to.) You know you’re not completely responsible for her choice in words. But you can’t shake the thought that everything that has gone wrong in your life has been because of you, right down to your dad leaving. 

“Kind of,” you admit, feeling incredibly weird at the thought of talking about early this morning. “Just a really big fight with my mom,” you sigh, reaching up to touch your necklace once more. 

“Did you make amends?” He asks. 

“No, not really.” 

You feel the urge to cry, to shed real tears for the first time since it all happened. But you swallow it down. Crying about it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do, doesn’t seem like it would do any good. The only thing it’ll do is force you to feel it, and you’re not ready for that just yet. 

“Hey,” he says gently, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. He must notice your mind drifting away again, or the tears that are trying to fall from your eyes that you’re holding back. “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“I don’t know, kind of.” 

“Well, I’m all ears if you want to tell me,” he assures you. “But no pressure if you’re not ready to.”

You want to tell him, right now just isn’t the time. You’ve not even made sense of it in your brain yet, and that’ll make it even harder to articulate it all. 

“It’s just…” You sigh, thinking of how to carefully place your next words. “She’s not herself lately. Or, maybe she is herself, I just haven’t noticed it until now.” 

Your fingers rub over your initial on the gold plate. A source of comfort for you, though it’s suddenly not nearly as comforting. 

“What did she say, y/n…” He gently takes your hand from the jewelry, gripping your fingers tight within his. “Tell me what she told you.”

How do you even begin? Do you tell him you’re pretty sure that you’re the reason your dad ditched? That your mom all but confirmed one of your biggest fears last night? 

Deep down, you know there’s a chance she only said it out of anger, that she didn’t truly mean it. But, regardless, the words were still said. You may never forget them, no matter what she says or does to try and rectify. What’s done is done. 

“Just…,” you sigh, fingers reaching for your head to rub away the tension there. “She just said some pretty harsh shit about me that I’ve already thought to be true. And hearing it from my mom was…I really just want to forget about it.”

“I don’t know what she said, and I’m not going to make you tell me if you’re not ready,” he assures while softly pulling you into a sweet and gentle embrace. “But whatever she said, it’s not true. I know it’s not.”

It might be, though. She could be right…

“Thank you, Jake.”

He holds you a little tighter, closer to his chest as you’re basking in his distinct sandalwood and vanilla scent. “I’m going to get you out of there,” he whispers, his hand coming to gently hold the back of your neck as he kisses the top of your head. “I promise.” 

Why is she keeping Dodger from me? 

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You hardly spoke to her when you were home to make dinner before your shift. She did, though. Tried starting multiple conversations, as though nothing was wrong. 

It invalidated you a bit, that she seemed to have let herself get over it so quickly. It’s just not as big of a deal to her, you gathered. As long as you’re there to make her food and coddle her, even after what happened, she couldn’t care less about the way she’s treated you. 

Perhaps it’s water under the bridge at this point. It happened, there’s nothing that can be done about it now. No sense in dwelling on it further, though your emotions still feel a bit stunted.

It just makes you wonder— if your dad were here, would any of this be happening? Would he let her act this way? 

You want so desperately to think he wouldn’t let any of this happen. And, perhaps that’s somewhat true. 

But, he still left. He surely knew the responsibilities he’d be leaving you with, and that didn’t stop him. 

That makes you believe that while he knew, he just didn’t care. 

But fuck. You miss him so bad right now. And you’re angry that you miss him. You can’t even be sure that things would be much different had he not left, but you’re holding on to the chance they may have been. 

In the wake of every fond memory you’re having of him lately, your resentment for him grows stronger and stronger because of that. 

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“You’re not actually planning on wearing that, are you?” Nat spouts from your bedroom closet, watching as you take a clean sweater off its hanger, one of your tried and true black fluffy ones that you wear at least once a week. 

“Damn, didn’t know the chief of the fashion police was my best friend,” you joke, holding the sweater up to your body as you stand in front of your vanity mirror. “What's wrong with it? I think it’s really flattering on me.” 

Flattering may be a bit of an overstatement. Something with such an exaggerated, oversized fit can only be so flattering on your body. 

You don’t know why you’re still so nervous to let go of this fixation on big clothing, especially around your friends who’ve seen you in some incredibly revealing costumes. 

But, the urge to hide is still ever present, even after everything. You want to have a good time tonight, to not be so consumed with insecurities because you chose to wear something that fits your frame a bit more snug than normal.

Aside from that, you can feel every bit of that turkey and swiss you ate for lunch earlier, sitting right in the lower part of your stomach, in your arms, your thighs…

You had been feeling faint today, and as much as you tried to ignore the ceaseless rumbling of hunger in your tummy, you gave in. That familiar feeling of your blood sugar dropping also set your nerves alight, and when you start feeling like that, you know it’s time to give your body something to tide yourself over for a while. 

Your brain didn’t want you to, but your body has begun to feel the effects of your restrictions as of late. And as much as your thoughts are overbearing, the ones that tell you not to eat for a multitude of reasons, you're fearful of the effects of malnutrition. 

And you know that is a big part of recovery, to be scared of what will happen to you when you go so long without any substantial food. 

So, half a turkey on rye was just what you needed. Though, you had to fight with yourself to not go for a bag of baked Lay’s chips, too. 

The sandwich was enough. Plenty, actually.

But you knew as soon as you ate it that the feelings of guilt would make their appearance. And, just as you suspected, here they are. Right on queue as you’re trying to figure out what to wear tonight that Nat won’t disapprove of.

“Babe, to be flattering,” she shuffles toward you, taking the sweater from your hands and tossing it out of sight. “You can’t be hidden behind something that can fit two of you.” 

Hidden. 

She crosses the threshold of your closet in search of something she deems appropriate for tonight. But she drops her arms to her sides, letting out a dissatisfied sigh as she discovers how limited your wardrobe options truly are. 

“What about that outfit you wore the night we went to the haunted hou—” 

“No,” you interrupt, stopping her before she can say much more about that evening. “Anything but that.” 

It’s not that you didn’t like that outfit, you actually quite loved it. But, since that night, those pieces of clothing now hold a negative connotation. The events of that night have become intertwined into the stitching.You have it in your right mind to rid your closet of those pieces once and for all. 

“Okay then. So, what do you normally wear to your birthday parties?” She asks while pulling out a few sweaters and crewnecks, weighing her options for styling you for tonight. “Like, what did you wear last year? Because surely you didn’t wear one of these tired things.” She holds up a particularly large sweater, one that you wear often enough that you know she recognizes it. 

She’s right; these pieces are worn out, their threads are tattered and tired. Very tired. Nearly as tired as you are that you feel the unabating need to wear only them every single day. 

“Well,” you start, preparing yourself to tell her the incredibly sad reality of your entire life. “I didn’t have one last year. Actually, I’ve never had one.” 

She sets the sweater down on the shelf sitting below the hanging clothes, turning her body to fully face you, a sorrowful look present in her usually happy eyes. 

“You’ve…you’ve never had a birthday party? Even as a kid?” She asks, shocked. 

“Never.” 

She scratches her head, a loose curl falling over the faint freckles on forehead that she brushes away. “That’s sad as fuck, y/n,” she admits, sitting on the floor as you follow suit in sitting across from her. “Why haven’t you? Does your family just not celebrate birthdays or—?”

You bring your knees up to your chin, wrapping your arms around your legs as you silently contemplate it all for a moment. Something that has never been a big deal to you or anyone around you, is suddenly very sad to someone else. You’d always been a little sad about it, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. It’s been your ‘normal’ for a long ass time. 

“My mom always told me that celebrating my birthday wasn’t necessary, that I should be “celebrated every day,” not just one day of the year,” you say, adding air quotes to emphasize your moms words. “But, I don’t know—  it’s not like she really held true to that. I wasn’t even allowed to go to birthday parties, let alone have any friends. My dad always tried to change her mind but—” 

You feel so strange talking about this, talking about your mom like this. As if she’s suddenly the villain in your life, not your dad. It’s a tough realization that you’re not sure you’re ready to confront just yet. But given everything with your mom as of late, the other night…fuck. It’s a hard thing to grasp, to think that you’ve been manipulated so badly that you’ve gotten it all wrong. 

But the more you think about your childhood, about the move to Michigan, about the strange inconsistencies with her illness and her refusing to take her medications as prescribed, the horrid words she used and still uses against you…

It’s becoming impossible to leave it at the back of your mind any longer. It’s taking up a lot of space in your psyche these days. 

“I think she meant well, Nat. I mean, she is right about one thing,” you stand up again, wanting to remove yourself from this suddenly far too vulnerable position. “We shouldn’t only feel love on our birthdays. We should feel celebrated all the time.”

“Y/n.” Her voice is assertive as she stands up to meet you. “You don’t need to try and defend her, especially if it hurts you that she never gave you a fucking birthday party.” She shakes her head in utter confusion, and you can feel the irritation from her over how you still manage to find it necessary to defend your mom. It’s ingrained in you to do that, though. A trait you’re slowly unlearning as things come to light. “I can’t make sense of a lot of things your mom does to you, but especially that.”

“I know, it’s just…” You’re keeping your voice as quiet as you can. She’s asleep, on the opposite end of the apartment, but still. You can’t risk her hearing what the two of you are talking about. “I’ve gotten used to it, I guess. It’s been my whole life, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for me.”

“Just because you’re used to it,” she says, thankfully matching your low volume, placing a loving hand on your shoulder. “Doesn’t mean it doesn't hurt.”

She’s right. Fuck. She’s always right.

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Nat successfully convinced you to make a quick run to the mall to find something nice to wear tonight. 

“You deserve to feel pretty for your first ever birthday party,” she told you. 

So, here you are, galavanting across Briarwood Mall in Ann Arbor, searching for a store that strikes your fancy. The only one so far being Alter’d State. You’re almost sure there isn’t one of these within a hundred miles of your childhood home, so this is the first time you’ve seen this renowned clothing store in person. 

But once you look at the price tag of the first top you see, you’re tempted to get the hell out. A bit out of your price range, to say the very least. 

“Keep looking,” Nat insists, clearly picking up on your (apparently very obvious) hesitations. “Don’t let one price scare you. There’s a lot to look at.”

You spend a good amount of time shuffling through the racks, convincing yourself that none of these things could possibly work for you. 

But the hard truth of the matter; you’re just buying time so you don’t have to do the scary inevitable— trying something on.

Everything that Nat has shown you, you’ve found some reason to not want to try it on. 

The fabric is too scratchy, you can’t afford it, it’s not your ‘vibe.’ Basically, you’ve been searching for any excuse you possibly can to avoid the ever daunting dressing rooms. 

And now, as you’re turning down the probably tenth item she’s shown you, you can sense her frustrations with you. Though, in true Natalia fashion, she handles it with pure grace and care. 

“Tell me what you are looking for, what you’ll feel good in.” She puts the dress she found back on the rack she pulled it from. “Give me an idea of what you want and I’ll help you the best I can. But you’ve got to give me something to go off of, because you’ve hated everything I’ve shown you.”

If you’re honest, you have no clue what you’re looking for. Well, aside from something you can hide your body beneath, but Nat won’t allow for that. 

So, as you’re glancing around the store, you finally see something that catches your eye. A lovely corset tank top, reminiscent of the corset in your red Guiniverre dress. But, this top is a pretty periwinkle color, and it’s nearly full lace. (Which makes you think of your other Guiniverre costume.) 

It’s not something you’d ever be able to picture yourself in, but you’re drawn to it, nonetheless. 

“I think I like this,” you say to Nat as you walk over to take it from the rack. And to your amazment, your size is the one hanging closest to you. A sign? 

Nat gasps when you take it, speed walking to you. “This is so fucking cute, y/n! Do you want to try it on?” 

Fuck no. 

“Yeah, guess I should,” you say, deciding it’s probably best to answer that way instead of the way your brain wants you to.

“You know what would look good with this?” 

Someone with a better body? 

“What are you thinking?” You inquire. 

“A good ass pair of dark wash jeans. Maybe even black jeans, with a mom fit.” 

Fucking jeans. Dear Jesus. 

She drags you around the store to find her exact vision until she stumbles upon the very jeans she had pictured in her mind. You feel like you could puke when she asks you what size you wear. 

But instead of telling her, you lightly nudge her aside to look for yourself. And just like the tank top, your size is the very first one on the rack. Weird. 

As much as you despise jeans, you’re somehow feeling the same attraction to these faded black ones that you felt towards the periwinkle top. They’re really fucking cute, and the baggier ‘mom’ fit is far more appealing than the horrid skinny jeans you used to wear in high school. Gag. 

“These are perfect. Get over there and try these bitches on,” Nat tells you, pointing to the wooden dressing room door directly behind you.

The attendant lets you in, and when you shut the door behind you, your every fear of these damned things are becoming realized. 

And a big reason why you hate them so much— the giant ass mirror that you’re forced to face your reflection in. 

Why can’t you just be confident all the fucking time? It’s not like you completely lack it; it just presents itself at the most random times. Or, when you’re with Jake, when whatever powers he possesses over you force the confidence out of you, allowing you to do what you did to him the other night when he took you home. (That you have not stopped thinking about since.)

But, right now, you’re having one of those other moments, the ones that are full of loud thoughts of self doubt, of self destruction. And while Nat’s intentions are good, you’re finding it hard to allow someone else to help make these kinds of decisions for you. Especially someone as perfectly and beautifully built as Natalia Delores.

The thoughts are keeping you frozen solid before this huge mirror under the most invasive, bright fluorescent lighting. (Why can’t they use more forgiving lighting in these things?)

Get out of your head, y/n.

A knock on the door lulls you out of your fearful stiffness. “Have you tried them on yet?” Nat says, her sweet voice beckoning you to get over this massive bout of anxiety. “Come out and let me see!” She continues. 

“One sec,” you tell her, taking a deep breath in order to muster the inner courage necessary to face this (ridiculous) fear. 

You can’t even remember the last time you were inside of a dressing room, trying on something new, something so far out of your comfort zone. 

But, if you can be on film in a number as revealing as your little black lace ensemble, you can certainly do this. You feel so silly that this is so ridiculously hard for you, when you’ve done much more in front of a group of people and a camera.

Thankfully, the corset top is equipped with padding in the chest, so a bra isn’t necessary with it. Once you remove your crewneck and bra, you take the corset and as quickly as you can, (so you can’t over fucking think this anymore) you unlace the back and pull it on over your head. 

Yet again, you’re frozen in your fear. You’ve not even laced the back yet, not even so much as looked in the damn mirror. You’re terrified to look and find yourself hating it. 

In fact, you’ve already made it up in your mind that it’s going to look horrible, so what’s the point in looking? Why even bother with it when…

“Y/n! Get your cute ass out here and let me see!”

Ugh.    

You want to see yourself before she sees you, so with a silent three, two, one countdown, you look up and face the formidable mirror.

The first thing you notice isn’t your body… It's the color of the shirt. You instantly note how flattering this shade is against your skin, how it compliments your hair. It looks good…?

You half-assedly tighten the laces in the back, not bothering to perfect it at the moment. 

Then, your focus switches to your arms, one of your least favorite parts about yourself. While they’re on full display, something you try not to allow for, you have to admit to yourself that they don’t look too bad. And, with as chilly as the weather has been these days, there’s nothing saying you can’t throw on your pleather jacket for warmth and security. 

But, you don’t hate the way your arms look.

That’s a first. 

With one item officially out of the way, you’re feeling a little better about the whole thing, a bit more confident to try on the jeans that are undoubtedly a lot scarier for you. But with the top being a pretty decent success, trying on the jeans suddenly feels less intimidating.

You remove your leggings, one leg at a time, before taking the jeans and undoing the button and zipper. 

When you put the first leg in, you let out a sigh of relief when you find how easy it is to slip your leg through. The next leg is just as easy, too. 

But now, it’s the moment of absolute truth. 

Sucking in as hard as you possibly can, (though you quickly discover that isn’t entirely necessary, you still do it. Force of habit.) you attach the loop to the button, then slowly pull the zipper up. They fit. And they fit really well. This is the first pair of jeans you’ve tried on if god knows how long. 

As you examine the way they look on your body, being sure to check every angle of yourself that you can, you’re shocked at how good they look on you. The legs are a comfortable, loose fit, but they fit snugly (not too snug) around your hips and ass. And they make your ass look incredible. 

You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been standing here until Nat very loudly clears her throat, your reminder to show her the completed look she helped you pick out. 

“Coming!” You announce as you get one final glance in before letting her see.

Her jaw drops the moment you step out of the tiny room, her eyes scanning up and down your body as you walk through the door. 

She still hasn’t said a word. You haven’t a clue what the fuck that means, because you’ve yet to witness a silent Natalia since the day you met her. 

Does she hate it? Does she love it? You feel awkward as hell standing before her with her completely quiet like this. It’s making you wonder if the whole thing truly looks like shit on you, or if you’re just not meant for clothes like this.

“Well? What do you thi–”

“Why the fuck don’t you wear things like this more often?” She interrupts, garnering the attention from the rest of the damn store as she does so with a vibrant voice, your embarrassment is palpable in your anxious laughter. 

She silently apologizes to each passerby with a timid wave of her hand before she (a little more calmly) continues. 

“You look hot as fuck babe,” she says, walking closer to you to get a better look. “Seriously, why don’t you wear things like this?” She asks again.

The blush rises to your cheeks at her compliments. You’ve never had real friends, let alone a friend to build you up like this. Your own mother doesn’t even bother to lift you up the way Nat does, and you’ve only known her for a mere few months, versus your whole life with your mom.. 

“I’m just having a hard time with—” Feeling out of control, letting myself eat, hating my body, wishing I looked like you. “Just a bit insecure, I guess. But I love this outfit. Do you think it’s okay for the party?”

She knows you, and she can tell you’re not saying what you truly want to say. How do you even articulate what you’ve been feeling as of late? That you’ve suddenly relapsed and reverted back to your old eating habits? Or, lack thereof, rather….It’s like it never left. It’s been dormant within you, waiting for the perfect trigger to wake it back up.

Though, you can’t figure out what triggered it. Your dad leaving? Your mom? The move? The film project? Stacy and her perfect, gorgeous frame that caught Jake’s attention long before you did? God, you want to forget about her. But you can’t. She won’t stop coming around and if you want to keep whatever the fuck it is you have with Jake, you need to look your best. 

“It’s perfect,” you hear Nat say amidst your swirling mind. “And you better fucking wear it. No giant ass sweater that swallows up all of this.” She playfully taps your ass, acting as if it’s so hot that it burnt her fingertips. 

“I promise I’ll wear it,” you chuckle. “No giant ass sweaters.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The last chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ has at last come to an exuberant end, with Josh throwing a few dramatically loud vocal runs on the last note to be sure his is the last voice heard at the end of the classic tune.  

Thank goodness you share a birthday with Malachi, so you’re not standing in front of everyone by yourself as they serenade you, this being the first time you’ve ever been serenaded on your birthday. (You’re kind of glad you’ve not had to experience this torture every year; it’s awkward as hell.)

It seemed Malachi could sense your discomfort throughout the whole thing, so he kept his arm wrapped around your shoulder until the song ended, squeezing you every so often so you knew he was there with you. 

And Jake could sense it, too. He smiled at you the entire time, winking when they vehemently sang your name after Malachi’s and you could feel the warm blush painting your cheeks. 

The party has been far more than you could’ve ever imagined. Josh, being the master designer he is, spared no cost when decorating their apartment for yours and Malachi’s shared birthday bash. 

It’s truly so beautiful, not that you expected anything less from Josh. You and Malachi both have an adoration for plants, and this being something Josh also loves, there’s no shortage of greenery flowing throughout the space. (More than usual, that is.) He’s even put together little potted succulents for everyone to take home. 

Aside from the vines and ivy splayed throughout the apartment, there are balloons galore of white and green floating freely, along with a few clear ones complete with wildflowers inside them. 

And, your favorite part; your very own birthday cake, decorated in sage and white with “Happy birthday, y/n!” in off white buttercream, written in perfect calligraphy on the top. 

It's so incredibly sweet that you and Malachi both have your own, personal birthday cakes, that Josh made sure you both feel special tonight. It’s all so much more than you could’ve ever asked for, right down to the gorgeous spread of sushi along the bar in the kitchen. 

Though, as if they can pick and choose when to weave their way in, the thoughts are yelling at you to not partake in the incredible dinner that’s been provided for the night once Josh invites everyone to the kitchen to come eat. 

You want to eat. God knows you do. But, the voice telling you not to is nearly overpowering the hunger you’re feeling. You’d spent all day convincing yourself that the turkey sandwich from earlier was more than enough to sustain you for the day. (Though, you know that isn’t true.)

You’ll feel guilty if you eat, you’ll feel guilty if you don’t eat…but choosing to not eat would perhaps raise a few questions that you’re not in any place to answer right now. 

So, what the fuck do you do? You’ll be miserable no matter what, but what will make you the least miserable? 

Your silent contemplation seems to have garnered a bit of attention from Josh, his gentle touch to your forearm dragging you away from your thoughts. 

“You okay, darling?” His sweet voice, quiet and unassuming, is just what you needed to help make up your mind.

You’ll eat, but only a little. Not enough that your stomach will feel full and bloated, but enough that you can show Josh the gratitude he deserves for putting all of this together for Malachi and you. 

“Just fine, Josh,” you confirm with a genuine, sincere smile. “Thank you so much for all of this. I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.” 

He cloaks his arm around your shoulder, similarly to the way Malachi did just moments ago, melting a sense of comfort into your body. “You’re deserving of all of it and then some, my dear.” 

And with that, he leads you arm in arm to the kitchen, as though he could hear the burgeoning thoughts you were struggling with, knowing you needed someone to go with you. 

“Nat told me, by the way,” he says, handing you a plate as he begins filling his own with a few spider and rainbow rolls.

“Told you what?” You unknowingly ask as you scour the spread for the California. 

“That this is the first birthday party you’ve ever been thrown,” he admits through a warm, tender smile. “We really wanted to make this special for you, my brothers and I. And Natalia, of course. I certainly hope it’s met your expectations,” he winks, nudging you softly with his shoulder. 

“It’s beyond my expectations, Josh.” The words are a little choked, your throat becoming tightened due to the tears welling in your ducts. It does feel special. So special. The fact that they would go through so much, simply to make sure you felt included. After a lifetime of feeling utterly invisible, this whole thing is wildly new to you— new in the most wonderful way. 

The emotions are rising, though you’re able to swallow them down. But, Josh can tell it means a lot to you. He simply smiles, planting a sweet kiss to your temple as he finishes filling his plate.

“But, I must admit,” you begin, sniffing away the last of the tears that tried to form. “A giant ass sushi bar is a bit cliche, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ah, right you are,” he says. “This is not the meal fit for a queen, is it?”

You both break out in a fit of giggles together, and you’ve finally found the damned California rolls. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re one of those people,” he scoffs, watching as you put a few on your plate. 

“What do you mean, one of those people?” You ask, chuckling. 

“Those who only eat that fake sushi,”  he jests. “If you can even call it that.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The drinks have been flowing freely for the better half of the evening, lively chatter now filling the air after a few intense rounds of charades. 

Something you weren’t prepared for (though you absolutely should’ve been) was the sheer amount of competitiveness between the twins. And that was very apparent when they both got more than a little carried away during the last round, nearly getting physical with each other. 

But, things have since quieted down, and now it’s almost as if nothing had happened in the first place. They’re right back to joking around with each other, laughing almost as loud as they were yelling only moments ago. 

You're always left in sheer awe by the way these two can fight as though they wish the other dead, then seemingly forget about it a few minutes later when they’re completely back to normal. 

“How about a little game of never have I ever?” Josh questions. “I’m up for some revealing truths tonight,” he chuckles while positioning himself on Malachi’s lap, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you and Jake behave your-fucking-selves,” Danny answers, laughter sounding throughout the room at his quick wit. 

“We always do, Daniel,” Jake remarks, walking back into the living room with his freshly topped off drink. “Couldn't imagine what you’d be talking about,” he finishes, sarcastically.

He takes his seat in the Nova Lounge chair, while you’re nestled in the plush cushions in the corner of their sectional next to Danny and Natalia. The way Jake is sitting, he’s directly across from you, perfectly within your view and you in his. (This certainly feels familiar…)

He’s hardly spoken to you tonight, save for a quick peck to your cheek when you walked in and when he told you you’ll receive your gift from him on your actual birthday. (It’s pure torture to have to wait an entire week to know what he got you.)

You’re learning to not take his distance too personally when you’re around everyone, though it does sting a bit. At least Stacy isn’t here tonight to take up all of his attention like last time. (Thank god for that.)

“We’ll behave. Won’t we, Jacob?” Josh insists, lifting his glass in a dramatic ‘cheers’ to his twin, who does the very same thing. “So, who’s the brave soul willing to go first?” 

Everyone is exchanging glances around the room, waiting for someone to volunteer, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Sam offers to be the first one. 

But the relief suddenly dissipates when you and Jake make eye contact, and you can tell by the way he’s rubbing his chin with his pointer finger that he has something to say. 

“No, I believe y/n should go first,” he claims, his attention entirely on you by this point. “What do ya say? Up for the challenge?” He continues, a self-satisfied grin on his lips. 

You’re most definitely not too keen on going first but, you’re also not willing to make yourself look bad by turning him down. So, you’ll do it. Get it over with.

“Sure am,” you respond to Jake, mirroring the same smug look he’s wearing on his face. “Are we doing the classic put a finger down if you have, taking a drink instead?”

“Definitely taking a drink,” Sam says through one of his notable giggles. 

“Got it,” you say, switching your attention back to Jake as he stares your way. “And, um, just how personal are we getting with these prompts?” 

Jake nearly chokes on his drink after you ask your question, and while you manage to contain your laughter, Josh and Sam most definitely do not. 

“Whoa there, Jakey!” Josh exclaims, eyes wide and mocking as he brings his hand up to his mouth. “I thought you could handle your whiskey a little better than that!” 

“Yeah,” Sam joins in, hardly able to speak through his incessant chuckling. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to drink it, not inhale it.”

But even amidst his brother’s joking antics, Jake’s devilish eyes haven’t left you, and the only ones who seem to notice this (aside from you, of course) are Natalia and Danny. 

His brothers remain oblivious, and Jake doesn’t seem to care too much about them making fun of him, which is quite out of his character. Clearly, what you said has struck some kind of nerve within him. And you’re absolutely relishing in this power you’re holding. 

“Uh, as personal as you want, I guess,” Danny interjects, breaking the tension he and Nat are sensing and effectively lulling Jake from his silent glares.

“That’s right,” Jake continues Danny’s thought, flipping a middle finger at his brothers, but aside from that choosing to mostly ignore them. “You set the stage, doll.” 

Doll. 

Fuck. You can’t deny what that little pet name does to you. And he knows that. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying to regain his control over you, (doing a pretty good fucking job at it) but you have an idea of what you can do to get it back.

Two can play at that game, Jake. 

You won’t get too intimate, but just enough that it’ll force a reaction out of Jake.

“Okay,” you begin, pretending to be deep in thought about the first prompt, though you know just how to start this whole thing. “Never have I ever given someone a lot of hickies.” 

Keeping your eyes fixed on Jake, he winks at you as he takes a big drink. You don’t even bother looking around the room to watch anyone else take a sip, though you’re sure at least a few of them are. It may not be the most revealing prompt, although that wasn’t entirely your goal. You knew asking this would ignite a specific memory in Jake, and it appears it worked just how you intended.

“Ah, what a lovely start,” Josh inserts, unaware of the growing tension occurring between you and his twin. “Who’s nex–”

“My turn,” Jake interrupts, cutting his brother off. “Never have I ever received a lot of hickies.” The prompt flies out of his mouth seemingly without a second thought.

Touché, Jacob. Touché. 

You snicker to yourself while you make sure to take a sip of your drink. His eyes have become a little heavier, darker… like they were both nights he decorated your body with the very same hickies you’re referencing. 

And now, as the two of you have your eyes set on eachother, the rest of the room is finally catching on to whatever you have going on between you. You hear Josh clear his throat, attempting to move on from this (sexually) tense air you two have brought in the room. 

“Uh… next?” Josh hesitantly asks, exchanging a few confused looks with Sam. 

“I’ll go!” Nat offers after a bit of delicate silence in the room, bringing everyone’s attention back to the game. 

Well, almost everyone. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The night has finally begun to calm down, and Josh proposed the wonderful idea to prepare some hot chocolate and relax with a movie. This is his favorite way to end any night, and you couldn’t love that more about him.

As everyone knows, Josh is perpetually in charge of choosing the movie you’ll watch when he’s here, so no one says much of anything when he asks for requests. 

“Anyone in opposition to a little hair-raising thriller this lovely eve?” he asks, using the Roku to pan over to their shared Prime account. When no one voices any objections, he clicks through their purchased movies, stopping at The Shining. 

Being the Kubrick fan you’ve discovered him to be, you’re not shocked in the least. More often than not, movie nights at the Kiszka’s almost always result in a film under his direction.  

Not that you’ve felt the need to complain; you’re quite the fan yourself. And of this movie, especially.

“Ah! Splendid choice,” Sam shouts from the kitchen, pouring himself yet another glass of Camarena, choosing that instead of the hot cocoa you’ve all opted for. “This one should make y/n happy.” 

Oh fuck. 

Suddenly, a flood of anxiety ripples through you, tightening your lower stomach into hundreds of tiny knots when you realize what he’s referring to…

Sam knows about your tattoo. Your Shining tattoo. And Jake knows about your tattoo, as well.

But Jake doesn’t know that Sam knows. In fact, you’re the one who told him as much. You are the one who lied to him.

You're hoping to god that Jake, by the grace of the entire universe, didn’t hear what he said. And if he did, that he won’t put the pieces of this insane puzzle together.

But, given the instant flare of his nostrils and the sudden clench of his jaw, it’s all but confirmed. 

He heard. And his mind is going exactly where you were hoping it wouldn’t. 

“And what makes you say that, Sammy boy?” He asks with a stern, knowing tone. His body is facing Sam, but his eyes, hard and dark, are fixed on you. His glaring stare is piercing through your being, and it is not a happy one.

“This has got to be one of y/n’s favorite movies,” Sam proclaims, the alcohol in his system keeping him from reading the tense, irate tone in Jake’s voice. (Or, maybe he’s just used to it by now, doesn’t think to bat an eye at it anymore.)

“Uh huh,” Jake huffs, keeping his eyes on you while running his tongue angrily over his bottom lip. “Am I to presume that’s what she told you?” 

He knows. He fucking knows.

“Well, not exactly,” Sam answers, his features encompassed in his innocent smile, taking a big swig of the honey toned liquid in his glass and spitting out the ice cube that passes his lips. 

You’re almost sure Jake can hear the erratic beat of your heart. You’re holding your breath, keeping it locked tight in your lungs, afraid that letting it go will result in Sam revealing your secret. 

But it’s not working. Not one bit.

Sam takes a breath as he begins to speak, and you’re mentally pleading with him to keep quiet, hoping that he’ll somehow hear the voice in your mind that’s begging him to not say it.

“She’s got that Redrum tattoo on her chest, so I assume that means she’s a pretty big fan. Am I right, y/n?”

Jesus Christ. 

Jake hasn’t stopped glaring at you, only becoming heavier in his vexed stare. His anger is very much evident by the change in his breathing, the sharp air inhaling and exhaling through his flexed nose. 

“No way!” Josh interjects, obviously blind at the sudden tension between you and his twin. “I would love to see it!”

“Don’t you dare,” Jake mutters through gritted teeth, silent enough that it’s hardly legible, but you heard it as it was only meant for your ears.

There’s no fucking way in hell that you’re about to show them all your biggest secret. It’s bad enough that Sam had to announce it the way he did, especially after you swore to Jake that no one, specifically Sam, knew about it. 

You’ve been horribly caught in your lie. A lie that you didn’t even mean to lie about; it just happened, as if you had no control over the response you gave him. You can’t be blamed. It was in the heat of a moment that you had waited for for so long. You didn’t want to risk fucking it all up.

If he were to ask you any other time, you wouldn’t have lied the way you did. It just felt like the right thing to say in that specific moment.

But you’ve a feeling the tattoo isn’t what Jake is thinking about; it’s the fact that he now probably thinks you lied about way more than just that. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“It’s not what you think, Jake.” The words fall from your mouth before you can even close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah?” He challenges, throwing his phone on his bed, but with such force that it bounces off the mattress completely and lands screen first against the floor. But that is very clearly the least of his worries right now, as it seems he didn’t even notice his phone taking a tumble. “Tell me what I’m fucking thinking, then. Since you know so well what’s going through my mind.” 

He’s not yelling. But you almost wish he was. 

The deep grovel in his voice is coming from a place of pure anger, perhaps even hurt?

God, you hope not.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” you insist, maintaining your innocence with your stern tone and eye contact. 

“Then explain how he knows.” He quickly paces across the room back toward his bed, kicking his phone out of his way. “And I would like to know why you felt the need to lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to, I just…” How do you even begin to explain your thought process? That you wanted to fuck Sam to get to him? That the only reason his brother is privy of your tattoo is because you were willing to go to the ultimate length with him, all for the purpose of making Jake jealous? 

No. He can’t know about that. 

Although…

You hate to admit, but you’re kind of enjoying this jealous streak from him. How his cheeks have become flushed in a bright red, the way his nose is twitching, his hard and stern features that carry the weight of a man deprived… 

You didn’t sleep with Sam. You and Sam both know that. 

But Jake…

He thinks you did. 

And instead of tripping all over yourself in an attempt to tell him the pathetic story of what actually happened, you may as well keep him on this jealous leash for a bit longer. See how far you can take it, how far he’ll let you take it. 

Perhaps he’ll take his little envious, self loathing party out on you. 

He doesn’t own you. You’re nothing “exclusive.” What you choose to do (or not to do) with your body is none of his fucking business. He isn’t allowed a say. And his pissy fucking attitude is absolutely unwarranted. 

But however unwarranted, you can’t deny what his angry demeanor does to you… 

It turns you on in ways you can’t explain. His body language is always sexy to you. But when he’s mad…

“He just saw it. Simple as that,” you spout, keeping your tone cold and composed, your arms crossed tight over your chest. “The night of the spookhou—sorry, haunted house, before you had to take me home. Sam just wasn’t in any condition to drive that night, that’s why you had to.” 

It’s not a lie. 

But perhaps what it implies is. There are a few tiny details you’ve purposely opted to leave out, a few you’ve chosen to embellish…but you’re not lying. 

“That so?” You can see the gears turning in his mind as he’s staring blankly at his bed in front of him, keeping his arms closely held against his sides. “Care to tell me how he saw it?” He continues, looking back over to you as you’re still standing near the closed door. “And you have yet to tell me why you fucking lied to me about it.”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you carefully contemplate your next words, knowing that what you’re planning to say could potentially set him off. (But in the best way.)

“Guess I didn’t see the need in telling you what really happened, you know, since I’m not yours to claim.” 

Even you tense up at your statement, and the way his body has suddenly stiffened tells you that your words did exactly what you intended them to do. 

True as it is, that you aren’t his, (although you desperately wish you were) you only said it to get even more of a rise out of him, to test him in brand new ways, see how far he’ll let you take it.

You’re not lying, so there’s no actual validity in his accusations, but fuck…the veins in his arms are making your pussy ache with pure fucking need for him. 

And his jealousy is clearly backed with a need for you, or else he wouldn’t give a fuck about Sam seeing your hidden ink.

“How do you think he saw it, Jacob? Seriously, I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.” 

He aggressively pushes his hair out of his face, dampened with irate sweat, before glaring at you with a vexed expression. His eyes are almost as dark and heavy as they were that night, the first time his fingers made home inside of you. And fuck, the things it’s making you feel…for him to look at you like this again. Like the night in his Rover…

“Fuck you, y/n,” he spits through the beginings of a smirk that he’s attempting to hide.

You should be fucking pissed at the disgusting words he dares to speak to you, but the feelings they elicit throughout your being only cause your need for him to grow even stronger.  

He’s being an asshole. But all it’s doing is lighting the flames of your desire ten fucking fold. 

You’ve come to learn that the shit that comes out of his mouth, the rude shit he says to you, comes from a place of pure lust, of absolute need.

You can see it in his eyes— the way he’s breathing through his nose, the very obvious tension in his body that clearly needs relief in some way. 

And it’s as though he’s not even trying to hide it. His body is speaking the words his mouth refuses to. You can tell by the way his eyes scan over your body, and how he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth each time he does. 

There’s a chance he’s in need of it as badly as you are. It’s built up inside of him; it’s been built up. 

The way he talks to you, it just…

It doesn’t piss you off the way it used to, doesn’t make you feel worthless anymore. 

It does something different to you now. After that night with him, after filming when he got so upset over your scene with Sam, it changed everything for you. 

Now, when he’s angry like this, you know there’s something different behind it.

So, the only thing you can confidently think of to respond…

“Fuck me? Seriously, Jake?” You assert, crossing your arms across your chest, pushing your breasts up in the process. His eyes follow. You take a few steps towards him, the room silent as your next words leave your lips. “I wish you fucking would.” 

You’re not sure where this rush of confidence came from, or what it is about Jake that brings it out of you. But you really love this version of yourself, and it seems that he enjoys it, too. 

The look on his face is one that you’ll keep burned in your memory for as long as you live. The heaviness encompassing his eyes, the kind that is derived from a deep, animalistic desire, and the complete shock mixed with eagerness present in his features at your brash statement.

You opt to remain silent, standing resolute before him, unwavering and silently daring him to accept your challenge.

And when a smug grin teases the surface of your lips, he can’t help but mirror the same expression. But, his smile is fleeting, only lasting long enough for you to see the adoration he carries for you beneath his gruff sur. 

“On the bed,” he demands, snapping his pointer finger toward the black, satin covered mattress. Your knees become weakened at his command, at the way his arm flexes as he gestures to the bed. And all you desire is to obey his every order but, what’s the fun in giving in right away? You’ve tested him thus far, single handedly forced him to vocalize his need for you. Who says you can’t test him a smidge further? You want him nice and (very) worked up. 

You stop yourself from fully submitting yourself (as bad as you desperately want to. God, the things he makes you feel), choosing to keep yourself in a firm stance, arms still crossed over your chest, being sure your boobs are peaking above your arms. 

He’s most definitely privy to your (very much fake) resistance, and just as you knew it would, it’s only provoking him further. 

Yet another knowing smirk splays across your lips as he does the same, knowing exactly what you’re doing. 

“I said on the bed,” he gestures once more to the bed, keeping his haughty eyes on your now incessantly trembling body. “Now.” 

As much as you’d like to keep this little game going, you can’t deny it any longer. Your body is beginning to betray your facade, and you just can’t keep looking at him and not feel the unmeasurable urge to let him ravish you the way you’ve needed for a long ass fucking time now. 

With an almost embarrassing speed, your body falling apart at the deep whispered rasp in his voice, you at last give into his delicious order. 

He watches in satisfaction as you practically throw yourself against the mattress, laying your body down in a way that shows off your curves that you’ve always hated, but somehow you’re finding the urge to display yourself before him. 

And you can tell he fucking loves it.

“Lying is punishable, don’t you agree?” He saunters toward the bed, slow and purposful steps in your direction as your heart begins pounding inside your chest. “But punishable to what extent is the question, I suppose.” 

“Very punishable,” you confirm, gripping your breast and letting your legs slowly fall open. “And I think the extent is up to your discretion, sir.” 

There’s something new in his eyes, something dark and hungry. He comes to the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of you by the ankles and roughly pulling you closer so that your legs are dangling off the mattress. “You just might regret that, little doll.” 

He runs his hands up your legs, squeezing your thighs, trailing up them until they find the button fly of your jeans. He undoes the button then the zipper, taking his time, then pulling them off of you at a speed that you nearly can’t comprehend. 

Throwing them somewhere across the room, he sits next to you, feet planted on the floor. “Come here,” he says, patting his thighs. 

The pulsing need in your cunt, along with the sexy, demanding tone he’s using against you has you moving to straddle him without hesitation. 

“Nope.” He takes your arm, stopping you before you can get settled.“I want you over my knee.”

He snickers at you when you suck in a sharp breath at his demand, fighting against the urge to completely submit to him. You have to find it in you to keep testing him, because you’ve loved where it’s gotten you thus far. Pushing your limits with him…it’ll only get you exactly what you most desire. 

So, as much as you want to position yourself over him right away, you chose to stall a little. And when you see the dark glisten in his eyes, you know your little scheme is working out just as you intended. 

“What’s the wait, my pretty doll?” His thumb and index grab hold of your chin, pulling your lips closer to his only to tease you with the promise of a kiss. “Can’t take a little reprimand?”

“I can take it,” you retort, chasing his lips only for him to back away completely, his eyes suddenly not so dark and heavy.

“I want to establish something first,” he starts, taking the ends of your hair laying over your shoulder, twisting them between his fingers. There’s a bit of a change in his deameanor, something softer. Almost as though he’s removed the mask he’s been wearing since you stepped foot in his bedroom. “I need to be sure you’re okay with everything. If at any point it’s too much, you must tell me, okay?” You nod your head as he lets go of your hair, brushing his knuckles along your arm. “I’ll ask you for your color. Green means keep going, red means stop. Use yellow if we need to slow down. I need your word that you’ll do this for me, doll. I don’t want you to be uncomfort-”

“I promise, Jake,” you interject, reaching for his hand and holding it tightly in yours. Your heart swells at his sentiment, though you know that he could never truly hurt you or put you in any position that you wouldn’t like. 

He smiles at you, warming your spirit. But then, as quickly as his disposition softened, the mask is back on and his eyes are craving something darker once again. “You promise, who?” He asks, cupping his hand over his ear, awaiting the correct way you’re meant to address him. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now. As you were, my doll.” He pats his legs again, and this time, you can’t find the strength to wait any longer for your punishment.

You lean down diagonally over his thighs, holding yourself up on your elbows and knees, ass held high in the air. 

“These are pretty,” he hums, smoothing his palm gently over your ass still clothed in your cheeky, sheer black panties. “I’ll sure miss them.”

“What do you me–” Before you can finish, he’s easily ripped them clean down the middle, leaving the pathetic reminemts on your body as most of your ass is now fully exposed. 

“You told me it was up to my discretion.” His palm gently collides with the uncovered surface of your ass, rubbing soft circles where it landed. “I just hope you know what lies ahead,” he whispers, leaning down so his lips brush against the shell of your ear. 

“I’m ready to find out, sir.”

You turn your head to look at him, seeing the satisfied smirk along his plump, pink lips. “There’s a tradition for birthdays, and I know it’s not quite yours just yet, but…” He lifts his hand, cracking down on your ass with a bit more force this time, jolting your forward. “I think you’re more than deserving of a little early, celebratory custom.” 

You do your best to suppress your grin, biting your lower lip to hide just how much you truly love this. But, you’re not surpised in the least when Jake catches on. “I don’t think you’re supossed to enjoy your punishment,” he jests with a devious smile. “Should’ve known better with you, doll.” 

He pulls his hand back once again as you brace yourself for another. But he waits an excruciatingly long period of time, building anticipation, making you squirm as his hand hovers over you. “Just when I think you can’t get any prettier…” 

He slaps your ass much harder this time, the sting left from his palm radiating throughout your entire body. “Color?” He asks, soothing where his hand landed. 

“Green, sir.” Your voice is shaky, but full of pure need. “Please, more.” 

“My naughty doll,” he sneers, lifting his hand to give you another. “Count them.”

You confirm that you understand, and after you suck in a sharp breath in eager suspense, his hand slaps your cheek again, just as piercing and deliberate as the last time. His other hand gathers your hair to hold in a tight ponytail, holding your head up in his steadfast clutch. 

“One…two…three…” 

He switches back and forth, slapping the left, then the right, yet still being intentional in soothing the tender flesh after each one to ensure you’re okay. 

“Four…five…six…”

He stops, delicately rubbing where your skin is sure to be bright red. “Color?”

“Gr-green, sir, green,” you stammer, arching your back the best you can to be on display for him. “I-I think I need a few more, just to be fair.” You turn over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him once again, to see his reaction to your near desperation for him to have his way.

“So filthy, doll.” 

“Seven…”

“You really shouldn’t like this as much as you do.” 

“Eight…”

You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as he keeps going, getting to ten before he decides you’ve had enough. (Though you know you can handle more, you’re ready for whatever else he’s going to give you.) 

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” He inquires, cocky, rubbing his hand over the sore skin. “Because the pretty pink color on your ass would certainly say you have.” His fingers then graze over your dripping pussy, causing you to tremble and whine beneath his light touch. You hear him tsk when he runs his hand along your inner thigh, feeling exactly how much you enjoyed his discipline. “You are a needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

With a slow, torturous glide, his middle finger enters you. His grip on your hair from his other hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you still as he thrusts his digit slowly, in and out. 

“F-fuck,” you sigh. 

It’s such a deliciuous, yet tortorous feeling when he stops, though he only stops long enough to add his ring finger alongside. Without much warning, he begins quickly pumping them in and out of you, the upward position of his hand allowing him to reach the very place that craves him. 

The hand holding your neck briskly moves to cover your mouth, as the sounds you're making are most definitely far too loud given there’s still a living room full of people just feet away. While you’re sure the music Josh is playing is enough to drown out most of the lewd sounds coming from behind Jake's door, you’re certain the wails coming from you would penetrate the volume in an instant if he wasn’t helping to muffle you. 

But just as you’re beginning to feel the onset of your relief, Jake stops, pulling out his fingers and slapping your ass so much harder than anytime before. 

“Jake!” You shriek, not from the sting, but from the absence of him inside of you. “No! Why the fuck did yo–” 

“Watch your mouth. You can wait,” he says, sharply. “You’ll get what you want. You always do.” 

He helps you up to sit on the edge of the bed, ripping off the rest of your tattered panties while he moves to stand in front of you. “And right now,” he utters, bending down so that he’s eye level with you, grabbing hold of your chin and swiping the pad of his thumb over your lips. “I have a better use for this back-talking mouth.” He pushes his thumb past your lips, sticking it in as far as he can as you make a show of sucking on it. When he pulls it out, dragging your lower lip, he replaces it with his tongue before deeply kissing you.

He leans back up to begin unbuttoning his dark gray linen pants, but you’re becoming frustrated with how slow he’s doing so. And judging by the pompous look on his face, he’s doing it on purpose.

Cheeky fucker. 

“Jesus,” you scoff, reaching out to help him finish the damn job. “Just let me do it.”

He moves his hands, holding them palm up at shoulder length as he allows you to take over. “My, my. Rather zealous, are we?” He clicks his tongue, his voice deep and gruff. “Don’t get used to this upper hand, doll.” 

You roll your eyes while you finish what he so obviously wanted you to finish, letting the linen material fall to his ankles. You scoot yourself up to the very edge of the bed, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him even closer to you. 

He accused you of being over zealous, and as much as you’d like to tease the fuck out of him right now in the same ways he did you, he’s absolutely correct. There’s no sense in waiting to give him what he wants, what you want. The way he’s straining so hard against the tight fabric of his black boxer briefs…your mouth is nearly watering at what lies beneath the thin material. 

You dip your fingers in the waistband and pull them down in one single, brisk motion. And though you recall his size from the night in his Range Rover, you’re still in utter disbelief. 

“Open for me,” he orders, dragging your lip down again with his thumb. “Remember your colors,” he says, teasing the tip against your tongue. “I’ll keep asking you, but if you can’t speak, pat my thighs.”

You nod your head, reaching up to take his length in your hand, but he smacks it away. “No, my doll. Only your mouth, just like last time,” he quietly utters, slipping himself in as far as he can until he’s pushing gently against the back of your throat as you softly gag. “What’s your color?” He questions, slowly pulling out all the way so that you can answer him. 

“Green, sir.” 

Looking down at you, those heavy, whiskey colored eyes staring into yours, he smiles sweetly before pulling your hair back. “Good.” Without him even having to ask, you eagerly open your mouth for him again. With an amused smirk, he thrusts himself back inside. He’s going slow, letting you taste him while you can feel every pulsing vein gliding on your tongue. 

He pulls away again, then begins thrusting in and out at a much quicker pace, stimulating your gag reflex each time he reaches the back of your throat. 

“Color?” He asks, pulling out quickly so that you can speak. 

“Green, green,” you hurriedly answer, wiping away the string of spit falling from your lips. “Please, keep going.” You hold your mouth open for him, looking up to him with pleading eyes. 

“Needy and greedy,” he sneers, holding your hair back even tighter as he slips back inside your mouth. “I like this version of you, doll.”

He fucks your mouth at a fierce pace, holding your head in place while he does so. “Keep looking at me with those pretty eyes, baby,” he tells you, slowing a bit to allow you to catch your breath. “Get it nice and wet, okay?”

He keeps going, and fuck, as hard as it is to keep your eyes open, you don’t want to miss the way he looks above you. His knitted eyebrows, the little praises he’s mouthing, how his eyes will close only for a moment out of pure pleasure before he looks back down at you. 

You feel him twitch inside of your mouth, pulsing and begging to be relieved. “F-fuck,” he stammers, pulling himself away from you before he lets himself finish. “Color?” He asks again, winded, sweat forming at his hairline.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath as you wipe away the saliva sticking to your face. “Green.”

His fucked out state, his half-closed, lidded eyes as he’s struggling to regain his composure… Jesus. It has to be one of the most stunning visions you’ve ever seen. He’s so fucking sexy all the time, but see him like this is your favorite look on him so far. As if your need for him wasn’t already deeply profound enough, it’s only increasing by the second. “Jake,” you mutter, lifting yourself up on your knees on the mattress, beckoning him closer to you. “Please, please fuck me. Don’t make me wai—“

“Hush,” he interrupts, leaving you to sit himself on the bed against the headboard. “Get over here, doll.” 

You decide to crawl yourself across the bed, making a slow show of it with your ass high up in the air. He’s layed out before you, one arm behind his head while the hand of the other is slowly stroking his hard cock, glistening wet from your mouth. “Gorgeous, doll.” He reaches for you as you get closer, pulling you on top so that you’re straddling his lap. The way he’s placed you has your clit catching the shaft of his cock, so warm and sturdy against you. It’s clear he’s intentional about his placement, not letting you have it all just yet, only the tiniest taste. 

Your eyes roll while you sigh at the sensation, wanting more than anything for him to be inside of you. His name leaves your mouth in a faint whisper, to which he only smirks as he reaches behind you to unlace the corset you're still wearing. “This is so lovely on you,” he mutters, pulling it off of you and mindlessly tossing it out of sight. His hands immediately grab both of your breasts, his thumbs grazing lightly over each perked nipple. “But I can’t stand not having my hands on these.” 

You can’t keep your body from grinding against him, chasing the feeling of him against your pulsing clit while he’s tweaking and pinching at your nipples. He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling you closer into him as his mouth reaches for your neck. You throw your head back, leaving the skin exposed for him as he licks and sucks hard, undoubtedly leaving behind the traces of him once again.  

“Mark me, sir,” you utter in a low voice, grinding harder and harder against him. “Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to.” 

“Yeah?” He hums into you, sucking on one spot rather fiercely, practically biting the skin before leaning back to marvel at his work. He lazily grins before licking from the base of your neck, along your jawline, stopping at your parted lips. “Sweet girl,” he whispers, kissing your mouth deeply. “Little doll needs everyone to know who owns her.”

“Sir, please,” you plead with him yet again. You’re feeling so frustrated, so desperate for him to fill you that you just don’t care how pathetic you sound at this point. “Please fuck me-“

“You want it so bad, huh?” He asks, his interruption a familiar, patronizing tone. “Show me, then.” He wraps his arms all the way around you, taking a fistful of your hair in one hand.  “Ride me.” 

Fucking hell, Jacob.

“Y-yes, s-ir,” you pathetically whisper, your trembling body and pure need for him making it difficult to form proper words.

He helps lift you up on your knees, just enough so that he can line himself up with your soaking entrance. “Look at me,” he says as you begin to lower yourself, gasping as you start to sink down, already feeling the stinging stretch from just the tip. “Go slow, doll. Take your time.” He takes hold of your face with both hands, keeping his eyes locked tight with yours as the two of you finally connect in the ways you’ve been craving since the first time your eyes caught sight of him. “There you go, doll. There you go. All the way down for me.” 

A myriad of choked whimpers fall from your lips when he’s finally inside of you, filling you, your walls cleaning and fluttering around him. After needing just a moment to adjust to him, you begin following his orders, carefully rolling and circling your hips, showing him just how badly you’ve needed this. 

It isn’t long before you find the perfect momentum, the most delicious pace that has him reaching so deep inside of you. Your body is shivering and vibrating, your skin heated with a fire that can only be lit by Jake. 

You feel him absolutely everywhere. 

“Fuck, y/n…goddamnit.” He grits his teeth, his cheeks flushed and hot.“You feel even better than I imagined.” He moves his hands to your hips, gripping them tight and helping you fuck yourself against him. Your pace quickens, your body instinctively moving in perfect rhythm with his as you let his hands guide you just where he needs you. 

“This,” he says, licking his thumb and swiping a slick line over your tattoo. “Is for my eyes only from now on. Got it?” He pulls your head back, leaning down to lick along the ink, gliding his tongue slowly along the curve of your breast. His lips pull at your nipple, tenderly kissing the sensitive bud. 

“Yes, sir,” you moan through a hitched breath. “Only you.” 

“Faster, doll. Harder,” he grunts, leading your bodies into a brutal pace. “Fuck me like you mean it, like you’ve waited so long to do.” He reaches around to slap you ass, then slapping and grabbing your breast with the same hand. “Show me just how fucking needy you are.”

He brings his index finger up to your mouth, pushing past your lips and onto your tongue as you suck on it. He then pulls it from you, reaching between your bodies and circling his wet finger around your clit. “Right there, sir…r-right there–” Your voice is stifled by his other hand covering your mouth, hushing your cries as your relief at last overtakes you. 

“All over my cock, doll. Just like that,” he mumbles, helping you slow your body still while you feel yourself making a mess on top of him. Your body jolts and shakes with each flutter of your pussy around him— it’s all the more heightened with him tucked inside of you as you reach utter bliss. 

He waits a moment to be sure you’re ready before carefully helping you up, the both of you hissing at the loss of contact when he lifts you off his cock. But, it’s a loss you won’t have to suffer for much longer. “On your knees, doll.” Though his voice is demanding, he’s still very intentional about helping you down to the floor, tenderly caressing your skin with every touch as he leads you where he wants. “Gonna let me cum in your sweet mouth?”

“Yes, sir,” you say, eagerly waiting for him to give you a taste. 

“So good for me.” He thrusts himself in your open and waiting mouth, but instead of taking it slow as he did before, he picks up to a quick pace almost immediately. He grips your hair, holding it back for you as you obey his no hands rule, letting him fuck himself into you as he pleases. He tastes like him, but mixed with you this time.

Just like earlier, he begins to twitch and pulse against your tongue, that look once again appearing on his features as he’s reaching his end. “God,” he mumbles. “Perfect cunt, perfect mou—fuck.” He begins to crumble when you gag around him, pulling back just a bit before you feel his warm release coating and sliding down your throat. “Take it for me, doll,” he gently commands, holding himself in your mouth until he’s given you all he’s got as you graciously recieve every drop. He’s caressing your face, giving your praise after praise for being such a good girl for him. 

When he pulls out, you hold out your tongue to show him that you’ve taken it all, just as he said. “You’re too fucking good for me,” he commends, bending down to help you up and on to the bed. He lays down beside you on his back, reaching for you and pulling you on top of him. 

Your hearts are racing in near perfect time with each other, your deep breaths in unison as you each bask in the embrace of your sweaty, heaving bodies. 

He’s holding you so tight, as though you’d somehow try and get away if he let go. Of course, that is the very last thing you’d want to do. If you could stay like this forever, the two of you laying stark naked in the soft embrace of the other, you would.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: ...thoughts? 🫣 i know- that was a lot. & we still have the next half of this chapter to go. there's so much yet to come. this is just the very beginning. i fear there's much more in store.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

National Alliance for Eating Disorders. Please reach out if you're struggling. You're worth it. 🤍

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @devilat-thedoor @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat t @ninas-tearsofrain @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara a @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul27

[muiitoloko]

hi!! I love your works, would it be possible for you to do one about Eli? Where he has one student that he likes the most but then (reader) starts new and he's immediately obsessed with her? And the other student gets super jealous but (reader) has no idea it's even going on

Title: Punctuality.

Summary: Punctual was everything you were not, Eli realized.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mention of teacher-student relationship, jealousy, obsession.

Author's Notes: Hey, sorry this isn't exactly what you asked for, but I just had to get this idea out of my head 😭 I've been mulling over it for weeks, and finally had the motivation to put it down on paper. Your request actually gave me the push I needed, so thanks for that!

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Eli Michaelson stood at the front of the lecture hall, his voice commanding and confident as he delivered his lecture on advanced organic chemistry. He relished the attention, especially from Elize, one of his favorite girlfriends. With her, things were straightforward — she wanted to be fucked, and he wanted to fuck. Their arrangement was mutually beneficial, until a new student disrupted the status quo.

You arrived late that day, looking older than the other students, about 27 years old. You shuffled in with a sheepish expression, an old backpack slung over your shoulder. Eli frowned slightly at the interruption but composed himself, deciding to assert his authority.

"Late on your first day, I see. What's your excuse?" Eli's voice was laced with thinly veiled annoyance as he addressed you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Eli's scrutiny as all eyes in the lecture hall turned towards you. "I'm sorry for being late," you began, your voice steady despite your nerves. "I got held up with an unexpected situation at work."

Eli raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And what is your name?"

"I'm [Your Name]," you replied, meeting his gaze with a hint of defiance. "I'm here to study chemistry."

Eli smirked, a touch of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well, Miss [Your Name], welcome to my class. I trust you'll catch up on what you missed. Take a seat."

You nodded, feeling the weight of Eli's dismissal as you quickly found an empty desk. You could sense the curiosity and judgmental glances from your new classmates, who were undoubtedly wondering about the older student who seemed out of place.

As the lecture continued, Eli's attention drifted back to Elize, who was sitting in the front row. He couldn't deny the allure of her gaze, the way she hung onto his every word with a mix of adoration and desire. Their relationship was uncomplicated — she satisfied his physical needs, and he provided her with fleeting moments of pleasure and affection.

But something about your presence lingered in Eli's mind. There was a depth to your eyes, a seriousness that was lacking in the younger students. He found himself stealing glances at you, observing your reactions to his lecture, and noting the furrow of your brow as you absorbed the complex material.

During a break, Eli approached you, his steps confident as he leaned against the edge of your desk. "So, Miss [Your Name], what made you decide to return to academia at this stage in your life?"

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze evenly. "I've always had a passion for chemistry. Circumstances just delayed my pursuit of it."

Eli nodded, studying you intently. "I see. Well, chemistry is a demanding field. Are you prepared for the challenges ahead?"

"I am," you replied firmly, your expression unwavering.

Eli chuckled softly, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Good. I like determination. It's a rare trait among my students. But don't be late any longer, okay?"

"Yes, sir, Professor, sir!" You responded with a wave, and Eli pursed his lips into a tight smile.

Over the next few weeks, you settled into the rhythm of Eli Michaelson's lectures. You were diligent in your studies, absorbing every bit of knowledge he imparted and excelling in your assignments. Despite your promising academic performance, punctuality remained a constant challenge.

One day, Eli found you rushing into the lecture hall, a harried expression on your face. He stood at the front, arms crossed with a look of disapproval.

"Late again, [Your Name]," he stated flatly, his voice cutting through the chatter of the students.

You hurried to your seat, flustered. "I'm sorry, Professor Michaelson. There was a traffic jam on the way here."

Eli sighed, shaking his head. "Traffic jam, unexpected meetings, a sick cat — your excuses are becoming increasingly imaginative. If you want to stay in my class, I expect you to be punctual."

"I understand, Professor," you replied earnestly. "I promise it won't happen again."

But despite your promise, the pattern continued. You were brilliant, a genius even, and you grasped the material effortlessly. However, the concept of punctuality seemed elusive to you. Eli grew frustrated, but he couldn't deny the brilliance you brought to the class.

Week after week, you pushed the boundaries of Eli's patience with your chronic lateness. On one particularly frustrating day, Eli intercepted you at the entrance of the lecture hall.

"[Your Name], this is becoming a habit," Eli said firmly, blocking your path. "What's your excuse this time?"

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. "I overslept, Professor. I lost track of time studying last night."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Studying? Interesting excuse. You're a talented student, [Your Name], but talent alone won't get you far if you can't manage basic timekeeping."

"I know, Professor," you said, hanging your head in shame. "I'm trying, I really am."

Eli regarded you for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "I believe you are. Just... try a little harder. You have potential, but you need to apply yourself consistently."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I will, Professor. I won't let you down again."

As the semester progressed, you made a concerted effort to improve your punctuality. There were still occasional slip-ups, but overall, you managed to strike a balance between your studies and your other commitments. Eli noticed the effort and gradually became more tolerant of your occasional lateness.

Eli wrote on the board, his attention focused solely on the task at hand until the sudden commotion in the lecture hall pulled him out of his reverie. He turned around, his curiosity piqued by the mention of a fire in the city center.

As he scanned the room, he noticed a group of students huddled together, their eyes glued to a cell phone screen. A sense of irritation prickled at the back of Eli's mind as he watched them, his disdain for distractions evident in the furrow of his brow.

But before he could reprimand the students for their lack of focus, you interrupted, your hand raised urgently in the air. Eli's irritation ebbed slightly as he turned his attention to you, curious about what you had to say.

"Yes, [Your Name]? Do you have something to add?" Eli's voice was clipped, his impatience evident as he addressed you.

"Professor Michaelson, please," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "I really need to go to the bathroom."

Eli's expression hardened, his annoyance palpable as he regarded you with thinly veiled disdain. "Can't it wait, [Your Name]? We're in the middle of a lecture."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the eyes of your classmates boring into you. "I... I must have eaten something bad," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I really need to go."

A ripple of laughter erupted from some of the students, and you could feel the heat of their judgment burning into your skin. Eli closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Fine," he relented, his voice heavy with irritation. "Go. But make it quick."

With a sense of relief washing over you, you hastily gathered your belongings and made a beeline for the exit, ignoring the snickers and whispers that followed in your wake. As you disappeared through the door, the lecture hall fell into a restless silence, the students turning their attention back to their cell phones and the latest news updates.

Eli watched you go, a mixture of annoyance and begrudging respect flickering in his eyes. Despite your constant tardiness and occasional disruptions, there was no denying your dedication to your studies. Perhaps there was more to you than met the eye.

As the students resumed their distracted chatter, speculation about the cause of the fire in the city center mingling with rumors of Spider-Man's imminent appearance, Eli rolled his eyes in exasperation. The hero worship surrounding the masked vigilante grated on his nerves, a constant reminder of the city's misplaced priorities.

With a sigh, Eli returned his attention to the lecture, determined to salvage what remained of the class despite the mounting distractions. But as he spoke, his thoughts drifted back to you, the enigmatic student who seemed to defy his expectations at every turn. There was something about you that intrigued him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

As the lecture drew to a close, Eli expected you to return, but the minutes passed and you didn't reappear. Uncharacteristically distracted, he dismissed the class, his thoughts lingering on your sudden departure. In his personal office that afternoon, Eli found himself preoccupied, absently staring out the window as Elize sat on his lap, kissing his neck.

"Why so distant today, Eli?" Elize's voice was playful, tinged with irritation. "What's on your mind?"

Eli sighed, torn between his curiosity about you and Elize's persistent affection. "It's nothing, Elize. Just thinking about a student."

Elize raised an eyebrow, her annoyance palpable. "Oh? The one who ran out to the bathroom during your lecture? You're really fixated on her, aren't you?"

Eli tensed slightly, his mind racing. "It's not like that, Elize. I'm just... curious."

Elize scoffed, a hint of jealousy coloring her tone. "Curious? You were never this interested in any of your students before, not her type at least. What's so special about her?"

Eli avoided her gaze, his thoughts scattered. "I don't know. There's just something... intriguing."

Elize shook her head, her frustration evident. "Maybe she was just stuck in the bathroom or something. It happens."

But before Eli could respond, he was drawn to the news that was playing on his TV. The reporter was talking excitedly about how Spider-Man had once again saved the day, rescuing people from a burning building. The footage showed Spider-Man in action, effortlessly swinging between buildings, saving civilians, and even helping to put out the fire with a fire hose.

"Spider-Man," Eli growled, his expression darkening as he watched the hero being revered by the whole city.

Elize noticed the change in his demeanor. "Why do you hate Spider-Man so much, Eli?" she asked cautiously. "Are you jealous of the attention he gets?"

Eli rolled his eyes, pushing Elize off his lap. "Leave, Elize," he snapped. "I'm not in the mood to fuck today."

Elize's eyes narrowed in anger. "You're always in the mood to fuck," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Not with you this time," Eli replied coldly, his gaze fixed on the TV screen. "Leave."

Elize huffed, her frustration evident as she got up from the couch and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath.

Alone again, Eli stared at the TV screen, his thoughts consumed by Spider-Man's heroic actions. He resented the fact that Spider-Man, the so-called friendly neighborhood hero, was adored by everyone while he, Eli Michaelson, a renowned chemistry professor and successful scientist, often felt underappreciated. The contrast between Spider-Man's public acclaim and his own more private achievements gnawed at him, feeding into his already deep-seated arrogance and narcissism.

With a heavy sigh, Eli turned off the TV and leaned back in his chair, his mind drifting back to you once again. He couldn't decipher why he was so fixated on you. Was he attracted to you? That much was a little obvious; you were his type. But there was more to it — you were a mystery, always arriving late, almost always interrupting class. Like today, when you went to the bathroom and didn't come back. Why didn't you come back?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Eli refocused on the task at hand. He had a class to teach, and despite his distracted state, he couldn't afford to let his students down.

The next morning, you woke up tired, your alarm blaring loudly, jolting you out of a fitful sleep. Groaning sleepily, you reached out to silence the noise, your body protesting the abrupt awakening. It felt like you had just closed your eyes before you were yanked back into consciousness. You sat up reluctantly, still dressed in your Spider-Man costume from the night before, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

With a heavy sigh, you stumbled out of bed, your limbs feeling leaden as you trudged towards the bathroom. The thought of a hot shower beckoned, promising to wash away the exhaustion clinging to your bones. But before you could even consider stripping off your costume, your phone rang, the shrill sound piercing the early morning silence.

Cursing under your breath, you shot a web to catch the phone, fumbling to answer the call. Squinting at the screen, you groaned when you saw it was a police alert — the bank was being robbed. Who robs a bank so early in the morning? Did bad people not sleep?

Despite your exhaustion, duty called. With a resigned sigh, you quickly checked your web-shooters, ensuring they were fully charged and ready for action. You didn't have time to waste; innocent lives could be at risk.

Frantically searching your cluttered apartment, you finally found your mask and quickly put it on. Becoming Spider-Man was a familiar transformation by now, one you had grown accustomed to. You grabbed your backpack, shoving everything you needed for class inside, and jumped out of the window of your apartment.

Swinging through the waking city of New York, you webbed your backpack onto a nearby building to retrieve later. You zipped through the air towards the location of the bank being robbed, your senses alert to any danger.

Arriving at the scene, you landed on a nearby rooftop and surveyed the situation below. The robbers were armed and had hostages. You knew you had to act fast. With a fluid motion, you swung down from the rooftop, landing silently amidst the chaos.

"Look, it's Spider-Man!" someone in the crowd exclaimed, their voice full of awe and relief. "Thank goodness you're here!"

You ignored the misidentification — it was easier to hide your identity if people thought Spider-Man was a man, not a woman. You focused on the task at hand, webbing the guns out of the hands of the robbers before they could react. With swift and precise movements, you incapacitated the criminals and freed the hostages, ensuring they were safely away from danger.

Within minutes, the police arrived to take the robbers into custody. You nodded at them, your job done for now. You glanced at your watch — you were definitely late for Professor Michaelson's class again.

Swinging back to the building where you left your backpack, you retrieved it and quickly changed out of your Spider-Man costume. You needed to get to class as quickly as possible.

Back in the lecture hall, Eli Michaelson paced back and forth, his impatience growing with every passing minute. The students were all seated, waiting for the lecture to begin, but one seat remained empty — yours.

"Late again," Eli muttered to himself, his frustration evident in his tone. He was about to start the lecture without you when the door burst open, and you hurried in, slightly out of breath but determined. "Late again, Miss [Your Name]," he stated flatly, his arms crossed as he addressed you. "What's your excuse this time?"

You hurried to your seat, setting down your backpack before turning to face him. "I'm sorry, Professor Michaelson. I got held up by some construction work on the highway."

Eli raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Construction work? Every time you're late, there's a new excuse. I'm starting to think you're making them up."

You shook your head, trying to catch your breath. "No, Professor, I promise it's true. There was a long line of cars backed up for miles."

Eli sighed, his impatience evident. "I understand life happens, but you need to find a way to manage your time better. This is becoming a habit."

"I know, Professor. I'm sorry," you replied earnestly, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Eli regarded you for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "I can appreciate dedication to your studies, but punctuality is a basic expectation. Are you having trouble with time management?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I'm doing my best, Professor. It won't happen again."

Eli's gaze narrowed, his voice firm. "It better not. You're a talented student, [Your Name], but this chronic lateness is testing my patience. You need to step up and be more responsible."

"I will, Professor," you promised, determination flickering in your eyes.

Eli nodded once, his posture relaxing a fraction. "Good. I expect to see an improvement next time. Now, let's not waste any more time. Today's topic is the mechanisms of nucleophilic addition to carbonyl compounds. Open your textbooks to page 236."

Throughout the lecture, Eli kept a close watch on you, noting your focused attention and the way you diligently took notes. Despite your tardiness, he couldn't deny your dedication to understanding the material. As the class progressed, Eli found himself more intrigued by your presence, your intelligence shining through despite your struggle with punctuality.

Eli continued his lecture, his voice methodical and precise as he explained the mechanisms of nucleophilic addition to carbonyl compounds. You diligently copied down the chemical formula he wrote on the blackboard, fully engrossed in the subject matter despite the occasional distraction.

Suddenly, something small hit the back of your head. You turned around to see Elize and her friends giggling, trying to stifle their laughter. Elize, who had been teasing you since your first day, tossed another small ball of paper at you. You caught it, your brow furrowing in annoyance.

"Hey nerd," Elize called out loud enough for the nearby students to hear. "Why are you always late to class? Don't you own a watch?"

Her friends joined in, snickering and making comments about how they should buy you a watch. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, frustrated by their childish antics. It reminded you of being back in high school, teased for being nerdy and always having your head in a book.

You sighed softly, trying to maintain your composure. Despite your powers and the confidence you felt as Spider-Man, here you were, still feeling like that same old nerd. You decided not to respond, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

Eli paused mid-lecture, glancing back at the commotion. He frowned slightly, his irritation growing at the disruption in his class. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Miss Clark?" he asked, his voice laced with thinly veiled annoyance.

Elize smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Just wondering, Professor, why we have a student in our class who's always late."

Eli clicked his tongue in disapproval, but inside, he was pleased with Elize's blatant jealousy. It was a subtle reminder of the power he held over her, a power he relished. However, outwardly, he pretended to be irritated, masking his true feelings with a stern expression.

"Miss Clark," Eli said sharply, his voice cutting through the lingering giggles, "this class is not the place for childish behavior. If you have something to say, make sure it contributes to the lesson. Otherwise, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

Elize's smirk faltered, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yes, Professor Michaelson," she muttered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Eli turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening slightly. "As for you, [Your Name], let's focus on the task at hand. If you need any help catching up on the material you've missed, my office hours are available."

You nodded, grateful for his offer. "Thank you, Professor. I'll make sure to come by if I need any assistance."

Eli continued his lecture, his voice commanding as he delved into the complexities of nucleophilic addition to carbonyl compounds. Despite his outward irritation, he couldn't help but be intrigued by you. There was something about your determination and resilience that set you apart from the other students.

As the lecture progressed, Eli's mind wandered back to the encounter with Elize. Her jealousy was palpable, a testament to the power dynamic he carefully maintained. He enjoyed the control he had over her, the way she vied for his attention. It was a constant reminder of his influence, something he valued immensely.

Yet, there was something different about his interactions with you. Unlike Elize, who sought his approval through flirtation and charm, you seemed genuinely invested in the subject matter. Your passion for chemistry was evident, and despite your struggles with punctuality, your dedication was undeniable. It was this genuine interest that intrigued Eli, making him more invested in your progress than he cared to admit.

Despite the interruption from Elize and her friends, the lecture continued, with Eli delving deeper into the mechanisms of nucleophilic addition to carbonyl compounds. You focused intently, determined to grasp the intricacies of the subject matter despite the distractions.

As Eli guided the class through the complex chemical reactions, you found yourself drawn into the material, your mind buzzing with questions and insights. Despite your occasional tardiness and the teasing from your classmates, you felt a sense of belonging in Eli's class, a feeling of purpose that drove you to excel.

After the lecture, you approached Eli's desk, eager to discuss some of the concepts further. Eli regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, his arrogance evident in the way he leaned back in his chair, his posture exuding confidence.

"Ah, [Your Name], what can I do for you?" Eli asked, his tone tinged with a hint of condescension.

"I wanted to clarify a few points from today's lecture," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that fluttered in your stomach. "Specifically, I was wondering about the stereochemistry of nucleophilic addition reactions and how it relates to the overall mechanism."

Eli raised an eyebrow, impressed by your astute question. "Ah, an excellent inquiry, [Your Name]. Stereochemistry is indeed a crucial aspect of organic chemistry, one that often confounds even the most seasoned chemists."

He launched into a detailed explanation, his voice animated as he elucidated the finer points of stereochemistry and its implications for nucleophilic addition reactions. You listened intently, absorbing every word with a hunger for knowledge that impressed even Eli.

As the conversation progressed, Eli found himself increasingly drawn to your intellect and passion for the subject. Despite his initial skepticism, he couldn't deny the depth of your understanding and the genuine curiosity that drove your questions.

After the discussion, you thanked Eli for his insights, feeling a sense of accomplishment as you left his office. Despite the challenges you faced, both in the classroom and in your personal life as Spider-Man, you were determined to succeed in your studies and make a difference in the world.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Welp. I just had the strange capsule event happen to me. It's only ever happened to me once before so I was completely shocked to see it just sitting there in the middle of my animal enclosure.

I feel like out of all the things the farmer experiences, this might be the one thing that takes the cake.

How about some reactions to the strange capsule from the adventurers and magicians? So like, Magnus, Marlon and Gil, Camilla, Lance and Alesia etc.

Like, the farmer has no idea what this is or what to do, so they go to the first person they can find. It would be quite strange to see the normally unflappable farmer so nervous. Maybe there could be romance and non-romance reactions from the dateables?

Sure thing! ☺️

I did two different reactions (platonic/romantic), including future marriage candidates (Isaac and Alesia). I don't remember if it was confirmed that Jadu would definitely be a marriage candidate (I want to flirt with him so much, Flashshifter please), so I left him neutral. Hope it's alright. Thanks for the ask! ❤️

_________________________________________

Alesia:

It doesn't matter if Alesia is just a Farmer's friend or their partner, the sniper will respond to their alarm in the same way, namely instantly, without delay. She reacts like that to any news she receives from adventurers, because she can tell from her experience that events that the rest of the warriors and mages would normally consider nothing dangerous can spell doom for an entire world. Better safe than sorry.

Except Farmer started telling Alesia not about a corrupt monster, but about a huge capsule with alien life. She's... in complete shock, and for the first time, she doesn't know what to do next. Still, it's better to tell the Ministry and the Order, let them decide for themselves. In the case of Alesia's romantic relationship with Farmer, she later shares that she has always believed in the existence of aliens, even if her religion says that humans are the only creatures, created by Yoba.

Isaac:

Isaac, being Farmer's friend (if almost constant silence and absence of harsh/unpleasant comments in their direction can be called friendship at all), at first will not react at all to the panic raised by the young adventurer. They have thei Guild master - let them take their stupid problems to Marlon. Why in the world would Farmer want to bother him? He wants a goddamn rest. But later, the sullen monster hunter will almost swallow his own tongue because of shock. What the hell is that thing? And it's... pulsing??? Report this to the Order immediately.

In the case of a romantic relationship, Isaac won't be rude or ignore Farmer, and will almost immediately rush to find out what's got his partner so worried. Well, the reaction will be the same - pure shock and confusion. The alien capsule... Sigh, and his day had started out so peacefully...

Lance:

If Lance's friend, who single-handedly managed to deal with Bully and Apophis, is shouting that something terrible has happened, then it's a very serious matter. The gallant adventurer immediately arrived at the place where Farmer had pointed out, in passing giving a warning to Jolyne and the other members of The First Slash to be on their guard. Even as a young man, Lance had seen all sorts of wonders and creatures, but even this was something he wasn't prepared for....

This should be handled by the head of the Ferngill Republic. Sure, Lance would make a report for the Order and the Ministry, but they deal with magic, and this was completely different thing. After the capsule is taken away, Lance assures his friend that everything will be fine. Except, being Farmer's partner, he and they will reflect before bed whether they made the right choice. What will happen to that alien, and was it really a threat?

Jadu:

A capsule? What capsule? Farmer, wait, don't pull Jadu's sleeves. Okay, he'll go after them, but there's no need to panic so much. "What's wrong with them", the young mage thinks. If his memory doesn't deceive him, Marlon had described his new Guild member as professional and always keeping calm. And now Farmer in front of him is panicking and flailing their arms.

Fine, they both come to the farm, so what next- What... What is that? It's a... thing. it's emitting a strange energy that's unlike anything else. It's actually disturbing. Jadu's a pretty calm and collected person himself, but this capsule definitely needs special attention. It's worth alerting Camilla. Or the Ministry of Magic right away. Either way, Jadu thanks his friend for keeping a watchful eye on the safety of the people of the Valey.

Marlon:

Marlon already knows very well that Farmer is capable of many things - no monster in the Mines and Skull Cavern can stop them, and dozens of corrupt mummies in Crimson Baldlans fall by their weapon. Therefore, if they burst into the Guild, anxious and panicked, it means a great danger is coming. Before doing so, however, one-eyed adventurer will remind Farmer that it's impossible to make wise decisions in s state like that, so they need to calm down first.

When they both arrived at the farm and saw the object of Farmer's worry, Marlon still remained calm. The thing hadn't exploded and no one had crawled out of it yet - at least that's good. The Order of Pythagoras should look into this capsule, they can figure out what it is and if it's a danger to humans. Farmer's doing a good job keeping Pelican Town safe. There's no problem he and Marlon and Gil can't solve, everything if fine.

Gil:

"Huh," that's Gil's reaction out loud to all of this. To be honest, it's only on the surface that the old adventurer seems indifferent to what's going on around him. Gil is just as concerned about this strange light emitting capsule, it's just that he doesn't panic as much as his young colleague. Destroying the thing would probably be unwise, little wonder what's inside. A virus? A monster? A hostile alien creature? What a load of bollocks this thing's dropped on their heads.

Gil will immediately contact Marlon, taking Farmer with him (and reassure them, reminding them that panic is an adventurer's worst enemy in such cases). The important thing now is to figure out exactly who the three of them need to contact with such a problem. Gil still insists on contacting the Order of the Knights of Pythagoras, since this thing can definitely be classed as a "potential threat to human life." The Orden will deal with this problem.

Camilla:

Poor Farmer was shaking beside Camilla, who had dropped in, sounding the alarm, pointing their finger in the direction of a two-metre long strange capsule. Their gut was screaming that this thing contained something (or someone) dangerous, but the young farmer didn't know who to turn to for help. And that's where Camilla came in! She's the one who can definitely tell them what to do with this capsule that contains danger.

"Or potential." What?... "Darling, what makes you think this object reeks of danger? Maybe it could be useful to us, who knows what secrets are inside." Oh, no no no... Farmer regretted telling the witch of Castle Village. She teleported capsule instantly, Farmer didn't even have time to react. "Don't worry, it's gonna be ok. We'll take care of it~" With that, she spurred and vanished into the smoke herself. Now Farmer was panicking even more.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"Magnus!" The man with that name nearly dropped the flask of black liquid right into his potions cauldron after that sudden noise. He began to grumble at this tactless appearance of Farmer. Though their panic and incomprehensible muttering made Rasmodius realise that something was wrong, they're usually collected and unwavering.

A capsule of incomprehensible contents falling from the sky right onto the ground of his friend/lover... Yeah, that's not something you see very often. Magnus will ask Farmer to calm down (or use a spell to do so), while looking at the capsule. Yes, the unknown is frightening, but maybe it's not that baf? Naturally, Magnus will move the capsule to a safe place, alerting the Ministry to be as careful as possible with the object. The reaction in both cases will be the same (only in the case of a romantic relationship, Magnus won't grumble about the abrupt open door).

[coming-lieutenant]

Hello!

Got another idea about younger detective and how Hank can't believe she likes him, so he thinks she spends time with them for Connor, until she's fed up with all of this and kisses him. Maybe in front of DPD 👀.

Thanks Queen/King/any other royality you might identifies with 💖😌

Get a Fucking Clue

A/N: Sorry for the delay 😭 my life literally imploded over the last week and a half and I finally got the ship back on course. I hope you enjoy it!! I’m so sorry it took me so long!

~

Cool, refreshing air envelopes your body, a comforting contrast to the summer heat outside as you walk step into the Detroit Police Precinct. Today marks the beginning of a new journey for you as a criminal investigator. Over are the days of sitting on the side of the road, in alleys, waiting for someone to break into a building, mug some unsuspecting passerby, or any of the other unsavory activities that occur under the moonlight of this restless city. Now, you get to work among some of DPD’s finest on the scenes of the crimes, solving crimes with much higher stakes.

You take a breath, trying to keep yourself cool and collected as you walk into the Bull Pen. You’ve been in here before, but typically you didn’t spend much time here. You walk through, looking at the desks, looking for the lieutenant and his partner you’ve been assigned to train under. You see a man, or android, rather, as you can tell by the bright blue LED on his temple, sitting at a desk. You recall being told the partner in question was an android detective sent by Cyberlife, and though you don’t see anyone sitting with him, you approach anyway.

“Hello. You must be Connor,” you say, greeting the android as you walk up to the desk. He looks up from his computer at you. “Hello,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “I am in fact. Can I help you with something?” You look at the empty desk across from him. “Have you seen Lieutenant Anderson this morning?” You ask, puzzled by his absence. Connor smiles again. “It would be surprising if I had. I’ll call him and let him know you’re here.” He picks up his phone, calling Lieutenant Anderson. He looks mildly surprised as his call is answered. “Lieutenant? Our trainee is here. She wishes to meet you.” He’s quiet for a moment, seemingly listening to the response. “Alright. I’ll let her know.” Connor hangs up the phone, looking to you, “He wanted me to inform you he’ll be here in fifteen minutes. He said you may sit at his desk until he arrives if you want.” You smile, nodding. “I think I will.”

You sit at his desk, taking in the various items he has scattered around. He’s got a little plant, which makes you smile, and a picture of a saint bernard dog. He’s also got stickers all over his computer screen, almost completely covering the screen itself. You scan your eyes over the snarky and sarcastic stickers, referencing his disdain for his ex-wife, happy people, and complaints.

Just as you finish reading them, you catch the motion of someone approaching out of the corner of your eye. You look up to see a particularly tall man, taller than Connor, with shaggy, silver hair and a brown leather jacket approaching. You smile, standing up. “You must be Lieutenant Anderson,” you greet, holding your hand out for him to shake. He stands in front of you, an apathetic yet curious look on his face as he shakes your hand. The contact nearly sends a shiver down your spine, heat blossoming in your hand and running all the way up your arm, settling in your cheeks. “Unfortunately.” He responds, looking down at you. “Are you the new kid Fowler wants me to train?” Your smile falters a little bit, taken aback, but you’re not one to back down at the first sign of trouble. You stand up a little straighter, smiling at him confidently. “I actually have several years of patrol under my belt.” This makes him chuckle. “I consider ‘several’ five or more years. How many you got?” He retorts. You cross your arms, still smiling. “Four. But regardless, I’m not fresh meat, Lieutenant, and I’m sure someone as experienced as yourself will have no problem training me up in no time,” you quip. This finally gets you a smirk from the detective. He sits down in his chair, “I’ll see what I can do.”

-

Your training under Hank went like that for months. Sarcastic comments from Hank, witty replies thrown right back in his face from you, Connor being an unfortunate bystander, day in and day out. As the days went by, you found yourself growing… Particularly fond of Hank. It was nearing the end of your training, meaning working so closely alongside Hank and Connor was about to come to and end, and you would be assigned to cases on your own and eventually be issued your own partner. As exhilarating as it was, finally having the world in your hands, it was bittersweet. You found yourself waking up in the morning eager to go to work, and though you were in some degree of denial about it, deep down you knew you weren’t eager to work. You were eager to see Hank.

Hank was grumpy, cynical, and spiteful, yes. Absolutely he was. Concurrently, though, you knew that, much like Connor, he had grown a soft spot for you. In fact, much to Connor’s chagrin, he seemed to have more of a soft spot for you than he did for even his android partner. Of the three of you, you were the most likely to make mistakes. To get things wrong. Regardless, he always met your self criticisms with defensiveness. Defense of you. He never let you feel like you weren’t a good enough detective, or like you would never be able to make it on your own. And, though you would never let him know it, the banter between the two of you, when it happened, never failed to light a fire deep inside you. It was exhilarating to go back and forth with him, and you basked in the attention of it.

Nearing the end of your training with Hank, only weeks out from it, you found yourself standing outside of Chicken Feed with Hank. Connor sat in the car, as usual, seemingly wanting to give the two of you space as he slowly caught onto your feelings for Hank. You smile at Hank. “Only a couple more weeks of this, huh?” you quip. Hank chuckles. “Yep. You’re lucky, you only have to deal with two more weeks of this ugly mug. Connor over there has to put up with it until further notice,” he responds, motioning to Connor in the car with the sandwich in his hands. “You’re going to miss him, aren’t ya?” he says, laughing. A look of confusion spreads across your face, and you look at him with furrowed brows. “Miss who?” Hank gives you a knowing look. “Connor.” He says, as though it’s the most obvious statement in the world. You are thoroughly perplexed by this. “Oh, uh… Yeah? I guess so.” You’re not sure what the point of the question is, but you finish your lunch anyway, not much of a word from either of you as you finish eating.

Back at the station, Hank’s words repeat like a broken record in your head. You sit with him, once again in Connor’s absence, as the two of you quietly work on filing through cases. Suddenly, Hank speaks. “You know, I think you should tell him how you feel.” You sit up, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “Hank, what in god’s name are you talking about?” you demand, looking incredulously at him. He looks back up at him. “Connor. You should tell him how you feel. I mean, even when there’s no case, you’re always hanging around. You always seem to laugh when you’re with him, and you blush all the time. I think before your training is done, you should tell him how you feel.” You stand up, running your hand through your hair and sighing, pacing slightly away from your chair as you are struck with disbelief, not knowing how to respond. You’ve never in all your years seen someone be so dense. He starts to talk again. “Listen, I didn’t mean to stress you out, I just think-“ Suddenly, you know exactly what you should do. You spin on your heel, cutting him off as he speaks by grabbing him by the collar and slamming your lips onto his. Hank’s hands are suspended in mid-air where they had been while he spoke, and they slowly move to your arms, gently touching you as he begins to kiss back. After a moment, you pull away, smiling. “Still think it’s Connor I’ve taken an interest in?” Hank stares at you, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips as seemingly the whole bull pen stares at the two of you in disbelief. Hank chuckles, speechless. And you smirk, returning to your chair, satisfied with yourself as you return to your work. Finally, the man has gotten a fucking clue.

[sunnyxjarrus]

One In a Million: What Are the Odds Chapter Four

@local-lover-boy

Mabel got up from the ground,nearly falling back down immeadiatly, due to the pressure on her leg. Stan's look alike closed the remaining distance between them catching her mid air and throwing her arm over his shoulder to support some of her weight.

" Careful," He cautioned stiffly he seemed very untrusting Mabel notes mentally she wonders if it has anything to do with his time here he seemed quite paranoid as far as she could tell

" So who are you?" She asked with no delay," I mean clearly you knew my grunkle," She pauses, was he even her grunkle? Her mind raced back to all the fake ID's she and DIpper found earlier that day-was it still that day? She wasn't quite sure with her current surroundings.Mabel forces herself back into the present where the real Stanford was watching her he seemed to notice her absentness.

"Well my name is actually Stanford Pines, if you want you can call me Ford," his tone is gentle as he formally introduces himself," And yes I did know Stan a lon time ago and I promise to explain all of that but first I do not recall you telling me your name?" Mabel couldn't help feeling safe around the strange untrusting man who had found her.

" I'm Mabel Pines," She replies extending her right hand for the man to shake, and he responds in kindr reaching out a six fimgered hand, " Woah six fingers thats cool, a whole finger friendlier than your typical handshake." Mable smiles at the older man who now stared at her with a shocked expression. He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something before seemingly deciding against it instead matching expressions with the excitable twelve year old who was a long way from home.

" Now as to my relation to you and your family if I am correct , which I often am, I am your Stan's twin," he says moving past their introduction as smoothly as he could try.

"I didn't know Stan had a twin?" Mabel says curiosity lacing her words, as they began to trudge forward in hopes of finding a different dimention as Ford had said earlier.

"That's because Stanley, or Stan, as you know him, was disowned after he ruined my future, the first time," Ford answers a bitter taste in his mouth as he spat the words.

" I'm sure Stan didn't mean to ruin your future. He usually has good intents, even if it does end up blowing up disatorously," Mabel argues suddenly defensive for the sake of her grunkle.

" Of course you wouldn't want to believe it was intentional, but I am certain it was. The tragic part is that we wre actually once inseperable even if we were completely different me being exceptionally gifted and him being, well, him," he responds in kind snapping back with certainty.

" Well what could he of done that would ruin your life anyway," Mabel knew her grunkle and even if he had done something to hurt his twin brother she was sure that it had to of been an accident. After all how many times had she unintentionally harmed DIpper by just not knowing the effect it was having on him. Obviously it was all just a big misunderstanding that must've been blown way out of proportion due to alll the raw emotion of the immediate response, right?

" He destroyed my chances of getting into my dream school all because he was selfish and wanted us to sail the world hunting treassure like fools," Ford responded venom in his voice as recalled an obviously still sore memory, " not only had I been betrayed by the person I was closest to but I was also humiliated in front of renowned scientists who were there to judge my work as they stared upon a still perpetual motion machine." Mabel hummed sypaphetically internally cross referencing his tale with her own past experiences searching for a potenctial way to heal this evidently gaping wound her newfound Grunkle had in his heart at the hands of his brother. " I found evidence placing him at the scene of the foilment and confronted him whch our father overheard and kicked him out for costing the family money. I ended up going to a low grade school where I got 12 PhD's and studied abnormalties. This lead me to Gravity Falls where using my grant money I had a home built so that I could house my scientific foundings. I of cource had to document my studes thus I started to write a journel-."

"WAit you are the author of the journels?" Mabel interrupted, incapable of holding in her realization, of course he was the Author. In hindsight it felt obvious he had six fingers on each hand, he went by Ford-property of F- it was right infront of her. If Dipper were there she was certain he would have realized it on sight after all he had done. Ford stared at her seeming surprized that she would know about the journels.

" You know about my journels?" He asks softly, tilting his head slightly.

" My brother, Dipper, practically spent all summer fussing over it so I have read through the third one a few times and we found the other two in Stan's weird basement lab thing," She explains.

" Very well," Ford said," As I was saying before, I started writing my findings in a journel and while I was exploring I grew curious of where the town's weirdness came from. While in search for an answer I came across some cave markings that then led to my encounterings with Bill and well I called upo my ex... roomate from college to help me build an interdimentional portal that Bill told me would lead me to the answer then Fidds, my partner- well my former room- an old friend of mine, got sucked into the portalbriefly during one of our tests. Thankfully, I was able to pull him out but he was adamant that we shut the portal down and leave it in our pasts. In hindsight, I suppose, I should have listened. However at the time I was to blinded by my own ego and conquest for answers that I blew up I lashed out told him all sorts of horrible things, it was quite the mistakes."

Mabel didn't quite know what to say to that, still she tried. " When did you realize that he was right?" Mabel said, looking at the older man empathetically, careful of her steps.

Ford lets out a soft sigh," Not too long after our fight," he says a soured smile on his face as he stared at nothing specific, " I began to notice some things about Bill, With Fidd's words ringing in my ears I did as anyone would do: I shut down the portal. I hid my journel's except for the first which I had, foolishly, chosen to seek my brother's help with. Wegot into a fight that resulted in the portal somehow activating and Stnley pushing me through." He grimaced at the memories before turning to meet Mabel's gaze,"And that is how I ended up here bouncing between realms and dimensions to evade Bill.

[starwarsbean]

Love Against the Odds

-Pairing: Tech x F! Reader

-Warnings: Fake Dating! Modern Universe! Slowburn! Smut & Fluff! Sexual Tension! NSFW.

- A/N: Hi to those who read this! Sorry for the delay but here’s the next chapter. I miss the bad batch and the finale was amazing. The next chapters will be more detailed. 18+!

-Summary: Tech is a successful CEO of a technology company. His commitment to his work has given him success in his career. However, he is not interested in trying love. Tech neglecting the important parts of life. His brothers urge him to give it a shot, as they believe finding a romantic partner will make him happy. Tech comes up with a brilliant idea to fake date to trick his brothers.

Chapter 5

Being so productive at work had put a lot of strain into your day. Loads of paperwork and never ending gossip in your workplace. Digging through loads of files and documents finding that one piece of information you needed. Your own thoughts drift off to him. Tech. His honey comb brown eyes. The way he would half smile would turn in a curve full smile. It made you weak in the knees. The way his figure looked in his outfits. His shoulders and arms were a very nice tone of muscle. How were you suppose to not fall for him? It was such impossible concept of separating yourself in this situation. After losing concentration on trying to find the document you needed for work. A loud buzz came from your cell phone. Checking it quickly to see to see if it was him. Your heart starts beating faster, you break into a smile

“Today marks the start of a new opportunity progress for us to be able to make this work. I look forward to seeing you later.”

After rereading Techs message with a smile. you realize you haven’t responded back yet. Unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to mess this up or even scare him off. Taking a deep breath to figure out to say.

“Looking forward to seeing you too Tech.” You quickly put your phone down after hitting send. After a few minutes you back into work mode on your computer. As a couple minutes go by receiving another message from Tech.

“Would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight after work? I am planning on making roasted bantha filet, a classic Mandalorian dish, paired with a side of crispy mashed potatoes and glazed vegetables. Please let me know if you are available and if you have any dietary restrictions or preferences. I look forward seeing you.”

Reading his message brought a smile to your face. He was sweet and sincere asking if you had any restrictions. Seeing him tonight was now the highlight of your day. Looking at the time seeing you get off in 10 minutes. Quickly cleaning up your desk and organizing papers for the next day. You signed off and headed out the building. Pulling out your phone to respond back to him.

“Yes, I can make it. I just got out of work.” After hitting send the excitement hit you that you were going to see him. Walking to your car, you see another message from tech with the address of his place. After sitting down you message back giving him a heads up you’re on your way.

“Drive safe cyar'ika.”

After reading his last message got you confused. You never heard of this word before. What did that mean? Maybe it was a typo or some type of error. Pushing this thought away to focus on the road. Being so impatient to arrive. Driving to Techs place you realized he lived in a nice neighborhood.
Once you arrive to his place. You park and sit in your car debating to go up to the door or to text him you’re here. As you battle your unsure thoughts you decide just to go up and knock.

As you get to techs front door. You’re about to knock till Tech opens the door right away. You laugh softly to yourself. Finding it cute how he opened the door before you even got the chance to knock. Tech clears his throat and offers you to come in with his hands. Looking around his place was a nice clean place. You could smell the fresh pine of his home. Giving it right away he just cleaned up his place. Pictures of it seem like his family. A cute photograph of it seems to be a girl with blonde hair and four other guys.

“Those are my brothers and that is my sister.” Tech says interrupting your thoughts.

“She’s very pretty. What’s her name?” You ask looking at him.

“Omega is her name. Her curiosity and empathetic nature have made her an incredible part of our family.” Tech says while he pushes up his goggles.

“She sounds very lovely.” You say following him to the kitchen.

“She is. You will meet her and my brothers as it is part of our agreement.” Tech pulls out a chair for you to sit. Giving him a little thanks. As you sit you look to see where Tech went.

“I am serving us. Do not worry I got it under control.” He says a bit , but you can hear a bit uncertainty. Smiling as you see him struggle a bit plating the food nicely.

“You know I can help you.” Giggling a bit as you watch him. He looks up at you and shakes his head.

“Nonsense. You are my guest. As a host I have to make sure everything is perfect.” He says determined to plate it nicely. You roll your eyes at his determination. Standing up from your chair to walk over to him. The mess of the food cut up into pieces. Tech struggling to plate the mash potatoes neatly. The glaze vegetables still weren’t finished yet. You look at tech and softly chuckle.

“Here let me help. I think we’re both very hungry after work.” You say grabbing the rosemary and thyme. Giving him a soft smile.

Tech looks at you and nods. Giving you a soft smile. “Very well then. I must check on the glazed vegetables.”

Placing the thyme and rosemary on the bantha meat. Tech walks over to the glaze vegetables. Lifting the lid from the pan the steam fogs up his goggles. You laugh as the fog blocks his view. He lifts up his goggles to let the fog pass. He tries not to laugh as he’s a bit embarrassed. You see him without his goggles on making you quiver inside. A perfect view of his eyes. He catches you looking at him for long. Quickly moving your attention to the meat.

“I should’ve known that was going to happen.” He says stirring the glazed vegetables. You chuckle at his response.

“All that matters is the food isn’t burnt.” You say taking a bite of one of the carrots on the cutting board. Tech looks at at you with amusement.

“Right. How was your day?” Tech says playing the glazed vegetables on two plates. It was a bit out of no where that he asked. You smile and sigh.

“Well it could’ve been better. I just had lots of paperwork. I couldn’t find this particular document I needed. So, it was okay.” You say cutting up pieces of the bantha meat.

Tech stares at you as you cut up the bantha meat. He admires your honesty into giving a bit of detail on your workday. He walks over to you. Placing his hands on top of yours to help you cut up pieces of the bantha meat. Your heart flutters as his hand tops your hand. You look up at him seeing his brown eyes behind his goggles looking down at you.

“Am I cutting it wrong?” You ask softly not breaking eye contact with him.

“Uh well yes, however it’s okay. To cut up bantha meat, you first need to properly prepare the meat by removing any excess fat and trimming any tendons. Then, use a large, sharp knife to cut the meat into desired portions, such as steaks, chops, or cubes, depending on your recipe and desired serving size. You can also cut the meat into smaller pieces for tenderizing it.” He info dumps while helping you cut the meat in the correct way. You listen to him but can’t help as to laugh.

“I apologize if I overshared information and overwhelmed you.” He says pulling away and placing the food on the plates.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind. It’s actually really good information to know now! Hey, now I know how to properly cut up bantha meat.” You say giving him a wink while smiling.

Tech just looks at you with a smile and nods. He finished plating the food while walking to the dinner table. Following behind him you take the chair to sit next to him.

“Would you like red wine with your meal?” Tech ask as he walks over to his cabinet

“Actually, I’ll be fine with just water.” Tech nods as he walks to get you a cup of water. Grabbing both water cups he hands your cup. Thanking him as he hands your water. Tech takes a seat next to you.

“The food smells fantastic. You did a great job Tech.” You say taking a bite of your vegetables.

“Of course I did, but I did have your assistance.” He stares at you while taking a small bite of the bantha meat.

Taking a sip of your water and having a nice quiet moment. The silverware hitting the plates as you both dig into your delicious meals. You clear your throat and break the silence.

“Tech, tell me a bit more about your family. What should I know when I meet them.”

Tech eyes widen a bit behind his glasses. Almost forgetting this was not an actual date.

Tech sighs. “My family is not like most families. I have four brothers named Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo, and Hunter. Along with a sister named Omega. Once you meet them you’ll see their own personalities.”

You nod listening to him. Trying to remember all their names. “Okay that’s good to know. Is there anything specific I should remember about them?”

Tech swallows his food before talking. He thinks for a moment pushing up his glasses. “Wrecker enjoys cooking and coming up with new recipe ideas. Hunter and Crosshair enjoy being out in nature. Omega has a great range of games she enjoys playing. While, Echo enjoys communicating with others and attending conventions.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to remember.” You say taking a bite of your food.

“It is not hard. I rather you just be yourself around them.” Tech says glancing at you.

You smile at his response. “I know just wanted to get an idea of them.”

Tech looks back at his food. “Of course. If this is hard for you. I understand.”

“No it’s not. I could handle it.”

Both of you go back to eating your meal. Tech looks at you realizing he hasn’t asked much about you.

Tech gets a bit nervous on what he should. He takes a sip of his drink. Then looks at you. “How are your family like?”

You smile drops at the sudden question. Your eyes scan the room unsure of what to say. Not wanting to make eye contact with him. “I don’t really get along with my family much. It’s sort of complicated.”

Tech sees you’re not making eye contact. He feels a bit guilty for asking such a personal question. Before he could say anything you interrupt.

“I moved out here to be on my own. I talk to my family once in a while. We just aren’t close. People don’t stay in contact nor even want to try to stay connected. So, I came out here to see what opportunities I could find for myself.” You say taking a sip of water.

Tech nods and gives you a soft smile. “I’m glad to hear you took the risk of being on your own. It can be quite a challenge. Life does requires us to take risks even if doesn’t go as planned. That’s the beauty of it.”

You look into techs eyes. As he’s already staring into your eyes. You did not expect to hear this coming from him. The smile that appeared on your face was obvious you were falling for him. The heart flutters in your chest. You swear your pupils could turn into hearts if they could by the way you looked at him. Catching yourself off guard you clear your throat.

“Thank you Tech that was rather well sweet.” You say softly looking at him.

Techs eyes having a bit of a different shade as he’s making eye contact with you. He turns away and looks down at his plate. You could swear he was acting a bit shy. Tech palms were becoming sweaty. His heart beating faster than usual. He was confused on why it was happening.

“Of course. Did you enjoy your meal?” Tech ask still not looking at you. He takes a sip of his drink. Trying not to drop the cup as his palms were sweaty. You chuckle a bit.

“Yes it was delicious. Thank you for inviting me over for dinner.” Grabbing your plate as you stand up. Tech quickly puts his drink down and stands. He grabs his plate and your plate from your hands.

“Here I insist I take the plates. You can stay put.” He says grabbing the plates and quickly placing them in the sink. You sit back down while watching him rinse off the plates. Pulling out your phone you realize the time. It was late and you both had work the next day. Tech sits back down next to you as he notices the time on his watch.

“I should get going. It’s pretty late and I don’t want to keep you up.”

Tech looks down at his watch and nods. “You wouldn’t necessarily be keeping me up. I rather stay up doing work.”

You could imagine him staying up late doing work. His head buried into his technological thinking. It would be hard to distract a busy man like him. Chuckling at his response it made you think he wanted you to stay. Oh I believe that. It sucks I have to work tomorrow.”

Tech slightly frowns and nods. “Oh yes. you should be heading home. I will schedule us another day to discuss more information about our fake relationship.”

Tech walks with you to the car. Comfortable silence between you both. As you both walk you look up at the stars. Tech looks at you wondering why you stopped. His brown eyes gazing upon your face. The way your eyes sparkled looking into the night skies. The wind blowing your hair which made your hair cover a bit of your face. Your fingers pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. Your soft smile as you were focused on the view. Tech realizes how hard he was staring at you. He looks up at the stars. For once Tech doesn’t say anything as he’s just enjoying the moment with you.

“I had a great time tech. I’ll see you later.” You say as you wave at him. Tech gazes at you as he watches you get inside your car.
You felt as if tech needed to say something. You pulled down your passenger window

“Perhaps you could text me once you’re home. As I will know you made it home safely.” Tech says a bit softly as he’s still standing from the sidewalk.

He was thoughtful and that’s one thing you enjoyed about him. “Will do. Goodnight Tech.” You say as you finally drive away.

Tech watches you drive off as he makes sure you drive off first. He walks back inside as his mind is set on you the entire night.

[godsfavoritescientist]

AITA for throwing a party for my best friend?

I (NB, 1 trillion) recently befriended someone (M, 60+) for the first time in ages. At first I only spent time with him because I felt sorry for him (he had no other friends), but after I got to know him, I realized he was really smart and fun to talk to.

Early on in our friendship, he asked me for help with an important project he was stuck on, and I agreed right away. I dedicated several years to helping him out, doing everything from giving him an idea that would solve all his problems once completed to walking him through complex math to encouraging him to keep going when he hit roadblocks. Every single time I helped with the project for all those years, I stayed up all through the night working on it with him.

A year before things started to fall apart between us, he invited a different friend to help with the project too, who I’ll call “F.” This guy hated the local wildlife (which my friend loved and dedicated his life to studying), and my friend insisted on keeping me a secret from F out of fear that F would hate me too. My friend also insisted on delaying his own project (which he had to finish so that he could keep getting funded to do his dream job) in order to keep F happy by building side-projects that F suggested.

Throughout his time “helping” with the project, F kept criticizing my friend and his project. Eventually, F finished a secret side-project of his own, to build a weapon that erases memories, and used it on my friend multiple times without his consent. I tried to warn my friend that F wasn’t trustworthy, but my friend didn’t do anything with my advice.

When the project was almost complete, F saw me for a few seconds and threw a fit. He used some choice words to describe my friend’s life’s work, told him he should destroy his project, and then abandoned my friend.

My friend was really upset about this, and tried to get in contact with me to reassure him. Unfortunately, I was spending time with my other friends for a couple of days at the time, and didn’t get his messages. He responded by barging into my own home, running up behind me, and accusing me of giving him a bad idea for the project we worked on together for years up until that point, probably because he was doubting his own reasoning skills after finding out that his choice to let F stick around had been a bad decision. I reassured him that he is smart (he is insecure about that) and revealed that I was planning to throw him a huge surprise party too, once his project was finished. He got really angry about this, and announced that he wanted to shut down his life’s work just to stop the party from happening.

I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want me to throw him a party, and assumed that the stress of losing a friend (even a bad friend like F) was making him not think clearly. I also got a little bit annoyed that he could ever throw all our hard work down the drain so impulsively like that. I diligently stopped him from ruining his own creation, and waited for him to get over his moment of irrational feelings so we could get back to finishing his work, but it never happened.

He kept trying to shut down the project, and ended up losing everything because of it. When he invited yet another bad influence into his home (his brother, who had been a criminal for over ten years at that point), his brother used his diabolical mind to come up with a way to use our project against him, in a way that trapped my friend in a really dangerous situation for several decades.

I looked for my friend for the entire time he was lost in a dangerous situation, but I had no luck. And right when my friend miraculously found me, his brother separated us again. But there was a silver lining to this situation: my friend’s brother accidentally created a way for me to finally reunite with my friend and throw him the surprise party I had been planning.

[alectoperdita]

i don’t know how this could be conveyed in fic, but i’m always thinking about kaiba filming promos and what not for tournaments/dm stuff and he makes snarky jokes about jounouchi’s presence but the camera keeps zooming in his face to emphasize the adoration and glee on his face when he sees jou do /any/thing. but kaiba is not selfaware. he reviews the footage wondering why the cameras keep recording his reaction during jou’s duels instead of the audience. they want u 2 notice something, kaiba

Ooo this is such a juicy idea, anon! I love me a pining Kaiba. It's even more entertaining when he's a bit oblivious.

I know you didn't quite mean this as a challenge, but it activated my outsider-POV-loving neurons. So I attempted to write a little ficlet based on your idea. Sorry, that was why I was delayed in responding to your ask. Also apologies that I'm a little rusty. Haven't been writing regularly recently. 😭 I hope you still enjoy it.

Read on AO3

---

Kenji always figured that Kaiba's, well, everything was an act. Merely a persona crafted for the masses to sell his tech and promote his tournaments.

No one could be that genuinely ridiculous.

Except he was. Kaiba appeared to be every bit that extra, as Kenji's teenage daughter would say.

("Dad, no one says that anymore!")

Because in the week since he started following the larger-than-life CEO around, he recorded a number of baffling incidents on film. Initially, he wrote them off as the producers' or Kaiba's people's attempt to inject more oomph into the series. It wouldn't be the first time. Kenji wasn't paid to care about verisimilitude. He was the film crew. His job was to point the camera wherever the producers told him.

But not even Kaiba would stage an attempted kidnapping as a publicity stunt, right?

Kenji could've done without that one. Not just because he got far closer to a gun-toting maniac than he ever wanted to. The police confiscated his equipment and that day's footage for their investigation.

But they were back to business the very next day. Nothing changed except for a few extra suits lurking in the background. Kaiba showed no signs of being shaken or slowing down. He had a tournament to throw, after all.

That tenacity and resilience were admirable. Kenji could see why Kaiba was so successful at his young age. Barely nineteen and he held the world in the palm of his hand. It was easy to forget the boy wasn't much older than Kenji's little girl.

Nowhere was that more apparent than when Kaiba was surrounded by his peers.

Kenji kept his camera trained on the trio of teenagers. Kaiba towered over most, including people twice his age. Next to Mutou Yugi, he may as well be a telephone pole.

"Kaiba-kun!" Yugi grinned, craning his neck to meet the taller boy's eye. "Glad to see you're well!"

Even an old fuddy-duddy like Kenji (again, much to his heartbreak, his daughter's words) knew about the storied rivalry between Kaiba Seto and the King of Games. So he was surprised by how calmly and politely Kaiba returned the greeting, even if his tone was a touch gruff. Kenji was unfamiliar with the blond boy who slung an arm over Kaiba's shoulders, however.

The blond boomed. "Still in one piece, eh? Saw the news about what happened. You really kicked those guys' asses."

Kaiba swiftly threw off the arm, but the blond didn't seem too offended. He also took a step to the side to put space between them. In profile, though, the tips of his ears went pink.

"They should've known better than to try anything. They've learned the hard way," Kaiba grunted. He made a motion to dust off his left shoulder, where the blond's hand rested mere seconds ago, yet his fingers seemed to linger on his flamboyant coat.

Not that the blond noticed. He was busy sweeping his gaze across the surrounding. "Yeah, tournament security's tighter than usual. Noticed 'em spooks hanging everywhere." Then he spotted Kenji. Or more accurately Kenji's camera lens. He immediately perked, straightened, and puffed out his chest while flashing a crooked grin. "Hey, are they filming me?"

"No, deadbeat. Who'd want to film you? They're filming me," sneered Kaiba.

The blond spun toward Kaiba and took a step forward with both hands fisted at his side. A menacing move if directed at other people, but Kaiba wasn't cowed. He merely stared down his nose at the other boy.

The air crackled with palpable tension. If they started fighting, should Kenji keep filming or break up the fight? His producers probably preferred the former.

Yugi's eyes flitted between the two boys, then to the camera. "Kaiba-kun, Jounouchi-kun, calm down. Let's not fight before the tournament. I'm sure Kaiba-kun didn't mean it."

Kaiba and the blond, presumably Jounouchi, stared at each other for several more beats.

With a scoff, Jounouchi wheeled back and stuffed his hands into his ripped jeans. "Whatever. They can get a load of when the great Jounouchi-sama beat your flat ass out in the arena."

Yugi shifted nervously.

Kaiba smiled a sharp, toothless grin. "In your dreams."

Another charged pause.

Suddenly, Jounouchi turned almost playful. "Only if you're lucky."

Kaiba's expression froze up. It looked as if he'd blue-screened and crashed. His ears were definitely pink now, though Jounouchi likely didn't catch that given how intensely he was staring at Kaiba's face.

But it didn't escape Kenji's notice. Or his camera.

Jounouchi smirked. "What? Cat got your tongue there, Kaiba?"

Kaiba coughed, making an admirable recovery. His expression retained an imperious quality when he replied, "Hardly. I'm merely stunned by your astonishing lack of self-awareness."

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. You're fulla hot air."

And just like that, they circled back to the conventional arena of trash talk.

Yugi checked his watch. "We should get to our places, Jounouchi-kun. It's almost time."

"Run along, deadbeat. Or you'll be disqualified before you even take a step into the stadium."

Jounouchi made a rude gesture that they'd have to blur in post. Yugi cheerfully wished Kaiba luck before following the other boy. Strangely, though, Kaiba's gaze seemed to linger on the departing figures. For no more than a beat or two, then he straightened and strode down the hall in the opposite direction, coat tails flaring dramatically in his wake. Kenji had to hand it to the boy's stylist.

***

There was a surprising amount of downtime when the duelists weren't playing. Much more standing around and gossiping and observing the current game than Kenji expected. Now that the tournament had officially started, Kaiba joined the other duelists arena-side. Kenji naturally followed him.

Kaiba stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tournament proceed. It was a picturesque pose, but even that became dull when he did and said nothing further. He had already played his first seed of the tournament and won summarily.

Kenji hoped this wasn't how the rest of the day played out. It would be dreadfully boring in that case.

Then Jounouchi took center stage for his duel.

Kaiba scoffed silently, but he remained as attentive as ever. Maybe even more so.

Not two turns in, the lapel mic picked up Kaiba's stray comments.

"Again with that unreliable gambling mechanic."

Still, he grunted in near approval when Jounouchi called his coin flip correctly. Soon, his stance and facial muscles eased to a state one might even call relaxed.

"Lucky," he muttered when Jounouchi countered his opponent's trap, but the light in his blue eyes shone brightly.

Kenji was a Duel Monsters novice, but he could read the room. The crowd's energy—Kaiba's energy changed as soon as Jounouchi was backed into the corner. Even Kenji winced when the opponent's monster halved Jounouchi's life points with one attack.

Kaiba took a step forward before catching himself. A newfound tension vibrated through his body as Jounouchi picked himself from the floor. "Don't tell me that's all you got, deadbeat," he snapped to no one in particular. "This is the first round."

Jounouchi didn't give up. Determination shone through his every move and declaration. It made for dramatic television, which the official tournament crew was filming. Kenji stayed focused on his assignment, which was recording Kaiba's every reaction to Jounouchi's moves.

A cheer rose among the spectator.

Kaiba stiffened, but the corner of his lips twitched. Upward. "Oh, he updated his deck."

Something warm and fond bubbled beneath the surface. It might be pride.

A dragon materialized on Jounouchi's side of the field. Kenji couldn't help but be struck by how its appearance was the polar opposite of Kaiba's sleek, white ace monster—black leather wings, sharp, and covered in spikes.

Ironic.

Or, dare Kenji think it as he zoomed in on Kaiba's face, serendipitous, judging by Kaiba's familiar expression. It was the same one Kenji's daughter wore when she thought of her "beloved"—one Kenji probably still made for his Ikuko to this day after twenty years of marriage.

Infatuation was one word for it. Smitten was more fitting, though.

***

"Isono."

"Yes, Seto-sama?"

Isono glanced up from where he was taking notes of his boss's comments to send back to the production team. Reviewing the cut footage took time, but Kaiba had a vested interest in how he was portrayed. Rather than delegate it to PR, though, he preferred the hands-on approach. Kaiba's brow furrowed as he watched scenes of Jounouchi's tournament duels interspersed with close-ups of his own face and reactions.

"Why is it so focused on the deadbeat's duels?" he asked. Not angry, though clearly baffled.

Even now, Kaiba's attention was glued to Jounouchi's face as it always was whenever the blond duelist came into the vicinity.

A moth drawn to the flames.

Isono's eyes flitted between his boss's current oblivious expression and his smitten one caught on film. Most people wouldn't recognize him as smitten, including Kaiba himself. Isono did, thanks to his years of employment. Evidently so did the cameraperson.

For a second, Isono contemplated confronting his employer about his crush. But he valued his job. Kaiba was a bright young man. He would eventually realize it, right?

He cleared his throat. "Jounouchi-san performed quite favorably in this recent tournament, and popularity has been climbing with his ranking. The underdog narrative is always a crowd favorite."

He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Both statements were technically true.

"He did perform above expectation," mumbled Kaiba, studying the paused image of Jounouchi on the screen with terribly bright eyes.

Isono dared to hope on his employer's behalf. Then it was dashed.

"We'll see how long his luck holds out," Kaiba smirked.

One day, thought Isono, Kaiba will realize what had been staring him in the face all along.