#i think i went too heavy with the makeup on this one HELP

[soliloquent-stark]

reclaiming autonomy

robert downey jr and chris evans in iron man (2008) and captain america: the first avenger (2011)

marvel parallels 15/?

#i think i went too heavy with the makeup on this one HELP #steve rogers #tony stark #stony #steve rogers gif #captain america #tony stark gif #iron man #gifs by soliloquent #stevetony #steve x tony #chris evans #chris evans gif #avengers gif #mcu gif #marvel gif #avengers #marvel edit #mcu

[merakidoll]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

synopsis. : your first call with your pen pal makes your feel dizzy. - in a good way

cont. : chubby!reader. bimbo!reader. penpal!gojo. gojo’s in prison, readers hair is in braids so what does that tell you ? fingering ( f ), reader touches their self to gojo’s voice. pet names : ( mama, doll, daddy, precious) phone sex ! sexually frustrated gojo

mirah note. : think i read this too much now i’m overthinking it hehe. oh well, feedback would be appreciated <3 🎀.

your first call with pen pal!gojo came with all types of nerves. the call was planned weeks in advance, yet you still could feel your palm’s sweating. getting pretty you hadn’t realized until the phone was already ringing that he wasn’t even gonna see you dressed up, - yet - something about it made you feel good.

“h-hello” you whispered only hearing his deep sighs. bitting into your sparkle pink glossed lips he finally spoke. tone rough, and husky that it went right to your lower area, undies pooling with wetness. “hi doll” gojo looked up at the reflective wall a smirk curling onto his lips.

“hmm .. think i like actually talking to you more. get to hear that sweet voice” he spread his legs, leaning his arm on them, the black phone still in his hands. your throat hitched on the line, body feeling all sorts of things, wanting all sorts of things. “u-uh yea ! h-how are you ?”

“i’m good precious, looking at the picture you sent and god mama. aren’t you just beautiful” you couldn’t help but smile, leaning back against the plush of your bed. you listened to him speak out every detail of the polaroid you sent with your letter. spreading your legs until the tips of your fingers touched you sensitive cunt.

“mmm” you softly moaned spreading the fatness of your lips the cool air blowing against you. you were so in awe at his voice that you almost missed his question of if you were okay, which you sheepishly gave a short answer.

“yea! m’fine- what w-were you saying ?” gojo knew exactly what you were doing. he could hear the quiet moans that you thought you were doing so good of hiding. “what you doing mama” he watched the guards walk back and forth while chucking at your poor excuse.

“princess, if you needed daddies help all you had to do was ask. go ahead’ slid in a finger” huffing you looked up at the fairy lights, spreading your legs wider. you grew annoyed by your underwear, but was too needy to take them off. you rubbed your bud slowly, breathing heavy into the microphone all until the annoying voice lady came onto the phone to let you both know you had three minutes left.

“shit. gotta make it quick mama, slid in a finger. now.” pressing against your hole, your finger slid in with ease. “g-gooo mmm” you thighs started to shake but you needed more, wanted to fill fuller.

“second one. now baby” you followed instructions. your moans getting louder more desperate, and gojo was paying for it. his cock pressing into the fabric of his underwear feeling contained. “just imagine baby” he leaned back against his chair, throwing his head back and spreading his legs.

“imagine me there”

“m-mm”

“like that huh? wishin daddy was there, to ease that ache. he would use his fingers and fuck them into you so hard while my lips wrapped around that pretty bud”

your pussy closed in on your finger, tummy bubbling. gojo sat in silence in bliss listening to your rambles and begs. “wannadaddy w-want’em so bad”

“daddy know’s mama, gonna get him so soon”

one minute remaining.

“m-m’CUMMINGGG GOO” squirt shot out of you getting all over your stuffies. ruining your skirt and sheets. makeup smudging into the furry fabric of your blanket.

gojo eyes clenched, cock pumping in the jumpsuit pre cum slowly dripping down him. “t-that’s my good girl. daddy loves you” and the line went dead. you both sitting for a few moments taking in every thing that just happened.

and gojo only felt the need to keep you to himself become stronger.

#gojo x black reader #gojo x chubby reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojo satoru x chubby reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x chubby reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime x chubby reader #anime smut #anime x black!reader #anime x black reader #armin x black reader #x black reader

[hellishjoel]

little black dress

10k / pairing: bartender!joel x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You’re breaking things off with your douchebag situationship at one of your favorite little dive bars because lord knows you’re gonna need a drink or two. The bartender, Joel, is happy to offer his assistance. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst, toxic ex-boyfriend putting hands on you, dom!Joel, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), titty attention, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), I think that’s it!

A/N: I’ve held this in my vault for WEEKS. Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @macfrog for helping get this piece to completion! I quite literally couldn’t have done it without them and without their input and encouragement.  Also -- this is my first 10k fic! how exciting!!

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

Your breaths grow heavy with impatience, waiting to feel him. Him soaking up your slick wasn’t enough. He finally got the hint as your hips rutted back into this touch, hearing his hellish low chuckle at your desperation.  “So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed.  “Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him. 

You had never gotten dressed up for a breakup before. 

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you were reminded of what you discussed with your friends last night. 

You felt a little on edge when you revealed to your friends over a girl’s night that you wanted to break up with your short-term boyfriend Chris. The relationship was only a couple of months old, but the guy was a douchebag. And you realized it too late. 

“He was such a waste of your time.”

“Oh my god, he was an asshole to you.”

“Girl, I hope you do a revenge breakup on his sorry ass.”

“A revenge breakup?”

Ahh, yes. The revenge breakup. For wasting your time, efforts, and emotions on Chris, you deserved to have a little fun in the form of revenge.  You’d put on your favorite little black dress, do your hair and your makeup, wear a red lip, and show him that you don’t need him. 

But now as you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, you felt like you were playing dress up. You weren’t really this confident, this bold. But your pouty red lips said otherwise. Your favorite perfume said otherwise, as well. After a slow turn in the mirror, long legs on show with a short black dress adorning your curves, you decided you would be a man-eater tonight. 

You would have preferred to break up with him over text, but you decided you were together for a little too long not to break things off in person. 

Despite what you looked like on the outside, your heart was a tangled mess of emotions.

When you first met Chris at one of the fancy bar lounges on the east side, he was the standout of his friends. Tall, blessed with dark blonde hair, perfectly clean-shaven, still dressed in a work suit to join in on the Friday night happy hour. You quickly learned a lot about him. He had an apartment in the city, but his permanent residence was in the neighboring state. He liked golf, basketball, and football. He was a family guy, close with his parents. After buying you a drink, he told you he worked at a finance agency, a large one at that. 

The professionalism in itself made you swoon. You couldn’t help it, he seemed put together and men who had a plan were attractive to you. 

Needless to say, you went home with him after he was whispering in your ear all night long, his large hand planted possessively on your hip, derailing any other guy in the room who thought about trying a conversation with you. 

It could have stopped there, should have stopped there. But he was smart, and his face wore a permanent smirk that put you in a destructive tailspin. So you kept seeing each other. He took you out on lunch dates, got you into the trendy clubs, and put the two of you up in hotel suites from time to time for a nice weekend away. 

It was fun while it lasted. His charm eventually wore off, and you realized he was just… a completely selfish douchebag.

 You were ready to break things off. 

And so it was decided. You looked hot. Too good for him. Your roommate insisted that she could come with you for moral support dressed as a casual bargoer, watching the show for herself behind a bar menu. The idea made you bubble up a laugh, but you really wanted to do this yourself, for yourself. 

Your stomach was in knots the entire Uber ride over, leg crossed over the other as you drew shapes into the material of your clutch. You wanted to arrive a little earlier than the set time with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend-fling, needing a drink or two of encouragement. 

The Blackbird was a corner bar that had survived the rapid changes of downtown for the past ten years, or so. Initially around when there was a small gas station on the opposite corner, now it was neighboring a family diner and a video rental shop. 

As soon as you enter down the cement stairs and through the dark green door, you’re greeted by a stage to your right where local bands came in and played. After walking past the pool tables that desperately needed new felt, you pass an old golden jukebox that was playing 80s dad rock. It fit the atmosphere, you had to admit. Some Guns N’ Roses started to play after just finishing a Twisted Sister song. 

Maybe it was the fact that you were entering into a small dive bar, easily becoming the best-looking person there by a mile and a half, but it was the confidence you needed. 

Eyes were on you, a small smile fluttering on your lips at the discovery.

Cigarette smoke filled the air, your heels clicking casually against the hardwood floor as you used the space as an off-duty catwalk. Pool balls clattered, matching the fast-paced beating of your heart. 

The Blackbird Bar offered little lighting, aside from the bulbs that hung above the pool tables and a few old neon signs. The walls were decorated in well-loved decor like old license plates and tacky bar signs. There was a $1 bill hung up in a frame, most likely the first bill the bar had ever made. It's a crowning little achievement in all of its dust-covered glory. 

The bar stools could use new upholstery and a fresh coat of paint might do the wall wonders, but people didn’t come here to enjoy upscale aesthetic and fruity drinks. They came for cheap booze and company from the regulars. 

An empty string of barstools waited for your company at the end of the long bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness the bar was veiled in. 

Your fingernail traced over the slight scratches on the bar’s surface, someone clearing their throat knocking you loose from your thoughts. 

“What’ll y’ have?” 

Your head was so clouded with what you might say during your impending breakup that you didn’t think of what you wanted to drink. You could really use some liquid courage.

“Uhm..” You paused as you looked over the bartender, your eyes adjusting as you watched him clean a glass with a rag before he tossed the cloth over his shoulder. 

He was older, a little shaggy looking. He wore a tattered dark green henley with a waffle print, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You ordered your go-to drink, slowly swirling your straw around the ice as you anxiously watched the clock tick closer and closer to your planned time. 

“Hey beautiful.” Shit, he was early. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly set down your drink, signaling to the scruffy bartender and tapping at your glass to request another.

Chris entered your space with a charming smile, his pungent cologne instantly piercing your senses as your eyes gazed over his square jawline. 

“Hey.” You teetered on your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress, feeling that it was all of a sudden far too short for the evening. Like it was shrinking up your body. 

Chris quickly picked up on your not-so-warm greeting, his head cocking as he set down his jacket on the bartop. 

“Interesting pick for the bar. I could’ve taken you somewhere uptown.” 

The comment made your gut clench, especially since the bartender was right in front of the two of you, making your drink as he silently listened to every word. 

“I actually really like this spot. Feels less pretentious than uptown.” You bit back, maybe a little too much venom in your comment. 

Chris playfully threw up his hands in surrender, smirking down at you as he took in your appearance. Slightly smeared red lipstick and an all too tight black little dress. 

“Alright, uptown is pretentious now, I’m glad you updated me.” His comment was snide but laced with a hint of teasing, your hand instantly reaching for your drink once it was crafted by the bartender. You mutter an apologetic thank you. 

“Hey,” Chris spoke up as he raised two fingers to flag down the bartender. “Can I get-”

Before he could finish, the bartender had walked off further down the bar lane, grumbling under his breath as he went to fulfill another customer’s order. Chris scoffed and tried to brush it off but it made you smile. Well deserved. 

Once Chris finally did receive his drink, a corona with a lime, he started to tell you about his week in the office. Unprovoked. 

Apparently his coworker was brutally fired, his department was on their third secretary within the year thus far, and he was up to his ears with his end-of-the-month reports.

You weren’t sure what drink number you were on. The bartender kept giving you glances every time he poured your glass back up, his eyes signaling to Chris as he kept speaking over you. He looked just as annoyed as you felt. 

“And Chambers is just.. all up my ass about finishing it ahead of schedule but I keep telling him, y’know, Dude, it’s not due until Monday. Get off my ass about it. Right? Right?” Now he was laughing like his life, and his story was really all that interesting. Like everyone was hanging onto every word he ever said with enthusiasm. 

He kept wagging his beer around in his hand as he spoke, using mannerisms to go with his exquisite storytelling. 

You muster up a noise to give him some sort of implication that you were interested. However, the more you drank, the more you realized how uninteresting he actually was. Who talks at someone like this for 45 minutes? When did he ask you a question about you? Did he know shit about you?

“Hey,” your voice sounded power drenched which quickly captured his attention. His eyebrows raised as if you were interrupting his train of thought. 

“Do you remember what I told you I studied in school?” Your head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed on his. Despite the volume in the bar, you could still feel your heart thumping in your ears. 

He tried not to look phased by your question. After a pause on his end, he mustered up an awkward chuckle before clearing his throat, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“How long have I lived in the city?” 

You watched as his eyes flicked off to the side, his lips parting as if he was hoping the right answer would just come to him. 

“Uhm..”

“Uhm?” You mocked, a nasty smirk on your lips. It was taunting.

The more he couldn’t answer your questions, the angrier you got. You mocking him seemed to get his blood boiling. 

“What do I do for work? What are my hobbies?” Your red lipstick kissed the straw as you took another sip while you waited, crossing your leg over the other as your foot casually bounced while you watched him squirm. 

You continued to roll out question after question. You enjoyed watching him writhe under your scrutiny, finding out that he didn’t fucking know you at all. 

Someone you considered to be so put together, so refined, and so charming was really just a douchebag clown masquerading in a suit. 

The grip on your drink tightened, and you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or the anger you bore, but something gave you the nerve to throw the remnants of your drink on him. 

The liquor splashed across his white button-up shirt first, your half-melted ice cubes followed by pelting his chest. 

Satisfaction and surprise filled your gut, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you tried to hide a laugh. The crowd of regulars watched from a distance, a few gasping while a few others snickered.

He looked furious. 

“You fucking-- bitch! What the hell!” He was still shaking off ice cubes, pieces of his blonde hair falling down and presenting him as disheveled.

“If that wasn’t answer enough for you, I don’t want to see you again. We’ve been on countless dates, and you don’t remember a damn thing about me.” 

You didn’t care that people were watching, you were putting on quite the show for them in your little revenge dress. 

Chris scoffed at you in disbelief, shaking off the liquid that clearly stained through his shirt. You could feel your chest swell with a sense of pride and courage. Your body felt warm, stained with confidence as red as your lipstick. 

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ psycho!” He was nearly laughing at you, the insults scraped at your throat and made your confidence cut down an inch.

“Just-- get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to see you again.” 

Suddenly, something you weren’t expecting was his hand tightening around your forearm. It stung, his iron grip burning into your flesh so hard that your fingertips already felt numb from the lack of circulation. 

You let out a whimper of discomfort, your big eyes looking between his talons pressed into you then back up to his twisted face.

He yanked you into him, your heels scraping the bottom of the floor-- or maybe that was the screech of his barstool he pushed out of his way on the hardwood. 

“You really think you’re all that interesting?” His eyes were narrowed in on yours. “You were just an pair of open legs.” He muttered in disgust. 

Your eyes hardened, jaw tightening shut as both anger and sadness twisted inside of you until it created a damaging tornado. You couldn’t believe you saw interest in him or anything at all.

“Hey-” A voice so low and booming broke you out of your thoughts, both of your heads snapping to the bartender who was staring daggers into Chris. 

“You don’t touch a lady like that in my fuckin’ bar. Get the hell outta here.” His voice relaxed in volume, his scary stature and piercing eyes were enough to thrust a splinter of fear into Chris. But of course, being the cock that he was, he wouldn’t let it seem like the bartender phased him. 

“This doesn’t concern you, man. Best if you just drop it-”

“Or what?” The bartender’s words cut quick as his head cocked up, eyes narrowed on Chris’s. Challenging him. Goading him to fight back. The bartender even stepped closer to the bar’s edge, making Chris step back a foot or two despite the bar being a direct barrier to the two. Chris’ hold didn’t slack, it became stronger. Your nails started to try and pry away his hand from you, but his grip was solid. 

You looked to the bartender, a silent plea for his help behind your eyes as you were still lightly fighting against the grip Chris had on you. The anger Chris felt towards the man reflected in his hand around your forearm, a short cry coming from your lips as his fingertips bruised into your delicate skin. 

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” The bartender was rounding the bar towards the two of you, Chris quickly dropping his hold on you as the man neared closer. This idiot had never been in a fight before in his life, and he surely wasn’t going to start with the tall, broad bartender who probably beat up drunk assholes every other night.

You were so hypnotized by their interaction, the feeling of the bartender’s hand gently on your back before he became a barricade in front of you. His broad arms crossed in front of his chest and he was still looking for a fight out of Chris.  

He looked scary,  but in a more protective way now. Now that he was so much closer, you had a better look at him. 

His flesh was seared with the signs of life, soft lines on his forehead and by his eyes-- probably from the permanent scowl he wore like how people put on their glasses every day or a watch around their wrist. He had a speckled beard, but a prominent mustache on his upper lip, both the hair on his head and his facial hair wore a brief streaks of silver.

His nose was aquiline, it fit him perfectly. He was long in the torso, broad in the shoulders, and drawn in at the waist. The henley shirt he wore looked like it could barely fit around his biceps, the material stretching to accommodate. He was handsome for a stranger you had paid little attention to all evening. 

“You alright?” You could tell he was talking to you without looking, his voice more serene. 

“Yeah.” Your voice sounded shakier than you wanted it to, the whole interaction being a shock to your system. Your hand delicately stroke over where he held you, the ghost of his grip still aching on your skin as small bruises were sure to form later. 

The bartender’s attention was back on Chris after being assured you were alright. 

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here.” The bartender’s head cocked behind Chris and to the door. Once the bartender got involved with your fight, you could feel the presence of the tough pool table guys pause their game to make sure the situation was handled. 

Outnumbered, Chris scoffed before he yanked his ice-covered jacket from the bartop, his eyes on you as he shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Keep her. She’s not worth the fuckin’ trouble.” 

The bartender had enough of Chris thinking he was in charge of the situation. He planted his hands at the top of Chris’ chest, giving him a harsh shove that had him staggering backward, still trying to maintain his balance as he was shoved out the door repeatedly. 

“I don’t usually ask twice, consider yourself lucky.” The bartender’s words were cut with steel. He looked so calm and unbothered like he picked fights with random guys every other night and it was no big deal. 

The crowd of regulars at the bar cheered him on until Chris was swiftly shoved out the door and you could hear his body scuff against the cement steps outside. 

You finally felt a flood of relief course through your body, the adrenaline had come and gone, but the racing of your heart hadn’t subsided. 

You let out a hot puff of air as you brought the scattered barstools back to their home under the bar, seeing a pair of hands help you align the last one. It was the bartender, and he was watching you with eagle eyes.

“I’m sorry-” you quickly blurt, shaking your head and pressing your hand to the side of your neck to find some sort of relief. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene or put you in a situation-”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” He was quick to cut in and assure you, your bunched-up shoulders slowly relaxing as he resumed his spot behind the bar. 

You sort of wanted to leave. You hated the unwanted attention your hot-headedness created. Even though he was the asshole, you still felt like it was your fault. 

“Sit down.” His voice demanded, your eyes softening as your head whipped back up to look at him.

“I’ll remake your drink, just… sit down.” You shifted on your uncomfortable heels before giving in and satisfying him with a little nod, returning to your barstool as he came by and made you another drink. 

“Can you-” your voice perked up and tapped at your glass gently. He paused his motions as he looked down at you. “Can you make this drink as responsibly strong as you can?”

His lips tightened, trying to hide a smile poking out from the corner of his mouth. 

“Sure, Trouble.” You watched as he tipped the alcohol in, letting it fill up with the ice before he added only a good splash of mixer. Thank god. 

The breakup with Chris was warranted, but it was hard thinking about having to start all over with someone new. Hopefully with someone better. You weren’t one to drink by yourself like this, but the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat felt better than the ache you felt festering in your chest.

As the night went on, the bartender didn’t seem keen on being more than a few feet away from you. He’d fulfill a patron’s order on the other end but always end up back by you, meandering himself to keep busy. You had watched him clean one beer mug three separate times now. Sometimes you made eye contact, only for a fleeting second before he looked away. 

He kept asking if you were alright. Yeah, I’m alright.  If he could do anything. You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you. Finally, he broke. 

“So… you wanna tell me who that guy was?” He asked, topping off your drink as you sighed and swirled your straw around. 

“He was... I don’t know. A boyfriend, I guess.” You waved around your drink as you spoke, your eyes meandering around the bar. 

“Whatever we had, it didn’t last long.”  You tutted up a short laugh at your little joke. You took in a deep breath through your nose, your shoulders rising before they dropped on the exhale. 

The bartender shook his head, almost looking inquisitive. 

“Why d’ya laugh?” He asked curiously, his arms spread as he planted his palms into the bar for balance as he kicked back one of his boots to rest behind the other. He was so broad and handsome.

“Oh,” you paused and covered your face for a moment in embarrassment that he called you out on it. “I said it didn’t last long, the relationship, but like.. Y’know.” You trailed off and shyly smiled, setting your hands back in your lap as you caught his eye contact, however, now he was holding it with you. 

“What?” He pressed further. But he knew what. He just wanted you to say it. 

You let out a short nervous bubble of laughter, shaking your head. Oh, fuck it. The alcohol was helping you relax, and frankly, you wanted to laugh at Chris. You didn’t owe him anything. 

“He didn’t last long. The relationship didn’t last long, and he didn’t last long. Y’know. In bed.” You felt the need to over-clarify now, taking another sip from your drink, your eyes clenching closed slightly as the strong alcohol made your face tense.  

The bartender’s mouth chipped up into a crooked smirk, shaking his head as he looked over you for a moment. You remembered what you were wearing, your little black dress doing wonders for your cleavage resting just above his bar. 

“‘S’a damn shame.” He finally said, shaking his head as he threw a white cloth up onto his shoulder, his attention fully on you now as the bar had begun to die down throughout the night. All that was left was a set of people playing pool and one cigarette smoker on the other end of the bar, his eyes tiredly captured by the random game show on the television. 

“What is?” You ask curiously, your straw slurping ice now as you sighed and pushed the glass away, shaking your head at him to signal you were done for the night. 

He paused before answering you, taking your glass from the bartop and throwing down the ice into a tray then the glass into soapy water. He shook his head and shrugged as he wiped his hands. 

“Jackass twenty-somethings not knowin’ how to make their pretty girlfriends finish. Damn shame.” 

Your lips parted, your doe eyes on his whiskey-colored ones. Your stomach twisted, a tug between your legs so strong it felt like you were battling an internal fire. 

Finally, you just laughed. It was out of shyness and shock, but it was a laugh. 

“Is that so?”

“So it is.”

“I don’t even know your name.” 

He didn’t let you go another second without it. “Joel.” 

Your head cocked to the side, your confidence bubbling up as you sighed quietly. “Joel.” You repeated back to him, the two of you slowly nodding to one another. Now you were the only thing his eyes would look at. You sort of wished he would look somewhere else, to let you fucking breathe.

But he pinned you right there in your barstool with his gaze, in his bar. It was crazy to think something fruitful might actually come from the train wreck that was tonight.

Maybe put together looked something more like Joel. Someone a little older, experienced. No wedding ring, a barely-there smile that seemed to only come out on special occasions. He amused you, even if it was just for tonight. 

“So, Joel,” your hand reached out, pointer finger gently grazing over the top side of his hand that was planted in front of you. His skin was warm, your nail grazing the soft hairs by his wrist, and the band of the watch he wore. “What are you trying to say?” 

His expression didn’t break, if anything, there were minute details you noticed. His jaw clicked tighter like there was someone slowly turning a tight wheel that controlled it behind the scenes. His shoulders bunched a bit more at his upper back, his body tall and looming and strong. But his eyes stayed on yours, consistent, dark, and beautiful. 

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” His words were laced with a promise you were begging him to fulfill. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with this nagging feeling between your legs begging for relief. 

Your intimate conversation was cut short with the final clatter of a pool ball, the black 8 ball sinking into a pocket. 

You finally let out a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding in. You glanced to the side, away from Joel’s protective gaze as you watched the men hang up their pool cues on the wall mount, grabbing their leather jackets as they came to set their empty beer bottles on the bar top and thanking Joel before they exited. 

His hand came up in a subtle wave, not even shaking his hand back and forth, just throwing his hand out there to say a silent farewell. 

Your breath quickened at the thought of him alone in the bar with you. If it wasn’t for the chain smoker dulling both of your fantasies. 

Joel caught your wandering eyes, following them down the lane to the final patron.

“Paul, do you know how late it is?” Your eyes fell to Joel’s fingers as he covered the clock behind the counter methodically. 

The smoker, who you learned was Paul, finally pulled the cigarette away from his dry and cracked mouth, glancing around to see how empty the bar had become. Besides you and Joel. 

“Your wife is probably waitin’ for you at home. Best if you start headin’ out.” Joel said as his head tilted to the door next to him, the man nodding with wide eyes. 

“Oh, she is gonna kill me. That woman,” he mumbled something else you couldn’t quite hear from your end of the bar, smiling as Joel snuck a glance at you as he ushered Paul out. He’d stay here all night if Joel didn’t tell him to head on home. 

Your nerve finally made your long legs move, heels landing on the hardwood as you slowly walked the length of the bar, your fingers dancing along the top. You felt a few chips and divots in the wood, years of wear and tear exposing itself to you.

Joel flicked the lock on the door and flipped the sign. Sorry, we’re closed!

The action in itself made you feel spoiled. He wanted you to himself for the rest of the night, he didn’t want anyone interrupting. Goosebumps flooded your skin as you leaned back against one of the pool tables, the light above you making you have an angelic silhouette. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the jukebox, the only thing eliciting noise in the otherwise silent bar. With a push of a button, the music halted. 

“What? No music?” You asked. Your voice had a slight echo now. 

His heavy footsteps loomed closer, his eyes on yours and never straying.

“Rather hear you.”

Well, there went any remaining ounce of respect you had for yourself. 

 You initiated the first contact, needy at this point. Needy for someone to take care of you just for tonight. Joel was more than willing to take on that role. A means to an end. 

Your soft hands landed on his exposed forearms, moving upwards until they hit the rolled-up sleeves of his dark green henley. You had to force yourself to breathe when you felt over his biceps, your warm palms coming to rest on his broad chest. 

“I could have handled it you know. Before you intervened.” Your words elicited a slight grumble from the man in front of you. From Joel. 

“I’m thankful, but… I had it under control.” Your fingers continued to dance over his upper half. 

He let out a gruff and shook his head. “Not from where I was standin’, Trouble.” His voice was curved with cockiness. This was the first time you really took hold of his southern accent. It came out when his voice was lust drenched. 

He challenges you, and your attitude matches his stubbornness.

Joel’s hips are against yours now, you can feel his jeans against your thighs that your dress doesn’t quite reach. His hands are a warm welcome on your hips. They’re gentle on you in the same way they’re possessive, eager to have you but wanting to approach you with a sense of tenderness. 

“I had it.” You were persistent.  Your arms moved to wrap up around his neck, intertwining your hands and feeling the soft curls on the back of his head. 

“Sure.” 

The distance was closing between the two of you now, his body moving with a flirtatious sense of stealth. 

He watched you with a stoic face. He seemed so unphased. Your touch alone was often enough to have gentlemen attempting to take you home. You were methodical in that sense. But maybe so was Joel. 

He was a total stranger, but knew little things about him. Stiff, silent, impossible to read, a human shield, a protector. He would have knocked Chris out with a single swift swing of his heavy fist if he didn’t let you go, you knew he would have. Because he was watching you both all night like he had a gut feeling. 

Joel’s tundra-cold voice broke you out of your thoughts for the third time tonight, his large hand coming up and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear before he cradled your cheek. His actions were soft, his words were filth. 

“You got a real mouth on you, y’know that?” His eyebrows were furrowed, the indents on his forehead and eyebrows exposing themselves. 

A proud smirk danced on your lips, your arms tugging Joel in closer. He could choose to stay still, he’s strong enough to resist your tug. But he lets you. Because he wants to. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

You can feel a breath leave through his nose, a sigh of contemplation. Teetering on the idea of falling down into the unknown with you. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as his hands tighten on your hips, hoisting you up to sit on the pool table’s edge. The position makes your dress roll up your thighs, a broken gasp leaving your mouth as he finally fills the void between the two of you with a heavy kiss. 

It’s tongue and teeth at first, meshed and mangled as you both searched for dominance. His tongue danced with your own before you were tugging on his lower lip. You swallowed Joel’s low grunt, his hands falling to the outside of your thighs with his thumbs pressing into your skin. 

Fuck, he was spreading you further. The dress rolled to the very top of your legs, his body sliding through the opening as his warm body consumed you. He tasted like mint. He was probably tasting the alcohol he was pouring you all night. 

You fisted his hair at the nape of his neck to hold onto some sort of control, but he was persistent. 

Joel was invading your senses on all fronts until finally, you had to wave your white flag.

“Joel,” Your voice came out in a desperate breath on his lips, his head quickly nodding as if he already knew what you needed before you had to ask. 

“Lie down, baby, lemme take care a’you.” He kissed you once more before pulling away, his head nodding up once, instructing you to lay back. 

You felt bashful as your shoulder blades hit the pool table, still spread perfectly for him.

His expert hands pushed the dress up your hips, lifting your ass off the edge to let the material pool around your stomach. 

His warm and possessive hands claimed the lower half of your body. He bent down to take you in, pouted lips kissing your naval while his heavy eyes studied your reactions. 

A breath was caught in your throat as you felt his hands on the inside of your thighs, brushing over the front of the red panties you wore. He was thinking the same thing you were, you could see it the way he dropped a small grin. Same color as your lipstick, pretty girl. 

 “Fuck,” you whispered, using the strength you had left and sitting up on your elbows. You were too turned on not to watch him work. 

Your fingers wound into the salt and pepper curls atop his head, biting down on your lower lip as his fingers continued to ghost over cotton. 

His thumb began to teasingly stroke over you, brushing over your covered clit and sending electricity through his touch to your core. 

Joel hooked his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, bringing up your legs to take them off with ease. You scoot closer to the edge of the table, scoot closer to him.

“What?” You ask, his bemused grin now eliciting one from you too. “Think I’m desperate?” You ask, a little on edge for his answer. 

A man of suspense, you watch as Joel shrugs off the question. 

You watched as his eyes came down to admire what was previously concealed, your lips parting as he let out a hum in reaction to seeing your soaked core. All because of him, all for him. 

Sinking down on his knees before the pool table, your hips rutted forward a few more inches to close the distance. His toying with you was aggravating. 

Joel hooked one of your legs over his wide-set shoulder, his large hand coming up to pry the other one up and open. One of your heels nearly sunk into one of the pool table pockets. You whimpered out as you eventually kicked them both off, hearing one pair clatter to the floor on the left of Joel, then the other on the right. 

His lips were on you like a magnet, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Your gut was tight, feeling it create its own knots as Joel licked an exploratory stripe up your glossy slit with his tongue. You gasped at the estranged feeling. 

“Fuck,” he moaned out, a short yelp leaving you as the vibrations were shot up your center. “Taste too good not to go down on.” The compliment left you in a swirling heat, feeling your walls flutter desperately for him. 

“Joel, you can just-” you paused, not realizing how frantic your words sounded. You sounded frantic enough for him to stop his tongue in his path and look at you like a deer in headlights. 

“‘Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, hesitant concern crossing his features. “You alright?”

As much as you liked his attention, you felt awkward about him tasting you. Only one or two guys have ever done this for you before, neither making you finish. You just remember moaning their names until they stopped, letting them think they had succeeded. Good oral sex took experience, trial, and error. You just didn’t want him to waste his time on you.

But now that his tongue was gone, you realized how good he was making you feel. It made you realize that your slick was already devoured by his lips and his taste buds purely because he wanted to. But you still had that nervous gut feeling that it was out of some sort of chivalrous act. I’ll do it because it’s polite, because it’s only courteous. 

“You just- you don’t have to, okay? I understand if you don’t want to, is what I’m trying to say.” Despite your words being laced with little pants of trying to collect yourself from the pleasure, you still offered him a respectable out. “We can just fuck, get to the good part for both of us.” Your heart thumped in your chest, looking to him with shifty, sympathetic eyes.

Your statement made his head roll to the side, his lips parting. He almost looked disappointed.

“You don’t want me to?” He finally asked, your heat still begging for his attention. You could feel your thighs trembling under the warmth of his palms spreading your legs apart. 

Meekly, you finally push an answer up and out of you. “No.” Your words were breathy, eager, desperate. “Don’t want you to stop.” 

Joel gave you a slight nod, his eyes looking over you for a moment before he settled back down by your core. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, his beard hairs scratching after the soothing touches of his mouth. 

“Good. Now let me make you feel good.”        

His words made your stomach clench, your walls fluttering and begging to be filled. By the look in his eyes, he had seen it. The way your arousal was quite literally dripping and becoming sticky on your skin. 

You could feel his hot breath fanning over your core again, your hips chasing the feeling. You decided to lay back once more, just wanting to relax with Joel’s head between your legs. 

His palm on your leg moved to plant your hip down into the pool table, halting your movements and holding you still. The anticipation was all too much, and you let him know that by whimpering out his name. 

He wasn’t exactly slow, it’s like he was learning. With each lap of his tongue, letting it move up to your clit and then down to your entrance, he was taking the time to learn you. 

You purse your lips as your eyes flutter closed, letting out a genuine gasp as he began to suckle on your clit. The motion eluded something deep in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Feeling his mouth suck and tug on your aching clit, his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitivity felt like powerful lighting strikes setting a wildfire loose in your core. 

“S’that feel good, pretty girl?” He whispered, trying to learn what made you tick.

“M-mhmm,” you whimper-moaned shakily in response, not finding it in you to lace together more than a few syllables. 

One of your hands braced the edge of the table while the other fisted his hair, gripping the dark strands and keeping him in place. As if he was going anywhere. 

You could feel Joel slowly untying the knots you had made in your stomach, plucking open one and then the other with each stroke of his tongue. 

He liked your taste, he liked pleasuring you, he liked that you liked how good it felt to be given this type of attention. Attention he was sure you hadn’t rightfully experienced before. 

You were eager for more but shy to ask. Joel, being the mind reader that he was, moved his hand that was dedicated to holding down your hip and brought it to glide up your slick. His wet tongue made slow figure-eights around your clit, broken moans tumbling from your mouth as you let your eyes dip open and then closed as waves of pleasure began to consume you in an even rhythm. Joel’s rhythm. 

His mouth kissed at the inside of your thigh once more, having to bite down into the flesh to conceal his excitement. It made you smile and whine. You wanted the marks of his teeth, you wanted the prints of his hands on you. His were welcome.  

He slowly sunk a finger into your pleading entrance, letting a breathy sigh enter the air above the two of you. The only sound in the empty bar was your eager moaning. 

His mouth gave you much needed relief, your pussy taking his finger to the knuckle while his tongue continued to create generous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

That’s when you felt it. The it no one had given to you before. The it that left your mind blindsided. 

He was only one finger inside of you but his tongue was working magic. You started to mewl out feverish moans of his name, the hand in his hair clenching tighter and causing a sting to radiate across his scalp. The leg hiked up on his shoulder was shaking, your heel digging into his back to guide him even closer if that was humanly possible. 

“Joel, holy shit,” you whimpered, head coming up to look down at him. His lips and mustache were glistening in your slick. “I’m s-so close.” 

You didn’t have to convince Joel like you had to convince the others. Your moans were authentic, your cries of passion genuine. 

Joel listened, he kept his pace, the pace that had you shattering like a freshly broken mirror. 

“J-.. Fuck Joel, your fingers,” you whimper, your walls fluttering around where he was pumping into you with just the one. 

“Mhmmm?” He elongated in a questioning tone, not freeing his mouth from you to respond. He wanted you to say it. You threw your head back in frustration and nodded quickly with your chin to the ceiling. 

“A-Another, another finger.” You groan out. You could feel his smirk plastered against your clit, feeling his cheeks raise with his smile against your shaking thighs.

You don’t need to ask twice. Joel’s inserting a second finger and you can feel yourself stretching for him. He picks up his pace again and the it you’ve been fantasizing about is happening. 

Your toes curl, the heel of your foot still indenting into his back as you let out heavy pants into the air. Your back arches as your walls tighten around his fingers while Joel curls them in the perfect spot, your hand fisting the edge of the table as you searched for words to resemble how good he was making you feel.

Joel kept untying your knots, plucking open one after the other, after the other, until-

“Holy f-fuck! Joel!” Your body convulsed with your orgasm, your hard nipples peaking in your dress as your lower half started to grind against his mouth for the ultimate finish. You were seeing white, your moans and the squelching noise your wetness made filled the room. 

His fingers worked you down from your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you came back to life. Freshly resuscitated after a life-altering orgasm. And one you didn’t have to fake. 

His fingers were covered in your cum-mixed arousal, he didn’t waste any time sucking them clean as his eyes connected with yours. An exhausted whimper left your throat. Your lips were pouty, eyes as wide as a doe as you sat up to face him. 

He pushed himself off his knees, your leg dangling free from his shoulder. 

Your foreheads came to rest against one another, both taking a breath to collect yourselves. His beard definitely gave your thighs a little burn rash, but with how good he made you feel, the slight pain was worth all the pleasure. 

“I’ve never had someone go down on me on a pool table.” 

Your fingers aimlessly drew circles in the felt, your other hand reaching up to swipe your thumb clean across his bottom lip. 

“Ever been fucked on a bar?” His eyes dark and tantalizing, his voice lacking true emotion and replacing it with grit and lust. Good. That’s the last thing you want right now. You don’t need emotions tonight. 

“Mm-mm.” You said as you shook your head, the two of you wearing matching smirks. 

You were glad you and Joel were on the same page. Neither of you seemed interested in anything more than sex tonight. 

Joel was about to help you down from the pool table, a wave of heat splashing your already warm face. He turned back when you dropped hold of his hand, lightly squirming on the table. 

“Just-” You’re a bit embarrassed, you don’t want him to feel sympathetic. “I need a minute. For my legs.” You gave him a shy smile, and he wore a crooked cocky one in return. 

You glanced down as you tested a foot on the floor. Your stems felt like jelly, as if you had just run a marathon, but really, Joel was just pulling an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Joel was quick to shake his head, his body coming back to yours. 

“Don’t need you walkin’ barefoot on the floor. I’m a little behind on cleanin’ up the place.” His words made you stifle a laugh. 

He was okay with eating you out on the pool table and fucking you on his bar, but god forbid you might step on something sticky. 

You wonder if it’s because he feels protective of you. He wasn’t going to let some dickhead break your arm tonight. Not in his bar. 

“I’m fine.” You say as you haul yourself up, planting your palm into his bicep for leverage while you put on one heel and then the other. You could walk on your own.

“You wanna fuck me on your bar, baby? You do this with all the girls?” You ask as the heels clicked on the floor, one after the other. 

His pace catches up with you, dark eyes watching your every move like a predator meeting prey. It would scare you if you didn’t know how good he was with his tongue. 

“Only the real pretty ones with delicious tasting cunts.” 

Your lips parted at his words, merely watching as his pace kicked up a notch. You felt your back slam against the bar as Joel consumed your front and he was kissing you once more. 

His kiss was magnetizing, commanding. Open your mouth for me. Let me taste you. 

You obeyed, feeling him slip in and have his taste. Your hands reached for your dress that was bunched around your stomach, pulling your lips from Joel though he was apprehensive to let you do so. The material tangled your hair but you were quickly tossing your dress aside, eager to have him back in your space. 

His eyes lingered on your tits, his mouth on yours, but now his hands- god, his hands, they were massaging and cupping them in his palm. 

You let out a strangled whimper as he pinched your nipple between two fingers, still sensitive from your orgasm across the room. 

He enjoyed watching you squirm, your jelly legs already coming back.

“So fuckin’ greedy.. Can barely hold yourself up.” Joel’s words were gritty, lost in the depths of his heady lust. You wondered how big he was, you could see the heavy outline through his jeans.

While he played with your tits, his mouth now slobbering on your nipple and making your core tremble, your hands were on his old leather belt. Pulling the excess to the side and flicking open the pin. 

He takes over, pushing down his jeans to the tops of his thighs. You smile seeing his dark green briefs, the same green as his henley. 

“I guess we’re both matching tonight.” You teased, snagging your pointer finger into his briefs and tugging until it snapped back into his waist. 

“Turn around pretty girl, wanna feel that pretty pussy around my cock.”

Your stomach was already bottoming out, all those knots Joel had untied on the pool table were now forming again. 

You whimpered as you eagerly turned around, your saliva covered tits now plastered to the bar as you bent over it. The bartop gave you a shiver, considering how cold it felt while bare. 

You whipped your head to the side when you could hear him shifting out of his boxers, his belt clattering with his movements. You flicked your hair out of your way as you tried to get a look at his lower half but he was flushed behind you in no time at all. 

Joel wrapped his hand around his base, his other hand on your hip as he guided you to stand between two barstools. He slid his tip in your fresh arousal, smirking as he watched you grip the edge of the bar. 

“Such a pretty fuckin’ girl. Need a man to make you feel good, not a boy.” 

His words released a whimpery moan from you while you nodded, each time his tip teased your entrance made your heart race just a beat faster with anticipation. 

“Need you, Joel.” 

He nods, his open palm splayed on your lower back and right hip as he admired the curve of your ass. 

Your breaths grow heavy with impatience, waiting to feel him. Him soaking up your slick wasn’t enough. He finally got the hint as your hips rutted back into this touch, hearing his hellish low chuckle at your desperation. 

“So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed. 

“Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him. 

Your cunt was in shock, your tight walls clenching desperately around him as you began to flood over him with your arousal. 

You began panting into the wood of the bar, the pain greeting you in a hot flash. 

“Oh f-... god,” your knuckles were white gripping the backside of the bar. You could hear Joel behind you, moaning at the way your walls expanded graciously for them. 

“Good girl, alright baby, come on, baby,” His voice was heavy, wrapped up in his lust as he hiked up one of your legs and set it on the barstool. “So fuckin-” his heavy breath fanned across your back as he pulled he retracted his hips, “perfect for me.” He said as he reeled them back in, filling you to the max.

Your leg up on the barstool released a new angle for the two of you, your eyelashes fluttering as Joel found a previously undiscovered spot. 

He started slow, letting your body adjust to him. How could someone as good-looking as Joel be humble about a dick like this? And he knew how to fucking use it. 

You were trying to moan his name, but they just kept coming out in hot pants. 

“Joel, Joel, fuck Joel!” The pleasure had now replaced the pain, a sweet sting at your core every time he ground his hips into you just right. 

Joel’s thrusts never wavered, they were deliberate and calculated as he filled you to the brim. His cologne was invading your senses, mixed with his sweat. 

He collected your hair in a loose ponytail, peeling your face off the bartop as your chin angled up to the ceiling. The pool table may have been for you, using his mouth to get off. But now, this was for Joel. Joel was using you good and hard, and you fucking loved it. You loved that you were what he needed tonight, and vice versa. 

The sound of Joel’s hips clapping against your ass echoed throughout his bar, your hand coming back to grip onto his forearm for some sort of leverage. Some sort of control. Some sort of… anything. 

But Joel made it clear that he was in charge tonight. 

His tempo edged you. Once you fell close to another crashing orgasm, his thrusts feeling like they were hitting you at a million miles an hour, suddenly slowed to the flow of bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. It was torturous the way he had you mewling out his name in desperation one moment and then the next, he had you whining for more. But every time you neared the finish line, the overwhelmingness of it all was stronger, and you knew Joel felt it too. 

Joel didn’t want you just to feel good, he wanted to change how you saw sex. No more laziness from a partner, no more vanilla positions, no more faking orgasms. This was what it felt like to be fulfilled by the real thing. 

No matter how hard he tried, both of you were losing strength to put up with the passing of another orgasm. 

“J-Joel-” He could barely hear his name with the sound of his front snapping into your behind. “I’m so- fuck me,- I’m so c-close,” You were sure to have bruises on your hips tomorrow, the wooden edge of the bar being nailed into you. “I’m close, please!” you whined, beginning to throw yourself into each of his thrusts which worked up a good grunt from him. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good around my cock,” you twisted your head back as you felt his arm snare around your hip, his fingers slowly circling around your sensitive bud. You were gasping for air, seeing stars as he actually fed you what you wanted. He was ready to let you cum. 

Your eyes weakly watched him as he fucked you over his bar. Eventually, you had to push yourself off of the front because it was pinning your hips into numbness. Your leg came down from the barstool, your back still bent over as you used your palms to flush against the edge of the bar to hold yourself up. Your head whipped back again as you became obsessed with observing him. 

“You like watchin’ me fuck you, sweetheart? Little fuckin’ troublemaker.” 

There were no words, it was too late. Your head dropped as your nails chipped into the wood, letting out a cry of his name as Joel continued to untie the knots in your stomach, all of them falling loose until you came. 

You heard him let out a long and low groan, your barely-open eyes turning back to watch the sight of Joel finishing. 

Joel could feel your walls pulsing desperately around his swollen cock, his fingers getting a little messy with your clit but he kept at it, he wasn’t going to disappoint you. That’s when it hit him, where he couldn’t hold on anymore. 

He spilled his white hot cum into you, rope after rope until it was coming out in shorter streams inside your cunt. You and Joel were moaning in unison as you both finished together.

After a few moments to breathe, you gently pat his hand that was rubbing lazy circles in your clit, feeling his warm palms move to your hips as you slowly straightened out together. 

You flipped your messy hair out of your face, smirking tiredly as you looked over him while he tugged his jeans and briefs back up on his hips, your eyes hypnotized by watching his rough and calloused hands easily secure his belt on. 

“Uhm..” You paused as you shyly searched around for your dress a few barstools down. You went to retrieve it,  Joel taking it from your hands and slipping it back on your body. You watched his face, his eyes looked through you. 

Your thumb came up to his lips, watching as he did a minute flinch with how fast your hand invaded his space. 

“Relax,” you tease, swiping away the red lipstick of yours that melted on the edge of his pretty mouth. He slowly relaxed as he watched you clean yourself from him, his warm palms still holding your aching hips. 

You sighed, your body and mind tired from being completely blown out. Your feet were sore from your heels, you were ready to take this dress and makeup off for good tonight. 

You watched with a teasing smile as Joel did a shitty job with a wet rag cleaning up where you were thrust against his bar, shaking your head at him.

“Missed a spot.”

He tutted dryly. “Funny.”

You collected your clutch and your other belongings, seeing the spot at the end of the bar where the ice you had thrown at Chris had long ago melted and was now a puddle on the floor. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Joel’s voice erupted from behind you. 

Your hand clutched the stray 8 ball on the pool table Joel had you laid out on, dragging it to the corner pocket before you went to meet him at the door. He unlocked it to let you out, even going up the concrete steps with you. 

“It’s fine, Joel.”

He shrugs and shakes his head, looking past you once more. 

“I know. Just wanna make sure you get in the cab alright.” He waved up his hand and stepped into the street, signaling a car until one pulled up to you both. You didn’t know what time it was, how late it had gotten. You probably had several missed messages from your friends to hear how your revenge breakup went. You couldn’t wait to tell them how tonight turned out for the better. Because of Joel.

Finally, he was really looking at you. And you had no idea what to say. Your lips parted, looking up at the older man who sort of saved your night.

Your eyes said it all.  Thank you. 

He just nodded and cocked his head towards the cab. 

“Night, Joel.” You tugged open the door to the cab, tossing your purse in the backseat before sliding in as gracefully as you could. You should forget about being graceful at this point after what you’ve done. 

“You gonna tell me your name before you go?” How could his question come from curiosity but his voice was as cold and bare as ever. His hand was in the window of your cab, as if holding it in place from taking off on him. 

His interest made you smirk, your hand playfully plucking his fingers free from his grip on the window before giving a little shrug and not saying a word.

His eyes stray from yours and look down the road, seeing him cross his arms in front of his broad chest before he continues. “Alright, fine.” He said with a little nod. “Do you think I don’t pay attention to ID’s when I check ‘em?” He says your name, testing the waters as a shy smile creeps on your lips, his cocky little smirk was enough to make your eyes roll. “That’s alright, I’ve been calling you Trouble all night anyway.” 

You sighed tiredly and smiled, tapping the cab window. “Goodnight, Joel.” You say before falling back into your seat and giving the driver your address.

“Goodnight, Trouble.” 

Joel saw you off before disappearing down the concrete stairs into the Blackbird, your fingers gently ghosting over your red lipstick as you watched the city fly by. 

---

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #bartender!joel

[abbyromanoff]

Hey i have some request :))

Yn is taking care of drunk lizzie :))

DRUNK IN LOVE

PAIRINGS: Elizabeth Olsen x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,120

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex and pregnancy, kinda suggestive but no actual smut, R taking care of Lizzie, Liz being drunk, breast worshipping, lactation (kinda?), pretty used like a billion times, think that’s abt it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“C’mon, baby, ‘m not drunk.” Your wife falsely claimed, her eyes heavy and her breath reeking of alcohol. Her smile was full and giggly, and you rolled your eyes teasingly before continuing to guide her into the house.

“Mm, where you takin’ me, sweetheart?” You noticed it became a regular for her petnames to repeat when she was so out of it, and you felt a small red tint coming to your cheeks.

“I’m taking you to our room so we can get you ready for bed.” You replied, causing a smirk to instantly cover her lips.

“I mean, ‘m a little sleepy, but I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you.” She laughed, her head falling onto your shoulder as it bumped with every step. She bit her lip as she waited for you to chuckle in return, and when you finally did, she felt a sense of pride fill her.

“You..look s’good tonight, baby.” You hummed, placing your hand on her back to help her uneven steps.

“That shirt looks so,” She dragged out. “Good on you, I could just eat’ you up.” You gave her a suspicious glance before opening the door to your room, letting her take one step in before you were back onto her holding her by the waist.

“Mhm, we should do this more often, I like how you feel.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not letting you get this drunk again, and if you do I better go with you.”

“You’ the one who decided not to go with me.” She frowned. But it was true, you had stated you weren’t feeling all the best and wished to stay home. While she supported your decision and even wished to stay with you, it was a public event she had to attend. Fans and interviewers were skeptical about your disappearance, but she brushed it off with the truth before downing shots with many of her friends, all of which was photographed by paparazzi.

“Well, I am so very sorry that I’ve been puking all week and I do not feel like doubling that with alcohol.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant.” She guessed, sitting on the edge of the bed as you stepped into the walk-in bathroom for a cloth to remove her makeup. You nearly choked on nothing when she spoke.

“Let’s hope not.” You began wiping her skin, but she pulled back at your comment.

“You don’ want my babies?” You sighed with a hint of laughter before you set both hands on the sides of her cheeks. You pulled her in close, leaving a kiss to her lips before muttering.

“I would love to have your babies, but we’ve been together for eight months and I don’t think we’re exactly ready yet.” You pecked the brim of her nose and leaned back, continuing your actions before helping her remove her dress.

“I want you to be pregnant already.” She stated after a moment of silence. You hummed with a small grin, focused on the zipper on the back of her clothes.

“You’d be so pretty pregnant. Not that you’re not pretty right now, cause you’re really pretty right now, like, really pretty. But you’d be even prettier pregnant, and your stomach would get so big and your tata’s would too.”

“Did you just call my breasts ‘tata’s’?” She nodded with an exaggerated laugh, nearly falling over until you held her close by the arms.

“I love your breasts, they’re so pretty.”

“You call me pretty a lot,”

“You don’ like it?”

“Oh, I love it, baby. But I think you’re a little too drunk to be thinking about me pregnant, next thing you know I’ll actually be pregnant if you keep talking.” She now sat naked on the bed as you went through the closet to pick her pajamas for the night. She noticed the set you had on and that it was a matching pair with hers, and she quickly insisted you gave her that one. You agreed, helping her into the outfit before guiding her to the bathroom.

“Alright, last step is brushing those teeth.” She watched intently as you began the steps needed, and she made a face of disgust as she tasted the mouthwash.

“Don't swallow it,”

“I thought I told you to always swallow?” She quickly spit out the liquid to allow herself to make the dirty comment, and you bit your lip to stop the laugh that threatened to escape.

“I made you laugh!”

“You always make me laugh, Liz.” You dragged her back into the bedroom where you let her sit on the bed and begin cuddling herself under the blankets. You went to grab a glass of water and promised to be fast, coming back to the sight of Lizzie half asleep and small snores coming from her mouth. You placed the drink on her bedside table and got under the covers, letting her cuddle up to you instinctively. She rested her head on your chest, nuzzling her face against your breasts. Most of her body was on top of you by now, and you gave up on ever pleading with her to give you room when it came to sleep.

“Mm, take it off.” You unbuttoned the shirt she tugged on and smiled at her large expression. She pressed a kiss to your chest before sliding over a few and doing the same to your nipple. You sighed and ran your fingers through her soft hair. She looked up at you for permission before moving to the other, a small line of spit following her. She spent a few moments longer as she sucked soothingly, the action aiding her further into sleep. She left one last kiss to both of your breasts before your lips received the same.

“Pretty titties, I love ‘em.” You only shook your head and allowed her to attach herself back to your soft flesh.

“My pretty girl,” You exaggerated the compliment and earned a small giggle that was followed with a large blush adorning her cheeks.

“You prettier, baby.”

“How about we’re both very, very pretty, yeah? Will that make you happy?” She nodded and silence fell upon you two. You almost believed she was finally asleep as your body was close to following suit, that was until her voice came in a hushed whisper once again.

“You’re still..still prettier.” You decided it was best not to fight with her and agreed before hearing soft breaths coming from her mouth. You admired her sleepy form as you felt her open mouth slowly drooling onto you. You took a quick photo to show her the next morning before placing your arm around her back and shutting your eyes with a grateful smile.

#elizabeth olsen comfort #elizabeth olsen x gender neutral reader #elizabeth olsen x gn!reader #elizabeth olsen x reader fluff #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen fluff #elizabeth olsen angst #elizabeth olsen x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader comfort #elizabeth olsen x reader angst #elizabeth olsen x y/n

[biibini]

okay so not many people explore this often but i think so hard about the softer side of mizu like when she was married to m*kio (🤢). Yes, we get a lot of the butch lesbian mizu content where shes the tough gf and all, but what about with a gf just calling mizu pretty!!! calling her beautiful and holding her face!!! telling her that shes the most gorgeous woman!!! MIZU DESERVES SOME SOFT COMPLIMENTS TOO ABOUT HER BEAUTY BC SHE IS GORGEOUS ! ! ! 😭❤️

fluff modern!mizu x reader headcannons

tags: fluff, mizu x reader, modern au, cute moments, pretty mizu, compliments, kissing, kisses on the cheek, gifting, flower bouquets, safe relationship, mizu deserves this :(

a/n: FUCK M*K*O !! she is my gorgeous beautiful girl!! ok school isn’t that bad but i do have a weekend trip so i'll be lowk MIA :(

modern!mizu tries to put up a tough front

but with you, the barrier breaks down and she feels comfortable exploring new aspects of herself

she's never felt that kind of safety

she barely felt it with m*k*o after learning his true nature

as time passes by with u, she begins to bring her guard down

compliment modern!mizu and she immediately doesn't know what to do or what to believe

earlier on in ur relationship, u helped her get dressed for a sports-day after party held by the school

in celebration of a well balanced and eventful day, there was a formal event for athletes and their plus ones

and mizu didn't know how to present herself

yeah she had the clothes

but she had trouble styling it

u came over to fix her clothes in ur beautiful blue dress that totally didn't compliment her eyes

mizu showered u with compliments, saying how her "pretty girl was so dressed up beautifully"

or calling u a "beautiful sight"

without thinking, u called her "my beautiful girl" as u fixed her hair

she immediately went quiet

"Mizu?", you questioned. She had gone silent after your compliment. "Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry, I'll just-"

You look up to find her, her mouth agape. Not out of disgust. Instead, Mizu whiplashed by your words, her face flaring red. Only three words and she's suddenly out of commission.

yeah, mizu would def short circuit

and she did for a brief moment

until she snapped and kissed u

and totally not ruin ur makeup

modern!mizu loves it when u cup her face while y'all kissing or make out

mizu mainly is the one talking and touching during heated moments but even the soft feeling of her significant other’s touch makes her stomach fill with butterflies

or if ur just chilling in bed and u start tracing her face

externally, she’s relaxing

internally, she’s mesmerized by ur touch

when u trace around her eyes and lips and play w her hair, she has never felt such softness and safety

or even if u cup her face to give her a kiss on the cheek before u leave for work or class

it makes her feel secure and happy

modern!mizu loves being called pretty

she still likes dressing more masc but that doesnt mean she isnt pretty

especially if u compliment her eyes

or her strangely healthy hair

the fact that its long and still shiny

sometimes u pray u had her hair genes bc wtf this isnt fair

“Your hair is so pretty, it’s not fair.”, you say as you play with Mizu’s hair. It was late at night and while she was busy figuring out calculations for a project, you were busy relaxing.

She hummed in acknowledgement. With her back still turned, you ran your hair through her scalp, feeling the silky texture of her raven hair.

Normally, Mizu would just tie her hair up to focus late at night. Tonight would be a little different since you were still up.

As your hands sectioned continued to run through her hair, Mizu relaxed. In a calm state, she solved the equations with ease, listening to the faint lofi studying music guide her thoughts into the night.

Time passed yet Mizu never felt it until she realized your hands had slowed down. She turned back to see you, eyes heavy and ready to doze off.

She looked back at her nearly completed homework. One problem couldn’t hurt in the morning.

Mizu shut off the desk lamp and silently collected her things in a neat pile. She rests your head on your pillows and pull the covers on top of you. With one foot into dreamland, Mizu gives you a kiss on your forehead.

modern!mizu’s favorite places to get kissed are her cheeks

she loves any kisses from u tbh

whenever u would give a goodbye kiss, she always forgets ab the “final” kiss

it’s so simple yet so endearing

when u guys first started dating, u were a little hesitant on ending the first few dates with a kiss

so u choose a simple peck on her cheek instead

u could see blush form on her cheeks afterwards

and they still flush to this day

after mizu went back to her place after the date, she would not stop smiling

it lowkey threw off ringo for a while

modern!mizu enjoys fresh flowers

it seems small but it’s a pretty reminder of ur love

she never got flowers as a gift in her previous relationship so she wasn’t use to these gifts

(yeah fuck u m*k*o)

it makes her heart warm every time she sees the vase on her desk

preferably, she likes peonies bc of how fluffy and full they bloom

but if u bring a new bouquet, she’ll gladly clean and take care of it

u insist that u will do it

but once u saw her carefully pluck and cut the bouquet, u let mizu have her way

she just looks so joyful getting new flowers to take care of

when the flowers start to fully bloom, mizu likes to check and make sure they have enough water

basically she gives them the love and care they need

(im crying sobbing while writing this)

#mizu bes #mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu headcanons #blue eye samurai #mizu x y/n #mizu x you #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #modern mizu #blue eye samurai modern #modern au #mizu come home the kids miss you #i love love #fluff mizu #fluff blue eye samurai #mizu x reader fluff #fluff mizu x reader #fluff mizu x y/n

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Double Trouble

————————————————————————

summary: when you’re pregnant with the quarterback of the cincinnati bengal’s twins, you just have to incorporate your husband’s teammates into your gender reveal.

warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

pairing: joe burrow x reader

Imagine universe: into the mystic

————————————————————————

(y/n's pov)

"good morning, mamas" - joe grinned

i opened my eyes to see joe walking into our bedroom holding a tray with breakfast on it.

"morning, baby" - you

i leaned up and joe placed the tray on my lap.

as soon as he knew i was situated, joe got under the covers and sat in bed next to me.

"how'd you sleep?" - joe

"not bad, the babies were kicking though so that was distracting" - you

"they're kicking already?!" - joe

"yeah i'm 17 weeks, that's when they start kicking joe." - you

"do you think i could feel it if i put my hand on your bump?" - joe

"probably. here, give me your hand" - you

joe stuck his hand out and i took it, placing it on my bump.

i felt one of the twins kick and joe did too, his face lit up and he stared at me smiling.

“that feels insane, it’s so cool though. it’s really reassuring.” - joe

i watched joe lay his head on my bump, trying to get closer to his babies.

"you're so cute" - you

joe leaned up for a second and smiled at me, his head then went back down to my bump and he placed to kisses on it. one for each twin.

after he was done, joe laid next to me and put spongebob on.

i just enjoyed watching it as i ate the breakfast joe prepared for me.

"do you think we’re having two girls, a boy and a girl, or two boys?" - joe

"girls" - you

"i think it’s two boys but we'll find out tonight, right?" - joe smiled

i nodded and kissed his cheek before i finally started eating. joe was preoccupied watching his show while laying on my shoulder and tracing small shapes on my bump.

after the episode was finished and i was done with my breakfast, joe rolled over to give me a kiss before standing up from the bed.

"i guess i’m gonna leave you alone now so that you can get ready for the party" - joe

"thank you for breakfast, i love you" - you

"you're welcome, i love you too" - joe kissed you

joe retreated to the living room, leaving me some peace and quiet to get ready for the twins gender reveal.

i was wearing a flowy white dress that had little pink and blue flowers embroidered in it.

the cut was low, so i knew joe was gonna love it.

i curled my hair and waited for alexa to arrive for her to do my makeup.

*time skip*

i was in the kitchen helping my mom put the gender reveal oriented treats out when joe walked in through the back door.

“baby, the decorations are here and i have literally no idea how you want them set up so.." - joe

“you need help?” - you

“yes” - joe grinned

“joseph! you’re really going to make your pregnant wife help you with those heavy and big decorations?” - robin walked in

i couldn’t help but laugh at joe’s annoyed face as he was scolded by his mother.

“i’m still the one moving them mom, she’s just telling me where they go. i promise she won’t have to lift a finger.” - joe

“good.” - robin

as i moved out of the kitchen and up to joe his hands found their way to the small of my back as my hands rested on his chest.

“i love you.” - joe smiled

“i love you too.” - you met him halfway and kissed his perfect lips

both of our moms stood in the kitchen smiling at the sight of their kids in love.

“i’m not gonna lie i’m kinda nervous.” - joe

“that’s expected, joey. we’re finding out the genders of our first kids, that’s kinda nerve racking.” - you

“it is. i’m also so excited and very happy though. we’re gonna be such a good team when it comes to parenting.” - joe smirked

“duh.” - you smiled back

we stood there for a few more minutes, flirting with each other even though we were literally married till my friends started to arrive.

there were pro’s and con’s when it came to joe’s job in the nfl. it sure did cause us both anxiety, but i loved watching joe live out his dreams and the relationships it’s given us are irreplaceable.

my best friends (not including joe) were all girls i had met because of the bengals. gracie mcpherson, evan mcpherson’s wife. jess koehler, sam hubbard’s girlfriend. one of my college friends had also found themselves in love with a bengals player. alexa was one my closest friends while at lsu since she was my roommate, i was already dating joe so as she started tagging along to more games she developed feelings for ja’marr chase. she didn’t end up confessing to him till his senior year but they’ve been together ever since and live not that far from joe and i.

alexa, jess, and gracie all arrived at around the same time with their boys.

ja’marr held his 7 month old son on his hip, he was ja’marr chase jr. but we all referred to him as jj.

he was the most adorable thing ever and his love for joe is what makes me secretly want a boy so bad. i thought i was carrying two girls, but lately the thought of a mini version of joe running around usually ended in me crying.

alexa, jess, and gracie all gave me a hug while joe was occupied talking to the guys.

“wanna help me set up?” - you

all the girls nodded and followed me outside, i turned around when i remembered that joe still had to get ready.

"joe can you please get ready?" - you

"i am ready?" - joe

i examined joes grey skinny jeans and black t-shirt pairing before shooting him a “really?” look.

"your outfit is hanging up in the closet" - you

"what's wrong with what i have on?" - joe

i turned around and answered his questions as i walked off.

"your outfit is hanging up in the closet!" - you

as i walked into the backyard i could hear the guys laughing and giving joe a hard time.

about 10 minutes of us struggling i decided it was probably best to get joe to help us actually move everything while i just directed him.

after sending him a quick text asking him to report to the backyard, he was walking out the back door in less than 2 minutes.

joe smiled to himself as he watched the golden hour lighting hitting your soft skin, accentuating the bump you’ve both come to love so dearly.

"do i look alright?" - joe

he walked up to me and did a little spin, showing off the outfit i picked out for him.

after his spin he put his arms around me and pulled me to him, my hands naturally falling into his chest.

"you look amazing" - you smiled

he kissed me but while he pulled away he whispered something in my ear.

"you look pretty good too baby, love the cut of the dress" - joe whispered

"ewwwwww" - alexa

i laughed as i laid my head on joes shoulder.

alexa took a picture of us and snickered before saying, “y'all are obsessed with each other."

"do you want me to get jamarr out here too? you'll stop complaining then" - joe

as i was laying on his shoulder i looked up at him and noticed the stubble on his chin.

i loved joe’s beard, loved. after him recently growing out his hair i didn’t think he would be growing any facial hair, just keeping the fade and freshly shaven face.

"joey, when was the last time you shaved?" - you

"three days ago. i’m thinking about growing it back out. what do ya think?" - joe

joe knew full and well that i loved when he had his beard so in return i placed kisses along his stubbled jawline.

"i’m gonna take that as a yes to growing it back out?" - joe chuckled

i leaned away from him and nodded, alexa and gracie stood a few feet away. they thought the moment was cute but we’re slightly annoyed that joe and i were more of a distraction than help.

"are y'all gonna stand there and fawn over each other or help us?!" - alexa

joes arms fell from my waist and he took my hand, walking us over to help alexa.

it wasn't long till ja'marr walked out to help too, so alexa and i directed the boys as they put the decorations up.

about an hour later everything was set up and ready and people started arriving.

our backyard was pretty spacious so we had many tables for guests to sit at and tables for food.

since joe and i were more than fortunate we asked for people not to buy us gifts because we were perfectly capable of buying everything for the twins on our own.

by the time that all the guests had arrived, joe and i made our rounds to all the tables to thank everyone for coming.

once family and friends were done, we walked over to the long table specially for the team. they were all in attendance, including coach taylor.

they were going to be apart of the reveal.

after everyone was done eating and playing games i herded the football team inside the house to explain to them what they were going to do.

they all stood in a circle, me standing in the middle explaining everything.

"okay so just get into position like you guys are scrimmaging at practice. ted when i give you signal snap the ball to joe, joe you throw the ball to ja'marr and you better catch it because as a celebration you'll spike it on the ground and it'll explode blue or pink. that's for twin number 1. now for twin number two this is just evan. i have a tee set up and you'll kick the ball like you're kicking a field goal. whatever color comes out, blue or pink, that's twin 2" - you

"that's so cool" - evan

all the guys clapped and cheered causing me to smile.

"who came up with this? because it definitely wasn't joe" - sam (h) chuckled

"i did" - you grinned

"figured, lord knows burrow isn't the party planner type" - tyler b laughed

"hey now, i picked out the food" - joe

"yeah now answer this. who picked out your outfit?" - tee chuckled

"y/n.." - joe sighed

"knew it!" - tee laughed

the whole team erupted into laughter but joe rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"okay okay okay everyone calm down! do you guys know what they're doing?" - you

"am i allowed to sack joe?" - sam (h)

"no, d-line i swear don't try to sack joe" - you

"okay. now does everyone understand?" - you

everyone nodded so the circle opened for me to exit, the boys following behind me.

once we were all outside and the boys were in their positions alexa and gracie got everyone's attention.

"okay everyone! if you'd direct your attention to the children- i mean team." - alexa jokes

everyone laughed as gracie continued on

"the ball will explode pink or blue revealing the gender of twin 1" - gracie

they moved out of the way and joe gave me a quick kiss before i handed him the ball.

i backed up a little and joe handed the ball to ted.

all the players got into position.

"set hut!" - joe

ted snapped the ball to joe who threw it to ja'marr.

ja'marr caught it and ran to the end of the yard.

he spiked the ball and blue powder came flying out.

the entire team started jumping up and down excited.

they all ran towards joe but he bypassed them and went straight for me.

he picked me up and spun me around as my arms went around his neck.

"we're having a boy!!" - joe yelled

i was literally crying at this point, from the excitement from joe + the rest of the team and a mix of hormones.

when joe and i pulled away from each other we looked at each other and noticed we were both crying so we laughed for a second then wiped the tears off of the others face.

the team moved over into a corner, giving evan plenty of room for his kick.

"now shooter over here is gonna kick the ball like he's kicking a field goal and again the ball will explode either pink or blue" - gracie

evan set the ball on the tee and took a few steps back before running up too it and kicking the ball.

it exploded and blue powder filled the sky again.

the boys all jumped up and down again and joe pulled me back into a hug as we both cried more.

"two boys!" - you

"i've never been so happy" - joe smiled

"aww joey" - you kissed his cheek

i don’t think i’d ever been so happy either. there were two little mini joe’s that were going to come into the world in around 4 months and with actual joe by my side, i knew i was set to be one lucky momma.

————————————————————————

author’s note: lil fluff imagine todayyyy.. smut is probably next 😏😏😏

(CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT JOE HAS STUBBLE IN HIS PRESS CONFERENCE TODAY??????? TALK ABT HOT.)

hope you enjoyed! ❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joey b #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow series

[fandomfucker]

💳 💥💳💥💳💥💳 Rhea Ripley social media posts / talking bout her girlie in interviews part 2 pleaseeeeeeeee 🥵🙏

I mean, if yall are insisting…🤷‍♀️

For the purposes of this, you're not a wrestler

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfucker/745782885181734913/do-you-think-you-could-do-one-for-rhea-were-its?source=share

Also, currently getting my first tattoo as I write this so please ignore any possible grammatical errors

With the ass video going around, you’d repost it with a “😋🍽️” caption and she would immediately repost it with a “🙇🏻‍♀️🍑🍽️” or sum shit to rile up the fans

You don't have a hug social media following yourself, but they do often ask for more content. Specifically outfit of the day(s)

You make Rhea do them with you because she makes you feel more confident and in every video you can see her just staring at you in the mirror the whole time

I've already said Rhea will bully people off the internet for being me to you. But you? Oh my god you’re worse than Rhea is

If one of her co-workers says something even slightly unkind about her in an interview (Becky👀) you will go with Rhea to her next show and find them backstage

You don't even wrestle or fight but Rhea has had to pull you away from multiple people now because you will fight anybody and everybody for her

One of said fights happened to go viral online, no punches were actually thrown as Rhea had dragged you back first though

People online either loved the love between you two as a couple, or wished they had a partner absolutely willing to throw hands will someone over them

Rhea would do your makeup for videos and she'd always do her makeup on you to see what it would look like

She also does voiceovers on your own makeup videos, or a day in the life, or something

The fans always eat it up too cause Rhea's commentary is hilarious

Whenever you're backstage and Rheas going to take photos, she’ll ask you to do the shoot with her so that her fans, and yours, can get sexy pictures of you both to thirst over

Totally not because she loves seeing you both look like that and wants a picture for her lock screen

Rhea started a war of bad facetime screenshots between the two of you on Instagram and you're determined to win

To the point that you have called people to interfere in the background while Rheas at work to get a bad reaction photo out of her

She's too proud to admit it, but it's worked several times

Your tiktok has pretty much become a house reno account

You build all the furniture and shit, make the cool decorations and put them up, paint, do everything yard-eorl related while Rhea picks out what's pretty and the pretty colors

She'll also help you carry heavy stuff around cause she's jacked and you like watching her work but she mainly kinda just like, flounces around

The fans are dying for the two of you to have a show on HGTV together

Which may or may not be in the works

SCARY DOG TREND

It went VIRAL

that's how most mosherz were introduced to you as Rhea’s partner

You started vlogging, though not very often, just so that you could have the permanent memories of all the different experiences between you and Rhea

You only post like once a week but people eat it UP

You have your own merch now

Most of its the two of you but there is a shirt or two thats just one of you

There are mercy plushies of both Barry and Luna that you always have to put up for pre-order cause they sell out in seconds

Clothes for said plushies are in the works

She posts little video clips of you on her story the same way she does her dogs

And it's always the embarrassing ones where you're completely cuddled into her and shit

She got Saints of the Undead (the people who make her leather jackets) to make you a personalized one as well even though you don't wrestle

It's your favorite thing in the world and you wear it more than you should

Like it matches with nothing that you're wearing it with

But, it says “Mami’s” on the back of it so you make sure to wear it especially when you go with her to Raw, Smackdown, any povs, etc so that people know you belong to her

#rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe raw #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader

[selfloverrrrrr]

More yandere gojo

I just opened to upload the next story and saw this request😭💕....

Go read it.... I hope you will like it....<3

_________________________________________

Sensei's Desire~

Warning: dark content, smut, heavy smut, noncon, jealousy, unprotected sex, yandere gojo, teasing.....

Masterlist

I was new in jujutsu high. Just admitted there. I was in the first year. I was in grade 4. Yes I am weak... And I'm expecting it. That's why I joined jujutsu high. I couldn't even use my own cursed energy. the higher ups told me that Gojo Satoru is going to help to learn my cursed technique. But who knew that Gojo Satoru was obsessed with me from the day he saw me. Day and all time he just think about me.

The jujutsu high gave me my own room. It was my first day at the jujutsu high. I just woke up and brushd my teeth. I was going to take a bath when I saw a box on my door way. I took the box inside and opened it. It was my school uniform. I became happy seeing my uniform. I quickly went to the shower and took a shower.

After the shower I wear my new uniform. Everything was fine but the skirt was a little....yk short. But I ignored it and went outside. I met Nobara at jujutsu. I went towards her with a smile on my face. She hugged me. " Heyyy.... Me , Megumi and Yuji are going to pick some snacks....Do you wanna go with us?" She asked me. " Yeah sure.... I'm going to wash room. I'll meet you in class then?" I replied. " Ohkey " she said and went to classroom.

I was going towards the washroom when I bumped into someone. None other than Gojo Satoru. He was carrying some papers which were on the floor because of our bumping. "Oh sensei.... I'm sorry I didn't saw you coming" I apologized. "It's ok.... Preety girls always do some mistakes you know..." He flirted with me and I blushed at his flirt.

He smirked at me. " You not gonna help me...?" He spoke. "Huh?" I asked being confused. " To grab the papers on the floor" he replied. " Oh yeah.... sure" I replied and bend down to grab those papers infront of him. He just stand there and started at my ass. I collected all the papers and give it to him. He quickly snatched away the papers from me and hold it infront of him to cover his boner he got from the thing just happened. After giving him the papers I went to washroom and then went out with Nobara, Megumi and Yuji.

A week passed. Every thing was going well. Atleast I guess so. Gojo didn't stop staking me without my knowing. After a week one day me and Nobara were talking with each other. When Yuta come. " Hey... Tonight all of us are going to a party.... will you come too" he asked. " Yes SUREEEE" Nobara replied. Then Yuta looked at me. " Oh...um no... actually I don't drink alcohol." I replied. Suddenly heard another male voice " Me too..." It was Gojo sensei. " But I'm still going there...yk it's fun.... Come on... say yes... You don't have to drink alcohol." He said. " Ah...um okey then Yuta senpai... I'm coming too" I replied to yuta. He smiled back. And Gojo smirked.

After I come back to my room I went to my closet to pick up a dress for the night. I took a black tight bodycon dress. Perfect for the night. I took a quick shower and wore the dress and put on my makeup. Now I was totally ready. Then I went out of my room and took a cab and went to the party.

When I entered there first I saw Maki and Nobara. They hugged me and took me inside. Then I saw Yuta. " Oh y/n you came... I'm glad" he said with a genuine smile on his face and walk towards me for a hug. I hugged him back. " Yes yuta senpai" I replied him. Then I turned to a couch where everyone was sitting. From the time I entered there Gojo's eyes were fixed on me. I sit on the couch. " You're looking hot... tonight" Megumi said with a smirk. " Oh... thank you" I replied with a small blush.

I started talking with the girls. Megumi's eyes were scanning my whole body. Then his eyes fixed on my clivage. He was mentally fucking me. Imagining me under him and I'm SCREAMING his name while he is fucking me hard. He was imagining those in his mind. And Gojo noticed that. Ofcourse his six eyes telling him. He tried his best to control himself from killing Megumi.

The party went well. We enjoyed very much. Now it was too night. I was searching for Nobara to go back home. I saw Megumi so I went to him and asked him if he seen Nobara. " Nobara is too drunk.... she can't even stand by herself.... she's staying here tonight.." he said. " Oh... I see" I replied. " You can stay here too...yk" he said with a smirk. I was about to reply him when I heard another male voice " no... I'm going home too... I'm gonna give her a ride to her droom." I turned to see who it was. I saw Gojo sensei.

" oh... sensei.... You're leaving too... that will be fine then.... Megumi then you please tell everyone that I'm leaving... okey?... Bye" I said " okey then.... bye" Megumi replied and me and Gojo went to the parking lot towards Gojo's car. He opened the back door for me and I went in. Then he went to the driver seat and locked the door. " Thank you sensei.... For giving me the ride..." I said. " Oh you don't have to thank me.... I should thank you for accepting my offer...." He said. " Thanking me?... But why?" I asked. " Oh you'll know soon" he replied and start the car.

Sensei was driving the car. Suddenly the car stopped. When I saw outside it was a empty dark road. Gojo opened his door and get out of the car and opened the back door. " Is anything wrong sensei?" I asked. He got into the back sit and closed the door. " You asking something?" He asked with a smirk. The way he spoke that line made me understand his intention and I went to open the door of my side. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. " Trying to run ~?" He cooed in my ear.

He pulled me on his lap and started kissing me roughly. I barely can breathe. He grinned me on his crotch. I whispered in the kiss. I tried to stop him but he didn't stop. When he was fully satisfied with the kiss...he stopped. I was breathing heavily, gasping for air. Suddenly I felt he pulled down the upper portion of my dress. When I looked for what he was doing..... He already took off my bra and threw it on the car floor.

He looked at those with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it. He finally stopped and looked at me. He slapped me so hard on my face. Tear came in my eyes. " How dare you to pull your sensei's hair, fucking slut!!!!!" He screamed on my face.

He pulled up the bottom portion of my dress and then took off my pantie. He stared at my pussy with hungry eyes. He rubbed his finger on my clit and gasped " so wet." Then he licked my pussy. He undo his pant still staring at my pussy.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-sensei no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me. He threw me on the sit while stroking himself with his one hand. Then he pressed the tip of his dick on my clit and started rubbing it.

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He didn't stop his movements. He was teasing me. I was just a moaning mess. But still didn't stop his movements.

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Then he finally stopped. He positioned himself with my entrance. I tried to push him away but that was nothing for THE STRONGEST.

He slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. My legs were shaking with pain and begging him to stop. And he was licking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly "ahhhh....so... t-t-tight ". " Why are you doing this to me" I asked sobbing. " WHY SHOULDN'T I???? every time..... Every fucking time you pass by me I get a boner.... Couldn't myself.... Fucking obsessed with you!!!!!.... Now it's finally happening" he whispered in my ear.

He started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I was still begging him to stop but he ignored. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. I fainted there for the thing just happened .

" You just a slut. Nothing but a slut. My slut. Only mine. I wouldn't let anyone take you.... Mine..... Just mineeeee" He whispered in my ear while stroking my hair with his hand .

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Masterlist

#smut #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo #fem reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #yandere gojo smut #yandere gojo #yandere #jjk #gojo noncon #dark content #tw noncon #female reader

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, Sam Kiszka x f!Reader (STAY WITH ME)

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: 24.6k+ (i am so sorry)

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, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, mentions of sexually explicit scene on film being shot, anxiety/stress, stressing about college grades, worries/anxiety about failing, test anxiety, over-indulgence of alcohol (drunkenness lol), spook/haunted houses, people in scary clown makeup, mentions of jumps scares, *consensual* relations where people put their mouths in *certain places*(not full smut. yet.), ambulances, someone being wheeled out on a gurney (with a lifeless-looking body), JEALOUSLY. lots of jealousy.

a/n: i apologize for this chapter taking me literal years, lol. this one is a bit heavy & was a little hard to write at certain points. but, it's been my brainchild for over a month now & i had to be sure it was perfect before i posted it. i hope you enjoy & as always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think. 🤍

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

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The midterm pressure is now properly underway. With tests nearly everyday this week, a rigid filming schedule, work, and taking care of your mom, you’re on the edge of being worn completely thin. 

Not to mention, you’re awfully distracted these days. 

Filming has continued as normal. And you finally tackled that scene with Sam just weeks ago, and it went perfectly. Josh had a vision— to show the first fully intimate moment between the secret lovers. The first time their bodies become entangled in their heated passion. The ‘most significant image of the film in its entirety,’ as Josh had put it. 

You’d been scared. 

But after the kiss you shared with Sam, the one that moved far beyond the legendary characters you were portraying, the scene was performed to utter perfection. It was seamless; it felt completely natural. 

Something ignited within once you put the costume on; something you’ve never felt before. A new kind of assured confidence in your body that has never once exuded from you. Your body that you’ve hated since your first cognitive memory, the body that you’ve opted to shield with oversized clothes to hide yourself beneath their stitched fabrics. 

But, something happened.

After draping the thin lace over your frame, you were no longer you. You became a queen with a body worthy of being desired. 

Josh and Malachi knew just what they were doing when they chose that (extremely erotic) dress. 

For once, instead of being ashamed of your skin, you were fucking proud of it. You looked goddamn good.

And by the way Jake had been frozen solid in the door frame with his eyes locked on your exposed figure, you’d say he thought so, too. 

You’d half expected him to drop to his knees right then and there, to fully submit and hand himself over to your will. And he probably would have, had it not been for Nat physically throwing him out of the way. (Had you not been so utterly turned on in the moment, you probably would have busted out laughing at the sight.)

The scene was filmed the very next day (with tattoo makeup, of course) and you used that exact heated tension within you to perform your very best. 

When Sam saw you in the gown, his reaction was much the same as Jake’s. He was entirely transfixed by you; his eyes never diverting from your body. Not even once. 

You had belatedly decided to forgo nipple pasties, much to Natalia's surprise. There was something about the way you felt, with your breasts still hidden, but your buds peaking through the thin fabric. In a weird sense, it made you feel even more in control of your body. 

And the way Jake looked at them…

You couldn’t get his lust blown eyes out of your mind. He was, inadvertently, the reason why you felt so self assured during that scene, why you were able to give Sam such a heated performance… even if only a little. You had to credit his reaction for the help it had given you. It had been what your brain kept going back to time and again, anytime you swept the lace over your body. It was him who had helped you to have this overwhelming, new confidence when wearing the revealing piece.

(And you’d never admit it to anyone, but every time you put the costume on, you only ever thought of Jake. Not even his initial reaction—just him. When you felt sexy, he came to mind. And the thought of him alone helped your nipples to be prettily peaked for every intimate scene Josh would shoot.)

But Sam. Sam is the one who actually uses his words to reassure any unsureness you may have every single day. 

Sam is the good one. The sweet one. The brother who never fails to put a smile on your face.

“Y/n…holy fuck.” He had said as you met him on set the first day you’d worn it.

And fuck, he’d looked damn good himself. No shirt, tight satin pants of the purest white. His hair was fixed to look disheveled and tangled, framing his features and giving him a look of pure sex ridden lust. 

As heavy as the kissing scene had been, this one was levels heavier. 

According to the script, you were meant to be laid out on a bed of red satin. You, sprawled out before him, and he on his feet at the foot of the bed, admiring the vision that is the ever lasciviousness Queen Guiniverre. (The vision of you.) 

And admire you he absolutely did. 

With the same look his brother gave you the night before, sending flutters to your heart and a pulse to your core. You envisioned Jake, but you saw Sam. 

These two have entirely consumed your every thought. Sam has been in communication with you nearly every day, even outside of filming.

He conned you into giving him your number (not that it took much convincing) and he texts you, even calls you, multiple times a day. 

Just innocent small talk, usually. Something little will make him think of you and he’ll send a quick message to tell you what it was. Sometimes he’ll send a joke or two that will force a laugh out of you, along with an eye roll. However there have been a few times that he’s taken it upon himself to make sure you know just how much fun he’s having with you on this film, that he knows his body sometimes speaks his infatuation with you louder than his words ever could. 

And complain you will not. He’s a fucking dream, the sweestest man you’ve ever encountered. And so outlandishly beautiful. 

It would be strange for you to not develop feelings for him, especially given just how close and personal the two of you have become during filming. 

But,

Jake. 

He wrapped you into all of this. He showed you a side of him that you’ve yet to see since. You couldn’t deny him, although you had every reason to. 

It’s like he only wanted you to keep his promise to his twin of helping him find someone to play opposite of him (Sam, mostly, of which he clearly didn’t realize) and he only did so because you’re partners in this blessed project. Not because of who you are. 

He buttered you up, to convince you to say yes, and that was the end of it. 

Then, he went right back to his asshole ways. 

That’s why for the life of you, you can’t fathom the idea that you’ve developed much stronger feelings for him than for Sam. (Who is, obviously, the far better candidate.)

And Sam is the one who gives you the attention you deserve.

But fuck. 

The way Jake stared at you in that costume. And the way he didn’t take his fierce eyes off of you during the filming of your scene in that gown.

His jaw clenching with every kiss shared between you and Sam, his fists bunching up with each touch that connected your bodies. You heard deep, drawn signs coming from him when Sam caressed you. Furious sighs from flared nostrils. 

He ended up storming out mid scene, slamming the door so loud you all nearly jumped out of your skin. Thanks to that, you had to redo certain parts of the scene. Sam had made a joke about how he “wasn’t upset” to have to do it more than once. (And you weren’t, either.)

But not having Jake in the room made it slightly more difficult to put yourself back in the mood. His presence alone, the deep breaths filling his lungs, his stare casted on you each time you glanced his way— that was plenty of inspiration to perform your sexiest. 

But without him there, all you could do was picture him in your mind. Which you did with no problem. But it just wasn’t the same without his body in the same room as yours.

Before you left that night, you heard yet another fight commence between the twins.

“You should’ve told me it would be like this,” Jake fumed.

“I abso-fucking-lutely did, Jake. You just don’t listen worth a single shit.” 

Jake slammed his fist on the kitchen counter, “I helped you write the goddamn script and those scenes were not in there. You know that for a fucking fact.”

“Okay— so I took a little creative liberty and added a few things. I am, after all, the director for god's sake. I think I’ve earned the right. But you knew the plot, Jake. Don’t act like you didn’t,” Josh spouted. 

You’d gone to walk out the door before more was said. You felt guilty for listening, them both under the impression that you’d left. 

But you’d heard something more that kept you from fully shutting the front door on your way out. 

Sam was apparently in on this argument, too. And you’d overheard some rather interesting things regarding you— some things you haven’t been able to let go of since. 

“Just admit it, Jakey boy. You thought you would be the one enjoying all these scenes with y/n. That’s why you asked her to join the cast, isn’t it? You’re just pissed that I get to share these moments with her and not you.” 

Hearing those words come out of Sam's mouth was something you were not prepared for in the slightest.

You needed to just close the door and leave, to stop listening in on this conversation that you were most definitely not meant to hear.

But after hearing that, you just couldn’t bring yourself to take a single step. You had to hear Jake’s response. 

“That’s true isn’t it, Jake.” Josh agreed. “That’s why you’re all out of sorts with this whole thing.”

“First of all,” Jake raised his voice with yet another loud crack against the granite countertop, (His fist must’ve fucking hurt like hell that night) “I only asked her because I had to. We were assigned this ridiculous project together and I was not about to work on something alone with her.”

…that was a fucking blow to the heart.

“Secondly, Sam, I don’t give a fuck one about your special little scenes with her. What I’m pissed about is that you’ve made this entire plot about fucking, Josh. That is not the only goddamn thing that happens in the original texts.”

He did make a solid point there. But from everything he’d told you about the plot before you agreed, (which wasn’t much, if you’re being honest) that was the whole point of the film. At least to show their adulterous human desire, that their love for one another wasn’t a strong enough force that others couldn’t break their way through.

“Jesus, Josh.” You heard footsteps coming closer to where you were hidden, so you quickly made your way out the door to conceal yourself. Before fully closing it, you heard Jake say, “I don’t want to be part of a fucking x-rated film. That isn’t what I signed up for. And you’ve basically taken everything I’ve helped you with and thrown it in the trash. Why did you even ask me to help if you didn’t want to use me for anything other than your precious fucking Arthur that you’re ruining with these worthless rags you call costumes?” 

You quietly padded your way to the car as you heard Jake coming closer to the door. You felt you had heard enough, and you weren’t sure if you could mentally handle hearing much more. 

As you drove home that night, your car squeaking and rattling its way through the middle of Detroit, the sound of Jake’s words in your mind were far louder than that of your beat down Firebird. 

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.”

You couldn’t control the stray tears that fell down your cheeks. You’d always known that was the only reason he asked you, but hearing him say it…was something else entirely. 

At that point, you’d decided that you’re not doing this for Jake anymore. Not even for the sake of your class. 

You know it’ll get a good grade. That’s no longer a worry of yours. 

No; You’re doing it for the friends you’ve made in the process of this goddamn thing that you would regret doing if it weren’t for them. 

They way Jake’s family has treated you, especially in comparison to how he has treated you…you’re only sticking it out for them. Fuck Jake and his shit attitude that he’s given you since the first moment he met you. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You dramatically set your cold brew on the plastic table, throw your bag on the sticky floor and plant your ass so hard in the metal chair you’re sure it’ll be purple in a few hours. 

Elbows resting on the table, you let your head fall in your hands as you let out a long sigh.

“That good, huh?” Nat questions.

You peak at her through your fingers, taking in her almost apologetic smile. “I’ve not scored anything above seventy percent on a single midterm. And I still have one more to go.” 

True to her character, she pulls your hand away from your face. She’s told you before that she likes to see your full face when she talks to you— just another reason, that even in the short time you’ve known her, she’s been the best friend you’ve ever had. 

“And what is wrong with that, might I ask? Seventy percent is a C. And last I checked, that’s a passing grade,” she says with her slim fingers still held tight to your wrist.

You move your other hand away from your face as it falls limp into your lap. “I didn’t move over fourteen hours away to go to the school I’ve dreamt about since I was a child to make C’s, Nat. I want to excel. I want to make the dean's list. I want to leave my mark. I won’t be doing any of that with anything less than all A’s on my transcripts.”

She just smiles at you and softly shakes her head, a few perfect ringlets falling from her silken scarf.

“You will make your mark with or without a perfect 4.0, y/n. Your life is more valuable than a silly cumulative number that isn’t reflective of the person that you are.” She lays your hand down on the table with a soft pat against the back of it, her long acrylics leaving the gentlest, comforting scratches. “You have to stop being so hard on yourself, babe.” 

She’s absolutely right, and you know it. In the grand scheme, grades don’t matter as long as you’ve passed. But dammit– that’s just not enough for you. You can’t, you won’t accept anything lower than an A. 

You have to prove it to everyone who said you’d never make it. Everyone from your tiny hometown, everyone in this city who expects you to fail.

Everyone. Even your father who left you and your mom when things were at their outright worst. The man who cared more about his own well-being than that of you and your disabled, ill mom. You have to defy the standard, beat the odds. You refuse to become merely a product of your shitty situation. 

You have to show him. Show him that you’re worth more than he thought you were. That you can do just fine taking care of your mom and yourself. Without him. 

“It does matter, Nat. If I don’t do well now, I’ll never get accepted into a grad school and if that doesn’t happen, all of my hard work has been for nothing. I’ve proved fucking nothing.”

The sternness in your voice causes her to withdraw her hand from yours and sit herself all the way back in her chair, arms crossed in a state of defiance. “Who the hell do you need to prove yourself to? Why do you care so much about what other people think when I’m sitting right here trying to convince you that you don’t need to do that?” Her voice matches your tone perfectly, with seriousness and irritation present in her inflection. (Perhaps a bit more than you had anticipated. She’s passionate, you can’t deny that for a second.)

You pause for a moment, taking in the vast realization that you’ve never gotten that personal with Natalia on your behalf. She knows of your struggles with your body, and she’s done everything in her power to make you see yourself the way she sees you ever since you opened up to her.

She knows where you live as she’s had to pick you up and drop you off a few times for filming, so you’re sure she realizes that you live in a complex for low income, disabled tenants. She knows you leave and come back periodically if filming runs a little late, unbeknownst to her that it’s to take care of your ailing mom. But not once has she ever pried with a wandering mind. She’s been waiting for you to tell her. 

Talking about these things is just something you’re not keen on doing. It presents an awful lot about you that you wish you could’ve left in Oklahoma. 

It’s just hard. 

And it’s hard to know who you can and can’t trust, who will take advantage of you and who won’t.

But as far as Natalia goes, you’re certain you could tell her just about anything and she’d be the last person to use it against you. But that doesn’t make it any easier to say everything out loud. 

Suddenly, she stands up from her chair, the sound of the metal legs against the tile floor sending a shiver throughout your body. “W-where are you going?”

“Come on,” she responds, swigging down what’s left of her coffee. “We’re going to my car.” 

Instead of arguing, you stand up with her and gather up your things, following her as she takes quick strides towards the glass doors. 

“Why are we going to your car, again?” you ask.

“So you can tell me what you’re not telling me.” 

At first, you’re a bit confused as to why she’d prefer to go to her car to talk. But as you open her passenger door, you remember that car talks are always the best place for deep, emotional conversations to happen. That’s exactly what she wants from you, and as soon as you take residence on the black leather of her Escalade, you feel the unrelenting urge to spill it all. 

She slams the car door before adjusting body so she’s facing you. She rests her elbow on the center console, placing her face in the palm of her hand as she scans you with her chocolate eyes, waiting for you to speak. 

“It’s just…” you sigh deeply from your chest before you begin telling her everything. “I’m the sole provider now. My mom isn’t much longer for this earth,” The sting in your heart upon hearing yourself say those words feels like an electric shock to your system. Speaking them feels like pure bile leaving your mouth. But it’s true. And not saying it doesn’t make it not true. “So it’s up to me to take care of her. She doesn’t have anyone else.” 

Nat’s eyes soften at your vulnerability. Where they were once inquisitive, they’re now full of warmth and realization.

“I can’t fail her by failing myself. My education is just as important to her as it is to me. She didn’t even question it when I told her I wanted to come here for school. She showed me nothing but support, even coming with me when it was most definitely too dangerous for her to make the move. She did it anyway— she wanted to do it. She wants to see my education through as much as I do, and I’ll be goddamned if she doesn’t.”

“Is that why you go home so often? Why you can’t always stay very late for things?” she asks with a timid, sweet voice that calms your spirit a bit.

“I have to take care of her. Make her dinner, sort out her medications, make sure her oxygen tank is well tended. I’m terrified to be away from her, Nat. But she insists that I still live my life. I feel like I’d be doing her a disservice if I wasn’t, you know? But my biggest fear is that I’ll come home and she’ll be gone…and I wasn’t there to save her.” 

“Shit, y/n,” she says, hardly above a whisper. “I hate that there’s so much pressure on you, girl. What about a live-in nurse? Or home health? Is that something you could do?”

“Her insurance won’t cover a live-in, unfortunately. And there’s no way in hell we could ever afford one on my paychecks alone. Her disability plan claims she doesn’t need home health, and that is something I just don’t understand,” you respond. 

“Do you have any other family that could step in and help? What about your dad, where is he?”

You haven’t spoken of your dad since he left. You’ve hardly given him a single thought, even. The move was another way of purging him from your life completely— leaving the home you had once shared with him, getting rid of all of the stained memories once and for all. 

You know that deep down there are plenty of happy memories of him somewhere, buried, in your psyche. But after the way he just up and left you and your mom as soon as her diagnosis was confirmed, the way he left in the middle of the night with no warning and leaving you to manage it all yourself, it’s hard to muster up a single pleasant feeling towards him. 

“I wouldn’t care to know, if  I’m honest.” You chuckle rather cynically,  “The very moment he found out my mom could no longer serve his needs, that he would have to actually take care of someone for once in his goddamn life, he fucking ditched. Left over a year ago, haven’t seen nor heard from him since.”

Your life changed forever when you woke up that morning to his stuff cleaned out of the house, his oil stained spot in the driveway missing his pickup truck, and nothing but a handwritten note on the fridge that said ‘I’m so sorry, baby girl -Daddy.’

From that very moment, you became your moms entire world. Her one and only ‘person.’ It was no longer your life you were living for. She needed someone to take care of her, and the person that vowed to do that in ‘sickness and in health’ left. Just fucking left.

“He is who I have to prove myself to. That fucking asshole needs to know just how well I’ve done— how well we’ve both done without him. I don’t need him to take care of her, to get myself through school and graduate with fucking honors, and then go on to get my masters. I can do it all without him.”

Heavy tears begin to well in your tear ducts, tears that have been begging to be shed since the day he left. But you haven’t allowed yourself to cry over it. You swore to yourself that you’d be strong for your mom. 

“Y/n I–I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” She most definitely picked up on the sudden onset of your emotions. As much as you try to hold it back, you just can’t any longer. Your flushed cheeks become soaked with your tears. You're sad, but more than anything, you’re angry. Angry for you, angry for you mom. You haven’t allowed yourself to properly feel any of it. From finding out your moms terminal diagnosis, to your dad abandoning you the very next day. You haven’t done a bit of healing since. 

But something about her presence makes you feel like it’s okay to show your emotions, to at last let them come to the surface for the first time since everything has happened. 

You try to tell her it’s okay, that you actually really needed this. But the words are incoherent behind your sobs. 

She takes note and doesn’t say anything more. She reaches her arms out towards you and you lean forward, falling into her embrace. 

She rests her head on yours, her own tears falling onto your hair. Her empathy is something you treasure most in your friendship. 

She always knows the right thing to say, and she always knows when words aren’t necessary. Right now is most definitely one of those times. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“I can help whoever’s next!” You shout to the small line of students filling the lobby, each one hugging a pile of books flush to their chests as they patiently await you and Natalia, stationed at the other computer behind the desk, to lend them their study tools.

Work has been especially hectic this week as everyone is cramming in their last minute studies. Each computer designated for student use has been occupied nearly everyday this week, but even with the prominence and accessibility of the internet these days, there have been plenty of students checking out real hard backed, leather bound books as well.

As an avid reader yourself, it brings a spark of joy to your heart to see so many people still reading physical forms of literature.

You’ve loved seeing the mass array of books that have come through the counter this evening, ranging from the iconic literary classics all the way to the Fundamentals of Trigonometry.

Next in line is one you recognize from your beloved (sometimes) class on the mysterious King Arthur. 

Toney Carmichael. The six foot something, brawny, platinum blonde wide receiver for the Michigan Wolverines. And one of the most academically scattered people you’ve ever encountered. 

You’ve made up your mind that the only reason he’s taking classes is to play football. He couldn’t care less about the school aspect of it all. 

He makes the most outlandish, blatantly incorrect comments during class each week. You question how he managed to weave himself into such a high level English course. 

Your first thought: rigged. Absolutely rigged. Someone pulled some tight strings for him to be able to continue his education so he can keep his precious football schedule. 

From what you’ve heard, he’s quite good. One of the best on the team.

Not that you would know (or give the slightest shit) about a single thing to do with that area of the university. 

You’re far too ‘liberal arts’ brained to understand the intense lore behind competitive sporting. 

You fight off the urge to roll your eyes as he quickly pads his way to the edge of the counter, plopping a mass amount of books before you, one even falling behind the counter and onto your keyboard. 

“Hey, Toney,” you say, with little to no enthusiasm.

You begin scanning the ISBN tags on his books, noting that they are a cumulative of the required semester readings for your shared course, all of them pertinent to the first half of the class.

You snicker to yourself, realizing that he’s waited until the very last opportunity to read these novels before the midterm test, which is tomorrow.

This class is very reading intensive; you can’t fathom waiting until the last moment to tackle all of these incredibly difficult reads.

Nine books in, you’re finally down to the last two to scan into his account. With a limit of twelve books that can be checked out at once, he’s cutting it awfully close.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight are next, scanned in and bagged with the rest.

At last, the final novel.

It's so torn up and ragged that you can’t even make out the title on the tattered cover. 

You scan the faded tag placed on the spine; Le Morte d’Arthur. 

Not just that, but the exact one Jake had returned months ago.  The one you wouldn’t loan back to him because you had a far better version that you let him borrow in lieu. (That he also hasn’t given back yet, you suddenly remember.) You recognize it as such now, though you didn’t realize it at first. But the computer also conveniently notifies you of the last six students who had possession of the book. 

You twinge a little upon seeing the name Jacob T. Kiszka in bolded arial font on the desktop screen.

But, no matter. It isn’t Jake in front of you right now, it’s Toney Carmichael. Star football player. (Sadly.)

You finish the last few steps, placing Mr. Carmichael’s receipt with the date of return stamped on the top in his bag. 

“Here you are, Toney. Good luck on the midterm tomorrow!” you say, bidding him adieu while handing him his stuff. 

“Shit, that’s tomorrow? I thought it was Friday!”

Idiot.

“Nope, it’s tomorrow. Better get to reading,” you tell him. He flings his plastic bag of books over his shoulder and nearly sprints out of the building. Again, you ask yourself, how the hell did he manage to get enrolled in his course?

You turn your attention back to the led screen, fully intending to clear the display in preparation for the next student. You’re met with the harsh realization that a certain name is still grievously present. 

It serves as a reminder of the very night he asked you to do this confounded film for his brother. Where the very seed of his kindness was planted, only to never be watered and die in the soil with his shit personality. (That somehow still hasn’t turned you off entirely. What the fuck, y/n.)

You see a student walking up out of your peripheral, and before you can tell them you’ll help them in just a moment so you can finish ridding your computer of Jake’s name, they slyly place a venti cold brew next to your hand situated on the mouse. 

You pause your task to snap your head up to see who in the hell brought you your go-to drink.

What’s the perfect distraction from Jake? His charming and equally stunning younger brother.

And god, stunning doesn’t even begin to describe the vision before you.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen his hair pulled back, tied in a loose messy bun sitting at the nape of his neck with a few strayed pieces framing his cheekbones. 

He’s wearing the most lovely blue button up embellished with cream colored flowers, left partially unbuttoned on the top to frame a dainty silver charm hanging from a matching chain, complete with a black and white canvas belt bag draped across his midsection. 

Fuck, the way that these colors accentuate his flawless complextion is rather elating. Your heart jumps a few extra beats when he makes eye contact with you.

“Sammy! What are you doing?” you inquire with an embarrassingly huge smile plastered to your face.

He flashes a smile that matches yours, the corners of his mustache curling with his sweet grin, his round eyes crinkling above his cheekbones.

“Figured you could use this,” he says while nudging the cold brew a bit closer to you. “Oat milk and extra vanilla, right?”

You pick up the drink and take a long swig of the cold coffee, sighing in relief at the feeling of the caffeine entering your worn down system. 

“I most definitely needed this. How did you know this is my favorite?” you ask him, taking another sip.

He looks to Natalia who’s standing near you behind the counter and throws her a sly wink. “A little bird told me.”

You turn your head to look her in the eye, while she quickly looks away and pretends to busy herself with something useless.

“Natalia Dolores! Are you the little bird?” you say with a shocked tone, a massive smile threatening to make an appearance as she attempts to make herself look as inconspicuous as possible.

“Woah, she middle named you, Nat. This is serious,” Sammy jokes, his lips tucked in a patronizing grin and his eyebrows hiked.

“Don’t look at me, girl! He’s the one that asked!” She wags her finger towards Sam, her other hand planted firm on her popped out hip. 

It’s staggering how the smallest act of genuine kindness, something as simple as surprising someone with their favorite coffee, carries a meaning far beyond the gesture itself.

Also, it just so happens that coffee is one of the direct lines to your heart. 

You snicker at her response as you shift your attention back to Sammy, catching the twinkle in his drowsy, honey eyes as they set their gentle gaze on you.

You can see so much behind them, so much that he isn’t afraid to hide from you. His unfeigned honesty is captured perfectly beyond his feather lashes.

But the only thought pounding from the screaming voice in your head…why couldn’t it have been Jake instead?

You quickly force yourself to shove that thought down immediately. It’s quite simple; Sammy gives a shit, Jake doesn’t. It’s time to put an end to your sad, unreciprocated little crush on Jake. His disinterest is unequivocally clear, he’s even said so himself. (Even though he had no idea you were listening in.) So why bother with your silly infatuation any longer when there’s someone far better giving you the attention you deserve?

“Thank you, Sammy,” you tell him, the feelings for his insolent brother waning as you catch the genuinity behind Sam’s smile. “You’re truly my knight in shining armor.”

“You’re quite welcome, your majesty,” he counters with a regal bow of his head. 

You smile at him as you take another sip of your gifted liquid gold, humming at the bitter sweetness as it falls down your throat. Perfection in a cup.

“You know,” Sam resumes, shifting his body to get a good look of the old building in which he resides. “I’ve never actually stepped foot in this library. Not even once. It’s quite beautiful.”

Nat, still standing behind you, huffs a rather obnoxious laugh that makes you jump a bit. “That’s because you’re never on campus, Sam. It’s a wonder to me that you manage to pass all of your classes.”

“Geniuses rarely have to try,” he retaliates, placing his elbow on the counter in front of him, resting his head condescendingly in his opened palm. “Which one of you ladies wants to give me the grand tour?”

“That’s a big fat hell no for me. Y/n, show the man around. I’ll take care of the front desk,” Nat says, logging herself back into her computer on the opposite end of yours. “But make it snappy. And don’t forget we’re closing early tonight! I want him out of here by 5:15 and not a second later.” she says with a cunning grin. 

You grab your coffee and walk around the other side of the counter, giggling as you get a look at Sam’s full outfit. He paired his rose patterned shirt with gray drawstring pants, covered in contrasting white stripes. 

 Sam matches your giggle, asking “What’s so funny?”

“Sammy,” you say through your almost uncontrollable chuckles, “you look like the fabric section of a craft store.”

Another boisterous laugh echoes from behind you, as Natalia chimes in with her agreement. 

Sam looks down at this outfit with knitted brows, smirking to himself while drawing a deep breath to say, “Well, jokes on you both. I happen to love the fabric section at craft stores.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“And this is my absolute favorite spot; the British Literature section.” You tug on Sammys arm to pull him closer as he smiles at your unbridled passion. “You’ll find all your British classics here. The Once and Future King, The Mists of Avalon, The Canterburry Tales,” You list them off as you read the titles off the exposed spines, stopping once you get to one you’re sure he’ll be intrigued by. “And, of course, The Adventures of Sir Lancelot The Great.” You pull the book from the shelf and flip through the first few pages, quickly noting the intense worn smell emitting from the bound paper. It’s clear that this book has been sitting here for quite some time. “God, I just love this smell. I could make a candle out of it.”

Sam gently takes it from your hands and takes a whiff himself, making a face that tells you he’s not as entranced by it as you are. “That’s an… interesting scent. Kind of smells like Jake’s musty room when we were growing up. Makes sense, with all of his old books he used to keep in there.”

No. Please don’t say that. 

“I know absolutely nothing about our beloved Sir Lancelot,” he continues, glancing at the words printed on the first page. “Well, other than what we see in the Monty Python masterpiece.” 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, The Holy Grail is, in fact, a masterpiece. You’re pretty sure you could quote the whole thing word for word.

“And,” he proceeds, “that he likes to bone the king's beautiful wife.” 

His eyes flick up from the book to meet yours. You can’t help the flush of pink that encompasses your cheeks upon his brash statement. (Or the heartbeat that is pounding at your very core.)

“I guess you could say that’s a pretty significant trait of his character,” you say, your soft tone cracking a little. 

He smiles at you as you smile back, quickly casting your eyes downward to avoid the prolonged contact that’s only intensifying the blood rushing to your face. 

You hear his feet shuffle a little closer to yours. That heartbeat you were feeling a second ago has now tripled. He gently takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, lifting it ever so softly so you have no choice but to look in his eyes. “Guiniverre could only wish to be as beautiful as you.” 

You move your glare to his lips, so soft and pink. You’ve lost count over how many times you’ve kissed them the past few months. How many times you’ve wished the camera wasn’t there during those moments. 

His gravity is pulling you closer to him, urging you to crash your lips with his in a kiss that would put everything you’ve ever done on camera to shame. 

But just as you’re about to…

“Sam? Y/n? Where the hell did you go?”

Natalia. Like clockwork. Here to ruin a special moment just as she did with Jake all those weeks ago when he saw you in the black lace gown for the first time. When she removed him from your sight. 

You curse under your breath, reluctantly stepping away from Sam as she stomps up the old wooden stairs and finds you both.

“You guys! I told you 5:15 and it’s…” she pauses to pull her phone from the back pocket of light wash mom jeans. “5:21! Sam, you need to leave. We have to close.” 

Sam hands you the book and you place it back in its designated spot.

“I can’t wait to hear more about his story,” he says as he walks away. 

“What? Whose story?” you ask absentmindedly. Your mind has become so jumbled with everything that transpired in the last few minutes, you’ve completely forgotten what you two had been talking about beforehand.

“Our good old Sir Lancelot. It’ll help me perfect his character on the screen, you know, like you said.” He throws you a little quick wink as he makes his way down the stairs, leaving you alone with Natalia. 

“Do I want to know what you two were doing up here?” she asks, her eyes opened wide and her hands settled on both of her hips.

You look back to the book you’d just put away, running your finger along the spine, stopping on the engraved Lancelot in gold lettering. “Just as he said,” you tell her. “We were talking about his character for the film.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

An air of confidence fills your lungs as you walk into Movack’s class. Finally your last midterm of the semester, and while the others haven’t gone as well as you’d hoped, you feel good about this one. 

This is the class you’ve felt the most prepared for. And admittedly, this is the one you’ve studied for the least. But, you feel you can get away with that. 

If there’s anything you’re sure of yourself in, it’s your knowledge of this lore. You’ve studied it on an academic and scholarly level for more than half of your life. Needless to say, you’re pretty well versed in it all. 

The only issue with this class: Jake.

He’s proven to be a bit distracting during quizzes, resulting in you receiving less than satisfactory grades. But you’ll be damned if you allow that any further. 

He’s disrupted things long enough since you’ve started classes, it’s time to forget about him once and for all and focus on what truly matters. 

He’s already seated in his spot, books opened flat on his desk as he does a little last minute reading before the exam begins. 

You don’t even look his way as you sit in your chair. You simply pretend he isn’t there, a method you’re planning to use for the entirety of his test. (And the rest of this semester, if you’re lucky.)

You sure as hell don’t smell his cologne, vanilla mixed with a musky sandalwood, that has bewitched you since the very day you met him. Nope.

And you certainly don’t care that he’s wearing a white button up that gorgeously flatters the leftover tan he still has from the summer. Or that he’s not wearing his John Lennon sunglasses that you’ve hated (sort of) for months now, allowing for you to see his sparkling, whiskey colored eyes underneath the shadow of his brown leather wide brimmed hat. 

No, you don’t care at all about these things. Your heart isn’t racing erratically at feeling his body heat radiate on you in the cold classroom from just how close your seats are.

Fuck. You can only tell yourself that for so goddamn long. And no matter how much you try to fill your head with other thoughts, when he’s sitting right next to you, drawing deep breaths as he’s focused on his reading, he’s the only one you can conjure up. 

Of course he would choose today to look the best he’s ever fucking looked. 

You hold your breath as you hear the clinking of his necklaces each time he moves to open and close his books, the ridiculous amount of silver charms he wears being one of your favorite things about him. 

He seems a bit flustered, sighing and anxiously rubbing his chin (a nervous habit, according to Josh) with each page he turns. 

Surely he’s not nervous for the exam…right? 

“The exam will begin in one minute. Please place any books you have under your chairs and silence all cell phones. The link to the exam has been sent to your school email through LockDown Browser. Please be sure all other tabs are closed as the system will not allow you to open the test otherwise,” Dr. Movack announces.

You tuck your bag beneath your chair and open your laptop, scrolling through your emails until you find the one from Dr. Movack for the test.

“Good luck,” Jake says in a monotone voice, still so alluring and sexy despite lack of tone.

He’s shocked you almost completely still as you sit there staring at the homescreen for the test. You don’t say anything just yet, giving yourself a moment to register that he actually spoke real words to you. Words that didn’t sound angry or annoyed for once. Something kind of sincere, even.

“Uh- yeah, you too,” you stumble in response. 

“The test will begin now,” says your professor. 

You try to read the first question, however your mind is turning it into a jumbled mess of incoherent words. You read it over a second time, slower to really focus on what it’s asking. 

But it’s no fucking use. 

Jake is clicking away at his keyboard, typing his answer with hardly a second thought it seems. You hear his silver bracelet (that you find rather appealing) hitting the side of his laptop and causing a hitch in your breath. 

The sound of his heavy breathing as he types should annoy you, but of course, it’s only affecting you further in your distraction. 

No. You need to focus.

You shake your head a little to snap yourself out of it, realizing it’s taken you more than two minutes to just read and comprehend the first question of the test. 

You're wasting time. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let this happen. 

In yet another attempt to reread the question, it finally proves worthy as your brain can make sense of it this time. 

Rank and briefly describe the Three Estates of medieval society. Then, describe their individual significance and contribution.

You rub your temple and your eyelids to relieve the tension before you begin writing out your answer, going as fast as you can as you’ve already wasted more than an appropriate amount of time on the very first question. 

As you type out your response, you can’t help but notice that Jake hasn’t stopped typing since this whole thing began. Curiosity has you wondering what question he’s on, since he’s clearly flying through this thing with absolutely no problem. 

You glance up at Dr. Movack to see him seated at his desk, eyes cast downward at his own computer. You then look around the room a bit, each student fully attentive to their own test. 

Turning your head to Jake, you sneak a look at his computer to see what question he’s on. 

Number five. Already. And you’re still stuck on the first one. Pathetic. 

As you turn your attention back to your screen, you hear someone clearing their throat rather loudly. But it’s not coming from just anyone, it’s coming from Dr. Movack. 

“Ms. Y/n.” His deep voice startles you, your body jolting a bit at the aggressive tone bouncing off the walls. He’s now standing at his podium, looking directly at you while every student follows in his suit with nosey eyes cast on you. “This is your first and final warning. Keep your eyes on your screen and off Mr. Kiszka’s, or you will leave my classroom and take a zero for the exam.” 

Great. He thinks you’re trying to fucking cheat. And so does everyone else in this goddamn class. 

You’re not cheating. Didn’t even think about cheating. But how the fuck do you even begin to defend yourself?

“Sir, I-I wasn’t-“ You trip and stutter your words, trying desperately to make yourself look any better than you do right now. But you quickly realize just how terrible it truly looks as you scan the room to see forty nine sets of eyes glaring at you, judging you. And yes, even Jake’s.

He abruptly cuts you off before you can somehow explain yourself. Although there’s really no good way to explain it. “I didn’t ask for a response. Cheating is strictly not tolerated here and you should find yourself awfully lucky that I’m letting you off with a warning.”

Lucky. That word isn’t even a part of your vocabulary these days.

You nod your head in understanding, shamefully setting your attention back to your laptop. But the words are even harder to read now, as you’re trying to comprehend them between welling tears sitting in your ducts. 

The humiliation is settling in as you’re trying to finish your exam, but it all feels in vain now. 

Everyone in here, including Jake, thinks you were cheating. On Jake’s test, no less. 

So much for your fucking method of pretending he isn’t there. In no way did you manage to be even remotely successful in that pursuit. 

And not only did you fail yourself in that aspect, but now the whole class, including Jake, knows it was his screen you were peering at.

Humiliated doesn’t even crack the surface. 

You can’t win in this class, nor can you win with fucking Jake. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Walking out of class feels like the ultimate walk of shame. Worse than a walk of shame. Like utter defeat— an ignominy.

The most painful part is this is now the third time you’ve been the center of attention in the class— for the worst reasons. 

And to add even more salt to the wound, you only received a sixty eight percent on the test. A fucking D. In the subject you’ve considered to be your best since you can remember. 

And it’s not for a lack of knowledge. It’s because of the string of shit luck and continuous distractions that seem to follow you as of late. 

The uncontrolled tears are soaking your cheeks as you speed walk down the halls of Angell Hall, considering never coming back as you run down the concrete steps outside. 

You heard footsteps following closely behind you, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn around to see who it was. In fact, you were hoping that whoever it was would just fucking give up and stop following you. You thought that if you ignored them long enough, they’d just give up. 

But, no. They followed you all the way out the door, and now you hear them continue down the fucking steps after you. Relentless. 

You stop on the last step, having every intention of turning around and giving whoever the fuck is behind you what for.

But just as you’re about to, you hear, “Y/n. Will you please talk to me?”

Of fucking course.

With the sleeves of your U of M hoodie, you wipe away the streaks of tears sitting on your face, looking at the black marks staining the cuffs from your running mascara. You don’t want him to know you’ve been crying, but the state of your makeup is most likely a dead giveaway and there’s not much you can do about it right now. 

You snap around to see him standing at the front door of the building, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his blue patchwork pants.

“What, Jake? What is there to talk about?” you say, your voice quivering from the tightness in your throat.

He walks down to the step you’re standing on, and you catch his eyes widen at your confrontational tone before he takes his sunglasses from his breast pocket and places them on his face, tucking a few hairs behind his ear.

“Well, first,” he says, using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose the rest of the way. “Movack can be rather gruff at times, so just turn a blind eye to him. But second, I just want to know why you were looking at my test. You’re smart as fuck with this stuff, I can’t fathom why you would need to read my answers.”

You’re struggling to think of an answer. You want to explain yourself, to defend yourself. But where do you even begin?

Do you tell him that you were so fucking distracted by him that you couldn’t focus, inevitably causing you to take far too long to answer even the simplest questions, and that you just wanted to see how far along on the test he was to compare to your sudden ineptitude?

No. Not a goddamn chance. While the whole thing looks terrible, you find the true reason behind it all to be much worse than the cheating allegations. 

“I wasn’t reading your answers, Jake.” Your voice is still restricted from the lump in your throat that just won’t go away. But you shove it down as much as you can. The only thing that would make this entire thing worse is to cry about it in front of him. “It wasn’t anything more than my eyes needing a break from my own screen for a tenth of a  second. Movack already has it out for me, so I’m sure he was eyeing me the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

He chuckles softly to himself, and you can’t help but watch the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down. And his pretty smile that illuminates his entire face, his cheekbones sitting high atop his glowing features… it sends an electric shock to your heart. You don’t get to see him smile nearly enough, and you wish so much that you did.

“You’re probably right about that one,” he agrees. “I swear Movack picks and chooses students each semester to single out. And you made it easy on him with those first few days in class.” 

There’s his sweet smile again, prompting goosebumps to rise on your skin and forcing out a smile of your own. 

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not; being the utter enigma that he is makes him incredibly difficult to read. 

And after hearing him angrily spit out his true feelings for you a few weeks ago, your brain won’t let you forget his harsh words. Of course, he doesn’t know that you heard. And you’ll continue to act as if you don’t know.

But, knowing what he said makes you wonder if anytime he’s being “sincere,” it’s just a facade. 

Still yet, you’re appreciative of the fact that he’s not outright accusing you. Almost coming to your defense, even. Not only that, but he sort of complimented your knowledge and academic abilities. 

At this point, you’ll take whatever you can get from him. 

“If you have any tips on how to survive his class the last half of the semester, I’m all ears,” you tell him, nervously twirling a strand of your hair  between your fingers. This is the closest you feel you’ve ever gotten to a ‘normal’ conversation with him. 

“At this point,” He places his hand on your shoulder, gripping it tight. You don’t even notice the breath you sucked in at his touch, feeling like you’ve suddenly forgotten how to blow it back out. “you’ll have to go above and  beyond to put yourself in his good graces.” 

He wraps up his advice with a soft squeeze of your shoulder before he steps down onto the sidewalk.  

“Above and beyond?” you repeat, matching his tone with an added sarcasm. “Got it. No problem.”

Although it would be a lot easier if you weren’t there to distract me. 

“You can do it,” he says as he’s beginning to walk away, adjusting his leather satchel over his shoulder. “Remember how you put me in my place on the first day?” he recalls through a laugh. “Yeah, just keep doing that.”

You dramatically cringe at the memory of your first day of classes, not really in the mood to ponder that mess just yet.

But he is right. That’s the only memory you have of Movack actually being somewhat kind to you.

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have any problem doing that,” you say with a devious smile.

“That’s only if I let you do it,” he remarks with a smirk as he’s already halfway down the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow.” 

Your tummy immediately fills with butterflies as you watch him saunter away. You weren’t sure how to feel about him being a decent human being… you just know you wanted more of it. More of the Jake you’d come to fantasize about from time to time in your cluttered mind. 

Like the one who throws one more small (devastatingly handsome) smile over his shoulder at you, still standing in the same place where he’d left you, before he turns the next corner.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Filming has just ended for the night. Jake filmed one scene and left just as you arrived for your shots, so it’s just been you, Josh, Sam and Malachi for the better half of the evening.. Things tend to go much more smoothly with this crew; you quite enjoy nights like these. 

You’re seated on their fluffy beige couch in the living room next to Sam, Josh and Malachi perched on the opposite end. With filming ending a bit earlier than usual, (given that Jake wasn’t here to cause any delay with his constant arguing) you’ve got a little time to sit around and enjoy a movie with everyone. 

Josh did ask everyone what they wanted to watch, however it’s clear he never intended to let anyone's preference determine what would actually be viewed. 

Once he turned on the television, he’d already had A Clockwork Orange queued up on the roku— it appears it was predestined for that to be tonight's film of choice. Not that you’re complaining, though. You do rather enjoy the madness that is this classic Kubrick film.

You’re no more than thirty seconds in the beginning of the movie when Josh says, “You know, Kubrick never really wanted to make this film. He thought the book was a yawn fest when it was presented to him. Just didn’t find much interest in it.” 

Sam and Malachi basically ignore him, merely nodding their heads while their eyes stay fixed on the blue lit screen. 

Still yet, he continues. “It was only when he imagined Alex being played by Malcom McDowell that he decided it’d be worth a shot. Can you believe McDowell didn’t even know who Kubrick was? He’d seen 2001: A Space Odyssey, obviously, but didn’t know Kubrick by name. It’s mind blowing, truly.”

Now that is a fact you most certainly did not know. And being the massive Kubrick fan you are, you’re surprised you didn’t know that. 

“Wait, really?” you ask with genuine curiosity to discover more that he might know. 

Sam places a hand on your knee and squeezes ever so gently. “Don’t encourage him, y/n. Or he’ll never stop,” he says with a half grin. 

From where you’re seated, you can see Josh’s face perfectly. And even with nothing but the bright screen illuminating him, you see him roll his eyes and toss his hand in Sam’s direction. 

“Yes, really! Isn’t that wild?” Josh proceeds despite Sam’s interjection. “I bet you also didn’t know that his nod to Gene Kelly was improvised.”

“It was?” you respond with a bit more shock in your tone than you had wanted. You can’t help it; this stuff fascinates you. 

“Indeed my dear, it was. Kubrick directed him to do anything that would serve as a major contrast to the violent and sinister nature of the scene, told him to dance around or something. So, that’s exactly what he did. Took one of the most convivial moments in cinematic history and turned it into an example of Hollywood’s gift of euphoria, using it  against the very corporation it came from.” 

“How on earth do you know all of this, Josh?” you question.

“Because he spends all of his time studying this useless stuff,” Malachi jokes. He pulls Josh in by the shoulders and hugs him tight to his chest while they both bust up in a fit of laughter.

“Watch the hair, please!” Josh says, his voice muffled by Malachi's shirt.

You’ve truly come to admire their relationship over the short time you’ve known them. The love they have for one another and the love they each give to everyone around them, so selflessly and without condition— they are just wonderful, beautiful people.

You still can’t help but question how Jake carries the same DNA in his body as Josh, because they are so vastly different from each other. 

The movie continues while Josh throws in a few more tidbits, piquing your interest and subsequently annoying Sam. (That’s almost more entertaining than the movie.)

Sam seems to be a little antsy. Antsy over something else other than his older brother talking away about mindless things. 

You’ve noticed him glancing your way periodically out of your peripheral, and he keeps taking a breath as if he wants to say something but stops before he gets a word out. 

You can’t take it any longer. “You okay, Sammy?” you ask in a hushed voice, trying not to disturb Josh and Malachi. 

“Y- yeah, I’m okay,” he whispers. But you know better. Something is plaguing him, and you will get to the bottom of it. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little bit of inflection on the last word.

He nods his head and hums in confirmation, setting his eyes back on the sci-fi film while you shrug him off and do the same.

As many times as you’ve seen this movie, you still can’t help but cringe during the infamous torture scene. 

You verbally express your disgust over the torture being inflicted on Alex, holding your hands over your face and barely peeking through the space between your fingers. 

The guys all snicker at your squeamish recoil, opting to watch you versus the movie as your reaction is probably more riveting than the horrid images on the screen. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The early evening has now cast a full, lunar glow as time has drawn on with the movie now running its ending credits. 

Josh and Malachi have long since fallen asleep, cuddled up in an impressive knot together. 

You peel yourself up off the soft cushion and stretch your stiffened limbs as Sam remains tucked deep between the pillows, still awake as he scrolls mindlessly on his phone as you suddenly remember you haven’t checked yours since filming came to an end hours ago.

You reach in your bag to fish it out, only to find that the battery is now completely dead. 

“Shit,” you mumble more to yourself than anything else. 

Your mind is instantly filled with the worst case scenario. Is your mother okay? What might have happened in the time between your phone dying and now? If she was in trouble, there is no way you would’ve known. 

“You okay?” Sam hushes from his cocoon in the couch, lifting up a bit as you give him a sideways glance. 

You had just tried to turn your phone on, to no avail. Only being met with the red battery telling you that you’re shit out of luck. Deciding to play it off, you do your best to not overthink it as you toss your phone back in your bag. 

You feel your heart plummet with the phone the slightest bit. “Y-yeah,” you stutter, keeping your tone quiet for the sleeping lovers. You throw a thumb towards the door, connecting your eyes with his again. His expression is so concerned, his eyes mimic that of a baby calf. “I’ve just gotta go. Just a grade I’ve been dying to check and my phone is dead,” you lie through your teeth, starting to head to the door.

But just as you get to the door, his hand is over yours on the handle. Your heart rate admittedly speeds up at the proximity. Cute, sweet guy who you’ve been sitting closely with all night? Touching your hand? 

You turn your head back and upwards to get a look at where he is standing behind you. 

“Let me walk you out,” he offers, his tone kind but leaving no room for argument. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there at night by yourself.”

Little does he know where I fucking live. This place is nothing. 

But, again, you play it off. Company on the way to the car wouldn’t be bad.

“Okay,” you grin. And he’s so close, you can’t help but blush as you open the door under his hand, still covering yours. 

Once you get out to your car, you’ve built up a little bit of nervous energy from Sammy following you out. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush, and having him so near was doing funny things to your heart. 

You turn to the driver’s side door and go to put your key in the lock. 

“Thanks for walking me out, Sam,” you look over your shoulder, trying your best to look as cute as possible in front of your beat up, jank-ass car. “I really loved hanging out with you tonight,” then you turn back to open the door. “Have a good night, Sa—.”

“Wait—,” you hear him say, his voice anxious. You follow the tone of his voice, and turn to face him front on. You can’t help the grin that flutters to your features as you wait for him to finish. “I’ve—I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something. I just wasn’t sure how to do it, but— fuck it. Do you want to go out this weekend? With all of us, I mean. Well, with me, but everyone else will be there too.” he utters, stumbling all over himself as he does so. “Josh wants to have a party here with all of the cast and crew to celebrate being halfway done with the film, and then we’ll all go out afterwards. Well, just my brothers and I. Of course Malachi will come. And you, I hope.” He’s spitting this all out so quickly, it’s like whiplash trying to keep up with everything he’s saying. 

He seems…nervous? That is quite shocking to you given how close you two have been for filming. He seems to never have an issue in those circumstances. He’s incredibly confident and sure of himself while he kisses you like no one has ever kissed you before. All for the sake of a silly college project. 

You smile at him and grab his hand before you respond, attempting to reassure him and make him feel more comfortable. “I’d love to, Sammy.” 

You can visibly see the anxiety wash away from his body as he relaxes a bit, loosening  his stiffened posture. “Great! How do you feel about haunted houses?”

“Haunted houses?” you question. “Like, spook houses?”

Your Oklahoma is showing, y/n.

Sam chuckles, “I forget you’re from down yonder,” he jokes with the worst fake southern accent you’re sure ever heard. “Yeah, like those. We go every year to them, kind of an annual ritual for my brothers and I. I’d really, really love it if you joined us this year. It’s a blast. That's what we’re planning on doing after the party. There’s a new one we’re wanting to try out for size.”

You’ve been so caught up in the chaos of everything consuming your life at the moment that you’d completely forgotten that Halloween is this weekend. Time has utterly flown by since your move. It still feels as though you’ve just begun classes at the U of M only days ago, when in fact, it’s been months since the semester started. 

“God, I haven’t gone to a spook hou– sorry, haunted house, in years.” you tell him. 

His face scrunches up in a tenderhearted grin at your correction. 

“It’s a date, then!” he exclaims with an enthusiasm that swarms your belly with tiny butterflies. 

He opens your car door a little wider as you climb yourself in the driver's seat. “It’s a date,” you repeat through a full toothed smile. He matches your grin as he gently shuts your door, bidding you a farewell with a sweet salute. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Each outfit you put on just doesn’t flatter you in the slightest. Every shirt is either too tight or too low cut, each pair of jeans has a weird gap in the crotch, your leggings only look good with a baggy sweater. And even though that’s your go-to comfort outfit, that is not the vibe you're going for tonight. 

No; you have to look damn good tonight. You want to look good for Sam, for him to see you in something cute that’s not just a film costume. (But there’s also the incessant part of you that desperately wants to impress Jake, too. And your usual attire just won’t do the trick.)

You dig through to the deepest crevices of your closet in hopes to find something that looks good, but also makes you feel confident in your body. 

The only thing you do feel confident in these days is your seductive wardrobe for the film. But, for obvious reasons, you can’t wear those to the party or the spook house. That is not the kind of attention you’re attempting to draw this evening. 

You stumble upon a black velvet skirt, short with a small slit on the left thigh. You’ve never worn it. You bought it years ago for a reason that you can’t seem to remember at the moment. But it’s managed to withstand the multiple closet purges you’ve done over the years, so part of you has clearly always thought it would come in handy at some point. 

Holding it up to your hips, you figure it’ll probably still fit. (Fingers and toes crossed that it does.)

It’s supposed to be a bit chilly out tonight, so you rummage through the second drawer in your dresser for the pair of  black tights you have tucked away at the very bottom under all of your other undergarments. 

You sit on your bed as you pull the tights over your calf, up to your thigh before repeating the same thing on the other leg, standing up to awkwardly pull them the rest of the way up over your hips and ass, covering the cute black boy shorts you chose to wear underneath that match your black t-shirt material bra. These particular tights have some serious tummy control— something you’re quite grateful for. 

Now, for the brutal moment of truth. Will the skirt fit?

You certainly hope so. Trying on anything can be incredibly difficult for you. You live in fear that nothing will fit you. Too big or too small, it doesn’t matter. Dealing with the size of your body in any aspect is paralyzing and far too triggering. So, doing this right now is a massive step for you. But, if it fits, it’ll be worth it. 

You undo the zipper on the back and step into the skirt on one foot at a time, sucking your stomach in fiercely as you zip it back up at your waist and clasp the small hook and eye at the top. 

As you let out the breath you’d been holding, you’re delightfully shocked to find that the skirt fits. Not too tight, not too loose— it’s perfect. A wonderful surprise that you truthfully weren’t expecting.

You walk over to your small vanity to take a look in the mirror sitting on top of the white wooden table. You bend down a bit to get a better look at the skirt, and holy hell. 

Your ass looks fantastic. And the little slit sitting on your left thigh is tastefully sexy as hell. The tights were a great choice as they make your legs look smooth and complement the black velvet beautifully. 

Now, to find the right top. 

Giant sweaters are your comfort, but you’re feeling like trying something a little different tonight. 

You have a dark gray, long sleeved mock neck that’s been hidden away almost as long as your skirt has. The fit of it has always given you wild amounts of anxiety. It’s tight. Like, skin tight. Yet, it’s remained part of your wardrobe for a long ass time. So, why not give it a try? You’re feeling a little more brave at the moment, and it might surprise you just as the skirt did. 

Shifting through the hangers holding your shirts, you finally find it. Still brand new with the tags. You can’t remember why you bought this, either. Perhaps past you was looking out for future you to have something hot to wear on this very night? Who the hell knows. 

You rip the tags off of it, figuring it’s probably much too late to return it now. You stretch out the mock neck a bit before pulling it on over your head, smoothing it over your breasts and down your stomach, tucking the length into your skirt and tights. 

You adjust the arms a bit, feeling a tinge of apprehension at just how snugly the material is clinging to your biceps. A body part of yours that you’re not so keen on accentuating. 

But as you take a look in the mirror, you’re shocked yet again— over just how good this looks on you, too. The tight-fitting fabric is actually doing you a lot of favors, particularly in the region of your breasts. 

The shirt isn’t cut in a way that would show any cleavage, but the way it fits around them emphasizes their shape, making them look rather perky as they sit perfectly upon your chest. 

The whole outfit is flattering you in ways you’ve never explored. The anxiety about trying something so far outside of your comfort is still ever present, but as of late, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s okay to do that every once in a while. 

You’re tired of being trapped in the prison cell that is your self conscious brain. It’s time to break free, and the confidence that filming has brought to you feels like the very key to unlocking the bars that keep your thoughts in confinement. And so does this moment as you’re seeing yourself in yet another new light. It makes you feel utterly silly for feeling as shitty as you always have. 

You glance at your phone to check the time, and you still have over an hour until you have to be at their apartment. You’re thankfully making good time, so you have plenty to dedicate to your hair and makeup to perfect it. 

You decide to throw a few loose curls in your hair, letting the waves fall around your face to frame it. Keeping your makeup a bit on the light side, you choose to go with a small, subtle black wing and black mascara to accent your eyes. You decide on a daring red lip, but not just any red lip– the same shade of red you’ve been wearing while you’re portraying the highly coveted Guiniverre. You grin as you swipe the scarlet color across your lips, thinking back to all the times it’s become smeared on yours and Sammy’s. The giggles that you two have broken out in over the mess you’ve created on his face. 

Digging through your jewelry box, you find some silver and gold chains you like to pair together. You place them meticulously around your neck, making sure they’re stacked to perfection. Then a pair of big hoop earrings that show beautifully through the loose curls around your face.

But just as you’re closing the lid to the floral painted ceramic box, something catches your eye. 

A little golden charm in the shape of a heart with your initial engraved on it. Your fifteenth birthday gift from your dad. You used to wear it every single day, up until the very day he walked out of your life for good. 

You threw it away that day. Tossed in the garbage the second you realized what he had done. 

While you’re not entirely sure how it made its way to Michigan with you, you’re willing to bet your mom dug through the trashcan to salvage it for you, hiding it in your box for you to discover later on. 

As much as you’ve struggled to contrive a single memory of your dad that doesn’t involve him leaving, looking at the necklace has your mind venturing back to the moment he gave it to you. Wrapped up so elegantly in a red velvet bag, with a letter from him that told you the story behind your name, how he chose it special after his grandmother that helped raise him when his parents gave him up. (Seems a little ironic.) 

You suddenly begin to panic. Where did that letter end up? Did you throw it away, too? God, you really hope you didn’t. But it seems like something you definitely may have done in the midst of your unforgiving anger with him.

But you loved that story. You used to make him tell you about your name all the time, and having it written down in his handwriting was something you held rather close to your heart until he up and left.

You start scrambling, pulling your tangled jewelry out in handfuls to see if it’s buried in there, but it’s no use. It’s not here, and you truly feel in your heart that it’s somewhere in the landfills of Cherry Tree, Oklahoma. Disintegrated to near nothing. 

It breaks your heart to think of it in that state. But maybe it’s for the better. Maybe that’s the universe trying to tell you that it was meant to stay back in Oklahoma with the life you no longer have with him. 

One thing is for sure, there’s no use in shedding tears over it. It’s in the past, and that’s probably the best place for it. 

You check your phone once more, realizing that you have to leave in no less than twenty minutes if you want to be there on time. 

You begin rushing around, looking for your black thigh length leather jacket (faux, of course) that you know will match your outfit perfectly. 

You find it buried under a few other coats on the shelf of your closet. You swiftly grab it and start heading out of the door of your bedroom, realizing that you’re still clutching the heart necklace in your right hand’s grip.

Mindlessly, you slowly place it around your neck, lining it up with your others so it sits in just the right place. You hold tight to the engraved charm, swiping your thumb over the initial a few times, just as you always did for comfort  in the years that it was worn.

The comforting feeling is still there, strangely. Everything has changed since you last wore this, yet somehow it all feels the same. 

The memories start to flood back like a tsunami, but you don’t have time for them right now. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself with it all. Wearing the necklace is just one step towards forgiveness, and that’s all you have the mental capacity for at the moment.

Throwing your jacket on your shoulders, you walk down the hallway to the living room to search for your purse and keys. 

Your mom is seated on the couch, watching her favorite television show and cleaning up the plate of food you made her. She starts to get up to take her dishes to the kitchen, but you stop her before she can stand all the way.

“Let me get that, mom.” You take them from her,  rinsing them off in the kitchen sink before placing them in the dishwasher. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me gone for so long?” 

Tonight will be the longest you’ll be gone from her since you made the move, and the worry sitting on your heart is almost too heavy for you to truly feel okay with leaving her tonight. 

Your biggest fear is playing over and over in your head like a damaged record. But when you told her about tonight, she wouldn’t accept anything less than you going and having a great time. 

“You look beautiful, sweetie. Does my poor heart some good to see you like this,” she says as you saunter your way back into the living room to meet her warm, smiling face. “And I told you, honey. I will be fine. Don’t you dare fret about me tonight.”

Triple checking that all of her nighttime medications are out and within her reach, you also take a moment to check that her oxygen tank is full and that her mask is nearby should she need it.

“Y/n.” She takes your hand away from the tank and pulls it close to her. “I am just fine. Now get on out of here and enjoy yourself, sweet pea.”

She pats the back of your hand with her other, something she’s done since you were a child. 

“Okay, mom,” you utter through a deep sigh. “But please promise you’ll call me if you need me for anything, okay?”

She nods her head in agreement, sending you a warm smile yet again as she lets go of you and softly nudges you in the direction of the front door.

“Love you, mom,” you tell her as you step through the threshold. 

“Love you more, y/n.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You nervously pull your car in the lot of their complex. It’s been clanking around more than usual tonight and there’s an odd smell emitting from the engine. You’re counting your lucky stars that you’ve made it here in one piece. You’re hoping that having it sit and rest for a while is just what it needs. 

Your dad was always your right hand in fixing any issue that arose with your old piece of junk. Without him, you don’t even know where to begin. What shops to take it to, who will overcharge you and who won’t. Car mechanics are a foreign concept to you.

He even promised you a new one by the end of your junior year. It’s a pretty safe bet that that won’t be happening. 

Josh answers the door before your fist even collides with it. “Y/n, my sweet dove! I’m so happy to see you!” he exclaims, clearly more than a few drinks in as he holds one tightly in his hand.

He practically pulls you into their home, wrapping you in a Josh-famous hug while nearly spilling his glass filled to the brim with some stout, honey colored liquid. The same one that you smelled on his breath as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Joshua!” you huff, laughing at his loose state. “The night has barely begun and you’re already drunk?”

“Ah, yes! The night is still young, and there’s plenty more trouble to get into!” 

Your hand covers the sound of the giggle that erupts from you. “It sounds like you’ve gotten into enough already, Josh,” you say through your fingers.

His drink meets your empty hand in a clumsy ‘cheers,’ a few drops of his drink landing on your skin before he lifts his glass to take a big swig.

“The queen is here, everyone!” he shouts while stumbling through the crowded living room. You cringe at the sudden influx of eyes staring at you from Josh (loudly) announcing your arrival. 

You flash an uncomfortable smile, waving stiffly at everyone while you take your jacket off and hang it on the coat-stand in the corner of the foyer. 

“The queen, the queen!” Sammy roars from the kitchen, setting his glass down on the granite before swiftly padding  his way across the living space to meet you. He instantly envelopes you in a warm, soft hug, digging his chin in your shoulder. His coarse facial hair tickles your neck as you playfully squirm away from his embrace.

He takes a step back, amorous eyes flicking up and down your form. “You look intoxicatingly lovely tonight,” he whispers, taking your hand as he gives the tops of your knuckles a quick peck. 

Although he’s not quite as inebriated as his older brother, you can tell he’s had at least a few. Enough to sustain a pretty decent buzz. So, you don’t think his actions are completely due to the alcohol. Perhaps a bit, though. 

“Come with me,” Sam says while he drags you by the same hand his lips just met. “Your lack of beverage is deeply concerning.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, your eye is caught by Jake standing by the array of finger foods intricately splayed out on huge charcuterie boards. 

And fuck, does he look sexy as hell. 

His dark beige collared jacket over his loose, worn white t-shirt is something brand new to you, and his denim button up tied around his waist above his black skinny jeans shouldn’t be nearly as inviting as it is. 

You instantly notice the slightly cropped nature of his top, revealing just enough skin. Even the slightest vision of his lower stomach has your head spinning. 

But then you realize… he’s not alone.

And she’s pretty. Really fucking pretty. 

Her sun bleached hair falls just below her impossibly tiny waist. Her green eyes are complemented beautifully by her mulberry sweater, the deep neckline emphasizing her perfect breasts.  

He’s smiling, laughing, and she’s laughing right along with him, making doe eyes as he talks to her. She’s holding some bright pink concoction, of which she’s taking the daintiest sips, never breaking contact with his eyes.

You’ve never seen him so outgoing, so talkative. And it’s all thanks to her.

Sam notices your stare in their direction, and switches directions so you’re now heading towards them. 

“I don’t think you two have properly met!” Sam interjects. “Y/n, this is Stacy. She’s playing the woman that steals your man.” 

He laughs ridiculously loud at his own joke, obviously not understanding where your mind is at all. (How could he possibly know? But, still. Poor taste, Sam.)

She is Stacy. Of course she is. 

You’d heard about Stacy, but you hadn’t met her yet. All you knew was that she was the one cast as Camille, Arthur’s very own secret lover who will later turn out to be as evil as Morgan le Fey herself.

Nat has mentioned her briefly, telling you that she’s “kind of a moron, but a fantastic actress,” whatever the hell that means.

Her availability has been much different than yours for filming, so your paths have yet to cross. And since Josh has a strict ‘no pre-edit viewing’ rule, you haven’t seen any of her scenes with Jake.

And part of you isn’t entirely sure you want to. With how titillating your scenes with Sam have been, and the rather exposed nature of your own costuming, your wandering mind can only imagine how similar Jake's scenes are with Stacy and the costumes they’ve chosen for her. 

The script you possess only includes scenes with you, so you haven’t even been able to read any of Jake’s that don’t include you, which also means you haven’t even read any of hers.

You’d already made it up in your mind that she was probably quite beautiful. That Jake probably believes she’s quite beautiful, too. 

And you were unfortunately right. She’s a fucking goddess. You can’t hold a candle to her. And given the way Jake is looking at her, it’s safe to assume that he would agree.

Does he feel the same things for her that you feel for Sam? Why does it seem he gives her the attention you so desperately crave from him? Is she the reason why he has next to nothing to do with you?

It shouldn’t matter to the extent that it unfortunately does, but the thoughts are deafening nonetheless. 

You’re jealous. And there’s no reason to be jealous, but you can’t begin to help it.

Out of instinct, you bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You suddenly feel like hiding once again. 

The thrumming bass from the loud music is keeping perfect time with the amplified beating of your heart.

Why do you have to care so much?

You swallow it all down, breaking free from your thoughts to be cordial with her. Because she has yet to give you a reason not to be, and you don’t want to be that jealous bitch.

“Hi, Stacy!” you exclaim with a forced smile and a reach of your hand to shake with hers. “It’s so great to finally meet you.”

She disregards your outstretched hand, opting to pull you in for an unexpected hug in lieu and nearly causing you both to topple over.

She smells fucking incredible. Like fresh cherries and oranges. 

She breaks from the hug, still grasping hold of each of your shoulders as you’re standing completely stiff in shock over the way she’s greeting you, as if she’s known you all her life.

With a giant smile, (displaying her perfectly white, straight teeth) she says, “I am so happy to see you! The boys have told me so much about you— well, mostly Sammy. He told me you’re a super awesome actress and has gone on and on about how pretty you are.”

Sam wraps his arm around your waist, giggling and blushing at her statement. You find his sudden onset of embarrassment to be absolutely adorable. You catch yourself smiling at the thought of him speaking of you in such a way. His sweetness more than makes up for the lack thereof from his older brother, who is standing stiff as a board behind Stacy. 

His eyes flick to yours, and they burn a hole through your own gaze before they land on Sam’s arm that’s hugged tightly to your body. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches before he gives Sam a look that you’re pretty sure could actually murder him if it were possible.

You can’t discern how he’s feeling, but whatever is on his mind, he certainly does not appear to be happy about it. 

You look up to Sam to see that he’s staring right back at Jake, even throwing him a sly wink before Jake abruptly walks away from the three of you without a single word.

What the fuck is his problem now?

You all stand there in silence for a moment, Stacy’s head quickly whipping around in the direction he left in.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat to draw the attention elsewhere. “I’ve heard plenty of wonderful things about you also, Stacy. I am so excited to see you in the film. I bet you’re absolutely great!” You’re more so telling her this in an effort to relieve the tension that Jake so lovingly left behind.

She smiles before taking a few sips of her drink, licking the rememints off her full, rose colored lips. “Jake is just a dream to work with. He’s so patient and kind with me. And he’s just the sweetest guy! When he asked me to come to the party tonight, there was no way I could say no.” 

No. There’s no way she’s using ‘patient’ and ‘kind’ to describe the same Jake that’s been a rude, arrogant pain in your side for the past few months. He is most definitely not the ‘sweetest guy.’

You’re practically biting your tongue in half to stop yourself from saying anything. 

Why the hell has he been treating her so much better than you? What is so special about her that you’re lacking?

Well, aside from her Barbie-like beauty. That is something you can’t compare to, sadly. You’ll never equate to girls that carry her kind of flawless, graceful allure. 

And that is probably why you don’t receive the same respect as her. It makes perfect sense.

What a vain, fucking asshole.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been subtly eyeing them all night, watching as they’ve kept themselves tucked away together in a desolate corner of the living room, completely separated from the rest of the party.

He’s been ogling the hell out of her while she rambles on and on, talking his ear off for what feels like hours. (About something mindless and irrelevant, you’re sure.)

But whatever it is has acquired his full attention as they’ve basically not lost sight of one another since the night began. (Aside from the numerous times you’ve caught him glancing your way tonight. Maybe this outfit was a good idea.)

Sammy thankfully hasn’t taken notice of your wandering eyes. In fact, he’s been just as glued to you as the two of them seem to be. 

And if you’re honest, he’s been a welcome diversion. 

The drinks have made him a little extra clingy to you, and even more complimentary, as if that were even possible.

You’re asking yourself yet again why you care so fucking much about what Jake is doing, when you have Sam practically falling all over himself for you. (Almost literally, thanks to the alcohol flowing freely through his system.)

You’re still working on your first drink that Josh mixed for you, and you now know what Malachi meant when he told you to beware of an infamous Josh cocktail. There’s just a hint of lime juice swimming in an endless sea of Camarena tequila. (A Kiszka staple, you’ve come to find.) 

You can only sip on it gingerly as a full gulp would probably cause your blood alcohol levels to rise rather quickly, so taking it slow is necessary. 

“I think I’ll go pour myself another refreshment. Anything I can get you?” Sammy asks, effectively pulling your attention away from them again for the umpteenth time tonight. (Thank god he hasn’t noticed.)

“I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

He gives you an inquisitive look as he downs the last few drops of what's left of his drink. “And you’re sure you don’t want something to eat? There’s plenty up there.”

You’ve turned down his offer at least three times now. He’s been questioning you all night about eating, but you just can’t right now. 

The fear of becoming bloated while in an outfit as tight as this, clinging to every square inch of your body, is far too great to allow yourself to indulge. 

If you want to look good, especially around the likes of Stacy, food is out of the question for tonight.

“I ate with my mom before I came over, so I’m really not very hungry.” That’s a lie. And you hate to lie to him, to anyone. But you don’t want to be tempted by him bringing you a plate of food. You’ve hardly stepped foot in the kitchen for that very reason. 

He just smiles and says “okay” as he stands up from the couch to grab his refill, leaving you sitting there by yourself. 

Normally you’d be grateful for the moment of solitude amongst the wild party goers as they dance and galavant around. 

But all it’s doing is setting your attention right back on Jake, who’s still conversing with Stacy. 

Only now, it’s much worse. 

Your stomach tightens and drops when you see him mindlessly run the backs of his fingers up and down her forearm, landing loosely on her waist as their proximity has become even closer somehow. 

You shouldn’t care. You really shouldn’t fucking care. But goddamnit— how you wish it were you. 

You’ve told yourself over and over again to let go of this idea that he could ever possibly like you. It’s pointless, useless. He’s made it plenty well known that he isn’t and never will be interested. 

But suddenly, he makes eye contact with you again as he’s wrapped up with her, and she doesn’t notice. She just keeps talking to him as if he were still listening.

But you can tell he’s not. His eyes are tightly fixed with yours, and this time, neither one of you are quick to break the contact. 

There’s close to twenty people between the two of you, yet they all suddenly disappear. The music has turned into a muffled, incoherent beat. It’s as though you’re both standing on either end of a tunnel, the rest of the world stuck on the outside, unbeknownst to what’s occurring beyond the cylinder walls that encompass only you and Jake.

Your trance is broken by Stacy taking hold of his face and turning it back towards her. You can’t hear what she says, but based on the movement of her lips, you’ve gathered it was something along the lines of, ‘who were you looking at?’ 

She turns her head in your direction, looking around intently to answer her own question.

But she doesn’t look at you. Because in her mind, why would Jake ever look at you when she, perfect and beautiful as can be, is standing right in front of him?

No. She’d never suspect it.

And maybe she’s right, anyway. You turn to look behind you to see a slew of beautiful girls standing close by. Friends of some of the crew for the film, you assume. 

He was probably just looking at them. Not you.

Never you.

You feel the couch cushion sink in next to you with Sammy sitting back down, clutching his newly fresh drink, completely oblivious to everything happening within your mind.

You suddenly feel your phone vibrate from your purse, and you unlock the screen to see a text message from Natalia.

It’s suddenly registered with you that she isn’t here yet, which isn’t like her to be late to anything.

Nat: “So, about tonight…”

You: “Are you okay?? Where are you, dude?”

Nat: “I *may* have a date planned, & I *may* not be making it to the party because of said date. ;)”

You: “A date?? With?? SPILL IT!”

Nat: “A certain curly headed boy who was also supposed to be there tonight. :p Any guesses?”

You glance around the room to determine who should be here but isn’t.

You still don’t know very many people in this town just yet, so the possibilities of who it could be are rather limited. 

It clearly isn’t Sammy. And it most definitely isn’t Jake or Josh.

Then, it hits you.

Daniel. Sammy’s best friend who has been nowhere to be found all night, who was most definitely supposed to be here.

You’ve loved getting to know him over the last few months. Everything runs extra smoothly when he’s around to help with the camera work, and he serves as the best mediator for the twins. (And Sam when he’s feeling extra ruthless.) Fights are almost non-existent when his presence is looming.

And he is absolutely sexy as fuck. The tallest of all the boys, and the most muscular. 

With Nat’s unmatched beauty along with her kind heart, the two of them would make the most ideal, movie worthy couple.

You’re sad she won’t be here tonight, but the thought of her going out with Danny has you far too excited to care. She deserves this.

You: “Danny?? SHUT THE HELL UP? I’m so happy for you!”

Nat: “Maaaaybe. ;) I’ll keep you updated! Sorry for ditching you tonight, love you & have fun!”

You: “You’re such a shit. Love you!”

“What are you so smiley about?” Sam asks, nudging your shoulder playfully with his as you grin at your phone. 

You lift up your screen to show him, his smile matching yours once he discovers what has you so giddy,

“No fucking way!” he shouts, taking your phone from your hand to get a better look at the messages. “He’s been wanting to ask her out for ages. Way to finally grow some balls, Daniel!”

Sinking into the cushions a little further, you accept your fate of not having Nat with you for the night. You’re going to miss her. You are not sure how you’re going to make it without her perfectly timed buffering. And tonight of all nights is the one where you need her as a distraction. A distraction from the continuously ridiculous display that Jake and Stacy are giving with their secret giggles in the corner. 

Next to you, Sammy’s small, drawn out cackle pulls you back. It brings a small smile to your face as it’s an honestly endearing sound–reminiscent of a laugh influenced by weed. You’ve gotten used to hearing it often, as Sam is always laughing if there’s a laugh to be had. 

He’s a good distraction. A good buffer. You’ll have him to lean on all night. You’re assured of this as he looks down at you with his big, beautiful, deep brown eyes. He’s pulling you in, making you feel safe in this overly crowded room. 

But another drink would be nice. Just to alleviate any tension that could unintentionally make its way into your muscles. It’s a humongous risk as Jake and Stacy leave their cocoon in the corner to make their way back to the kitchen. 

Yeah, you don’t want to go back there. You need a drink, but you don’t want to accidentally see them canoodling when that’s the last thing you want to be privy to. The drink’s a necessity, though, you realize as you already feel irritation flare in your veins at the thought. 

“You need something, hun?” Sam asks. 

You bring your eyes, zoning out on nothing, back to him. God, he’s so sweet. Why can’t he be the Kiszka you want most?

Not knowing what else to say or do, you figure asking him to run to the kitchen for you might be a good idea. You need the alcohol, and he would surely love to help. Perfect combo.

“I need a drink,” you say, a shy smile taking over your features. “And I’m too comfy to get up.”

You really feel bad making him be your errand boy. Especially when his face lights up at the prospect of possibly helping you. 

“Yeah!” He eagerly responds, getting up in no time. “Whaddya want? Mixed? Beer? Wine?”

“Glass of wine, maybe?”

“Dry? Sweet? Sour?”

“Sweet,” you respond, without thought. Sweet wine is always the only route. “Thank you,” you offer, blushing with the quiet thanks. 

“Sure thing,” he winks. Then, he’s crouching in front of you, his hand landing on your thigh. Your skin heats under his touch. He’s so fucking gorgeous. And he’s so close. And he’s leaning in. 

You lean forward, too, and capture his lips in an effortless kiss. So soft, his mustache tickles your upper lip just right. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your tummy does a funny twirl before he’s standing back up with one more wink and a little grin that makes your cheeks flare red. “Be right back, sweet thing.”

As long as you can without having to move from your spot, you watch him lazily (and sexily) walk to the kitchen for your beverage. You’re biting your lip, still, when you turn back to face the rest of the party in front of you. 

Then you see Jake leaving the kitchen right as Sammy enters it. And with Stacy momentarily distracted, he lets his eyes wander. But, you realize, they don’t really wander– no, they go immediately to you. 

You’re still biting your lip, but you let your teeth slip just the slightest bit with the look he’s giving you. It’s haunting–almost as though it’s a best-kept secret. He looks…pensive. But his eyes are open, wondering and curious with his lips parted just slightly– so prettily. 

You let your gaze stay on his face–continue looking in his mysterious eyes–until Sam is the one exiting the kitchen. So, you turn your attention back to his face. He’s smiling at you, holding up a clear plastic cup, holding what looks like Pink Moscato. Your lips turn up at the sight, but let your eyes float back to Jake’s of their own accord… but he’s no longer looking at you. 

No, he’s looking at Malachi, who is still engaging in conversation with Stacy. 

But he’s not smiling along with their conversation. He’s scowling, his jaw clenching enough to make your skin feel hot. Why’s he so mad?

You choose not to think about it, instead averting your eyes to Sam, now back in front of you with your wine, setting his new drink on the table. You let your eyes settle on his ass in his gray jeans and you can’t help but appreciate the view. 

Then he’s turning around and his phone is getting clicked open from his pocket. 

Peering at the screen, you wrinkle a brow. 

“What’s–?”

“Twenty Questions!” He excitedly says as he hands you your wine and settles in next to you again. “Thought it could keep us busy for the next bit of time.”

Your eyes twinkle. He’s adorable. 

“Okay,” you smirk, taking a drink of your wine, which settles immediately into your cheeks. Warms you right up. And, yes, it’s Pink Moscato. “How did you know I love this type of wine?”

“Lucky guess,” he chimes, the apples of his cheeks pink after a swig from his brand new mixed drink. “You wanna play?” He flashes his screen at you again, lit up way too bright with the questions he’d found online. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a sure nod. “Give me your worst.”

And, without being able to help it, you’re peeking over your shoulder once more. 

You find Jake’s eyes, dark and waiting for you, before you’re both turning back to your tasks at hand. 

Your tummy is positively fluttering as Sammy asks his first question.

“What’s one of the craziest things you’ve ever done?”

Not helping the giggle that bubbles out of your chest, you know exactly what your answer is.  

Ironic. 

“Craziest things I’ve ever done…” you hum, already knowing what you’re going to say when you give him a tiny smile. “Well, one of the craziest things I’ve ever done is definitely agreeing to star in a project film with a bunch of people I really didn’t know worth shit.”

His signature cackle comes to join your giggle, and you feel totally at ease in the moment. 

God, he’s easy to talk to. 

“That’s fucking hilarious,” he responds. Then, there’s a wholesome smile under his mustache, his eyes encompassing a brand new emotion. “But I’m really glad you did it.”

And, with Sam’s precious face making you feel a little giddy, and the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your neck making your stomach feel heavy with want, you say the only thing you can think of. 

It’s simple.

“Me too.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The chill of the night is nearly unbearable as you’re waiting in the line for the hayride that takes you to the haunted house, and you’ve found yourself regretting your choice of attire.

Your pleather jacket isn’t doing a damn thing to block the crisp breeze, and the small amount of alcohol you had ingested earlier has completely worn off, so you can’t rely on that to warm your system. 

Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest in a desperate attempt to use your own body heat to warm up, but  there isn’t any heat left to be used. You’re sure everyone can hear the incessant chattering of your teeth and the jingling of your jewelry from your uncontrollable shivers.

Michigan cold feels different than Oklahoma cold. Your body clearly hasn’t adjusted to the northern weather as of yet. (It also doesn’t help that you haven’t eaten a single thing since you woke up early this morning, but you turn that thought away fast. You’re not ready to confront that just yet.)

You half expected Sam to offer you his coat by now, but he’s too busy cutting up with Josh and Malachi at the moment to pay you any mind. You feel too awkward to ask, so you’ll just stand here and wait for your body to completely ice over while you wait for this fucking hayride that won’t allow you to be any warmer than you are right now. 

Hell, even Jake gave Stacy his coat, and she didn’t even have to ask for it. He just did it. 

And it doesn’t help that she can’t stop making her ‘pick me’ comments about how his coat is so big on her that she looks so tiny in it.

You’re annoyed as fuck that she’s here. The way she chimed in before you all left, nosing her way in to figure out where you all were going, just to get Jake to ask her to come. And of course he did. Of fucking course. 

So, she’s here. Bumbling about and talking about whatever comes to her dull mind. But, her looks give her a pass. You’ve found yourself wondering more than once tonight why they didn’t cast her as Guiniverre. Her beauty alone makes her more than qualified for the role. And if her acting is as good as everyone says, it just doesn’t make sense why she wasn’t chosen.

You’re really wishing Nat was here. She would just get it and share along with your annoyance. But she would definitely say something along the lines of what you’re thinking. She’s not one to hold back like you are.

(And you’re starting to understand why she referred to Stacy as a ‘moron.’)

The line has been still for well over forty five minutes at this point, and you’ve not even moved a quarter of an inch since you’ve been here.

This better be worth it.

Stacy decides to join in on the guys’ fun, making an obnoxious show of herself as she does so. You know she’s only doing it for the sake of Jake’s attention. 

And apparently Sam’s, too. 

She’s got her arm interlocked with his as they stand in front of you, making ‘jokes’ with one another that might actually make you hurl. 

Sam is too naive (and still a bit too inebriated) to understand her little game, but you’re not. 

And it should be pissing you off that she’s suddenly all over your date, but at least it’s keeping her from clinging to Jake.

The vexed look on Jake’s face says everything you’re thinking— his annoyance isn’t quite as subtle as yours. 

You’re a little relieved to find that he is also not thrilled about the situation. Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves, and it’s not that you’re not, you just wish you weren’t so damn cold. 

A sudden gust of wind hits you like a frozen freight train. It’s nearly painful, piercing through your skin to your chilled bones. 

“Jesus!” You exclaim from the sharp gale, causing everyone to startle and snap their heads in your direction. 

“You alright?” Jake asks.

You notice the bright pink hue on his cheeks and the very tip of his nose, and you’ve heard him sniffle every few minutes since you’ve been here. You kind of feel bad for him. Having given up his coat to the little blondie keeping Sam’s attention far away from you, he must be as cold as you are. 

“I’m fine,” you fib through your jittering teeth. “I’m just so fucking cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad out tonight. Actually this whole month has been much colder than normal, I believe.” He cups his hands, bringing them up to his lips to blow warm air on them before sticking them back in the pockets of his skinny jeans.

You’re definitely not used to this kind of simple, small talk with Jake. And his annoyed demeanor has suddenly vanished. He no longer looks completely miserable, probably because he’s now ignoring Stacy’s obnoxious, forced laugh as she’s still messing around with Sam, Josh and Malachi just a few feet in front of you.

You’re absolutely over her at this point. The way she will snort out a fake laugh and casually peek over at Jake to see if he’s looking at her— it’s nauseating to watch, really.

“I think there’s a hot chocolate stand over there if you wan-” Jake starts, but he’s interrupted by Sam.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Sam says, wrapping his arms around your frigid body and rubbing his hands up and down your back to warm you up.

You’re grateful for his body heat, the way it instantly puts your endless shivers to rest.

But you wish he would’ve waited until Jake finished his thought. (And you wish Jake were the one warming you up instead.) 

But while in Sam’s embrace, you catch Jake watching, glaring. 

His jaw becomes tightly clenched, his chest rising up and down rapidly with his deep breaths, his eyes narrowed in on you wrapped tightly in his brother's arms.

And even as Stacy waltzes her way to him, tucking herself into his body, seeking his warmth, (quite literally just mimicking you and Sam) Jake's burning gaze doesn’t cease.

You’ve stood like this for so long that you don’t even realize you’re all next in line for the hayride. 

Sam helps guide you in the back of the wagon, being sure you don’t slip on the unstable wooden step. Josh and Malachi pile in shortly after you, then Jake and Stacy. 

You wince as you take a seat on the sharp hay, wishing even more that you would’ve chosen something thicker than your skirt. The hay is stabbing you through your clothes, and no efforts in situating yourself to find a comfortable spot are proving to be successful. 

“Here, “ Sam says, patting his thigh. “Sit on my lap, you’ll be a lot more comfortable.” 

The dry hay may as well be needles poking your ass, so you don’t turn down his offer. Plus, his body heat will also come in handy as you’ve got a pretty substantial way to go before you reach the haunted house. 

He holds you close to him by your waist as you situate yourself on his warm thighs, but you hear a rather unpleasant scoff coming directly from Jake’s mouth as you do so. And so does everyone else, apparently, as everyone looks his way at the sound.

Sammy snickers, asking “You good over there, Jacob?” 

His condescending tone catches you completely off guard. And clearly has pissed off Jake. 

“Sam, it’s in your best interest to shut the fuck up.” Jake angrily retorts. 

Stacy is seated next to him, a ridiculous smile splayed on her unaware, perfect face. Giggling and laughing when she has absolutely no clue what’s going on between the brothers.

(If you’re completely honest, you’re not entirely sure you do, either.)

But the tension is evident, nonetheless. And she is obviously incapable of picking up on it. 

But what she does pick up on, is how you're seated comfortably on top of Sammy's lap, giving her the idea to also do that. Because for some fucking reason, she feels the need to always do the exact same thing you and Sammy do. 

You have to hold back your laugh as she moves to sit on Jake, and he tells her it’s not a good idea and makes her sit back down on a dirty piece of hay. 

Serves her fucking right.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A slew of bloody, killer clowns lead you all out of the hay covered wagon. Their makeup is…mediocre at best. Not the most realistic you’ve ever seen but you can tell there was at least a little more than minimal effort put into their costuming.

Stacy, of course, is screaming at the top of her lungs with each move they make, attaching herself to Jake in an obnoxious manner that almost prohibits him from being able to walk. The look on his features tells you he’s less than pleased with her actions, but he doesn’t stop her. 

They then lead you all to the beginning of their ‘Three Ring Maze of Horrors,’ guiding you through the dark black lit entrance. The sounds of exaggerated screams and wails can be heard through their less than adequate sound system, playing on an endless loop along with circus music in an eerie minor key. 

A typical cliche; nothing you haven’t seen adapted a hundred times before. The concept is a bit overdone in your eyes. Being the horror fan that you are, you’re pretty desensitized to things like this. It takes a lot to scare you anymore. But, you still enjoy the atmosphere nonetheless.

Not only was Jake chosen to be the designated driver tonight, it was a collective decision to have Jake lead the whole group through the haunted house. Of course, Stacy is close behind, clutching his back and burying her face into his jacket, seeking her pick-me attention yet again from him.

You and Sam are close behind, with you in front of him. He’s not quite as brave as you are, closely mimicking the reactions of  Stacy, much to your annoyance. 

Josh and Malachi are the tail end, clinging to one another as they both share in their fear together.

You and Jake seem to be the only ones who aren’t phased in the least. He’s hardly even winced at a single bloody clown threatening to have him for dinner. 

But with every jump and yell of a clown, comes a blood curdling scream from Stacy that is far more dramatic than necessary. 

Again, you have to fight back your laughter at the fact that Jake quite literally shrugs her off and ignores her every time. It appears he’s not buying any of her shit anymore tonight.

Sam, on the other hand, is much more fearful than you would have initially thought. (Especially considering they do these every year. Surely he doesn’t think this one is bad, right?) 

He’s basically using you as a human shield everytime a clown reaches for him, squealing and bending down to your height to hide himself behind you while you simply look at the clowns and wave, being the pretentious asshole you are. 

You’re thankful that both him and Stacy can’t see the ceaseless rolling of your eyes each time they make a fuss over something that is not as scary as they’re making it out to be. Yeah, you’ve jolted backwards from a jumpscare or two, but the whole thing is planned out in a way that you can almost guess exactly when and where an actor will strike. It’s textbook for spook houses. Some of them (including this one) are incredibly predictable. 

As you’re finally nearing the end of this poor excuse of a fear seeking thrill, you catch the smallest glimpse of a grotesque clown's meticulous hiding spot. But he’s not hidden as well as he thinks, since you can still spot him even with the neon lights flashing about in an attempt to disorient your vision.

Jake is walking closer and closer to his spot, and you have a pretty good feeling that he’ll strike once Jake is within the appropriate distance. 

You see the clown prepare himself and just as Jake is in the perfect spot, he jumps out in front of him, letting out a rather deafening wail. 

Jake clearly did not see him, having the ever loving shit scared out of him and raising his fist to throw a punch at the actor. 

Thankfully, the clown tucked himself back away in his little hiding spot before Jake could throw his self-defense punch. 

Why was that so fucking hot?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

After a rather interesting time out, you’ve all finally made it back to their apartment.

The night ran a little later than you intended, so you’re making haste in preparing to leave so you can get home. Sammy isn’t too keen on you leaving just yet, offering hug after hug in an  attempt to keep you here a little longer with him.

I don’t deserve him.

“Do you really need to leave?” Sam asks, his tone of voice telling you he’s got something special in mind. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t intriguing to you. “It’s pretty late, you know. I’d hate for you to drive all the way home at this hour. You’re more than welcome to stay here.” His wink sends a swarm of butterflies to your undeniably  eager tummy.

You hear Josh agree that it’s a good idea as he and Malachi are making their way up the stairs to their room. You instinctively look to Jake to try and gauge his thoughts, but, as usual, you can’t read his stone cold face.

If circumstances with your mom were different, you might agree. But you’ve been gone from her for far too long. And being away from her overnight just simply isn’t an option.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got piles of homework sitting on my bed waiting for me.” Again, that’s a lie. But telling everyone the true reason is a task for another night. 

“Will you at least text me that you’ve made it home safe?” Sam asks. His request sends a wave of warmth to your heart. The fact that he just fucking cares about you, and makes it evident.

“I will, Sam. I promise.” 

You start gathering your things that you left on the couch earlier, and as you’re about to open the front door, you hear something that sends a boiling heat to your blood.

“Sam's right, Stacy. It isn’t safe to be out driving at this hour. I’m going to insist that you stay here tonight.” Jake tells her. 

Don’t stay, don’t stay, d-

“I’d love to, Jakey!” her squealing voice answers.

Jakey?

“You can just sleep in my room, if you want,” he continues. 

As if your blood wasn’t heated enough, now it’s blistering. 

You cock your head in Jake’s direction, and his eyes are frozen solid on you.

He’s doing this on purpose. He’s getting even with you for all of your antics with Sam tonight.

Fuck you, Jake. 

She follows him down the hall to his room, and when you hear his bedroom door shut after they walk in together, you decide that enough is enough.

You throw your stuff back down on the couch and stomp your way towards Sammy who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

Non verbally agreeing to his inquisition, you wrap your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his with everything you’ve pent up from the entire night, letting it all out on Sammy who’s willing to take it with no question.

He doesn’t break away to ask what changed your mind, he just reciprocates the same passion you’ve bestowed upon him. He’s practically clawing at your body to bring you closer, shoving his tongue past your lips and moaning straight into your open, hungry mouth.

With no more thoughts running through your mind, you leap into his ready arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands reach to cup your ass. 

He starts carrying you up the stairs, holding your body as if you weigh nothing. His lips only detach from yours long enough to open his bedroom door and carry you in, carefully letting you to fall on his mattress. 

He wastes no time crawling on top of you, sucking the skin of your neck before finding your lips once again.

You grab hold of his white button up and tug on it until it reaches his shoulders, digging your nails into the now exposed skin of his back.

He lifts up to take it all the way off his body, tossing it across the room somewhere before gracefully flipping you both so you’re now on top, straddling him, your skirt now fully bunched up around your hips as his hands begin kneading the flesh of your thighs over your black tights. 

You grind yourself on his body in desperate search for a release to ease the built up tension tonight has caused you.

“Shit, y/n,” he hisses, moving his hands to your hip bones to help guide you even further into him.

The moan you let out is one you’re sure everyone else in the apartment heard, but you couldn’t begin to care even if you wanted to.

I hope he fucking heard that. 

You lean yourself down, your lips flush against his once again, making a show of sticking your ass out as much as you can.

“Y/n,” Sam pulls away from you. You chase after him, but he stops you again. “Hey, are you sure you want this?” he whispers.

You find his question to be utterly ridiculous. Of course you want it. 

Even though it may not be for the right reasons…

You lift yourself up to look him in the eyes, “Do you not want this?” you ask, a bit of defensiveness in your tone.

His hand reaches out to pull you back down to him, enveloping your lips with a long, drawn out kiss that steals every breath of air from your lungs.

“I have wanted this since I fucking laid eyes on you,” he utters against your parted lips. “I just want to make sure that you are ready.”

You don’t want to think anymore, you don’t want him to think anymore. 

Instead of using words to tell him just how badly you want this, you lift back up to tear your shirt off your body, leaving just your black bra on your top half. There’s no use in overthinking that, considering he’s already seen your breasts due to the sheer nature of your black lace piece for the film.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running his hands up your bare stomach, reaching to gently cup your still clothed chest. His thumbs trace delicately over your hardened nipples through the fabric, a rise in goosebumps enveloping your body. “You are so goddamn sexy, y/n.”

Just as you’re about to lean back into him, you notice something catching his eye. You instantly realize what it is. 

Fuck. You weren’t ready for that yet.

“What’s this?” He traces the outline of your tattoo etched under your right breast, no longer disguised under the heavy stage makeup you’ve used during filming. Your body stiffens at the realization. 

Now that he’s officially witnessed the most personal part of you, it suddenly registers what you’re doing. 

And the anxiety becomes all consuming. All you want to do is cover up, to hide.

At this point, you’re only doing this to get to Jake. It’s absolutely not fair to Sam, using him and his affection for you like this. It’s not fair to yourself, either.

This isn’t what you want. But you’ve convinced yourself that it is, letting it go so far that your best kept, most intimate secret has officially been revealed. 

You begin feeling a loss of your sacred identity, a piece of yourself that you weren’t ready to share just yet. 

It’s much deeper than the tattoo at this point. 

What the fuck am I doing?

You swing your leg over Sam, removing yourself from his body and searching frantically for your shirt.

You have to get out of here. You should’ve just fucking gone home.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds shaky and unsure. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.” He stands from the bed to meet you, the concern painted on his features shattering your heart. 

As bad as you feel right now, you would’ve felt a thousand times worse had you continued this whole thing for all the wrong reasons.

“You didn’t do anything, Sam. I need you to know that. I just—“ Fuck. You don’t want to hurt him. And you don’t want him thinking any of this is his fault because it absolutely isn’t. “I thought I was ready, I don’t think I am. I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

You swallow down the massive wave of tears threatening to fall, but you can’t help the wetness forming in your ducts.

You’re angry with yourself for letting it get this far. You’re angry that you almost used someone who’s been nothing but kind to you to get to someone else, for your own selfish purposes. And you’re angry that you almost gave yourself fully to him without being ready to do so. 

And for allowing him to see a part of you that practically no one knows about. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, cupping your cheek. You know he can see the tears welling in your eyes, as much as you wish he didn’t. “Please don't be sorry. I’m only into this if you are. You call the shots, okay? I don’t want you to ever feel rushed.”

“I think I’ll just go home, if that’s okay.” You pull your shirt back on over your head, wanting nothing more than to be in one of your giant sweaters for just a semblance of comfort right now. 

“Of course that’s okay. Do you want me to walk you out?” He asks. His sweet, quiet voice is comforting you a little, but you can’t shake the guilt you’re carrying heavily on your shoulders right now enough to find enough solace.

You tell him no, that you’re okay to walk out on your own. You can’t bear letting him do anything else for you. You just need to go.

He hugs you goodbye, telling you to be safe and reminding you once more to text him when you get home.

You tell him you will, and walk out of his room, shutting the door behind.

As you run down the stairs, you’re immensely hoping that no one is down there to see you leaving but as you reach the last step, that hope you were clinging to is no more.

It’s Jake. Rummaging through the fridge in the dark kitchen, and to make matters worse, (and slightly more awkward) the only thing on his body is a pair of black sweatpants. 

And when he turns to face you, you realize how low they’re sitting on his waist. Low enough that you can see his hip bones and a small trail of hair sticking up from the waistband. Fuck. His hair is an absolute mess, tangled and sticking to his sweaty, flushed face.

You would enjoy the view, but you know good and well why he looks like this. And you know Stacy is still in his room, probably in a very similar state. 

He watches you while your hurriedly head to the door, not stopping to say a single fucking word to him. He mutters something to you as you shut the door, but you don’t bother turning around to catch what he said. You just ignore him, practically racing to your car to get the hell out of here. 

You throw the driver's side door open, slamming it shut once you’re seated. You sit in silence, laying your head on  the steering wheel while the levees in your eyes finally break. The tears are uncontrollable, and leaving right now would prove useless as your vision is completely blurred.

The disappointment in yourself is ripping your soul in two. 

And you feel so fucking bad for Sam. You made him feel as though he was to blame. But the real reason for everything that transpired is so terrible. This isn’t like you, to take advantage of someone for the sole purpose of making someone else jealous. 

Someone as lovely as Sam who absolutely doesn’t deserve something so cruel. 

You’ve successfully lead him on in ways you never intended, all for the sake of someone who can hardly hold  a normal conversation with you. 

You feel like you’re beneath the lowest levels of the earth right now. 

You’re just ready to be home. All you want right now is to be tucked away in the comfort of your bed, to finally go to sleep and forget about everything for a while.

And the reality of how long you’ve been away from your mom is setting in, yet another thing to feel guilty about. 

You choke back your sobs, fanning your eyes with your hands to dry them enough to see. 

You take your key and turn it in the ignition, waiting for the car to start.

Nothing. 

You pull it out and try once more. It almost starts to turn over, but the laggy engine isn’t doing anything other than sputtering and heaving. 

You wait a minute before you try again, giving it a second to breathe and praying to every god in the universe that it’ll start.

In one last ditch effort, you hold the key as long as you possibly can this time until you hear a loud pop from under the hood. Then, total silence. 

This isn’t happening…

You try the ignition once more just to see if by some miracle it’ll start, but it won’t even try to turn over now. There’s no more power.

Your car is fucking toast. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it. 

The last thing you want to do is go back inside to ask for a ride. But at this point, your options are rather limited.

Your first thought is to try and call Natalia. But both times you try, it goes straight to voicemail.

Great.

You have to get  home, even if that means swallowing your shame and going back for Sam’s help.

With a reluctant and heavy sigh, you leave your car and drag your feet back to their apartment.

You turn the knob of the front door to find that it’s still unlocked. (Thank god you don’t have to knock.)

But when you quietly step in, you’re mortified to see Jake and Josh now awake and in the kitchen, snapping their heads sharply upon you entering.

“Jesus Christ!” Josh shouts, his whole bodying jolting forward into Jake’s in a dramatic display. 

You feel bad for scaring him so bad, but his comical reaction does bring a hint of a smile to your face. Although you’re far too upset to laugh right now. 

“You okay, love?” Josh asks with a gentle voice while he quickly walks over to you, looking at you with sweet concern.

You know for a fact that your mascara has left streaks of black down your face, so you’re sure you look absolutely insane right now but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it before you came back inside. 

“Um, my car-“ you start, clearing your throat to strengthen your weak voice. “My car broke down and I need a ride. I really have to get home.”

Without as much as a single question, Josh takes his coat off the rack and grabs his keys off the hook beside the door, but he’s promptly cut off by Jake swiping them away from his hand.

“You’ve been drinking, Josh,” he says while hanging the keys back in their spot. “Driving isn’t a good idea.”

“She needs to get home,” Josh argues, ripping his keys off the hook yet again. “I’m completely fine. I’ll take her.”

Jake takes the damn keys back again, this time shoving them in the pocket of his sweatpants to ensure Josh can’t get ahold of them. “No. There’s goddamn liquor running through your blood. I’m not letting you drive. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“Do you want to take her, then?” Josh asserts, rubbing a frustrated hand across his forehead. 

God, please no. 

The thought of being in a car alone with Jake is enough to make you put your foot down on that idea. But you’re also not too keen on him seeing that you live in one of the most rundown, shitty complexes in the entire city. 

But Jake is right, as much as you’d hate to admit. With as intoxicated as Josh had been earlier, it’s not smart that he drives you. You can still smell the alcohol on his breath and he’s not even standing that close to you.

“Just go get Sam,” Jake responds, stomping off to his room. 

Josh grunts and matches his heavy footing up the stairs to Sam’s room, leaving you standing there alone and wondering what the fuck this whole night has become. 

A few minutes pass, and as Josh is heading back down the stairs, you notice he’s alone and appearing even more irate than he was previously. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n. He’s completely passed out and won’t move. I’ll just have to get Jake to take you since he’s so insistent that I can’t drive.”

Fuck. 

Before you can oppose, he’s already knocking on his door.

“Jake, put a goddamn shirt on and take her home.” He yells, not caring enough to quiet his voice for the sake of the others who are fast asleep. 

You take a peek down the hallway to catch Jake tossing open the door, damn near slamming Josh with it while aggressively putting on a Jimi Hendrix hoodie.

Stepping into a pair of black vans, he takes what you assume are his keys from the hook, already halfway out the door before he asks, “Are you coming, y/n?”

His tone pisses you the hell off— he’s not hiding the fact that he’s not thrilled about this. Both with his tone of voice and his assertive body language.

Sorry to inconvenience you so goddamn much. 

You’re not in any mental state to argue; getting home is your only goal right now. 

“Yep.” You sneer, grudgingly following him out the door to his car.

You had seen the practically brand new, matte black Range Rover sitting in the parking lot plenty of times, but you never gathered that it was his. 

Although you should have guessed, given the way it so perfectly matches his aesthetic. You recently discovered his affinity for all things piratical, learning from Josh that the medallions he wears around his neck are ancient coins found amongst the ruins of old shipwrecks. He also told you about Jake’s childhood obsession with Johnny Depp's famous portrayal of the beloved Jack Sparrow character, so you’re not the least bit surprised when you see ‘BLK PRL’ engraved in the metal license plate. Clearly a nod to that part of himself. (That you can’t help but find awfully endearing.)

It’s nice. Really fucking nice. And clearly very well taken care of as there’s not a single flaw to be found.

The question remains– how the hell does a college student afford one of the nicest apartments you’ve ever seen and a new Range Rover? 

You still don’t know what he does for work, but you don’t care enough at the moment to find out.

To your shock, he pulls a pure gentleman move by opening the passengers door for you and helping you in his car. Something you certainly hadn’t planned on but found rather charming. 

Once he verifies that you’re in and secure, he shuts the door and heads to the drivers side, letting himself in and starting the engine. 

He begins backing out of the driveway, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the headrest of your seat, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth in concentration. You find it all to be inexplicably attractive and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

But when his eyes catch your stare, you look away, hoping he doesn't realize just how long you’d been watching. 

“Where do you live?” he asks while putting the car in drive. 

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t want him knowing that you live in one of the worst areas in the entire Detroit, Ann Arbor area. 

But you no longer have a choice. 

“Redwood Apartments,” you say quietly, wishing that this whole thing wasn’t happening. “Down on north Highland, just a block away from Meijer down the road.” 

“Yeah, I think I know where that’s at.” He nods his head as he begins to take off in the direction of your home.

The car is completely silent, the rumbling tires against the pavement being the only thing you can hear. Neither of you says a word for what feels like hours, but when you look at the clock, you realize your trek began only ten minutes ago. It’s a solid twenty minutes between your place and theirs, so you still have another agonizing ten minutes left to go. 

Once you hit a red light, Jake reaches to the center console for his phone and unlocks it, handing it to you with his screen open on his Spotify page. 

“Pick something to listen to,” he says as the light turns green once again. 

It feels utterly illegal to be in charge of his phone right now. But you’re also a fan of having something to listen to that isn’t your combined breaths and the sound of his heavy tires rolling against the road. 

You take the opportunity to scroll through his playlists, seeing literally hundreds of them categorized quite specifically. 

Picking the one titled ‘Fave Psychedelic,’ you scroll through until you find Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix. An old favorite of yours and the song you instantly thought of when you saw him put on his hoodie. 

You set his phone back down as the song begins, feeling your spirits beginning to lift upon hearing the transcendent tonality that can only be described as the Hendrix experience.

Even Jake can’t sit still, nodding his head to the beat and tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Jimi’s strumming. 

“Good choice,” he mutters, humming along to the classic tune.

“I must say, though,” he continues. “I actually prefer Stevie Ray Vaughan’s take on this one, especially when he played it live. He just exuded the very essence of Jimi, took everything he did and amplified the hell out of it while showing nothing but respect to the original masterpiece.”

Stevie is another favorite of yours. God, the hours you spent during your childhood watching him play, appreciating the passion and time he put into his art. 

You went through years being bullied relentlessly for your taste in ‘old people’ music, having never found anyone else who shares the same musical palate with you.

Until now.

Having this conversation with Jake is something you so desperately needed right now. 

“I completely agree,” you say, searching for his cover on Spotify and adding it to the queue. “The way he could make his guitar sing, like you can hear his emotion through his strings. One of the only guitarists worthy of being compared to Hendrix.”

You’re thinking about Jake’s style, his hats and choice of mostly black attire, his mass amounts of jewelry… it suddenly dawns on you that he must really love Stevie because his style is so closely linked to his. A style you’ve been attracted to since you can remember. 

You’re shocked that you’ve not picked up on that until now, but it perfectly explains your instant infatuation for him.

“Absolutely,” he responds. “They’re both my biggest inspirations with my own music. I have so much admiration for them, and Clapton, Petty, Harrison, all the rock and roll greats who incorporated the deep roots of the blues in their playing.”

Imagining him playing like some of your favorites… it’s nothing but elating. Your imagination is running rampant with picturing him playing the kind of music you’ve spent so much of your life deeply appreciating. The music that connected your soul to things far beyond the physical realm. 

“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” you say, turning a bit shy at your sudden valiant request. 

Stopped at another red light, he looks to you with the most genuine smile you’ve yet to see from him. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You suck in a deep breath as Jake makes it closer to your apartment complex. 

Lights. Flashing of blinding red and blue. 

In the parking lot of your complex.

Fire trucks, police cars, an ambulance. All situated in front of the run down building. 

“What the hell is going on? I can’t even make it in the parking lot, jesus.” Jake is driving around in slow circles trying to find a place to enter that isn’t blocked by cops.

It’s all beginning to set in. You feel your heart plummeting to the depths of your stomach, your breaths barely filling the capacity of your lungs.

Your worst fear. 

You shouldn’t have fucking left her.

“Jake. Pull over. Now.” 

You pull your seatbelt off, grabbing the handle of his passenger's door but it won’t open. You try tugging on it further, realizing it’s locked.

Jake picks up on the urgency in your voice and abruptly slams on the brakes, throwing the gear shift into park to unlock the doors. 

“Y/n, what are you–” he tries to ask, but you’re already out of the car and sprinting towards the maelstrom of lit up vehicles. 

But as you’re stepping over the curb into the lot, an officer stops you. 

“Ma’am, you need to stay back. They’re about to carry someone out and we can’t let you over there just yet,” he says, holding your forearm to stop you. 

Using every bit of strength you can muster in the moment, you pull away from him and continue running. You hear him yelling for you to stop, but his shouting is muffled by the voice in your head telling you to get to your mom now.

As you make it closer, you see them pulling a gurney down from the second floor. 

The floor your apartment rests on.

They pull it down the stairs slowly, and they’re angled in a way that you can’t see who they’re carrying. 

All you can do is stand there and wait amongst the paramedics and EMTs who are trying to tell you that you’re not supposed to be here. 

But they’re blurred images to you. The only thing you can see clearly is the gurney being wheeled in your direction, squeaking metal being the only sound that fills your ears.

And as it finally reaches you, your fear is imagined. 

Her swollen face is distorted by an oxygen mask, her weak body bound to the flat table by straps holding her tight to its cold metal. 

Her right hand dangles off the side, swaying back and forth lifelessly with every push and pull of the wheels. 

You lunge yourself forward towards her, being stopped forcefully by two officers who’ve been telling you this whole time to step back. The weight of their bodies against yours knocks the wind from your lungs, hardly allowing your choked cry for her to be heard. 

“I have to go with her!” You scream as they situate the gurney in the back of the ambulance. 

One of the paramedics steps between you and the cops, taking your hand and looking you in the eye. The kindest  gesture you’ve encountered in the midst of this whole thing.“Honey, you can’t be in there when they take her. You can drive yourself and meet them at the emergency room, okay?” she tells you.

But your car. You don’t have your fucking car. It’s sitting completely useless at the Kiszka’s complex. Without it, you have no way of getting there.

You suddenly feel another hand on your body, your left shoulder. It’s warm. Firm. Yet soft and assuring all at once. 

It pulls you from your disorientation, grounding you. You peek over your shoulder to see Jake standing there, his presence crashing in like a wave of peace over the chaotic storm that has become your reality.

Your eyes become wet at the mere sight of him. 

He’s still here. 

“Come on,” he utters calmly, moving his grip down to your hand, interlocking his fingers tight with yours. “I’ll take you.”

a/n: i'd love to hear your thoughts about everything! as i said, this one was tough for me to write, but it was something i desperately needed to do.

i hope you all love it as much as i do. 🤍

(i would also like to apologize again for taking so long with this one. i promise the next chapter won’t take nearly as long.)

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface  @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflame4goinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @styles-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27 @hippievanfleet @jazzyfigz @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @smoking-jakelane @hernameis-heaven

i'm fairly certain i've included everyone but if i've forgotten you, please let me know! (& i sincerely apologize)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #jake fic #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet #le morte d’arthur #gvf

[munsonsmixtapes]

Haii!! not sure if you do semi specific requests ignore this if you do not :)

thinking of steve and/or eddie having a raging crush on a thicker/chubby metalhead!reader ( preferably fem ) with face piercings, tattoos, black heavy makeup

( think steve had a secret thing for alternative bitches )

Hey, thanks so much for the request! This one was so much fun to write!

Steve x chubby!fem!metalhead

word count: 2,487

cw: none!

The Hideout was packed with people, the place being very crowded even though it was a pretty popular place to be on a Friday night.

They were all there to see Corroded Coffin play and were very excited for it. The band had been doing well enough that they had been asked to play multiple nights a week, now also filling the Friday night slot.

Steve entered the bar and couldn’t help but be put off by the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. He had only come because Eddie had asked and had insisted that Robin accompany him since the whole place kind of freaked him out with the low lighting and creeps that always seemed to linger around.

Steve got further into the bar, desperately wishing that Robin had been there with him, but of course she just had to last minute take a shift at Family Video. It seemed a little too convenient and he could have sworn he heard her laughing through the phone when she broke the news.

He looked around for any sign of the curly head of hair who had invited him but he guessed he had already gone backstage to get ready for the show. Maybe Steve would have had a chance to wish him good luck if he hadn’t spent so long fixing his hair before he left. He had to look good for another metalhead he had his eye on.

His gaze moved to the bar and he spotted you there, making conversation with the bartender while sipping on a drink. You had laughed at something the guy had said and he was jealous. He wanted to make you laugh and not at his expense like you always seemed to do. He was always acting like a goddamn fool around you.

You turned away from the bar and Steve caught your eye. You smiled and waved him over and he was quick to head in your direction. You were happy to see a familiar face.

You were honestly surprised to see him there. The Hideout didn’t seem like his scene in the slightest. You knew that if Eddie hadn’t been performing, he wouldn’t have touched the place with a ten foot pole.

“Hey, sweet pea!” You greeted with your signature smile. You pulled Steve into a hug and he gladly accepted it, quick to wrap his arms around your waist.

Despite your seemingly unapproachable exterior, you were nothing but a sweetheart to everyone. You loved to give hugs and was always there for a shoulder to cry on or some advice, the complete opposite of your best friend, Eddie.

“Hi,” he smiled back once you pulled away. He was grateful for the bar’s dark lighting so you hadn’t been able to see the blush on his cheeks.

“Didn’t think you’d show.”

“I wouldn’t miss this.” He wouldn’t have missed an opportunity to see you and your pretty face.

You had been very well aware of Steve’s little crush on you and you thought it was cute. The way he would blush at your flirting or sometimes stumble over his words. You thought it was funny that you of all people were able to make Steve Harrington all lovestruck.

You had to admit that you maybe, sort of liked him too. How could you not have with his constant compliments and random gifts? He has been nothing like all the other losers you had dated. Especially since he wasn’t in the metal scene. He wasn’t the kind of guy you usually went for, but there was just something about him that was so intriguing.

“Sit, sit,” you urged and Steve obeyed sitting on your left. “You are in for a treat.”

You knew that he had never been there nor had even seen Eddie perform so you were looking forward to seeing his reaction. Especially since you knew that metal wasn’t his cup of tea. He leaned more towards rock and pop and you appreciated that he was there for his friend despite not liking the genre that Eddie’s band fit into.

You turned your stool towards Steve to see that he was already looking at you. You could have sworn that he had hearts in his eyes and thought it was adorable. You would have never expected one of the most popular guys in Hawkins to actually be interested in you romantically, especially not Steve Harrington.

But there he was, looking at you like this was his first ever crush, all shy and cheeks tinted pink. His eyes always looked warm, like honey being poured into a cup of tea. They were always filled with so much adoration and the look was always just for you. You wondered how you could have gotten so lucky.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Sure. I’ll uh,” he picked up a small drink that was in front of him and scanned it. One of the drinks sounded really good, but it said it had come with an umbrella and Steve wasn’t going to order one of those in front of you. He needed to seem cool. “I have a Sam Adams.”

“Stevie,” you shook your head at him, resting a hand on his thigh. His eyes moved to where your hand had landed then looked back at you, hoping that he wasn’t too obvious. “We both know you want the umbrella drink so get the umbrella drink.”

“But-“

“I won’t judge you. And if anyone does, I’ll take care of them,” you cracked your knuckles. He knew that you were joking, but could hear a hint of seriousness in your voice. If he was being honest, he thought it was kind of hot that you were willing to beat people up for him.

You turned to the bartender and ordered the drink for Steve before he could protest and he didn’t think he could have been more in love with you at that moment. The way you always seemed to want to do everything for him warmed his heart. He felt like he was always taking care of the kids so it was nice that someone wanted to make sure he always had what he needed for a change.

The blue drink was set in front of him and he took no time to take a sip, the fruity flavors dancing on his tongue. It was definitely preferable over a beer. You watched him enjoy his beverage and admired that he still ordered what he wanted despite being afraid of what people thought.

You noticed that the lights were turned down just a bit and realized that Corroded Coffin was about to take the stage. You had to be at the very front, wanting your best friend to know just how proud you were of him just by seeing you sing the words back to him.

“Hey, the band’s about to go on, come on,” you grabbed Steve by the hand and pulled him off the stool with so much force that it caused his drink to slosh a bit.

“Where are we going?” He asked, taking another sip as he blindly followed you through the crowd. He was afraid that he would have followed you anywhere.

“To the front. Need Eds to see some familiar faces. Did you listen to the tape I gave you?” You turned to him once you got to the crowd and he took time to check out your outfit. You were dressed in what looked like a black bra under a leather vest and a pair of tight leather pants to match. The vest gave him a great view of your tattoos. Seeing all of the ink almost made him want to get one, but he had no idea what he would have gotten.

He had to drag his eyes away from your body, knowing that he’d stare at it for hours if he could. He loved the pudge of your stomach and your thick thighs. He often found himself wanting to press kisses to every inch of skin he could find, desperately wanting to worship your body.

The light shone down on your face, reflecting on your face piercings. His eyes moved to each one, first your eyebrow piercing, then the stud in your nose, and lastly, the hoop that was looped through your lip that he desperately wanted to run his tongue over.

He took note of your eye makeup and how dark it was. He found himself wanting to watch you do it, knowing that something that intricate had to have taken a long time and he wanted to see the process. The way you put on your eyeshadow and how you applied your black lipstick without it getting everywhere.

“A little bit,” he shrugged.

“So you actually didn’t listen to it all?” You put your hands on your hips. You could always see right through him.

“I’m sorry, I got busy.” You weren’t mad. You knew he had been picking up extra shifts at Family Video and didn’t really have time to listen to some silly tape.

“Sh, it’s starting,” you clapped your hands together then turned your attention to the stage as the band walked onto it. The crowd erupted in cheers but all Steve could hear was you. You were louder than anyone else.

The lights went down even more as Eddie stepped up to the mic. His eyes caught yours and he gave you a little wave before resting his hand on the mic. He caught sight of Steve next to you and nodded to himself at your close proximity. He had been trying (and failing) to set up the two of you for months. Maybe you were finally going to get together.

“How’s it going?” He asked into the mic. “We’re Corroded Coffin. On drums, we have Gareth, on bass is Jeff, and Doug is on lead guitar. I’m Eddie and this is Upside Down. Sing along if you know it.” He started to play the guitar that was around his neck and Steve found himself nodding along.

He turned to you to see you singing every single word, a huge smile on your face despite the depressing lyrics. He could see how proud of Eddie you were and if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought you were in love with the guy.

He loved how close you and Eddie were, that you had so many things to bond over. He knew the shit that Eddie had gone through in high school and thought he deserved having someone like you in his life. Someone who understood him fully, someone who was always so supportive, someone who would be there for him no matter what.

Somewhere during the performance, Steve had ended up behind you. There was a couple trying to take his spot and he moved quickly, not wanting to get hurt. Although, he had liked the idea of you cleaning up his wounds.

He looked down at you as a slow song started and you turned to him as if the two of you had the same idea. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his went to your waist. You rested your head on his shoulder and the two of you swayed to the beat.

You had to admit that it was odd to be wrapped up in Steve’s arms, but you would have been lying if you had said that you didn’t love it. The way the two of you seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces. The way your head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck.

You two had been so wrapped up in your own little world that you hadn’t even noticed that the show had ended nor that most of the crowd had already left. You were so caught up in each other that you hadn’t even noticed that the lights had gone up nor that the band had been packing up their equipment.

You pulled back to look at Steve and he felt hypnotized by your pretty eyes. Like he’d do anything you asked just by looking into them. His gaze then moved to your lips, so soft and pretty. He wondered what they had felt like. If they had tasted like the margarita you had consumed.

He quickly pressed his lips to yours and you let out a gasp at the action before melting into him. Your hands found their way into his hair while his arms wrapped even tighter around your waist, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, moving across your lip ring over and over he took your little whimper as a sign to continue before eventually sliding it into your mouth. Your tongues swirled around each other and you had to hold back a moan that was sitting at the back of your throat.

You reluctantly pulled away from him only for him to let out a whine at the absence of your lips. You let out a laugh at the black lipstick that has been smudged across his face and you tried to wipe it away but he only took your hand in his to prevent your from it.

“Was that so hard, Harrington?” You asked with a shake of your head.

“What-”

“We both know that you’ve wanted to kiss me for a while so I’m surprised that you finally got the balls to do it.”

“W-well-I-just-” he cut himself off, not being able to string together a proper sentence.

“Relax,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m just joking. Now come here.” You pulled his face back to yours and slotted your lips together once more, this one more slow and sloven.

“Looks like you owe me twenty bucks, Gareth,” you heard Eddie speak up and pulled away to turn in their direction. Gareth had pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed a bill to Eddie who pocketed it. You couldn’t believe that they had bet on you and Steve getting together. Or maybe you could.

“So are you going to take me out, Harrington?” You asked, turning back to the boy. His face lit up at your question. Of course you were the one to ask first.

“I’d be an idiot not to.” He smiled and you pressed your lips to his once more.

“Can you give me a ride home?”

“I’d be honored.” He took you by the hand and began to lead you to his car.

“You better be safe!” Eddie called after the two of you as you exited the bar. “I don’t want to be an uncle just yet!” The two of you just laughed at his words and walked to Steve’s car where he opened the passenger door for you before the two of you headed to your apartment to continue where you had left off.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x chubby reader #steve harrington x plus sized reader

[popponn]

a seat beside you. [isagi yoichi x reader]

notes: reader's gender unspecified, however mentioned to wear make up to cover up eyebags.

Isagi Yoichi doesn't really pay attention to many things that are not soccer. But, it was hard not to notice things about his seatmate. The one who was seated a few centimeters away from him every day—

You, the star student everyone relies on.

He knew that this was a way for his teachers to scold him to pay more attention to the class. Because if not so, then there was no reason to purposely put him—a student who is mediocre at most and forgetting assignments at worst—next to a perfect record of equally perfect scores like you. But, it wasn't as if it was a bad thing.

You helped Yoichi a lot by pointing at his textbook to where the teacher was explaining whenever he blanked out, explaining some parts on breaks when he asked, and even at some point you started to teasingly remind him about the homework through text.

All in all, you were very pleasant to have.

But, it truly was hard to not notice some things about you too as time went on.

Sometimes, your shoulder sagged and you had a faraway look on your face. At other times, your laugh comes out just a bit too stilted than usual. And just recently, the eyebags you hid under a tiddly applied makeup started to show up even more often.

At some point, to him, it became so easy to tell whenever you push yourself too much.

Yoichi was not quite sure he was close enough to ask you about things like this. He is just some classmate who happened to have his seat beside you and your number saved in his phone. He was also definitely not the best at reaching out to people effortlessly without any hint of awkwardness. Yoichi's anxious heart urged him to just stay silent—and it would not be wrong. He was simply not crossing the line of 'classmates' between the two of you.

But, it also felt wrong to do that.

You are a kind person. Yoichi didn't know many things about you, but you are indeed someone who helped him even when you didn't have to. You are also the only one who cared enough to ask him about his practice and how he was doing in class—it felt wrong to just ignore everything and watch you keep up the act in silence for whatever reason you might had.

That was why, during that Friday, Yoichi braved himself to ask you, his tone shushed, even as the class started to grow emptier.

"Hey, listen, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... are you okay? You look tired recently, so..."

And when he got a tired smile and a nervous laugh from you, let out through sagged shoulders and a long sigh with a hint of relief mixed in it, Yoichi felt so glad he chose to.

notes: isagi is an observant person, and there are some people who keep up the "mask" more than anyone else. but don't you think when you are in close proximity with someone every day, you can't really help but notice things about them? isagi is very soccer-headed, but he is kind and not an ungrateful person i think. this thing is a bit more mellow than my usual ones since the main feeling here is "ah, someone who keeps up a mask a lot of time contrasts isagi a lot. but if you think about it, isn't someone like isagi a good match for someone like that too in some degree?". also at the time when i wrote this, my feelings were a bit heavy, but in the end, i still enjoy writing even under such a feeling. I hope to come back to this idea again one day. in the tone of 'developing romance' and such, especially with isagi who seems to understand how it was to accommodate other people. i will think more about this premise again someday, it seems fun to explore more. all in all, think of it as another "more of a prologue meet cute" thing.

#bllk imagines #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines #bllk fluff #drabbles #blurbs #maybe one day soon #bllk scenarios #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #bllk isagi #im not done isagi posting for a week just three more to go #which might have delay on the last two days but im anything if not determined for my boy!! this is comforting too haha #im a bit tired today but anything for you baby. tho i think the longerthanusual an is a hint to that haha #tho i will recheck this again tomorrow

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

yknow we do a lot of like stevie realising she's transfem bc of a dare or like robin telling her about queer stuff and having a 'you can do that?' moment, but now im thinking of stevie who figures it out entirely on her own and doesn't know how to tell anyone. like she doesn't fully have the words and even with robin it's like. one thing to be gay but gender stuff is a whole other level and she has no idea where she stands on that

but like, stevie who used to play with his mothers makeup as a child, whose parents would laugh at his antics until he got too old to be so childish, time to act like a Real Boy. and every time he's supposed to act like One Of The Boys he thinks of how it felt when his mom would do his hair for him and comment on how alike they looked, and how much better that felt, and he knows that isn't normal, and he has to be normal

but after the upside down that really seems to matter less. nothings fucking normal anymore, why should steve be? so she starts branching out a little. breaks into her mothers closet again, tries on all the clothes she left behind when she went on her latest trip. slowly amasses a decent collection of makeup by going to several different stores over the course of months with the excuse of 'oh my mom/girlfriend sent me to pick up x'. she doesn't do the Whole Deal often, in case nancy comes over or later in case the kids suddenly ask her to drive them somewhere. doesn't do anything that can't be removed in like three seconds. and she's definitely never telling anyone about this. she doesn't know anyone who would understand.

after starcourt, she wonders about telling robin sometimes. like sure, stevie doesn't like men but she's still like. some kind of queer. robins the only other queer person she knows (and yeah, robin turning her down bc she was only into girls did sort of hurt, but it wasn't robins fault bc she didn't know, and also it turned out stevie just didn't understand what actual friendship felt like so it was for the best anyway), so if she can't tell robin who can she tell?

but something always stops her. robins technically never done anything that makes stevie think she'd be mean about it, but there's something like imposter syndrome keeping her mouth closed. like she's not the right kind of queer. like robins being queer the good and honest way and stevies just being some kind of freak. and yeah, she knows it's dumb to think like that and robin would call her a dingus if she said it out loud, but it sits pretty heavy in her heart

so it's not until after vecna, when stevies on the eddie shift in the hospital and eddie says, while high on possibly every drug in the world, 'man i spent all that time trying to grow my tits and bats ate an entire boob in under five minutes' and stevie goes ??? what???? and eddie, still too high to self-censor, makes some comment like yeah they weren't huge but that black market estrogen i got was finally working its magic, definitely had like an a-cup. rest in peace. and stevies like why were you growing boobs?? 'bc girls are supposed to have boobs, man, keep up'

and eddie passes out again like five seconds later, but stevie just sits there watching her snore with her heart about to beat out of her chest because. holy shit. she's not the only one. eddie might understand, might be able to help her, if she was able to grow her own boobs. stevie would love to grow her own boobs. she'd stuffed some socks down a bra once and they looked lumpy as hell but even just the suggestion of a bust had almost brought her to tears.

and suddenly, looking at the sleeping form of the first person stevie has ever met that she's ever had this so intrinsic thing in common with, everything doesn't seem so scary

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #transfem eddie munson #platonic stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #t4t steddie

[ramblingoak]

could we maybe have copia calling reader while doing “that”👀 for the first time and having reader help him through it?

This isn't exactly what you asked for but hopefully you still enjoy it 💙

Invisible Touch

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ You decide to give your Papa a call while he's busy in his office

Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, gets kinda sappy at the end oops, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2300 words, not proofread forgive me (thank you to @foxybouquet for help with the Italian!)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“What are you wearing?”

You tried not to laugh when you heard Copia fumble with his phone.  He let out a few muffled curses before his voice became clear.

“Eh?  Uh, what was that dolcezza?”

“I asked what you were wearing, Papa.”  With a sigh you reclined back on the bed, shimmying a bit to get comfortable amongst the various pillows.  “I’ve been wondering all day.”

“I’m wearing my black shirt and my vest, dolcezza you saw me this morning, no?  You even helped button me up.”  The sigh you let out this time was laced with frustration.  Copia could be adorably dense sometimes.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Papa.  It’s just, well, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

The only sound you heard for a few beats was his breathing and you were hoping he was finally connecting the dots. 

“Am I now?”  Bingo.  A thrill went through you at hearing the deeper register of his voice.  “What should we do about that, hmm?”

You stretched out with a pleased grunt, enjoying the feel of his soft sheets on your bare skin.

“I think you should unbutton your vest and your shirt.”  You bit your lip when you thought about his chest.  The dark hair that covered it and the softness of his belly.  “And then I think you should touch yourself.”

“Oh yes, I can do that.”  He cleared his throat and you heard his chair creak.  “Let me just lock the door fir—“

“No!”  His chair creaked again and you assumed he had sat back down.  “No, leave it unlocked.”

“Someone could walk in dolcezza.”

“Then you’re just going to have to be a good boy and listen to what I tell you.  Can you do that, Papa?”

“Yes.” 

“Good, now finish unbuttoning your shirt, but leave it on.”  The sound of fabric rustling in your ear had your heart beating a little faster.  “Leave your gloves on too, I want you to enjoy the feel of the leather on your skin.  Just like I do.”

Copia let out a quiet groan that had you rubbing your thighs together. 

“Do I get to know what you are wearing?”

“I’m not wearing anything.”  You couldn’t help but laugh when Copia groaned louder.  “I’m completely bare in your stupidly big bed.”

“Would you like some company?  I’m not doing anything at the moment.”

“What I would like you to do is start touching your nipples.”  Copia took in a quick breath and you smiled.  “Take your thumb and move it in a circle over one.  Like how I do it.”

“Mmm, but it’s different when you do it.  Better.”  He gave a resigned sigh but you could tell by the pitch of his voice he was enjoying the touch of his own hand just fine.  “It‘s better with you regardless.”

“No need to pout, you’ll see me tonight.”  You let your hand wander to your own chest, grazing a nipple lightly with your fingers.  “You’ll feel me tonight.”

“Si, si I will.  I’m going to feel you everywhere.  In all the little secret places only I get to touch.”  Copia’s dark chuckle had you clamping down on your lip to keep your moan silent.  “You’ll get my fingers, my tongue…my cock.  Everything, dolcezza.”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Papa, but first you’re gonna do what I say.”  It was your turn to laugh at the sound of his whine.  “Stop trying to distract me.”

“It was worth a shot, eh?” 

“I think you should put that mouth to good use and suck on your fingers.  Get them nice and wet for me.”  The sounds of him humming around his fingers, the thought of his tongue tracing over the leather had you starting to get wet.  His cheeks were probably pink under his makeup and you could see the heavy lidded look he got when he was aroused in your mind.  “Now touch your nipple again, switch between them, and imagine it’s my mouth.”

Copia groaned and while he began to touch himself again you started to do the same.  Your nipples were hard in moments, the skin on your breasts covered in goosebumps.  A small gasp escaped your lips and Copia hummed when he heard it.

“I do love your mouth on me.”  He let out a hiss and your eyes closed as you thought of him pinching himself.  His nipples would be hard and red by now, begging for relief.  For the cool touch of your tongue.  “Your wicked mouth, more wicked than even Lilith’s was I’m sure.” 

“P-put your phone down, Papa.  Put it on speaker.”  You waited until you heard the sound of it being set down and for the sound of his breathing to be further away.  “Now untie your pants.”

“Dolcezza, if someone comes in…”

“Then let them.  Let them see what I’m doing to you.”  He cursed under his breath but you could hear the rustling as he started working on his pants.  “It’s not like they haven’t seen worse anyway.”

You smiled at the sound of his laughter, smiling wider when you pictured the look on his face.  It was one of your favorite things, seeing your Papa smile.  It was even better when you were the cause of it.

“Si, but I’d rather you be the only one to see me like this.  With my pants undone and my cock in my hand.”

“Papa, I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”  Copia growled in frustration and you pressed your hand over your mouth to cover your laugh.  He muttered a few Italian phrases in your ear, his pout audible over the phone.  “I thought you were going to be good and do exactly as I say?”

“Mi dispiace, sarò buono.  I can be very, very good.” 

“Hmm I don’t know.  Maybe I should make you sit there and listen to me.”  You moved your hand off your breast and let it slide down your stomach, stopping right above your mound.  “You can listen to me come while I scream your name and you won’t be able to move at all.”

“Dolcezza, please…”

“More Papa, beg me some more.  Tell me how desperate you are.”

“I am always desperate for you.  Always thinking about you, about having you under me and above me.  Of sinking my cock into your mouth and your cunt.”  There was no stopping your moan at this point and you moved two of your fingers through your slick folds as he continued.  “I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

“That’s funny,”  You pushed your fingers inside of your entrance, panting in your phone as you started to pump them in and out.  “I want to do the same to you.”  He cursed in your ear and you laughed breathlessly as you finally said the words he was waiting for.  “Touch yourself, Papa.”

Copia’s relieved moan had you wanting to move your fingers faster but you forced yourself to slow down.  You didn’t want to cum before he did. 

“I wish you were here.  I wish your tight cunt was in front of me on my desk.” 

“Tighten your fist, imagine you’re inside me right now.”

“C-cazzo, it’s not the same.  This is why I drag you on tour with me.  I wouldn’t survive that long without you.” 

“Use both hands Papa, rub your thumb along the bottom like I do.” 

“It’s better when it’s your tongue.” 

Despite his complaints his voice was getting deeper, his breathing faster.  You put your own phone on speaker and used your now free hand to play with your nipples again. 

“Go faster Papa, pretend you’re fucking me.”

“Trust me dolcezza, I am and I will be.  I’m going to fill you up until you can’t hold any more.  Until I’m dripping out of you.”  His chair started creaking louder and you began to pump your fingers faster again.  “I need to see your face.  Per favore.”

You stopped pinching your nipple and grabbed at your phone, frantically pressing the button to FaceTime him.  He answered it right away and you made a note to remind him to wipe his phone off later.  His face filled the screen and your breath caught at the sight of him.  Most of the paint around his mouth was gone and to anyone else he would have looked ridiculous, but not to you.  

“Hey, handsome.”

“How many fingers do you have inside of you?”

“Such a sweet talker.”  You propped the phone against a pillow and laid back a bit, watching as his eyes glanced towards the part of your chest he could see.  With a sigh you pushed a third finger into your cunt as you smirked at him.  “Three now.”

Copia grinned as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his phone clutched in one hand.  You could see his arm moving as he continued to pump one hand up and down his cock.

“Three?  Will that be enough to get you ready for me?”

“More than enough I think.”  You couldn’t help but snort at his growled ‘brat’.  “I’m sorry Papa, I’m only teasing.”

“I think the time for teasing is over, hmm?”  His head fell back, the muscles in his jaw moving as he briefly clenched his teeth.  “Let your Papa cum.”

“Is that what you want to do?  You want to cum all over your hand as you think about fucking me?”  His frantic nodding was the only answer you got, but it was enough.  You started moving your fingers faster, grabbing the phone and switching the screen so he could watch them.  Copia let out a ragged moan at the sight and you knew he was close.  “I wish you were here.  My fingers aren’t the same, Papa.  N-nothing is ever as g-good as your cock.”

“No, dolcezza, no you need me deep inside of you.  I can reach much, much farther than your fingers, no?”  You switched the screen again so you could see his face, his mouth had fallen open just like yours.  Both of you breathing heavily as you got close to your climaxes.  “Tell me, tell me you need me.”

“I need you.  I need your cock, Papa.  I w-want it all the time.”  Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as you neared your peak.  “I’m empty without you.”

“Fuck!”  

Copia grunted, his chest heaving as he came.  You could hear the wet sounds of his hand running over his cock, spreading his cum on it.  Your own climax hit you then and you buried your face in the bedding as you spasmed around your fingers, gasping his name over and over again.  It took a few moments for both of you to collect yourself, for your breathing to even out.  When you heard his chair move you tilted your head up to look at the screen, smiling at how much worse his face paint looked and at how messy his hair was.

“Hey, handsome.”  He snorted, shaking his head as he used a handkerchief to wipe his hand off.  You grabbed the phone and rolled over onto your back.  “How do you feel?”

“Spent.”  He grinned at you, waggling his eyebrows like the dirty old man he was.  “Wishing I was in bed with you.”

“Oh, I wish that too Papa, but you have a budget meeting don’t you?”  He sighed, nodding his head as he turned to check the clock on the wall.  As he turned back you brought your fingers up to your mouth and wrapped your lips around one, sucking your wetness off of it slowly as he watched.  “That’s too bad.”

“You minx.”  He looked ready to tell you off some more, but the words caught in his throat as you sucked another finger between your lips.  “That’s it.”

“Papa?”  You fumbled with the phone when he abruptly got up and moved offscreen.  “Copia?  What are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed and I’m going to cancel my meeting.”  

With a grin you settled back into the pillows, watching the screen and waiting for him to appear again.

“And why’s that, Papa?  Something else come up?”

“Not yet, but it will be up again soon.”  

You snorted, your shoulders shaking with the laughter you were trying to keep in.

“That’s a terrible joke.  I can’t believe I spend time with you.”

“I think I know why, dolcezza.” Copia’s face appeared on the screen again as he picked his phone back up.  You blushed when his eyes met yours, the green and white of his sparkling with humor and something else.  “It’s my cock, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”  He laughed, his own blush visible where his paint had rubbed off.  “I love your cock, Copia.”

“Bene, bene.”  

He started walking and you straightened up a bit when you realized he was heading towards his office door.

“What about your meeting?”

“Fuck the meeting.  I’d rather come fuck you.”  Copia paused at his door, looking at you through the screen with a soft smile.  “I love you, dolcezza.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Not just my cock?”

“I love everything about you.”  He grinned and it was a good thing you were already laying down, that smile would have made your knees weak.  Still, you couldn’t help but tease him.  “But I love your cock the most.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Papa.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  He swung the door open and started making his way down the hall towards his quarters, towards where you were waiting for him.  “Four minutes.”

“I’ll be ready for you.”

Copia brought the phone up to grin at you again, his steps getting louder as he began to walk faster.

“I’m counting on it, dolcezza.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

my masterlist of fic

my archive of our own page

#my fics #my writing #papa emeritus iv x female reader #copia x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #copia fanfiction #ghost band fanfics #the band ghost fanfics #ghost fanfics #papa emeritus iv x female reader fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfics #papa emeritus iv

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

MATT X READER PLS.

Then book shopping n it’s all cute n stuff 😻😻‼️

Bernard's & Noble

(see what i did there)

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Word count: 749

Alexis speaks! : hey guys! thank you for the request (the more requests, the more stories i post 😉) i'm honestly not very proud of this one, but i've deleted it four times already and this is the best i got 💀 once again, comments and likes are greatly appreciated, it helps me know if yall like my style or if i need to change anything! pls don't steal my work, love yall!

-

"Matttt?" i whined from my spot on the floor. i was bored out of my fucking mind. Matt wanted the day to be a 'lazy day' and by that he means he wanted to scroll social media and youtube all day. that was not my idea of fun, i've always been a hands on person whether that be going outside for hours, to the lake, reading, anything other than being lazy at home.

"whattttt?" he mocked, sitting up from his bed, his hair all messed up and funny looking.

i chuckled. "your hair looks great." i smiled, climbing to straddle his lap and fix his bed head. "better" i smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "i have a business proposal."

matt sighed, "what do you want." he rolled his eyes with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

i hopped off him, standing at the foot of his bed. "i vote we go to barnes and noble today, my book case is baren." i joked. four out of the five of my bookshelves were full completely. but you can never have too many books.

"y/n you have more books than i think i've ever seen anywhere else in my life." he laughed. matt pretended to be annoyed, but he knows the answer is yes. and not just to this scenario, the answer is always yes to everything y/n wants. she had him wrapped around her tiny little finger. "when do you want to go?" he gave in.

i jumped around the room a couple times, silently celebrated with myself. "right now silly." i said. i trotted into his bathroom where i have my own drawer of toiletries and such. i touched up my makeup and threw on my shoes. "ok i'm ready." i beamed up at him. matt basically towered over me. he's 5'8 and i'm 5'3, so there's a pretty noticeable height difference.

he slipped his own shoes on. "i'm ready." he smiled, grabbing his keys.

i just looked at him. "matt babe." i looked at his outfit. "we are not going anywhere when you are wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater. please change." i said, false seriousness evident on my features.

-

"oh my god i'm literally gonna shit my pants i love barnes and noble." i said, climbing out of the passenger seat. I made matt carry my three tote bags i have designated for my favorite hobby, book shopping.

"do i really have to come in." matt complained.

-

we had been at barnes and noble for an hour already, two out of the three of my tote bags were full. so full we had to put them by checkout because they were too heavy to carry. About 15 minutes in i had made a joke that i thought was hilarious, matt didn't really think so.

-

"haha, bernard's and noble." i chuckled to myself, but matt heard me.

"y/n i swear to god i will leave you here."

"deal."

-

i was finally ready to go, the final tote bag full. i couldn't find matt though. i wandered through the multiple sections of books, matt no where in sight. "maybe he did leave me here." i mumbled under my breath. until my eye caught matt. he was crouched down, one hand on the shelf, the other hand occupied with a book.

"whatchya readin?" i smiled over him. my heart melted when he looked up at me, a small smile on his face. i took this time to take in his beauty. the way his slight curls fell over his eyebrows, the way his middle part accentuated his face shape, the way his blue eyes went so well with his outfit. he was wearing the white shirt with 'whatever' in bold print written across it, and baggy light wash blue jeans, his keys dangling from his belt loop.

"some poetry book, i might get it it's kinda fire." he smiled.

"you read poetry?"

"i like finding the good ones and printing them out, i like to look back on the really influential ones." matt said. he stood up and took my bag, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"matt i don't deserve you, you're so sweet." a cheesy grin creeping onto my lips.

"y/n you deserve the world." he smiled down at me, kissing my forehead.

"ok now how are we gonna get all of these in the car?" i laughed.

-

tag list!

@cupidzsq

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #books and reading #book shop #shopping #barnes and noble

[coalswriting]

domestic / dating headcanons - natalie scatorccio

(approx. 900 words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you and natalie started dating after you met her at a party.

you were with your friends, and you had spotted her from across the room, talking with travis.

you were way too many drinks in, and feeling confident, so without thinking, you abruptly ended your conversation with your friends by walking over to natalie.

travis looked irritated the moment you started talking to nat. she did not; you could see underlying relief in the sparkle of her eyes and she listened to you intently as you told her some random fun fact you had heard in biology.

one thing led to another, and you woke up with her in bed with you the next morning.

you panicked, thinking you had done something regrettable with someone you barely knew but she reassured you that the two of you simply came back to yours because you wanted her to paint your nails black and watch a movie.

cool. cool.

natalie didn’t end up leaving for ages that day, and when you saw her in school the following monday, she stuck around you.

you were pretty much glued together and she felt like your other half.

you watched her practices, went to her games, packed her a nutritious lunch every morning (because let’s face it; school lunches suck), and even helped her study.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating; maybe two months of talking consistently every day.

and damn, did she move into your house fast.

your parents weren’t around too much due to work, but they really liked natalie based on the few interactions they had with her, so she was basically free to stay whenever.

your wardrobe instantly became better as natalie let you borrow her clothes, and you even would go shopping together with money you had earned from your part time job as a cinema worker.

speaking of cinema work, you always snuck natalie into movies for free with you when your shift would end. most of the movies, you two would just whisper through and joke around, but when it came to horror movies, natalie was honed and focused. she really loved them, and you loved seeing her enjoyment even though you’d freak out at any sight of gore.

natalie started looking a lot healthier when she moved into your house; she was used to eating shitty oven meals at home due her not having much cooking space nor ingredients, and when you both started cooking together, she loved it too much – you’d say she hasn’t had an oven pizza in months after you had started to date.

you do most of the meal prep whereas natalie cooks. somehow, she’s a natural! you oftentimes come home from work to the kitchen smelling like brownies or whatever delicious dinner she’s decided to make for you. and then, yknow, she leaves you with a sink full of dishes.

natalie isn’t a super affectionate person. she won’t outwardly kiss you or hug you often, but she shows it in different ways. maybe she’ll brush your hair, do your makeup, help you decide an outfit, make you a playlist, or link your pinkies together when youre watching tv.

however, if she gets drunk? that’s a whole different story. she’ll pull you away to make out with you every chance she gets. she would almost escalate it anywhere if it weren’t for you being reasonable and stopping her before things get too hot and heavy.

she’s also a little spoon. i will die on this hill. she’ll sleep facing away from you, but during the night, will push herself towards you until you’re holding her and breathing in the smell of her shampoo. she doesn’t care if it gets too hot, she will literally sleep through the night like a corpse – and then take a shower the next day because she’s all sweaty.  

she’s almost too over-protective at times, literally glaring at anyone that even looks at you wrong. once a guy catcalled the two of you in the hall at school and she literally kicked his locker shut onto his wrist.

his face was worth the detention that you both had to sit through.  

natalie stopped smoking for you. it’s not that you necessarily complained that you didn’t want her to smoke, but you made an off-hand comment once about how you’d love for her to take care of her health more.

and she took that personally. she literally went cold turkey, and you stayed with her the entire time while she was moody, sick, and tired from withdrawal.

natalie’s favourite thing to do is shower. she didn’t have the liberty to shower every day when she lived with her parents, so she basically showers daily at yours, if not twice a day. you don’t mind though; you’re not the one paying for the water.

you’ll oftentimes just sit outside on the toilet while she’s showering and talking to you about a new album she wants to buy or some drama she heard while in the changing rooms for soccer.

speaking of soccer, the yellowjackets think you two are such a weird couple. natalie is so rough, whereas you’re so sweet and caring. you’ll literally come to their practices with bottles of water for everyone and natalie will say some comment along the lines of “she’s mine, all of you find your own fucking girlfriend.”

meanwhile, everyone else is just blinking blankly, not even doing anything to insinuate that they’re trying to steal you.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader