#most of this is like. just food for thought. not a clear cut answer to the question. bc i truly don't know! :0 but i think it's interesting

[daz4i]

your last line in the theory ask got me thinking (the "why else are we following his story like this?")

do you think there's a reason atsushi, the protagonist, is kept so passive (until recently, someone was pretty much always there to help/save him in different ways), and dazai, arguably a secondary protagonist, is kept at the center?

a theory i saw is that atsushi being in the spotlight/not in the spotlight aligns with when the book is in the spotlight/not in the spotlight, and he'll be the center piece to actually locating the book

it's always fascinated me how we're repeatedly being Told he's the protagonist, but very rarely shown it past the first chapters/first season of the anime. it's a relationship between story and protagonist i've not really seen anywhere else.

OH THIS IS SO INTERESTING TBH

so. i have a few thoughts abt this lemme number them bc it's just easier for me to organize them this way hehe

1. oooooooh love that theory abt atsushi being more in the spotlight for locating the book (and after it will be found i assume :?). it does make sense! but then it's still strange just how long it took to get there, given we're over 100 chapters, technically 5 seasons of the anime, and multiple light novels into the story and not there yet. i wonder if the story/its formatting will change to accommodate that somehow :0

2. this is more abt the last part of your ask, and this concept in general! i think something that changes bsd and the context and role of atsushi in it is to see him more as a narrator (albeit an active one) rather than the actual main character whom the story is about, like. i wanna say nick in the great gatsby (<- hasn't actually read it so don't take my word on that one specifically, but like. it's been done before is what i wanna say! just mainly in books. but that does work with bsd at the end of the day! if any manga would mimic the style of books it'd be bsd hehe), and then the main character is dazai

this does align with the light novels more, imo. while he's not the main character of most of them, he is definitely present and moving the story along, same as he is in the main story. despite that, we never see his thoughts or read anything from his pov (i've seen people describe him as "a force" bc of that before, which is interesting, but i find it sort of... dehumanizing? and therefore kinda missing the point of his arc, imo). reading bsd with this thought in mind - that the main character is actually dazai - changes the context of things a lot

[ok this next part is a very crackheaded theory on why that may be that i wrote with the expectation to later add another theory. and then i couldn't come up with another theory to fit the topic i was talking about. so i'm just gonna make it indented and if the grammar/syntax(?) doesn't make a lot of sense. this is why. sorry]

it might've been done as a vague sort of homage to no longer human and the way it's written - the novel opens and closes with the pov of another character, who found yozo's journals years after he wrote them, likely after his death too. right from the start, our view of yozo can be distorted by the way he's described by this unnamed character. in a way, they are the narrator of his story. yes, we read most of it from his own pov, but we step in and out of it through an external view of him. the way we approach him, and the way we leave him, is affected both by the "narrator" and the inn owner who knew him in his life.

if we consider dazai to be the main character of bsd, it's not that out of the question that elements of no longer human will affect it beyond dazai's character alone, and that it might slip into the meta level as well. we view dazai from an outsider's perspective - not just atsushi's, but in the light novels as well - like we technically do with yozo.

it is a bit of a stretch lol i don't know if i actually fully believe that, but it's interesting to think about it that way imo :3

3. it puts a bigger focus on the generational trauma theme of bsd. the story was dazai's, and we're just watching as atsushi "inherits" it. so the light novels describe the background of our current story - the past generation, in a sense - and the manga is the new generation, building upon what's laid out already. but, like in real life, non-metaphorical generations, just because there's a new one doesn't mean the previous gen is dead yet. you can view it as dazai being like a father and atsushi as a son, in a way. just because somehow has a kid doesn't mean their life or their own stories stop, so we get to see it. and since atsushi is like a metaphorical kid, he can't do that much yet, and still has to learn how the world works before he can

yeah i have no idea if that makes sense or if that analogy is clear or not askdjfglkh i'm sorry. this post also ended up being more messy than i thought. hope you enjoyed it anyway tho!

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[xxsabitoxx]

As a late birthday gift for @renhoeku - here are some Sugar Daddy Satoru thoughts... cause why tf not

First of all, Satoru wouldn't be in it to gain anything, truly. He can't even begin to describe what it is about you that is just so... intoxicating to him. He wants you, sure he does, but what he wants to do more is spoil the fuck out of you. Something about you drives him absolutely wild. Maybe it's the way you smile at him, or maybe it's the way you get so excited when talking about the things you love, he can't quite place his finger on it but it makes his heart do backflips.

Satoru isn't subtle with his offer to you, stating very bluntly that he wants you to be his sugar baby - nothing in return, no catches, nothing you need to repay - he just wants to spoil you the way you deserve to be spoiled. The first time he takes you out shopping, he finds it utterly adorable that you are so hesitant to pick things out. So, he observes you closely, following you around each store you enter and noting the items you admire before inevitably telling him there is nothing there you want. Lies, of course, but you aren't used to someone being so willing to drop tens of thousands of dollars on you in one day.

Satoru drags you back to every store you "didn't want anything" in and calls over an employee. You're stunned to silence when Satoru requests to buy every single item you had been wistfully observing. When I tell you he has no limits either? Doesn't matter if it was a $2 hand sanitizer or a $15k purse, he's buying it with no hesitation. He doesn't care what he buys, so long as you are happy. A new wardrobe, perfumes, accessories, makeup, hair products, shoes, books, art supplies, collectibles, food, whatever the hell your heart desires - Satoru is buying it with a smile on his face.

He's addicted to how your eyes light up, every single time, without fail. He can't get enough of your sweet "thank you!" and the little kisses you give him after. He can't help but laugh when you jokingly ask him if there is anything he wants in return. He's honest with his answers when he boldly claims that you and your smile are all he desires. The way your eyes widen, the small gasp that leaves you, it makes his heart flutter with need.

18+ content below the cut~

Satoru refuses to initiate anything romantic with you. Not because he doesn't want to - because fuck does he want to - but because he doesn't want you thinking he's only doing this to earn your love.

Lucky for him, it's impossible for you to not catch feelings. You can tell he's genuine, even though you had your doubts at first. You were delighted to know that Satoru really was doing this because he wanted to, not because he had something to gain.

So, one night, after months of this "sugar daddy" relationship, you finally decided to return the favor to him. Even though you knew he would get mad at you for it, you bought yourself the prettiest lingerie you could afford with your own money. You got it in his favorite color and put it on under a little dress that hugged your body perfectly. Your plan was to seduce him, and reward him for treating you like a goddess these past few months. When he got home from work that night, he was surprised to see you sitting on his couch dressed in the most jaw dropping attire he had ever seen

"What's this?" Satoru murmured softly, cheeks flushing pink as you got up and sauntered over to him. His blew eyes were locked on the dangerous sway of your hips. "It's my treat to you, Toru~. You've been treating me so well, I want to return the favor." "You know you don't have to... I made it clear I was doing this because I wanted to..." He didn't want you to feel obligated to return the favor in any capacity. But, you shushed him, placing a delicate hand on his bicep. "I told you, Toru, I want to do this... I've been wanting to for a while now... you deserve it."

He was sold, the little self-restraint he had went flying out the window after you uttered those pretty words. Satoru ended up taking you then and there on his way too-expensive white couch. He had teased you the whole time, telling you it would be a shame if you were to ruin his furniture with your arousal. All the while he was praising you for knowing him so well, actually taking the time to admire your body in the lingerie before tearing it off of you. You had told him you bought it yourself, laughing as he scolded you - marking your neck with his teeth before whispering about how he'd repay you for it.

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

Things Change - Ch. 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Pregnant!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.8 k

Tag List: @boomhauer @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @blackwidownat2814 @prestinalove

Eddie was growing frustrated. He had tried more than once now to talk to you. When back in school, he had tried to seek you out, but you always managed to slip him. The times he went to catch you at your locker, you had conveniently not been there. He tried to sneak into your gym class and he didn’t exactly want to make a scene, but it had been obvious you were trying to act like he wasn’t there. Even in the classes you had together, you showed up last to the class and bolted as soon as the bell rang. At this point, he was getting desperate and the way you avoided him made him no less suspicious that you were carrying his kid. Finally, Eddie walked away from his Hellfire table and dropped himself down onto the table where Robin and Nancy sat eating their lunch. Once again, without you there. 

“Where is she?” Eddie asked the girls.

Robin gave a panicked glance to Nancy, who crossed her arms and regarded Eddie casually. “Who?” Nancy asked him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Wheeler. Y/L/N. Where is she?” he asked again. 

“Not here.” she answered, “Don’t know when I might see her again.”

“You both are her best friends. I don’t believe that,” Eddie pointed out, glancing at Robin, who was practically sweating. Eddie leaned in towards them both. “Listen. I know that you know why I’m looking for them. I just wanna talk to them… please.” Eddie spoke softly, looking at both girls. 

Nancy watched Eddie before looking at Robin, giving the other female a little nod. “She doesn’t eat in here because…. Obvious reasons. But-” Robin started.

“We won’t tell you where she’s eating purely because she’s been struggling to keep food down and she needs to eat. We don’t need you making her nervous and unable to eat,” Nancy cut in.

“But she’ll be home tonight. She’s been sleeping over at our places recently, but she’s home tonight. To face her parents,” Robin supplemented. “They’ve been getting suspicious, and she figured now is better than never.” 

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek as he processed the information. Was she planning on telling her parents that he was the father and rope him into this? “Thanks. I appreciate it,” Eddie told them and moved to get up.

“Don’t hurt her.” Nancy stared at him. “I know you, for whatever reason, don’t like her… but don’t you dare hurt her. Or I swear-”

Eddie held his hands up. “I’ve seen you wield a gun, Wheeler. No need to threaten me.” he cracked a smile and stood up from the table. “Ladies,” he bowed and left their table, heading back to his own. 

—--------------------------------------------------

It had been a long week, and you looked forward to a weekend without Eddie Munson. Well, without having to avoid him, at least. All your efforts at school had been dedicated to avoiding him. The paranoia grew in you that he knew. Why else was he trying so hard to see you? It was clear with how often he was turning up that he was trying to see you. Firstly, at your gym class, which is what really made you suspicious. From there, it made you avoid going to your locker too often. Your back and arms just had to suffer with carrying more than you usually would with you. Secondly, at lunch but you had just managed to slip away in the crowd of hungry and unruly teens to avoid him. So here you were. Carrying all your stuff, eating lunch in the library, showing up to class almost late, and then leaving right when the bell rang. It was the last class of the day. You were eager to go home and just rest. You sighed as you set down your pencil, feeling another wave of nausea hit you. Shockingly you had made it through most of the day without having to run off. You thought maybe you had gotten lucky. You raise your hand, sure that this might not be a false alarm, but you’ve learned quickly that it was better safe than sorry. There had been once or twice you had thought you were safe, but you weren’t and had to sneak off in the middle of the night to do a load of laundry.

You head out of the classroom and towards the closest bathroom. You look under each stall, checking that the coast was clear before heading into a stall. You sigh as you take some toilet paper, leaning against the cool metal of the stall as you wait. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths as you work through the nausea. The door to the bathroom opens, not that you find it odd since it was a public bathroom after all. A gasp ripped through you at the sudden opening of the stall door. Your head whips around, eyes wide as Eddie steps into the stall. He shuts the door behind him, locking it once again.

“Eddie!” you hiss at him. “What the fuck?!”

“Me? Me, what the fuck?!” he hisses back at you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Talking to you, obviously.”

“Why?” you grind out, inching away from him.

“I have to talk to you,” Eddie answers, “About a certain… something.” 

You freeze. You had hoped against all odds that he really just wanted to speak to you about something else. Not the secret you had hidden away. “Something?” you ask softly, deciding to play dumb for right now. 

“Yeah. I heard an interesting piece of information. Well, everyone has.” 

You swallow hard. “Yeah?”

You both sit and stare at one another. Eddie raises his brows as if to invite you to get it out in the open. When you stayed silent, he huffed in frustration. “Y/L/N, are you pregnant?”

Your eyes move everywhere but at Eddie. “Eddie, please…” you murmur.

“Y/L/N.”

“Yes! Okay, yes.” you answer, looking at him finally. 

The look on Eddie’s face is one you struggle to decipher. He looked shocked, worried, but also amazed. “Who’s the father?” Then your stomach dropped. You stared at Eddie like a fish out of water. “Y/L/N. Who is the father?” Eddie repeated himself more firmly this time.

It was just then that the bell rang. “You have seconds.” you replied.

“What?”

“You have seconds before this bathroom is full of girls and I will leave you here,” you warn, reaching behind Eddie for the lock on the stall door.

“Y/L/N, I swear to god.”

“Decide before you have people talking about you hiding in the girls' bathroom.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched at your thin threat. He took a deep breath before pulling the stall door open, stalking out of the bathroom. It was then that you let out a shaky breath, shutting the door again and resting your forehead against the cool metal.

That had been too close. Far too close. You slid out of the bathroom after a few minutes, weaving between bodies of girls flooding the bathroom. You retrieve your things from your last class and quickly make your way out of the building to head home. Before dinner, you hopped into the shower to wash away the stress of the day. You scrubbed at your body, relaxing under the scalding water of the shower. When you got out, you made quick work to dry yourself, pulling on comfy clothes. Tonight was the night you had planned on telling your parents what was going on. They grew suspicious each day, and you knew you couldn’t hide forever. For a moment, you considered changing your mind, but you couldn’t do that. It was better to rip the bandaid off first. You sat on your bed before flopping back, taking in a deep breath and willing the tears to stop gathering on your lash line. You cried so easily nowadays it was exhausting. 

A gentle tapping stirred you from your moment. You turn your head, jumping seeing someone sitting at your window. You groan, seeing the familiar face staring back at you that you had only seen a few hours ago. Eddie gave you a look before motioning down to the lock on your window. You pout at him, crossing your arms. 

“Y/L/N, open the window.” his muffled voice sounds from the other side of the window. You flip him off. Eddie stares you down sternly. “Open it or I’m breaking in.”

You huff, going to the window and unlocking it before walking away. You hear the widow slide up and the gentle thudding as Eddie climbs into your bedroom before sliding the window shut once more. “Do I wanna know why you’re threatening to break into my house?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

“You know why and you know it. You never answered my question in the bathroom,” Eddie points out, not moving away from the window. Like he might throw himself out of it if he needed to.

You take a shaky breath; the tears gathering once again at your lash line. Eddie looks at you, a hint of worry on his face. “Fine. If you’ll stop following me around, I’ll tell you.” you answer and furiously wipe at your cheeks when the tears finally escape. “It’s yours. Okay? I haven’t been with anyone else. Frankly, it’s a little insulting you think I was.”

“Well, you told me you were on the pill,” he accused. “Or was that a lie?”

“It wasn’t!” you hissed back at him, turning to your bedside table and pulling the drawer out roughly. You pull out your package of birth control and toss it at him. “For obvious reasons, I have stopped taking them,” you tell him as you watch him pick up the little package. “Fun fact: some medications can fuck with your birth control.” you pick up the bottle of migraine meds and shake it, the sound of the pills rattling around the only sound in the room. You set down the box and watch Eddie fiddle with the package of your now useless birth control. You sit down on your bed, pulling your pillow onto your lap and fiddling with the end of it. Eddie slowly moves closer, sitting down beside you on your bed and tossing the birth control behind him.

“What do we do?” he finally murmurs. “Isn’t there like… doctors who take care of this shit?”

You sigh. “I tried. I did… it was awful there, Munson. Trust me,” you admit, glancing at Eddie. His eyes were trained on the wall across from you both. You could see his chocolate orbs moving, taking in your bedroom.

“Wheeler said you were telling your parents tonight.”

“I am. My mom is suspicious. She’s been asking a lot of questions. I don’t think she knows, but she knows something is up.” 

“What’s the chance I’m gonna end up with a shotgun pointed at my chest?”

“None.” Eddie finally meets your eyes. “I was going to keep your name out of it. Unless you don’t want me to, but I kinda assumed you didn’t wanna be in on this.”

Eddie nods slowly. “I’d appreciate that. I don’t think…I don’t think I could do it. I can’t do it.”

You nod. “Then I won’t mention you. I promise. They might try to strong arm an answer out of me but you have my word. I won’t tell a soul.”

“No one else knows?”

“Well, no. Nancy does. She knows we… but we haven’t talked about it.”

“Got it.” Eddie murmurs, falling silent again. The two of you sit there in silence for a few minutes, both unsure what to do now. “I’m sorry,” Eddie suddenly spoke. “For… knocking you up. Ruining your life I guess.”

“It’s okay.” you shrug, “I… college will be there. And besides, I wanted to be a mom one day and if you remember, I tried to go, but I couldn’t do it. It reeked of alcohol, like it was too clean in there. And everything, literally everything, was pink and blue.”

Eddie’s nose scrunched. “As if you gotta be reminded why you’re there.”

“Exactly! It was awful. And ugly. The smell I can wave off cause I feel like a bloodhound right now. Not something they can help.”

“Really?” 

You nod, staring at Eddie. “I can smell things that literally were hardly in the room. When my mom cooks, I have to hide up here.” you point to your door where you shoved a spare towel at the bottom of it with the intention of blocking out the smell. “I can smell the weed and cigarettes on you from when you were at the window.” you tell him.

“I haven’t smoked in hours.” Eddie replies and you nod, tapping your nose.

“Bloodhound. It’s insane. The smell is clinging to your clothes.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Munson, that’s not even the beginning of it.” you answer, “I checked out a bunch of pregnancy books. Shit is wild. And mildly terrifying and by mildly, I mean very.”

Eddie winces thinking about how it must be. He’s seen pregnant women before, of course. Their bellies swollen well past their feet. The thought passes through his head how he had now done this to you. What you were going to go through.

“You should go.” you murmur. Your mom would be calling you down for dinner soon and you rather Eddie be nowhere near your house when you did talk to them. “My mom will be calling me down any time now,” you explain.

Eddie nods and slides off of your bed. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to say goodbye to you. “I’ll, uh, see you later,” he murmurs and moves over to your window. You slide off of your bed and follow him, watching him open up your window again and climb out. You slowly shut your window, locking it once again, and watch Eddie carefully scale back down the side of your house. You watch as he jogs off, presumably to his car, that he probably parked farther from your house to avoid suspicion. You step away from the window, determined not to sit and watch to see if he comes back. A small part of you wanted him to. You stood alone in your bedroom as you realized you would have to do this alone, too. You were going to do all of this alone. Your hand drifts to your stomach once again just as your mom calls your name up the stairs, adding that dinner is ready.

You sigh and move the towel from the door, heading down the stairs to the dining room. Your parents are sat at the table. Your father sat at the head of the table, cold beer cracked open to accompany his dinner. Your mom is fussing around, getting the last bits of dinner onto the table before sitting down to pour herself a glass of red wine.

“Oh, there you are, honey. I think I’ve got everything.” your mom smiles, motioning for you to sit.

You go over, sitting down in your usual spot. You start to fill your plate knowing you probably won’t eat most of what you pile on there. Your parents launch into a conversation about how their day went as you take bites of mashed potatoes. It was one of the few food items you could manage without feeling ill after.

—-------------------------------

Eddie pulls himself into his van and as he shuts the door, a pit sets in his stomach. It doesn’t feel right. None of it feels right. He feels like.. He isn’t sure. He turns the key in his ignition and his van roars to life. For once in his life, he turns his music down as the voice of Ozzy fills the space. Eddie leans back in his seat, glancing around the quiet neighborhood he doesn’t belong in. He rolls down his window, pulling his pack of Camels from his jacket pocket and quickly placing one between his lips. He lights it up and takes a long drag of some much needed nicotine. He feels it quell his nerves a bit, enough for him to think about going home. He pulls the cigarette from his lips, a plume of smoke billowing from his lips as he switches the gearshift to drive. He pulls away from his spot and heads back to the trailer park.

By the time he gets there, his cigarette is done, and he feels only a little better. He figures some food would do him some good. He jumps out of his van and heads inside. Uncle Wayne is at the stove, working on dinner for them both before his shift. The old man usually eats and jets off. “Hey, son.” Wayne calls. He piles a plate full of spaghetti with marinara and grabs a second one, bringing both to their small table.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne.” Eddie answers, barely managing not to wince at being called ‘son’. It didn’t bother him that Wayne was calling him that. It was the fact that his immediate thought was: would I have a son? Or a daughter?

Wayne sets the plates down and falls into his seat with a soft grunt. He starts to dig in, noticing Eddie still standing there. “Cat got your tongue, boy?” 

Eddie shakes his head as if to physically clear it from more thoughts of you. He pulls out his chair and slides his jacket off, draping it over the back of his chair before falling into his seat and starting to shovel spaghetti into his mouth. A part of him felt like vomiting. Not vomit, but words. He felt anxious. He wanted to tell Wayne. He wanted advice. What should he do? He thought he did the right thing… but did he?

“What’s bothering you?”

Eddie’s head snaps up, staring at his uncle. Wayne is watching him, silently twirling spaghetti around his fork as he regards his nephew. “W-What?” Eddie managed to spit out.

“You’ve been livin with me on and off for a few years now. Since you were a wee boy. Now steadily living with me for a few years now. I know when something is bothering you. Are you having nightmares about that place again? Should I call those doctors?”

“No! No, no nightmares again.” Eddie reassures his uncle. After everything had happened and Eddie was laid up in the hospital, it became impossible to keep the truth from him. The party, along with Chief Hopper and Ms. Byers, had filled his Uncle Wayne in on what had really happened. Wayne hovered a lot more after he had learned what happened. After a year had passed, he started to ease up.

“Then what’s bothering you so much? You look like you’re ready to start climbing the walls.”

“I got a girl pregnant!” Eddie yelled, voice cracking in the beginning, but he had said it. Loudly. 

Wayne sat there, mouth open as he stared at Eddie. Eddie gulped, ready for the talking to of his lifetime. Did he get yelled at when Wayne found out he sold weed? Yes. Did he get scolded for all the times he failed graduating high school? Yes. Did he get gently scolded for disappearing after what happened in their old trailer?... yes. But this? Eddie had no clue what would happen. Wayne dropped his fork, elbows on the table, as he laced his fingers together. He watched Eddie. Eddie hoped the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

“And?” Wayne asks.

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes. And what? Eddie thought to himself. Wayne is still watching him. “And?” he repeated back to his uncle.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Wayne asks, “What has she said?”

Eddie gulps again. “She, uh, she is telling her parents. Tonight. Probably like right now.”

“So, why are you here?”

Eddie’s eyes finally move back down to his plate at Wayne’s question. “She, we, uh,”

“Look at me, son,” Wayne softly commands.

Eddie looks back up at his uncle. “I’m being left out of it. Her parents won’t know it’s me and I won’t be…”

“Around?” Wayne looked disappointed. “Who decided that?”

“She suggested it. And I agreed. I wanted it…”

“So you’re telling me that you got this girl pregnant and you just let out? Abandon her and your kid. Cause whether you like it or not, son, that baby is half yours. Half your genes. Half your responsibility. Hell, since you up and left her it should probably be more your responsibility than her’s. You’ve got the swimmers, after all.” 

“Wayne,” Eddie barely got the word out.

“I ain’t done.” Wayne warned him, giving him a look. “I thought I raised you better, Edward. I woulda thought…” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh. “I woulda thought after being around Al Munson that you’d do better than him.”

Eddie felt like ice was being pumped through his veins. He felt anger boil in his chest. He wasn’t his father. He was nothing like Al Munson, who disappeared on and off on Eddie since he was in the third grade. Who he hadn’t seen in years after the last time he tried to get him to help him with some scheme. But Eddie also felt guilt. He felt guilt in the pit of his stomach because Eddie had abandoned you. He left you there alone to face your parents alone. Like a coward. Like a coward, he ran again.

“I’m disappointed, son.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Eddie admitted quietly, “I don’t know how to be a dad. I’d probably suck at it.”

“You don’t know that. Hell, you think anyone has any idea how to be a parent? I sure as shit didn’t. But I learned. I learned how to take care of you right.” Wayne shrugs, “And I think I did a pretty good damn job, all things considered. Ya know, besides the other dimensions thing.”

“I’m scared, too.”

“And you think she isn’t?” Wayne chuckled, “Boy, you have no clue what she’s about to go through. But there’s still time for you to change your mind. Take responsibility. I’m not sayin you have to marry the girl. You don’t even have to be with her if that’s not what you want, but be there for that baby. They’re innocent in all this, you know.”

Eddie slumped in his seat. He knew his uncle was right. Of course, his uncle was right. Eddie glanced at the clock. He had to hope you hadn’t told your parents yet. If you had, hell, he might have time to jump in the middle of a screaming match. Eddie pushed away from the table, pulling his jacket off of his chair and slipping it on.

“Atta boy. I’ll put your food in the fridge.” Wayne told him, “Oh, and son?”

Eddie paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“You better bring her by to meet your old man.”

Eddie gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir.” he saluted his uncle before flying out the door to his van.

[remiratboi]

Part 5! This is the first part that assigns more gender I guess to the reader, but it’s mostly g/n. Reader is afab, but she/they. Honestly I’m kind of indifferent to their gender, so if someone really cares that it’s they/them, not she/they, let me know and I can absolutely adjust.

First | Previous

You spent the evening alternating between disappointed, embarrassed and annoyed. It surprised you how hard it was to keep your mind off of it. Normally rejection rolled off of you. You were pretty used to it, unfortunately. Dating while fat was… something else.

But this was different somehow. You cared this time. It hit you like a truck when you realized it. For the first time, in a very long time, you cared.

You hated it. You hated giving someone that power. Being vulnerable wasn’t something you did well.

You had spend your entire life being “too much”. You were too big, both in personality and body. You were too loud, you had too many emotions, and thoughts. You talked too much. And people were not scared to tell you. You couldn’t even count the times and ways people had defined you as “too much”. The blatant words, the subtle actions, the micro aggressions. That was your life.

But not him. He had told you his favourite thing about you was how much you talked. Which, honestly, felt fake, but it was hard not to believe his genuine eyes. He had done so many things to make you think he…

You instinctively shut down that train of thought. You shouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s made it clear you read things wrong.

The next day came slowly. It was raining. You rolled over in bed, not eager to start the day. You debated going back to sleep, when you heard dishes clinking.

You shot up, fear ripping through your chest. Had you imagined that? No. You heard it again.

A chill settled in your bones as you carefully, silently, crawled out of bed. You wore a skimpy tank top that barely covered you. It was low cut, you never wore a binder/bra, you didn’t need to, you had been blessed with only tiny handfuls for tits, and it rested under your waist showing your lower stomach. The booty shorts you wore didn’t make things any better. They were practically underwear. You debated trying to throw more clothes on, but knew the closet doors creaked.

The little cabin was small, but the bedrooms were on one side, and the kitchen on the complete opposite. You made your way towards it, picking up a badminton racket on the way. It had been discarded in the hallway after another one of your activities with Ollie.

You raised the racket above your shoulder and took a deep breath to steel yourself. This was it. You slowly stepped around the corner. Your mind filled with monsters and villains.

The tall, pale green half orc bent over the stove with his back to you was not what you were expecting. You practically sobbed with relief.

“Ollie?!” You demanded, your voice cracking and sounding a lot more desperate than you’d like. He turned slightly, but didn’t look away from whatever he was doing.

“Good morning!” He said cheerily. “Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to make you breakfast to make up for yesterday.” He continued. You noticed now milk and eggs on the counter. The smell of food wafted towards you.

You didn’t say anything. Your brain was struggling to compute. You had like 7 questions. How had he got in? Why did he do this? Why did he think it was ok? But most importantly, what does he mean ‘make up for yesterday’?!

Just as you realized you’d been standing there, slackjawed, not answering, for far too long, he turned. As soon as he saw you, he froze. His cheeks went dark green and the flipper he was holding clattered to the ground. You were confused for about .02 whole seconds before you remembered you were almost naked.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.” You blurted out and raced back to your room. You threw the door shut and leaned against it. What the hell was he doing here? In your cabin! While you were asleep!

Your mind raced as you threw a loose tee over the tank, and a pair of thin sweats on. You made your way back to the kitchen.

“Ollie, I think we need to talk about boundaries-” you started. You stopped when you noticed the front door was open. You looked from the door to the kitchen. He was gone. A thin plume of smoke started on the stove. Something was burning.

A quick toss of the pan into the sink dealt with that. You turned off the burner and leaned on the counter in bafflement.

No, fuck that! He doesn’t get to just run away from this!

You ran after him.

Hope you enjoyed it! :) the support I’ve been getting has been incredible! You’re all so lovely!! Next part of a bit more serious, and the part after is spicy! (If I follow my plan) I think it will be about 3-4 more parts. (Again if I follow my plan) Thank you for following along with me!

[grandline-fics]

Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: no angst in this one, mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 2,588

A/N: This one was more on the slower side but things are developing and I hope this chapter was still enjoyable for you all

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six (here) | Chapter Seven (coming soon)

———————

Zoro was trying to not read too much into things but he couldn’t help it. Yes he kissed you back because of a moment of pure weakness and selfishness on his part but he still had no clear answer about why you initiated it in the first place. Had it been as you said? That you truly didn’t know the driving force of your actions. Or could it have been a case of some of your memories beginning to trickle to the surface? Instinct taking over whenever you finally felt his touch winning out over your current state of rationality that your amnesia brought. He’d spent most of the afternoon training, pushing himself harder than normal just to take his mind off of it all. He only stopped when he noticed how dark it was getting and knew you needed to eat.

When he knocked at the door to the medical room he waited for you to answer. In the short time he stood there he still couldn’t get used to the fact that this was where he had to go to find you. It felt wrong, it was the main reason he couldn’t sleep restfully anymore. His body had gotten so used to having you beside him night after night for so long that the abrupt change of sleeping on his own again had completely thrown him and not even his intense training and sheer stubbornness was enough to help him find peaceful sleep. Zoro was brought out of his thoughts when the door slowly opened and he met your face coming into view. He knew that initial hazy expression well, you’d been sleeping and then he felt a small sense of pride to see the look of appreciation slip in when you looked him over. In a way it was reassuring to see that even with your memories gone, your physical attraction to him was still there.

Quickly he focused to discuss organising dinner with you seeing as the others still hadn’t returned to the Sunny. It wasn’t strange for long trips on a new island, and coupled with the fact he knew everyone intended to drag out their time before returning to the ship so you and he would be completely alone it was likely no one would return until late that night. Once he agreed to meet you in the kitchen, he turned and headed for the washroom to shower as quickly as he could. He wasn’t a great cook by any means but he didn’t want all of the work to go to you. After he was washed and changed into fresher clothes he walked into the kitchen to the smell of food already cooking on the stove. At the sound of Zoro’s approach you turned and gave him a small smile. “Good news is Sanji left stuff already prepared for us to make dinner. Guess he didn’t trust us to fend for ourselves.” 

“More like he thought I’d destroy his precious kitchen.” Zoro muttered, feeling that the stupid cook had done this to gain a point against him. To show off his fancy cooking skills even when he wasn’t here. 

“Who’s to say I’m not capable of burning the kitchen down?” You asked playfully before turning to stir the food simmering on the stove. “It could be me he doesn’t trust.”

“For one you’re a good cook and two even if you weren’t that moron would forgive you for anything.” Zoro shrugged and stepped further into the room taking charge of the vegetables on the chopping board that needed cut. 

Together you both cooked in content silence, the first real sense of calm settling between you both since the day you woke from your accident. In a way you were glad of nearly falling down the steps and the inexplicable and heavily inappropriate kiss you both shared because it seemed to help get some of the tension out of you both enough to make things bearable. Also the memory you had while you slept also helped settle some of your previous animosity towards the swordsman. Knowing that you had been a part of the crew and that you cared enough to tend to his wounds had only proved what they’d told you from the beginning; you were a pirate like them. You’d joined them, you were a friend. Cautiously you cast a quick glance at Zoro, more than a friend it seemed with him. 

You remembered his defiance to tell you anything just this morning unless you genuinely wanted to know and would listen. Were you ready now? If you were asking that then the answer was probably no. You considered that if you’d had one of your memories come back on their own then perhaps the others would too without outside influence of the others telling you the stories. You jumped when Zoro’s hand touched your shoulder and looked at him, snapping out of your daze. Anxiously you lowered the flame to stop the food from burning in time. Nervously you laughed. “See? Told you it was me that could burn everything.”

“You okay?” Zoro asked, studying you carefully. It was hard to know what was stepping too close to the line or pushing past what you were comfortable with now. If it was still the you that had all of your memories he would have known to ask what was on your mind, able to see for sure that something was heavy in your thoughts, pulling your focus. Now? He had to be gentler than he wanted to be, a simple question without being direct. It was rare for him to have this approach since he favoured the swift and direct method. Zoro lifted his hand away from your shoulder when he realised he’d been touching you all this time. 

The second his hand lifted your eyes flickered to the shoulder, registering the lack of warmth that the momentary touch had brought. Quickly you pushed back the way your body wanted to lean into his hold. You nodded and to Zoro’s question and forced a small smile. “Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming…”

“About anything in particular?”

“Nothing really.” You mumbled, lifting the spoon to your lips to test if the food needed salvaging after nearly burning it. It was good but it still needed something. “Just letting my mind wander…” Zoro stepped back to let you walked around the kitchen with purpose. You opened one of the cabinets and lifted a small unlabelled jar before returning to the stove. With precision you sprinkled some of the contents into the food and stirred. You took a taste and smiled in satisfaction. Lifting another spoon you took a small helping and offered it to Zoro who was staring at you evenly. “Try.”

Zoro hesitated for a second but took the spoon from your hand to taste the food. Delicious as he knew it would be. “It’s great.” He told you, turning away sharply to grab the plates. “Always is.”

“Good to know but what’s wrong?” You asked, serving out his portion and then your own and took a seat at the table, watching Zoro steadily as he took the spot opposite you. “What did I do?”

“The seasoning.” Zoro finally admitted. “You went straight for it even though you haven’t cooked since waking. You knew where it was and what it was for even though it wasn’t labelled.”

“Oh…” You glanced at the jar on the counter only now seeing how strange it was. “I didn’t even realise. What is it anyway?”

“Something you found way back for me when the stupid cook’s dishes are too sweet.” Zoro explained with a small smile at the memory that he quickly hid by shoving food into his mouth. Even telling you that much felt like he was pushing too much, like he was influencing your thoughts even if it was the truth. He wasn’t going to lie but he felt a small sense of hope when he saw you immediately take the jar. Like it was a sign something was beginning to shake loose in your mind. It was an insignificant thing but he would take it. Now he worried when you were quiet. “Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologising? It’s the truth right?” You shrugged lightly, it wasn’t something Zoro needed to say sorry for. “Sanji does like to favour sweetness, doesn’t he?” 

“Think he does it on purpose sometimes with my food. Dumbass.” Zoro conceded with a small laugh, glad for the slight diversion from the conversation. You bit back your own grin in an attempt to hide it but failed. 

“Oh come on, you’d be bored if he wasn’t here to argue with.” Zoro rolled his good eye at your teasing and pointed his fork at your food. 

"Just hush and eat before it gets cold.”

When the meal was finished and everything cleaned, you joined Zoro in the Crow’s Nest. With just the two of you on the ship it would mean the watch would be shared between you both until any of the others decided to come back. As you took your seat you looked out the window at the bright lights of the large cityscape on the island, your thumb lightly running along your bottom lip as your mind began to drift again. “They'll be fine. We haven’t heard fighting or Marine alerts yet so they’re actually behaving for once.”

You looked over to where Zoro stood, leaning against the large pane of glass instead of sitting anywhere near you. Deep down you knew he spoke the truth, Luffy’s overwhelming excitement and boundless energy would mean that he was just as loud and obvious when fighting. If the city was calm then you didn’t need to worry about your crew. Quickly you tensed at how you considered them ‘yours’ now instead of just ‘the crew.’ That memory you experienced had affected you more than you initially realised. Your attention was grabbed when you heard Zoro hold back a deep breath, you narrowed your eyes slightly in keen scrutiny. He was holding back a yawn, a real one and not that pretend one he’d made earlier when he claimed he was going to nap. “Lie down and sleep Zoro. I'll take first watch.”

“I’m fine.”

“Again with the stubbornness?” You asked accusingly and gestured to the countless seats he could lie down on. “Just lie down okay? I slept earlier. I promise I’ll wake you when I start to feel sleepy.” Zoro stared at you hard and you refused to back down. “Please.”

Zoro swallowed hard and slowly shook his head, for a moment you were ready to insist again but instead anything you were prepared to shout at him stopped in your throat when he pushed away from the wall with a huff and trudged to the closest section of seats and lay down on his back, tucking his hands behind his head lazily. He would pretend to sleep to keep you happy. At the sound of movement, Zoro cracked his good eye open and frowned warily when you moved to sit closer to his head. You still kept some distance but were within touching distance now. “You look like a deep sleeper, have to be closer to shake you awake if I need to.”

Zoro hesitated at your willingness to be closer in proximity to him but again that selfish weakness that he had when it came to you was creeping back. He’d take anything he could get. Even if it was small, even if it meant that when you returned home like you planned to and even if it meant he’d hurt even more he would gladly accept it all, just for a little bit more of you. His eye closed again as he allowed another yawn to build in his chest and this time let it out. You watched Zoro carefully, unable to stop your small smile to see him give in and sleep. Perhaps now Chopper would be less concerned now that the swordsman would be more rested. 

As you stared out the window you absently let your hand settle into Zoro’s hair, unaware you'd done it at first until you felt him lean into your touch in his sleep. When you looked down again and saw the calm in Zoro’s expression your heart fluttered slightly and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull your hand back. He looked as though some weight he’d been holding had lifted now that he was sleeping and relaxed. You bit your lower lip and quickly looked towards the window again to keep watch while your fingers gently continued to move against Zoro’s hair, occasionally massaging against his scalp in between your slow movements. 

It wasn’t long before you noticed movement and the clear outline of people approaching the Sunny. Thanks to the bright moonlight you could see Luffy and the others had returned. Knowing you didn’t need to wake Zoro you carefully moved your hand away from his head and quietly descended the ladder to greet the group as they climbed aboard. “Nice day?”

“Yeah, the city’s great.” Nami answered first, her bright gaze drifting briefly up to the Crow’s Nest before returning her stare to you. “Lots to see and explore. Can’t wait to go back for more shopping.”

“There’s time to go back?” You asked, glancing behind her shoulder to see Sanji skipping on board with a mountain of shopping bags in his arms. Obviously this was the result of Nami’s shopping trip but you noticed a few bookstore bags in his hold too that belonged to Robin. Franky, Usopp, and Chopper carried crates of ship supplies on board and smiled to you in greeting before disappearing to unload what they’d bought.

“Well yeah…that’s kinda the bad news. For you I suppose.” The navigator broached the subject delicately. “Log pose will take three weeks to set. I’m sorry it’s not sooner than you’d like but it just means we can gather as much to stock the ship for the long journey back to your island. I hope you’re not mad.”

“Oh well it can’t be helped, right?” You asked with a small laugh, surprising Nami. All day she’d been expecting your annoyance and wish to just get home the second they had enough supplies to last them the trip back. “Well I’ll go wake Zoro. It’s Luffy’s turn for watch right?” You asked with a nervous smile before turning to go up to the Crow’s Nest while Luffy bounced happily behind you, telling you about the things he’d seen on the island and in the city. 

Nami stared at you curiously as you left. Did you seem happy that you were here a little longer? She knew better than to ask outright or let on that she suspected a change in you, but she was going to watch you a lot closer now. While she was desperate to know what happened between you and Zoro while you were alone all day she had to restrain herself. Three weeks was a long time and she was certain that there was going to be a lot more to come. She let out an amused hum as she watched you and Luffy appear in the window of the Crow’s Nest, waking Zoro. At the same time Robin stepped beside her. “Three weeks, hm? I could have sworn that store owner told you and I the pose would set in three days.”

“Well what the others don’t know, won’t hurt them. Right?”

------------------------------------------------

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[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

yet another post about sex and attraction (and how it manifests in Simon)

(this time with ~quotes~)

I wrote a lot of posts about how attraction and sex is portrayed with Simon in these books (it's an issue, not being able to shut up)... I saved some screenshots here when I was cleaning up my gallery a couple of months ago because, well. They support a lot of things I have been saying.

When Simon calls himself a Baz-sexual, he's not just being goofy! In the context of thinking about having sex, he says "Baz is the only person I've EVER wanted" (let me emphasize the already emphasized ever again, in case it's not clear). Simon is not comfortable thinking about sex (iirc even in his memory, it's memory-Baz who says "sex") (as a side-note, dunno why people see Baz as being shy or scandalized about this shit like... the guy will just simply say the word sex. His issues with pursuing his desires are a different thing.) Simon is not going to elaborate in a super explicit way like "I have never thought 'I want to have sex with this person' about anybody until I figured I wanted to have sex with Baz" He's not comfortable processing his relationship with Agatha either, so it's notable that he would say this in hindsight, because this is already answering a lot while avoiding the things he's the most uncomfortable with (he didn't truly want sex with her – he's just beginning to discover where he even stands on sex right in front of us)

This is Simon expressing himself in the way he's able, in the way he's the most comfortable: by focusing on Baz. And it's not a thing where he has felt attraction before and Baz is different because it's just more intense when you're in love (which is obviously a valid and real experience, it's just not what's going on with good ol' Simon). He's saying "Baz is the only person I've ever wanted"... And that emphasis on ever? very intentional. One could say it's correcting any previous statement in CO where a character or two might be expressing the belief that Simon wants Agatha, the person (as opposed to things attached to her) (Baz we're gonna get you to work through your shit one of these days my beloved) (Simon himself, but he's mistakingly saying "I've always wanted to date her" when the example he goes by to support this point conveys "I want to be like her" among a list of other things.... "I've always wanted Agatha" -> "Baz is the only person I've ever wanted"... see what he's doing? and note how one is thought in the context of Simon projecting things like strength and acceptance into her beauty and the other in the context of having sex)

"Simon doesn't know what attraction feels like, he begins to figure it out right in front of us when he figures he wants Baz," I say. "He has simply not experienced attraction until Baz," I say (and so did the author after CO came out, when the sequels weren't even a thought yet, and she said it again after awtwb came out. I don't need 'word of god' to support what I say because there's a lot to pick up from the books, such as the screenshots you see here, but it's nice to have the extra confirmation. I'm not made of stone, I know I'm not immune to biases and the like, but I'm not just seeing shit here!)"

Also: sex for the sake of sex doesn't cut it for Simon. This is someone who's not only discovering the point of sex... he's discovering the point of being horny (which also sounds like someone who has not experienced pleasure outside of food, which is the one thing Simon associates with that). I mean, he sounds like someone who's just discovering they're even capable of being horny for real (even though he was being horny when he picked up fights with Baz years ago... that was unconscious... he has been horny for Baz for years, but the awareness wasn't there, and he mistakes his feelings for something else like missing Baz=being lonely or bored, horny for Baz=anger or frustration etc). Passion, attraction, horniness, you name it – he's figuring this shit out on the page right in front of us. He's figuring it out now because he hasn't felt it before. This isn't new for Baz, who has masturbated to thoughts of Simon ("I can have this" is what's new for him) but it's completely new for Simon. Being aware of such feelings and trying to work through them is new. And he's wondering "What do I do with this?"...

Simon, horny to the point he's dry-humping Baz in a public space: I don't understand what's happening here. All this also ties into how Simon isn't used to making decisions for himself by himself – he has always had a map (other people telling him what to do/what they expect of him) and he's not used to process his feelings. Processing such intense feelings is already a lot, but then... what's next? What are you supposed to do with feelings so big you feel like you're about to explode? (going off).

This is part of why it's so difficult for Simon. "He's so worked up his magic is leaking"... He can't get worked up without his magic leaking... and you expect me to believe this is someone who could enjoy sex in any way shape or form with the girl who can't tolerate his magic? Let's be serious.

If anything, he would not be able to have sex with someone he's not magically compatible with while actually feeling shit. His magic would stop it before it really got anywhere (so if you're going anywhere, he's not feeling it). Just like Baz says, he goes from 0 to 100: from struggling to have any feelings to feeling so much he could explode. It's part of why it's so difficult with Baz, and why being with Baz pushes him to start figuring things out. He's feeling now.

(This also shows Baz's gentle heart from very early on. Introduced as an essential part of his character, one might say!! Almost like he has always been soft at heart and didn't feel allowed to show it! Like perhaps his environment and being pressured into and confined to a role and expectations that went against his nature made him sad and bitter and act up!)

I think the most important thing here is how special this moment is with Baz – it's so good because he feels like he's building something with Baz there. They're connecting... They also match with "I want the other person so much, but am I allowed to act on these desires? Do I deserve it?" they both feel this way. And allowing themselves to have what they want (the other) is an experience comparable to magic itself.

After appreciating the importance of this moment... we can start looking at the little details. This scene was the starting point of me taking Simon's magic into consideration – that perhaps this is where Simon first experiences a relief that's not destructive. Before that, the only form of release he knew was just going off with his magic. Is this magic? is about how magical that moment is, yes. But also... Is this magic? he thinks while having an orgasm. It could be said that an orgasm is like going off – Simon only knew about going off by releasing his magic, and magic made it so he wouldn't have been able to go off in any other way without that being an actual danger (perhaps like how discovering his true desires would have been a danger to the structure he used to live with then, the traditional expectations and the role he was fulfilling)

Also, how would he even get worked up when he doesn't know what he wants? when he doesn't know what type of touch he even tolerates? When he doesn't think? (and for the record: you can get body parts to react with any touch without actually feeling it, I have posted about that too, look up arousal non-concordance etc). He's just starting to figure out these things when he's with Baz. Before being together, he got worked up with Baz all the time, but he didn't know what it was. He didn't know what any of it was (again, like when he missed Baz terribly but he just thought he was hungry or lonely or bored). Now that he knows he wants him, everything is so... much. It overwhelms him. I mean, consider this... This is very complicated, and it's also the first time Simon is left alone to figure it out by himself, free of expectations – the very thing that caged him also provided instructions of what to do, so it was easier to just act without thinking. There's no map here, no instruction... until Baz starts to guide him.

This is another thing that gets missed a lot: Simon is inexperienced. Doesn't matter that he has had sex before – he's showing you his inexperience with his questions, in the way he knows he wants to touch Baz but has no idea what to actually do. In a way, Baz has experience, even if it's not a lot, because he knows himself. He has experience feeling his desire and doing something about it, even if it's just by himself (masturbation as self-discovery: yet another reason Simon would not have been able to do it). It's why Baz guides, and why Simon finally feels like they have it figured out once Baz "starts driving." Baz telling him what he wants (which is also a good grounding technique to avoid dissociation) or figuring out what he wants provides Simon with the mission, the map, the guidance he craves. Only this time, it goes hand in hand with figuring out his own wants.

(I'm probably forgetting something I wanted to say here. Anyway, let me highlight how obsessed Simon is with Baz... Simon "I know his face better than my own" Snow, who has every microexpression Baz makes carefully cataloged in his head, doesn't know what Baz's face looks like when he feels pleasure, and he needs to change that expeditiously. He said the lights must be ON during sex with Baz.) (I probably going to post this little parenthesis again. I know very few people read these long ass posts until the end and I need the people to think about this)

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Chained to a demon (18+)

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Colour: rough and kinky

Warnings: bondage (kind of), vaginal sex, semi-public, prison, fingering, rough sex, kissing, spanking, hand over eyes, wall sex, loving pet names, praise, fyodor being a bit dom and tiny bit possessive, gloves, cum-eating, teasing, unprotected sex (don't do this kids, use your condoms), creampie (also don't do this), semi-public

Words: 2399

Summary: You have been working under Fyodor's orders for a while now. Unfortunately, that meant you were also arrested with him. He has a plan to escape, unlocking every lock in his way but the handcuffs that chain you together.

P.s. this is supposed to be set between Fyodor's arrest and his move to the high-security prison. It is a hypothetical situation.

Fyodor suddenly kneeled next to the iron door. The chain of the handcuffs connecting you was long, but not long enough to continue allowing you to stand. You fell to your knees next to him.

"What are you doing?", you said to him annoyed.

His hands were feeling the delicate mechanisms of the cell's lock. "I believe it is evident what I am doing, moya lyubov"

"I don't know what that means, and could you please just give me a warning next time?"

The silent click of the lock drew your attention. Fyodor let go of the iron bars and the door slid open.

"What the devil did you do?", you asked.

"I am tired of the view here", he said, "The lighting is wrong, the eyes too many and I am getting impatient"

"What are you-hey!", the chain pulled you towards him as he waltzed out of the small cell.

"Do not squabble so loud, moya lyubov, or you will draw the guards' attention sooner than I would prefer"

You opened your mouth to respond but no words were uttered. The fewer guards you encountered the fewer people would get hurt in the process and the cleaner your clothes would remain. Getting out was inevitable now that Fyodor had decided upon it, but getting out without encountering a soul would be a welcome bonus.

You stopped in front of a magnetically sealed door. Fyodor reached in his pocket and uncovered the piece of clear tape you had seen him stick on the iron food tray on lunch day. He had covered it with potato purree he had dried to powder. He pressed it on the fingerprint lock and in a few moments the light around it turned into the most beautiful green you had ever seen.

The door opened to reveal another long corridor. Fyodor moved ahead with ease, his mind probably already in possession of a detailed map of the prison's structure. Soon, he opened the door to a small guards' room, empty of its occupants. He locked the door behind him before he pulled the two of you to one of the lockers.

"Good, it will be much harder to be noticed if we blend in as part of their security", you tossed a guard's hat up and down with your spare hand.

"That is not what I require from this room, moya lyubov", he continued to search through the lockers one by one.

"No? But it would be useful", you said confused, "Oh, perhaps you can find a key for these cuffs, they tend to have the same ones per batch"

"Ah, here it is", he suddenly said. You thought he had answered your question until you saw him take out a pair of black gloves from the locker instead of a small silver key.

"Gloves?", you asked, "I'm sorry, but how is that going to help us get out?"

"It is not", Fyodor responded nonchalantly, "I do not wish to escape just yet".

"Then what-", your sentence was cut off as Fyodor collided your lips together. Your body recovered quickly from the initial shock and melted under his touch.

Touch; he was touching you! You had spent days bound to this man, years longing for him from afar, and yet all it took was a pair of borrowed gloves for him to play with all the strings of your heart like it was his cello. His kiss was rough and needy, devouring all of the words that he always left unsaid. A cold surface hit your back; the lockers. You twisted your body to get a better angle at him and he took the opportunity to cup your blushed hot cheek.

"What are you doing?", you breathed against his lips once he broke the kiss.

"I already told you", he said, "My patience has its limits. And when it comes to you, I'm afraid they fall quite short"

He kissed you again. This time his mouth trailed down your throat, tongue following the trail of your bones. He lodged his leg between your legs, his knee rubbing against your lower parts.

"Fyo...dor....", you sighed as his hands circled your nipples over the fabric of your prison uniform.

"I want you lisichka", he said, slowly peeling off the top of your blue jumpsuit, " I wanted you for years, I want you at this moment, and I will want you for all the moments and years to come". It was clear that his words were stalling for time, his grip loose enough for you to shake him away. "And if you don't push me away right now I'll take you right here and now, moya lyubov"

He dove to take one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand. Your head fell back as his knee continued to press on your clothed cunt. Your fingers clung to his slick black hair and pulled him closer, the chain scraping his pale cheek. Your hips jolted towards him at every touch of his. You guided the hand that was chained to yours down to the last of your jumpsuit's buttons and slipped both your hands underneath the uniform. He wasted no time in plunging two of his digits inside your walls. Your free hand gripped his shoulder as your body trembled underneath him. He had not done anything complicated, and yet he turned you on more than any other man. His presence was domineering, his touch loving and precise. Your juices were drenching his black glove as its roughness brushed over your silk walls.

He laughed over your skin. "I have to admit he quite surprised me when he tied us together with these", he said

"Why-"

He closed in enough so his free hand could lift the chain of your handcuffs to your lips. He placed the cold metal between your teeth, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"I have no intention of letting you know that", his lips attacked your shoulder. Your whines were muffled by the iron chain that hung from your teeth. Fyodor pushed his body onto yours, your bare back pressing down on the cold surface of the guards' lockers. "Unless you'd like to make a deal for it", he smiled. His thumb was dexterously playing with your bud, his teeth were lightly scraping your skin as he traced your collarbone, making you shiver. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word Fyodor grabbed the falling chain and shoved it back in. He placed a soft puckery kiss over your sealed lips. "You can nod", he said.

He withdrew his hand from your lower lips and raised it to his mouth. He made a show of licking each finger with a snarky smile as his thumb traced circles on your left breast. He lightly scraped your torso from neck to waist with the back of his wet fingers before he kneeled down and buried his face in your cunt. He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, his tongue reaching between your walls as his thumbs stretched their entrance. Your moan made the thin chain rattle. "Don't you drop it now, lisichka", Fyodor said as he kissed your bud, "I'll be very angry if you do that before the time comes".

He let his mouth water as he kissed your lower lips. His tongue once again plunged inside you. Your body trembled as he moaned for no other reason than to draw this exact reaction. "Let me let you in on my plan, lisichka", he said, his fingers taking the place of his tongue as he pumped them in and out of your body. "You will come on my hand and then I'll help you escape. But before that", he thrusted another finger into your hole, his other hand drawing circles quicker and quicker over your bud, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'll be the only thought in your mind until I get out myself"

One hand fell upon your asscheek, leaving behind a rosey imprint. The other reached inside you, searching for the sweet spot that would make the legs that squeezed him trembling and weak. His eyes were as sure as his fingers as they drove you closer and closer to the cliff of pleasure. Your writhed in his grasp but he only picked up the speed of his digits inside you. Your hand gripped his black hair as he spat on the hand which worked your clit. You could not see behind the white blur that clouded your eyes. The metal taste of the chain filled your mouth as you bit down harder, your body falling into the pits of euphoria.

Your vision was still white and you did not see him stand up. Suddenly he was in front of you, lulling the chain from your mouth and plunging his tongue inside in a deep kiss. There was a fire under the ice of his heart, like a sleeping volcano under the Russian glaciers. He turned you over. Your eyes were covered again. He let you taste yourself on his fingers before he returned them to your clit. He buried open kisses on your shoulder and nape as he pressed you against him. You could feel his painful bulge underneath his prison clothes.

"Say you want me", he breathed, "say you need me moya lyubov"

"Fyodor..."

"Ask me to fuck you", you could not see his smile and yet you knew it was there. His one hand moved to wrap around your torso, his other pulled out his cock and placed the tip on your entrance. "Tell me you want me inside you", he let his tip trace the lips of your folds.

"Fyodor....", you trembled. You pressed the lockers with your hands and pushed your body towards him, but he was good at keeping you at a distance. "Please", you heaved from need, "Please I need you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I can't take it any-"

He cut your sentence short. He plunged himself deep inside you. That hand that kept your eyes in the dark moved to cover your open mouth.

"Here's my deal lisichka:", he drew his length all the way out and thrusted back in. Your hand shot up to catch the locker as your body was jolted forwards. Fyodor softly played with your stray locks. You wiggled your hips, anything to get some friction, but he held you in place. His face seemed unbothered by the agony of the stillness between you. "You will hold until we come together", he said by your ear, "and I'll let you in on a secret"

His words came as a statement rather than a choice. Still, he waited until you nodded your head before he smiled and started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, his head fell back as if he was relishing the moment. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to isolate the sensation of the bond that bound the two of you.

"Do you know why they bound you to me?", his next thrust sent you forward. He picked up the pace, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling your ears. His hand still muffled your moans, so you could not respond even if he wanted you to. "I bet Dazai thought he would hobble me this way", he laughed, "Cause I'd be too concerned of using my ability on you by accident"

He grunted. You whined against his gloved hand. You could not control your breath anymore. Your heartbeat reverberated the beating of his body onto yours. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, your saliva dripping on the black leather.

"I wish I could fuck you like this in front of him", his voice was lost in the music of your bodies, "I wish he could see what a trifle his effort was"

He was saying that but his annoyance was clear. Whatever was the case, you could not help but bless Dazai as Fyodor sent you closer and closer to heaven. You felt the wetness of a tear running down your cheek. Your mind could not begin to process what was happening. You felt Fyodor's warmth as he pounded inside you, his hands wrapped around your naked body in the middle of a guards' room.

He changed his angle. The tip of his length kissed your cervix, your whine echoing around the walls. He removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on your hips, much like the other. He granted you a kiss on the side of your neck, his eyes searching for displeasure on your face. But there was none to be found. Your walls squeezed him tighter and he breathed heavily at the sensation. He grabbed your breast. He leaned in, close to your ear, and whispered, "You're squeezing me so tightly moya lyubov". He let his voice drop before he added in a grated tone, "Would you like me to make you mine?". He turned your body to the side, one of his hands holding up your leg. "Show me your face", he said, "I want to see it plead me to ruin you. That is the price of loving me"

Your mind was in a haze. One look at him was all it took to send it there. His words were coarse and domineering but his eyes were pleading for you like a man dying of thirst. He was drawing circles on your bud again, his thrusts quickening. He nipped on your ear as his warm essence filled you. You felt yourself let go, the knot in your stomach bursting and overflowing from your lower self. Your body trembled but he held you close to help you stand. He held your head and pulled you for a kiss.

"Good girl", he whispered against your lips, "Wait for me until we meet again. Whether that's in cuffs, or the end, or a life other than this one."

He pulled out and kissed you again, this time hugging your body from the front. He pulled a small metal needle-like object from his pocket and in a matter of moments your cuffs were unlocked. He placed his thumb on your lower lip, his face serious as ever.

"Wait for me to make you cum again", he said.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

¹ moya lyubov = моя любовь = my love

² lisichka = Лисичка = Little fox

[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. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“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.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“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!”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“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…

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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? 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“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.

 ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

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

[archangeldyke-all]

simp sev

anon i'm kissing you with tongue rn (but only if that's cool w/ u ofc)

SIMP SEVIKAAAA

men and minors dni

she's not just a simp, she's proud of it.

once you're dating, of course.

before you're dating, she tries to suppress her simp tendencies the best she can.

her eyes are always glued to you.

she doesn't give a fuck if she's being obvious to other people, but if you look her way she's blushing and whipping around before you can catch her staring.

if she sees you approaching, she'll straighten her posture and puff her chest out, subtly flexing her biceps. when you pass she deflates again with a sigh, relaxing back to her normal hunch.

you have no clue that sevika's interested in you for the longest time because she's always silent when you're around.

it's not that she doesn't want to talk to you, she just gets tongue tied every time you make eye contact with her-- so she chooses to stay quiet instead.

she grunts one syllable answers to all your questions, never quite looking in your eyes.

but she's always listening. she listens to everything you say. doesn't forget anything.

you're blown away when you bump into sevika on your birthday, and she shoves a small gift bag in your hand.

"happy birthday." she grumbles.

"how'd you know it's my birthday?" you ask, shocked. she stutters out something about you having mentioned it before, and then she flees before you can open the gift or thank her.

you open the bag to find a collection of all your favorite snacks

sevika had kept a mental catalog of which candies she saw you reach for most frequently, which chips you brought in most often.

the gift wasn't anything extravagant, but it took your breath away. you didn't even think sevika knew your name, much less your birthday and favorite foods.

it clicks for you then that maybe sevika wasn't being standoffish and dismissive of you, maybe she was just a huge simp.

you test your hypothesis by wearing a low cut shirt the next time you see her.

she runs straight into a lamp post she's so distracted by your cleavage, and that's all the confirmation you need.

"oh, shit!" you say, trying to suppress a giggle as you run to her side. shes clutching her bleeding nose, kicking the steel lamp post with her boot. "you okay?" you ask, reaching up to move her hand from her nose and inspect the damage. you keep her hand in your hold between the two of you, slowly bringing your other hand up to cup her chin, tilting her head down so you can see her nose better.

sevika looks shocked, like completely flabbergasted. her mouth is open, her eyebrows are reaching for her forehead and her eyes are sparkling and wide. you try not to smile as you tilt her head back and forth.

"you didn't break it." you say, letting go of her hand only to reach up and use the back of your sleeve to clean up the blood trickling down her lips. "but you'll probably get black eyes."

"oh." sevika says. she clears her throat. "okay."

"don't worry about it too much sevika," you say. she chokes when you say her name. "you look hot when you're all beat up." you say, sauntering away.

sevika stays frozen in place for five minutes, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened to her.

after that, flirting with sevika becomes your favorite pastime.

a well timed "looking good today sevika" can make her choke on her whiskey.

a wink shot to her across the room gets her giggling uncontrollably, pressing her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stop.

she starts flirting back too, when she can speak.

you're rambling to her about a recipe you want to try soon when she cuts you off, mid-sentence.

"you have nice eyes." she blurts.

you grin. "thanks, sev." you say.

(the nickname gives her butterflies)

(she jerks off that night to the thought of you calling her 'sev' in bed.)

you actually ask her out first.

she's shocked, so shocked that for a second you think you've read the whole situation wrong.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry sevika, i didn't-- i thought--"

"no!" she blurts. you blink.

"oh. well, okay." you say, trying to take the rejection in stride. she waves her hands in front of you.

"no no no! not no i mean, just-- fuck!" she gulps for air, "i've been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out for months!"

you smile. "oh." you say. she nods. "well... you were takin' too long." she snorts.

"so lemme do it now?" she asks.

"no way!" you say. "i already asked! you gotta answer my question fir--."

"yes!" she butts in. "i'll go out with you. but i won't let you pay. and i'm picking you up at your place." she insists.

once you guys start dating, sevika lets her inner simp shine.

the first time she sees you naked she actually swoons. like her knees go wobbly and she falls on her ass. luckily, the bed was right behind her.

she never lets you leave the house without at least three visible hickeys.

you're the only thing she talks about. she's not very talkative to begin with, but when people insist on making small chat with her, the only thing she'll bring up is you.

if someone's looking to get on sevika's good side, they ask her how you're doing.

those card games she's always winning? she spends her earnings on you, coming home with a proud little grin, shaking the coins in her purse at you. "gonna buy you somethin' nice tonight." she says.

she can sometimes be heard grumbling to the cards. "come on. wanna take my girl out for dinner."

won't let you open a door if she's there. always puts your shoes and jacket on for you. carries all your bags.

her favorite thing to do is watch you exist. she loves catching you when you think no one's looking. loves the goofy songs she'll hear you singing under your breath, the way you talk to yourself. the way you move, your unique quirks and ticks.

you guys could be in the worst fight of your relationship, but she'd never leave the house without kissing you and telling you she loves you.

always telling you how good you look in the most outlandish ways. doesn't matter how good you think you look. you could be in sweat pants on day 3 without a shower, and she'd be biting her lip and fucking you with her eyes. "you look good enough to eat right now."

"i look like i climbed out of the sewer."

"you look like the mother of this baby i'm about to put inside you."

she buys you guys matching 'best friend' necklaces, the kind that make a heart when you put the two charms together. she never takes hers off.

[his-lost-one]

should i be asleep? yes. am i? no. so anyway i was thinking about my misophonia and decided to write a pan x reader story where the reader has misophonia. it’s very self indulgent tbh but i needed that, for my soul.

ship: pan x gender neutral!reader

title: eating alone

warnings: none really, but ofc there’ll be talk of misophonia and there’s a happy ending :)

(there are two endings for this, just choose whichever you prefer!)

word count: 1295

(ao3 link)

(fic under the cut)

You had just arrived on Neverland earlier today. It had been maybe 4 hours by now? You couldn’t really be sure, since you had no way to tell the time. However, Felix- the second in command had just given you dreadful news.

Well, dreadful to you. He probably didn’t think much of it. He told you that it‘ll be dinner time in about half an hour.

You hadn’t told anyone on this island yet about your …condition. And you had frankly hoped you wouldn’t have to, but apparently everyone here eats dinner together. At the same time.

And probably not just dinner, but all meals- You just hadn’t been there yet for breakfast and lunch.

From time to time, you almost felt lucky that your trigger sounds were limited to things like eating, drinking, chewing, swallowing and other related sounds. You had heard stories of people with much more common triggers and it made yours seem bearable in comparison- But right now, that is not how you were feeling.

You knew why you were here on Neverland. The shadow brings people who feel lonely, lost or unloved - That’s what you‘d been told. And for you it was clear which one you fit into. Lost. And maybe lonely too.

How could you not feel that way? Misophonia was a cruel fate- A condition most people hadn’t even heard of and just seemingly could never understand no matter how often you tried to explain it. So much socializing happens while people are eating together, and missing out on all of that… how could anyone avoid feeling isolated? It wasn’t fair, but it was something you had to deal with.

You weren’t exactly feeling hopeful that it‘d be different here. At best, maybe you could finish your food fast and then just run away until everyone is done eating. But who knows; apparently Pan can be really strict. What if you’ll be forced to stay until everyone is done? Sounds like horror. Or torture. Maybe both.

You hadn’t met him yet, so you couldn’t be sure, but you really really hoped he would understand at least a little.

You felt a pit in your stomach just at the thought of having to endure dinner, surrounded by countless loud Lost Boys. You trued to suppress a shudder and made your decision in this moment; you couldn’t want until dinnertime actually arrived, you had to find Pan and talk to him now.

Felix seemed to look up to him like some savior; Devin seemed almost afraid of him. You could only hope that Felix was the correct one here.

You walked to the tree with Pan’s treehouse. There was no ladder, since he can apparently just teleport up there and doesn’t need one. Probably useful to keep out unwanted visitors. But your situation was urgent, so you attempted something you’d never done before. You tried to climb up the tree.

You had managed to get up maybe a meter above the ground when a branch broke and you fell down right on your behind. You groaned in annoyance and were about to stand up and try again, when someone, probably Pan, appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“What in the world are you doing?” He looked down at you with a confused expression and one eyebrow raised.

“Pan..?” You asked, just in case he’s not the only one with teleportation powers.

“The one and only. Now, answer the question.”

“Right, right. I needed to talk to you. About dinner.” Your voice was shaky already- This had never been an easy topic to address.

He picked up on the nervousness and laughed as he completely unknowingly misinterpreted it. “Does the cute Lost One want to sit next to me?”

You visibly cringed at that and he immediately looked surprised at that reaction. Most people probably would not have reacted so negatively to the thought of sitting next to him at dinner.

“I have a problem actually.”

“Oh. And what would that be? Don’t tell me you don’t like the food, because that’s not a problem, that can be changed.”

“Oh, you’d be willing to change the food for me?” This had nothing to do with the actual topic, but you were still surprised.

He rolled his eyes before nodding. “Not the food, but your food. I’m a quite skilled magic user, so there are practically no limitations.”

You giggled, you weren’t sure why, but this hint of a willingness to accommodate already made you feel better. “Well, that’s cool, but not what I wanted to talk about. Uhm… Can I maybe eat separately from everyone else?”

He tilted his head to the side a little. “Why would you want that? You’re new here, don’t you want to get to know the others? Socialize?”

“I do, I do actually- But uh… I have misophonia.” You said the last word in a really quiet voice, but he seemed to have understood you anyway.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He seemed so nonchalant and he seemed to… know what you’re talking about? How had a guy living on an isolated magical island heard of this when most people around you in your old life hadn’t?

“I don’t know, I didn’t expect you to… understand?” You avoided his gaze nervously.

“Why would I not? I mean, you are the first Lost One with this condition, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard of it.”

“So… you’ll allow me to eat alone?” You look up at him, hope in your eyes.

Ending One:

He grinned as he held out a hand to help you up off the ground, where you were still sitting. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll enchant you, so you’ll never be bothered by any sounds again.”

You took his hand almost absentmindedly and looked at him in awe and admiration as he pulled you to your feet in front of him again. “You- you can do that?”

“Didn’t I just tell you? There are almost no limitations to my power, and a spell like that wouldn’t exactly even be difficult. Do you want it?”

You nodded furiously immediately. He smirked again and waved his hand, which was emanating a gentle green glow and for a moment you felt like nothing happened until a sudden, serene feeling of calm washed all over you. And only in this moment had you realized that all of the ambient sounds that hadn’t even been irritating enough to be called trigger were suddenly all neutral and not even a minor annoyance- Hell, some even sounded pleasant now. Like the wind or the birds chirping.

He looked quite smug as he saw the changes in your facial expression. “I take it you like the change?”

Instead of answering you just hugged him. You had never been this grateful for anything in your life- this was the biggest burden you’d ever had, lifted off your shoulders, just like that.

“So about that sitting next to you later, is that still an option?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded softly as he smiled at you. You didn’t notice the slight flush that appeared on his cheeks the moment you hugged him, but you did notice your own cheeks getting a bit warmer as he hugged you back.

Ending Two:

“Of course. Why would I not? I have no use for you being needlessly miserable. I’ll enchant your tent to make it soundproof, that way you’ll really have an escape whenever you need it.

You basically jumped up off the floor and hugged him, gratefully. “Thank you!! Thank you so much! I didn’t think you’d understand!!” The joy and relief in your voice was enough to make even Pan smile as he hesitantly hugged you back.

[paladin-heart5]

Save Her (Part One)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary; Leon's fiancee has been captured by an underground black market group. He needs to save her, but once he does, he needs to prepare for her recovery.

CW; hurt/comfort, captivity, swearing, blood/bruising, mild suicidal thoughts. (lmk if I missed anything)

Three weeks. For three weeks his best friend, no, fiancée, has been missing. And after all that time stressing, all those sleepless nights, he's got a solid lead. An underground gang that sells bio-weapon prototypes. They buy blueprints off the black market and build them to sell to high bidders. With the intel Hunnigan found, they gotta be the ones who have her. The question is, why would they take her? They better not be experimenting on her. He'll have to put a bullet through every head, just like the undead he spent most of his life killing. Maybe he'll do it anyway. When he came home from work one day, he found the door broken open, many signs of a struggle, but they still got her. No ransom notes, nor blood. The anger in his eyes was strong, they can't just take her away like that. She's going to come home safe and sound. She has to. 

“The location has been sent to you, but you'll need to be careful getting down. There's likely going to be some form of security, definitely cameras. Keep your head down.” Hunnigan explains as Leon, Chris, and Rebecca gear up. Leon knew he couldn't do this alone, he needed his friends. Jill is on another mission, and Claire is traveling for TerraSave. Chris wasn't going to let him do this in the state he's in. Barely a wink of sleep, very little food in his system. He had to force him to do both just so he wouldn't kill himself. He can't save her when he's passed out on the ground. “Head to the warehouse, clear the area, and find the hatch. The rest I won't be able to help much with.” She finished explaining, earning a nod from Leon.

“Got it, thank you, Ingrid.” He says softly. Ingrid gives a hint of a smile.

“I care about her too, bring her home safely.” She states, pointing at them. Leon chuckles and gives a two finger salute. The three of them are off in no time, settling into Chris’s jeep before taking off. Rebecca looks through her computer for possible access to the cameras at the warehouse.

“It doesn't seem like there are many camera's underground, just in the warehouse itself. So I'm guessing there might be some muscle down there. Judging by some old files, their number of sales on the black market have increased by 40% in the last three months.” She explains to the men. Leon's leg bounces anxiously as he listens, Chris frowning as he thinks. 

“I just don't understand, what do they want with Y/n?” The muscular brunette asks. Rebecca hums and types for a couple of minutes before answering.

“My guess, using her knowledge as a biologist to build their newest experiment. Though I can’t seem to get through this inscription, so I won’t know for sure until we get there and see it for ourselves.” The professor explains.

________________

The echoes of men cheering down the hall caused a spike in her heart rate. The cold floor of the cell she’s on makes her shiver as she sits in only a dirty hospital gown and undergarments. Her hair is greasy, and knotted. She'd kill for a shower if she wasn't so weak. Y/n hugged her knees to her chest, the chains connected to her ankle making a clanking sound. Bruises and cuts litter her skin, all that fighting ended in such pain. She just wanted to be home, resting in bed with her soon to be husband. But those words from the fuckers that took her. They haunt her, every day she starts to believe them.

“He's not coming for you, doll."

“And even if he did, he won't love you.”

“You belong to us now.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut as she holds her head. Tears starting to prick her eyes for the hundredth time since she's been stuck here. Leon would never leave her like that. He loves her, he promised that when he proposed. “He's just having trouble finding me.” She mutters, but still; as time goes on, hope continues to fade.

____________

The ringing of gunshots caused her to wake with a start. She can hear shouting and footsteps all around. Y/n curls up and covers her ears, too afraid to even try to see what's happening. Could be friend or foe, but it's hard to tell at this point. All those torturous nights of scaring her into talk, forcing her to do tests. She's simply too tired to move, to think. She's not even sure she wants to live anymore. 

“Leon! Check all the cells! We have to get her out quickly if we're gonna blow this place.” A familiar voice called out, followed by footsteps nearing her cell. Why can't she remember that voice, and did he say Leon? As in her soon to be husband? Perhaps her mind is starting to play tricks on her. That little bit of hope left could be tricking her. 

However, the footsteps get louder. A shadow of a man draws closer, and she isn't sure what to do besides try to hide herself. When the footsteps stop suddenly, she peaks her head up slightly. A tall man, fairly muscular and sandy blond hair stands in front of her cell. His eyes are a beautiful blue, but they seem dull. As he sees her, his heart stops, breath hitches. It's her, his future wife. Y/n stares at him in disbelief, this definitely has to be a trick, that man looks just like Leon.

“Y/n..” The sound of her name was breathy, but it immediately made her feel a sense of comfort. His voice, deep and smooth, it's very soothing. Though she still can't be sure that her mind isn't playing tricks. She hugs herself tighter, shaking as he approaches slowly. He kneels down in front of her, worry and sadness clear in his eyes. He frowns and slowly reaches his hand out towards her face. A whimper escapes as she tenses, which only makes him feel worse.

“It's me, baby. It's Leon.” He says softly, managing to graze his fingers along her cheek. Her eyes widen, they look almost lifeless to him. They become glossy as tears quickly begin to pour. 

“You're- you're really.. here?” She asks quietly, earning a nod from the blond. The tears fall heavily down her cheeks as a loud sob racks her body. Leon quickly grabs her hands, trying not to let himself fall apart because he just can't. He has to be strong for her, he needs to get her to safety. Chris runs by and hears her cries, stopping in his tracks. He looks over and his eyes widen. He begins to step into the cell, noticing the chains. He then pulls out a set of keys that he collected from one of the guards.

“Leon, here.” He calls softly, giving him the keys. Leon looks back and smiles thankfully. “Where's Rebecca?” He asks, quickly unlocking the chains around Y/n’s ankles. 

“Grabbing the files so we can figure this out. Let's go, quickly.” Chris states before rushing out. Leon looks at his fiancee and cups her cheek. 

“Baby, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hold on to me.” He watches her head nod in acknowledgement before carefully lifting her up. She grabs his vest as he carries her bridal style, following where Chris went.  Her glossy eyes wander around tiredly as they move. Everything feels fuzzy, the sounds of gunfire become muffled. Even Leon's voice fades in and out, but when she realizes he's talking, she looks up at him slowly. He holds her close, realizing how pale she is. When they finally find Rebecca, she goes to Y/n to check on her. 

“We have to get her to a hospital. Now.” She states with a firm tone. The two nod and get what they need. Chris sets up some C4 in the computer room before they all rush out. Another group of guards enter the hallway, guns blazing. Leon takes cover, shielding her from harm, while Chris and Rebecca clear them out. Once they're all down, they run out to the warehouse and jump into the jeep. Leon looks down at his lover to see she's unconscious.

"Shit, Y/n!" He calls, trying to shake her awake, but she's out cold. He feels her neck for a pulse, luckily it's there, but faint. He shouts at Chris to hurry, and Chris detonates the bomb before speeding to the hospital.

Please be okay.

~~~~~~

A/N; Welcome to the first part of my first little series! Hope you enjoyed it, more to come soon!

[lunas-nargle]

↳one

chapter one of “meddle about” series brian o’conner x reader

i. blonde beauty

The young Toretto's girl sighed as she ran her hand through her sweaty hair. She was wiping down the counter when she heard her younger cousin say, "Guess who's back, Y/n?"

Y/n looked towards the part of the bar where the stools were lined up. There sat the blonde beauty Y/n came to know as Brian.

She smiled and walked closer to him, "Tuna on white, no crust, correct?"

"I don't know." he said, flipping through a magazine, acting like he's never had it before. "How is it?"

Y/n's grin widened, "Everyday for the last three weeks you've been comin' in here. Everyday, you ask me how the tuna is. It was shitty yesterday, it was shitty the day before, and if you couldn't guess already, it's just as shitty."

"I'll have the tuna." Brian smiled back at her.

"No crust?"

"No crust."

Y/n pushing herself from the counter to prepare his sandwich.

As made his food, Brian's eyes couldn't help but wandered her body. Brian thought Y/n was one of the most beautiful girl in the entire world. If he had to eat tuna sandwiches for the rest of his life just to see her, he'd do it. Anything it took to be around her. His eyes stopped at every curve, dip, and valley she had before they went back up to her face as she turned back to him.

"Thank you." he said, once she dropped the plate in front of him. Y/n smiled, turning the magazine to her. Suddenly, her peace was taken by the sound of cars speeding towards the shop.

She was around the counter to clean anything up that needed it, to anything that was crooked. She wanted to distract herself from him. She walked past Brian, holding a stack of napkins, but he stopped her.

"I have something I've been wanting to ask you." he said, his striking blue eyes blaring into hers. Y/n tilted her head, wanting to know what he was thinking. "I was thinking--"

He was cut off by Y/n's squeal. Jesse suddenly swooped her up, spinning her around. The napkins she was holding almost dropped out of her hands.

"You ass!" she exclaimed, smacking his shoulder once he put her down.

"What's up, guys?" Mia said, stepping away from her school work.

"How ya doin', Mia?" Leon said, walking past them and into Dom's office with Letty and Jesse behind him.

"How's it going, Mia?" Y/n saw Monty, Vince's little brother, lean against the counter in front of Mia.

"It's-It's going good." Mia nodded, bashfully.

Y/n smiled and sighed, looking back towards Brian. Her smile dropped when she saw the lovely sight behind her was ruined by Vince standing behind him, glaring at the back of his head

She rolled her eyes and sighed, turning to fix anything that the crew messed with. Vince sat down, still staring at Brian.

"Ahh, Y/n," Jesse said as she walked by, looking at him through a pair of sunglasses. "He's beautiful."

"I like the haircut." Leon commented. Y/n smiled at the comments as she walked by.

Y/n reached the other side of the bar, where she previously was before the others arrived. She cleared her throat, "Vince." he didn't answer. "Vince!"

"What?" He looked towards her.

"Could I get you anything?"

His eyes looked Y/n up and down. "You look good."

Y/n scoffed, "Nice try."

It wasn't rocket science to anyone that Vince had a thing for the Y/n. But Y/n's feelings weren't recuperated. He'd constantly grossed her with his unnecessary comments, turning her off as soon as he would open his mouth.

Brian suddenly stood up, fishing money from his pocket, and placing it down on the counter. He gave Y/n a bright smile, "Well, thanks a lot, Y/n. See you tomorrow."

Y/n gave him a bashful one back, kind of sad his visit was cut short, "Yeah, see you tomorrow."

Brian started out of the shop.  Vince suddenly stood up, calling out to him. Brian seemed to be paying no attention to the beefy man.

"Try Fat Burger from now on. You can get yourself a Double Cheese with fries for 2.95, punk." he spat.

"Vince, seriously?" Y/n mumbled walked around the counter.

Brain turned his head still walking to his truck. "I like the tuna here." he said, making Vince more enraged.

"Bullshit, asshole." Vince said. "No one likes the tuna here."

"Yeah, well, I do." Brian said, but he was suddenly pushed into the side of his truck, face first. Brian suddenly turned around, punching Vince straight in the face. Then, as quick as lightning, the two were fighting. Monty went out and tried to break it up which resulted in getting elbowed in the face by his brother.

"Jesus Christ, Dom." Mia said, frustrated. "Would you get out there please?"

"Dom, seriously!" Y/n said, coming closer to his office once he didn't even flinch. "Get out there!"

Dom got up from his seat, slowly. He leaned against the doorway.  "What'd you put in that sandwich?" he asked, calmly.

"Ha, ha, real funny." Y/n said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Dom!" Letty said, gesturing towards the men, who were now on the ground.

"Alright." Dom said, finally speeding to break the fight up. Jesse and Leon followed him, with Y/n and Letty right behind them. Mia grabbed a tissue, handing it to Monty for his bleeding nose.

Dom pulled Brian off and pushed him into the car they were beside. Brian raised his hand in surrender, "Hey man. He was in my face."

"I'm in your face." Dom retorted. Vince tried going after Brian again but Dom pushed him back. "Relax!" Dom roared. "Don't push it, you embarrass me!" He looked towards Jesse. "Jesse, give me the wallet."

Jesse tossed Dom Brian's wallet. He opened it and inspected it for a few sends. "Brian Earl Spilner." he read. "Sounds like a serial killer name." He pointed the wallet towards Brian. "Is that what you are?"

"No man." Brian said.

"Don't come around here again." Dom said. Y/n's face dropped. Brian was the only thing good about her job. Brian took his wallet back as Dom started to walk away.

"Hey, man you know this is bullshit." Brian said, as Dom walked. Dom turned and stocked towards him, "You work for Harry, right?" he asked.

"Yeah." Brian answered. "I just started."

"You were just fired." Dom said, venom tracing his words before he walked away from the scene.

[anielly-2010]

Baldwin iv x mermaid reader

I've had this idea in my head for a while and ended up creating a kind of prologue to this story. Any spelling mistakes please forgive me, I used a translator to leave it in English as that is not my language.

Mermaids. Monsters who use their sweet voices to enchant and bewitch men. That's what people thought I was and that's why I was hunted all my life.

Because I was the last mermaid.

And ever since sailors discovered a way of not being affected by the sirens' singing about five years ago, the hunt for mermaids has turned into a veritable genocide.

Their sisters, in an act of desperation at seeing that many of their companions were being used as a mere pleasure to humans, having to use their precious voices to satisfy them, forced me to take a potion that would destroy my vocal cords. So that my most powerful song could no longer be used as a weapon by humans.

Today was my fifteenth birthday, but what did that matter when I was about to lose the life I had fought so hard for?

"We did it, we caught a mermaid!"

The sailors shouted and celebrated with joy as you struggled over the huge fishing net that had caught you.

"It's been five years since anyone managed to catch a mermaid"

"She must be the last of her kind"

"We're going to make a fortune from her!"

With every word the sailors said, your desperation grew. You didn't want to be captured, you didn't want to be killed to become exotic meat or a mere object for men. The only thing you wanted was freedom and the happiness of living a peaceful life, but now nothing could be done.

As soon as the boat reached the shore, you were forced to assume your human form, but your lavender hair and eyes that seemed to reflect a rainbow under the sun made it clear that you were a mermaid, causing countless disgusted looks to be directed at you.

The captain of the ship took you to the French king to sell you for an exorbitant price, but before he even arrived, it turned out that you were mute and couldn't use your songs to heal or captivate anyone. This led to you being sold for a price far below what he wanted.

"You worthless creature!"

The captain threw a glass bowl in your direction and, by reflex, you protected yourself as much as you could with your arms bound in chains.

"One of your few uses is to use your voice as pleasure for men and you can't even do that!"

Tears began to stream down your face. The reason was the humiliation she had suffered and the pain from the cuts on her arms. Luckily, it wasn't long before that horrible man sold you and left, but your troubles had only just begun.

You were locked in a cage and for weeks your routine was to make do with the little food and water you received. The king sometimes brought various people to admire you, but he soon lost interest in you.

Like a mermaid who couldn't sing, you were of little use to him, but then the king received some news.

The King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, had won a very important battle at Montgisard. He, a boy of only 16, led the outnumbered Christian forces against Saladin's troops and won the battle.

The King of France decided to give you as a present to this young man, so once again you were chained up in the hold of a ship, where for months your only consolation was to listen to the waves of the sea.

After the exhausting journey, you finally arrived in Jerusalem.

The drier air was hot and made you feel constantly dehydrated, and the language the people there spoke was different from what you knew.

A deep hatred took over your body, and then you met it.

"Are you all right?"

It was the first thing he asked you and even though he knew you wouldn't be able to answer, he hoped to discover your answer just by looking at you. And even when he received only a perplexed look from you, he treated you with tenderness, wrapping you in his own cloak and asking his trusted servants to look after you.

'Why does he treat me so tenderly?'

This question kept running through her mind.

And as time went by, feelings began to blossom in both of you. Small acts became actions of love and the love that existed between the two of us was so great that nothing could stop you from being together.

Not even Baldwin's leprosy, the greed of Guy de Lusignan and Reinaldo de Châtillon or Saladin's army could separate you.

'I'm going to get my voice back, cure Baldwin with the siren's song of healing and help him defeat every enemy that comes along'

That was his thought, that was his determination.

[topgun-imagines]

Scared

Requested: no

Summary: A fight between you and your fiancé spirals out of control.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: angst. Slight mentions of abuse? Not major but still there. Flinching. Couples fighting. Arguments. Cuts. Blood. Crying. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

It had been a day from hell since this morning. First, Ice’s alarm hadn’t gone off, making him almost late for work. Then, he had to scramble out the door and was left without his morning coffee. You could only assume that this would make him extremely upset. With Tom’s recent promotion came an abundance of new responsibilities. You should have expected that these responsibilities would cause him to have to work insane hours just to keep up. You prayed that today would be an easy day. He could definitely use it after this morning.

You had spent your day cleaning the house and running errands. By the end of the day, you were exhausted, having had a terrible sleep the night before. Now, you were starting on dinner for the two of you. You were making Tom’s favorite; a creamy alfredo penne pasta with steamed carrots on the side. It was his mother's recipe and you knew that she would always use it to cheer her son up. You were hoping that it would work in this instance as well. You followed the recipe exactly, not wanting anything else to go wrong today. The sauce was now finished and simmering on the stove while the pasta and carrots finished.

Just as you moved to strain the pasta, you heard the front door open before slamming harshly. You mentally cursed, knowing that his day at work must not have been easy. Trying to find a positive in the situation, you focused on the fact that he was home early for once. You quickly set the table before untying your apron and setting it on the back of your chair. Just as you glanced up, Ice walked into the room. He barely spared you a glance as he moved to set his papers on the counter. Normally, you would ask him not to, but given the current situation, you bit your tongue.

Tom turned back around and sat at the table. “How was your day?” You questioned quietly. He sipped on his water slowly as you waited for him to answer. You returned to the food, pulling the pot of pasta off the burner and moving to strain it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He finally spoke. Instinctively, you froze in your spot. The only time that you had heard that tone before was at the O club when somebody who had gotten too handsy with you. Never had it been directed at you, however. You dished the two of you up in silence, eyes trained firmly on the plates in front of you. Wordlessly, you set the plate down in front of Ice.

You took a seat across from him as he began eating. You waited for him to say something, anything, to reassure you that the meal was good. When he said nothing, a soft sigh escaped you. You began eating your own food, getting lost in your head as you thought of ways to salvage the day. The two of you finished your meal in silence. The only sounds that could be heard throughout the room were the sounds of forks scraping and soft breathing.

Before you knew it, you were clearing the table and moving the dishes to the sink. Tom brought his papers to the table and began shuffling through them. At least he didn’t run away as soon as his plate was empty. The pair of you continued to work in silence. It was once again silent in the kitchen, like it had been for most of the evening. You had almost finished washing up the dishes when it happened. If you ever needed proof that a person created what they feared, this was a perfect example.

You tensed as the glass that you were putting away slipped out of your hand. It was as if time stopped as it moved toward the ground. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the entire kitchen, causing you to freeze instantly. The next thing you knew Ice was throwing his reading glasses onto the table and pushing himself out of his chair. You waited with bated breath for what he was going to say. “Are you serious?” Your eyebrows shot up instantly. What the hell did he mean by that? It’s not like you meant to drop the glass.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but-“ He held his hand up. With one motion, your words died in your throat. You swallowed quietly. You weren't scared of him but after the events of today, you had no idea what to expect.

When his hand lowered, you were left staring at a man that you hadn’t seen before. There was a dark look in his eyes that was unnerving. You swallowed slightly as you waited for him to speak. “How hard is it to put a glass in the cupboard?” His question left you baffled. Did he seriously blame you for this? You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the blood trickling down your leg. A piece of glass must have cut you. “My god.” He exclaimed roughly, dragging a hand up to run through his hair. What happened next left both of you stunned.

At the sudden movement of his hand, you jumped, moving back and knocking into the counter. Ice slowly brought his hand down, staring at you in shock. Any trace of annoyance was wiped from his face, replaced with what could only be described as concern. You stared at him in pure fear, your hands shaking steadily at your sides. Tears sprung to your eyes as you realized what had happened. “Baby I’m so sorry,” Tom whispered. You continued to stare at each other as the tears made their way down your face. When he moved to step closer to you, you shook your head with a sob. He instantly froze, not wanting to hurt you anymore than he already had. “Honey, you know I would never, ever hurt you. You know that, right?” You could only nod, tears still trailing down your cheeks.

You slowly moved away from the counter and towards the exit of the kitchen. Ice watched you with tears lining his own eyes as you moved out of the room. “I just need some space.” You whispered shakily. He could still clearly hear the fear in your voice. He could only nod as you walked out of the kitchen, hearing you rush up the stairs moments later. Ice spent the next few hours sitting at the table, head between his hands as he thought of ways to make it up to you. What killed him the most was knowing that you were upstairs, scared of him and crying because of what he did. He needed to figure out how to fix this.

a/n: Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open.

[island-in-the-shadows]

Hannibal and Will Adopted Oliver AU Pt. 2

I literally have waited long enough to continue posting this one. Definitely owed it to @ib3li3v3you so here goes:

Pt. 1 here: https://island-in-the-shadows.tumblr.com/post/742073028536582144/my-hannibal-and-will-adopted-oliver-au-hcs

Oliver goes hunting on his own for the first time at 18 (so prior to arriving at Oxford). His dads are waiting in the wings, so to speak, in case Oliver fumbles. His hunting style is, given that he's a teenager, a little more conspicuous than his fathers'. His target had been scoped out for months, however. Got just the right person from his papa's (Hannibal) Rolodex of Rude.

Oliver wanted to try something a little different from how his dads do it which meant finding the rude man in question and seducing him while simultaneously remaining in the shadows. He really thought this out. Anyway, very looong story short, he basically does what cannibalistic spiders do to their mates. Except with a deadly syringe. His fathers' help him create a spidery display.

Oliver does start out eating regular, if incredibly fancy, food but does develop the taste for long pig and, in either case, has a fondness for Sweetbreads. Don't ask me why, I'm still not clear and do not want to probe.

Oliver seriously considers taking care of Farleigh for a while because he finds him unspeakably rude. However, Hannibal and Will advise him not to and recount how they have waited for the right time. Besides, they both know that Farleigh going missing would be noteworthy and possibly alienate their son from what he wants the most: Felix.

Hannibal sympathises with Oliver much more than Will does about the whole Felix thing. Will knows Felix's type and is just instantly on his guard. Hannibal, on the other hand, knows what it's like to fall for some pretty boy more or less at first sight.

This means that Hannibal is the one that gets the brunt of the calls when Oliver needs to vent about Felix. Yes, even when Oliver is so angry with Felix for abandoning him to shag some girl that he debates about killing him.

Back to Oliver's lies: Instead of telling Felix that his dad died, he says his mother died.

Will is the one that helps Oliver fully understand what it is that Felix wants. Except Will never suspects that Felix might want Oliver too. Cut him some slack, it's his kid and he mainly just wants the crush to go away.

Hannibal and Will argue about Oliver's obsession with Felix. Get in a fight about it. Hannibal believes Oliver and Felix are inevitable. Will thinks their son is going to wind up with a corpse and a broken heart.

The tack in the bike tyre was Hannibal's idea.

Oliver finds horror movies funny because, come on, he's literally seen and done worse.

Oliver does tell his dads that he's going to Saltburn instead of coming home.

Oliver knows how to cook though not as well as Hannibal. However, when he eats Venetia out, he thinks her blood would be wonderful in a Sanguinaccio Dolce. He wonders if Felix's blood tastes better.

His phone kept ringing while at Saltburn and Oliver kept ignoring it. The "HL" and "WG" brought questions from Felix, so he lied and said it's family members who are always asking him for something or to forgive his dad. Stupidly, this prompts him to change the name for both numbers and put "dad." (Let's remember Oliver is very smart but also very fucking stupid in canon; same goes here.)

When Felix answers the phone when "dad" calls, it's Hannibal on the other line. Hannibal follows his son's ruse and pretends he knows nothing about Felix. He does, however, get curious. Tells Felix that he would love to see Oliver for his birthday and that wouldn't it be nice if Felix came with him.

Hannibal lies and says that he's at something like a program for rehabilitation. Really wants to make it extra tempting for Felix. Gives him the address and says that oh this whole building was remade and blah blah he plays it up. He has a ball doing this.

On the drive to this place (not Prescot because, even though that's where Hannibal and Will found him, that's decidedly not where they live now.), Oliver at first doesn't recognise where they're going. Hannibal and Will and Oliver moved to this estate (one that Hannibal has long owned but barely used) a few months before Oliver started at Oxford and Oliver really only left it to hunt once and then to get on the trains and busses that would get him to school. [I did actually look for real estate for this and had fun doing it.]

However, when they turn into a familiar little road with all the familiar buildings before they get to the definitely familiar 16th century manor, Oliver starts to panic.

Felix comments on how nice it is for a rehabilitation program. Oliver is dying inside and he knows his dads did this on purpose.

Felix is, however, taken by complete surprise when he realises that Oliver's dad and his "friend" are the only people there.

Hannibal asks Felix forgiveness but that Oliver is so embarrassed of them that he had to lie. He reveals Will is his partner and that oh yes, shame about Oliver's mother dying all those years ago.

Will is polite but quietly observing. Hannibal is the consummate host. Felix is livid but polite. Hannibal likes that Felix keeps playing at politeness. Will finds it grating.

Oliver will pull Will aside and ask why? Will pats Oliver's shoulder, "We were curious what would happen, you should know that."

When Hannibal hugs Oliver goodbye he whispers, "Don't spoil the meat."

Ok this is long enough...will keep developing this for later with the big party, the maze, Felix surviving, and eventually becoming interested in more exotic meats. LOL